by CP Ward
As though someone had broken a spell, the group around the table burst into laughter. Bonnie felt tears spring to her eyes but she was laughing with them at the inanity of their oversight. Glancing behind her at the mixture they had left to cook, she said, ‘Would it be possible for you to all come back again in half an hour? I think we need to make a couple of minor adjustments to the mix.’
Larry and Barry clapped. June wiped a tear out of her eye. The others were grinning. John leaned across the table and picked up one of the remaining marshmallows on the tray.
‘No sugar?’ he said. ‘In that case, I might as well indulge.’
20
Down to Business
By nine-pm, the café was full. Half of the park’s staff had shown up for the impromptu party, as well as most of the currently guests, including a couple of families with young children who now played in the children’s play area at the back. Long out of marshmallow mix, instead the café owners on the staff had donated boxes of biscuits and cookies. The lads had brought in some craft beers from the pub and now sat on one table, playing team Jenga against the three elves who sat opposite, fully decked out in their staff gear. Jason, who had gone home to change clothes, had reappeared just after dark by sleigh, bringing with him a couple of boxes of Christmas lights, which they had all helped to hang up over the café’s front windows while the four reindeer snorted and stamped outside the front door.
Debbie, holding a can of Guinness, leaned on Bonnie’s shoulder.
‘We’re close,’ she said. ‘That fourth batch was nearly spot on. Did you see Mitchell’s eyes when he popped that marshmallow into his mouth? Sometimes it doesn’t take words, Bon.’
‘We’ll go up and get some more root in the morning,’ Bonnie said. ‘June told me that if we walk around the lake a little way, we’ll come to a fenced section which belonged to Mervin. She said it’s probably in the deeds to the café somewhere.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Debbie said. ‘I don’t want to think about tomorrow.’
‘It could be the start of the rest of our lives.’
‘Or the end.’
Bonnie sighed. ‘I told you, they only live in Bristol. If you had a job, you’d probably commute there to work every day.’
‘I could never work with a broken heart.’
‘Well, it’s not broken yet. And if it is, we could probably fix it with a few spoonfuls of marshmallow mix.’
‘Are you making fun of me?’
Before Bonnie could answer, the Jenga tower crashed down with the clatter of wooden bricks. A cheer rose from the elves as Larry thumped the tabletop and yelled, ‘Best of seven!’ at the top of his voice.
‘I’ll miss this place,’ Debbie said. ‘It won’t be the same when the lads are gone, though.’
‘Other people will come.’
‘Will they?’
‘Sure. If they know it’s here.’
Debbie lifted her head to look into Bonnie’s eyes. ‘And will you be here?’
‘I might be. Depends.’
‘You’re going to stay, aren’t you?’
Bonnie sighed. ‘I still don’t know. It’s a big ask. I need to do so much before I can even think about it. But … I am thinking about it. This place, it’s special. It’s what I’ve dreamed of my whole life. Everything that I ever had and worked hard for, it got taken away. My marriage, my family, my hopes of ever getting a decent job … in the end I lost it all and I ended up with nothing. You don’t understand because you’re still young. You can still dream that things will get better. I was just treading water, trying to keep my head up, trying to stay afloat … I had no more dreams.’ She shrugged. ‘And then this came out of nowhere. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. My mind is fighting so hard to make me give it up, to walk away, to go back to my crappy Morrico job and my pokey little house on my grey, boring street … but my heart, it wants me to stay. And I’m worried that if I go, it won’t follow. It’ll leave me behind.’
‘Man, that’s awesome,’ Debbie said. ‘You’re like, totally being life-changed.’
‘Thanks,’ Bonnie said. ‘I think.’
She was about to say something more when the front door opened. A gust of cold air whipped around their faces as a tall figure stepped inside.
‘Ho ho ho!’ hollered Gene, dressed in a splendid Victorian Father Christmas costume. ‘Wouldn’t be a Christmas party without the big man himself!’
He dropped a box down on the nearest table with the clink of wine bottles, then reached inside and pulled out a pack of cards.
‘Who wants to see some magic?’ he roared, as around Bonnie, the crowd cheered.
It felt strange to be back in Quimbeck after three days in the forests of Christmas Land, but Bonnie needed supplies. She still hadn’t made up her mind what to do, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. Down a side street, she found a small supermarket, so she stocked up on foodstuffs she would need to make a few more batches of marshmallows. In a stockroom at the back of the café she had come across a box of old menus, so picked up a few random ingredients in order to add a little variation to the basic mix. It seemed Uncle Mervin had been an experimenter, always trying new recipes for marshmallows, adding them to a variety of hot chocolate mixes of his own design, and now that the shock of her first effort was a distant memory, Bonnie found it exciting to try new ideas. It was liberating, as though she was casting off the shackles of her old life one marshmallow at a time.
While in Quim, she called work, her hand shaking as the Old Ragtag came on the line.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked. ‘Or are you milking a little sniffle for everything it’s worth?’
‘I’ve never felt so sick,’ Bonnie said, dramatically coughing into the phone and then holding a hand over the receiver while she laughed. Then, speaking as fast as she could, she said, ‘The doctor said I have ‘sickasaparrotitis.’
‘I’ve not heard of that. Is it serious.’
‘I’d infect half the staff if I came back,’ she said. ‘Best to stay away until it’s cleared.’
‘If you’re not back by next Monday I’ll start docking your holiday allotment,’ the Old Ragtag said without a hint of sympathy.
‘I’ll try to shake it off by then,’ Bonnie said, giving him another dramatic cough.
As she hung up, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. It had been Debbie’s idea to prank her boss, and she felt so exhilarated by doing something she would never have dared to do before, that she stopped by The King’s Thistle for a drink before heading back.
Len was surprised to see her. ‘Looks like you’ve decided to stay around,’ he said, glancing at her shopping bags. ‘Things are going okay up there, are they?’
Bonnie smiled. ‘It’s a bit rough around the edges,’ she said. ‘But the deeper you delve, the more you find.’
‘Good for you. Are you planning to stay for a while, then?’
‘At least until the weekend. After that, I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.’
‘You must see more in that place than most of us do. It’s a terrible eyesore.’
Bonnie shrugged. ‘It has a certain charm if you know how to see it.’ She thought about Brendon in his ridiculous costume, Gene and his refusal to drop character, Jason and his reindeer, the elves … it was rough around the edges, and it did feel like a calamitous ship about to sink, yet there was something there. Something worth throwing a lifebelt for, and pulling like damn hell on the rope to bring it back in.
‘Do you like marshmallows?’ she asked.
‘Um, well, I suppose I don’t mind the odd one.’
Bonnie picked up her glass of sherry and downed it in one swift gulp. Then, reaching down into her bag, she pulled out a paper bag of marshmallows leftover from the most recent batch.
‘A present,’ she said, handing them to Len.
‘Well, don’t mind if I do,’ he said, plucking one out of the bag and popping it into his mouth. ‘Wow, that’s rather good.’
Bonnie smiled. ‘If you want more, you’ll have to come up to Mervin’s Marshmallow Café in Christmas Land sometime. I’ve decided to reopen.’
‘If they all taste like that, you’ll get plenty of customers,’ Len said.
Bonnie grinned. ‘Thank you. And thanks for the drink. I’ll stop by for another next time I’m in the village.’
‘I’m already looking forward to it,’ Len said.
‘You look drunk,’ Debbie said, looking up from the sofa as Bonnie came in.
Bonnie shook her head. ‘Just drunk on life,’ she said. ‘You know, for once.’
‘I wish I was drunk,’ Debbie said. ‘But I needed a shoulder to cry on.’
‘Again?’
‘The lads have gone back. Mitchell said he’ll text me when he gets back to Bristol.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know, is it?’
Bonnie shrugged. ‘I’m a little out of the relationships loop, but it sounds promising.’
Debbie sighed. ‘Maybe. What am I supposed to do now?’
‘You could help me give this place a clean. It’s a bit dusty. I don’t think anyone has touched it since Uncle Mervin died.’
‘You’re going to reopen?’
Bonnie winced. Her head still held sway, controlling her heart’s wishing. ‘Maybe,’ she said.
‘You know, I said it before, but if you want, I’ll stay here and help. I mean, I’ll need time off to go to metal festivals and stuff, and I’d need to call Mum and let her know, since she thinks we’ve just gone on holiday, but … you know….’
‘I’d love it if you wanted to help. But what about Mitchell?’
Debbie shrugged. ‘I’m not sure it would work outside of Christmas Land. I don’t know. I don’t want to take the risk that if I saw him in Bristol he’d seem kind of … ordinary.’
‘A deaf drummer could never be ordinary.’
‘Yeah, but you know.’
‘It won’t have the same spark?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Plus, I was talking to that elf guy this morning….’
‘What elf guy?’
‘Shaun. The one with the scar by his nose. Did you know he had a bit part in Doctor Sleep?’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘He was “man in car park number four” in the credits. He got paid eighty quid.’
‘Wow.’
‘That was like a massive horror movie.’
‘Isn’t he a bit old for you?’
‘He’s thirty-five. That’s nothing.’
Bonnie smiled. ‘How about we talk about it while we clean the café downstairs? Then we’ll have another go at making marshmallows. I reckon I’m getting the hang of it.’
‘Cool. Let’s go. Say, if we open the café, do I have to wear some stupid Christmas jumper?’
‘I guess it depends on the season.’
‘Black’s kind of a symbol of winter, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. If you got a bit of icing sugar on it, you could claim it was the night sky, couldn’t you?’
21
The Tree
When Bonnie woke up on Thursday morning, her arms and shoulders ached like they hadn’t done in years. She had certainly never put in the same effort while mopping the floors at Morrico, but the result was that the café downstairs was now sparkling and clean. A couple of hours in, Jason the reindeer handler and June’s son Niall had stopped by and offered to help. Together, they had set out all the remaining tables and chairs and tidied up the kitchen, making sure everything was in the correctly labeled box. Afterwards, Bonnie had treated her group of helpers to her latest attempt at hot chocolate.
The response had been positive.
Debbie had planned to go out early, taking a nature trail walk with Shaun, who had a day off. Her bed was empty, but for the first time neatly made. With a smile, Bonnie wondered if Christmas Land was having an effect on her rebellious best friend. Perhaps in the end she might start wearing colours, or at least brighter shades of black.
Bonnie decided to take a walk of her own before settling down to work. She had discovered a series of colour-coded trails crisscrossed the park, taking in themed attractions depending on your interest. She chose the Yellow Trail, which focused on Father Christmas and his toy factory, leading her across the park to Gene’s house, then back along the northern side, past several themed toy shops, one focused on wooden products, another on European traditional toys. Both were closed, their windows grimy. From there, it led her down into a corner of the park, where she found a closed attraction called the Living Toyshop Maze. Peering through dirty windows, inside were rows of human-sized toy costumes lined up against a wall.
Finally the trail led her back around to the main entrance, and a visit with Mr. Glockenspiel. She found Brendon inside his gatehouse, this time reading a book.
‘I need to talk with you,’ she said. ‘And not just you, but everyone who has a permanent stake in this place.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I need some guarantees. Not because it’s particularly romantic or festive, but because I need to have a clearer idea of what’s going on, and what’s likely to happen.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘The truth is, I’m pulling a sickie from work to be here. If I’m not back by Monday, my boss is going to start asking serious questions, and knowing that old goat, I’ll be unemployed by Friday. While the temptation to move up here and make a go of things is overwhelming, I’m too old to put my entire livelihood on the line if the park is going to shut in a couple of months. Merry Christmas, here’s a cardboard box for you to live in.’
‘I see.’
‘I’m not getting any younger, and no one has my back. I’m divorced, and being unemployed won’t pay the mortgage my ex-husband left me with. Do you see where I’m coming from?’
‘I do.’
Bonnie sighed, aware she had begun to rant. She let the stillness of the park flood back in, the chirp of the birds in the trees, the rustle of the wind, the distant cry of a reindeer and the light background tinkle of Christmas music.
‘Everyone talks about Christmas magic, but I grew out of that when my father died. I was forced to become practical, and adapt, and I can’t just throw in my life for some whim, no matter how tempting.’
‘Sure.’
‘I need to know that I’m not going to waste my efforts, that I’m going to come out of this with something to show for it, or at the very least not be broke, unemployed, and homeless.’
‘Right.’
Bonnie looked at Brendon, for the first time really seeing the costume that could have come from the set of a version of Alice in Wonderland. As if to emphasise the point, he shifted in his seat, the interactive musical instrument fitted into his back giving a little tinkle. Bonnie couldn’t help but smile.
‘So … what are we going to do about it?’
Brendon closed his newspaper. ‘I can see this is something you’ve thought long and hard about,’ he said. ‘How about we have a meeting tonight at the Mountain Breeze? It’s a little nicer than the staff centre. Then we can see where things are. I can put the word out this morning.’
‘Please do.’
Brendon smiled. ‘You just need to be convinced, then?’
‘What?’
‘I’m glad you’ll be joining us.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You just did. You pretty much just told me to organise a meeting to convince you to stay here in Christmas Land. All we need to do is say the right things, and you’ll be one of us? June will be delighted. Most of the staff members are men, and she’s always telling me she wants someone to talk to about women’s stuff. I mean, there’s Belinda who runs Lapland Costumes at the far end of the park, but she’s pushing eighty.’
‘I haven’t said I’m going to stay. Look, there seems to be very little in the way of forward thinking going on here. Everyone is content to let life pass the
m by.’
‘The park looks wonderful in snow. This valley gets on average four times the rest of the Lake District. It can pile right up, sometimes.’
‘That’s all well and good, but it won’t matter if the park gets bulldozed, will it?’
Brendon smiled. ‘Okay, I’ll call the meeting. Shall we say, eight o’clock?’
‘Perfect. I’ll see you at the Mountain Breeze.’
She left Brendon to what little work he had to do, and took another of the colour-coded trails that followed a meandering line back in the direction of her café. This one was labeled Green Trail, and focused on the natural environment. For a while it led her past stands of local trees, then down to the river, where regular signboards—each needing a good clean and a touch up in places—told her about what kinds of birds and fish she might see in and around the water. Then, meandering through a forest glade, it came to a stop at a large, dirty greenhouse.
The sky was open above her, the beaming sun making the glass warm to the touch. Over the years it had done its work, though, leaving the inside of the glass murky with dark green algae. The trail clearly expected her to head inside, even though a chain barring entry had been hung across the door.
Bonnie walked to the corners of the greenhouse on either side, assessing its size and dimensions. It had a staggered roof, a central atrium rising in the middle to perhaps ten metres above her head, and sloping sides, like a Norman church, making it impossible to see the far end. Carefully planted trees along the outside left it camouflaged, which was why she probably hadn’t noticed it before. Now, though, intrigued, she couldn’t resist climbing over the chain and sliding open the door.
A wave of heat hit her, along with the pungent scent of rotting plant matter. Inside, paths meandered through overgrown raised gardens displaying all manner of tropical plants, from tomatoes drowning in their own rotten produce to cacti and lemon trees still laden with shiny orange fruit. Some displays had suffered from a lack of maintenance, with the skeletons of unwatered plants standing lonely in dry flowerbeds, but others either had roots deep enough to find water or benefited from the mini ecosystem inside, where collected moisture dripped down from places along the roof.
