by CP Ward
‘Figured it would only be right to be their first customer,’ she said. ‘Not sure I’d wear this round town, but it seems to fit in all right here.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. Are you ready for a coffee?’
‘Bingo.’
They headed across to the Mountain Breeze, where they found Niall on duty. When they asked after June, the boy told them she was next door, cleaning the adjacent shop. New stock was due to arrive the following day, so they needed somewhere to put it.
‘So, we have one more week,’ Debbie said, glancing up at a promotional poster on the wall behind the counter. ‘December 5th. What’s that, one month since we arrived? It’s nothing, is it? Are you scared?’
Bonnie smiled. ‘I’m trying not to let myself be, but I’m terrified. I quit my job over this. The Old Ragtag delighted in telling me I wouldn’t be welcomed back, and if I had a change of heart I’d have to reapply. The old sod even told me my age would likely count against me.’
‘Isn’t that illegal?’
‘Technically, of course. But he knows me. He knows how old I am.’
‘You’re not old.’
Bonnie patted Debbie on the arm. ‘That’s nice of you to say. To be honest, the longer I stay here, the younger I feel.’
‘That’s nice.’ Debbie frowned. ‘The longer I’m here, the less Goth I feel. That’s a big concern.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Next time I can get wi-fi, I’m going to order some of those sunglasses that show everything in black and white. That’ll be a good start.’
‘Sounds fun.’
‘And Shuan and me are going to start a metal band.’
‘Really?’
Debbie nodded. ‘Shaun plays bass. Apparently Jason the reindeer guy can play drums. We just need a guitarist.’
‘So, you’re the singer?’
‘Of course.’
‘I can’t wait to hear it.’
Debbie grinned. ‘Thinking to set up a residency in the club. Once a week. We’ll basically thrash it out, then play a couple of metal Christmas-song covers just to stay on topic.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
The door opened, and June came in. Seeing Bonnie and Debbie, she came over. ‘Good news,’ she said. ‘I just heard from Brendon. We got a donation from a renewable energy company. They’re sending a team to inspect the park for the possibility of the installation of solar panels, to see if it’s viable. They should be here by Wednesday.’
‘That’s great,’ Bonnie said. ‘If we can have them up and running by Christmas, it’ll surely save the park money.’
‘They told Brendon that it’s possible the park could generate one hundred percent of its own electricity.’
‘Perfect.’
As June went off to help Niall, Bonnie couldn’t help basking in a little success. After several meetings with the other leaseholders, they had come to the conclusion to push the environmental theme as much as possible, reinventing Christmas Land as an environmentally sustainable and low impact theme park. All food was to be locally sourced, all products fair-trade or cottage-industry produced, as much as possible recycled, everything energy efficient, and where possible, new construction was to be carried out with recycled material.
So far, it was working well, and the park had attracted national attention. Temporarily closed to visitors, it was open only to registered journalists, some of whom were regularly seen wandering about, asking questions and taking pictures.
Whether it would translate into ticket sales, Bonnie didn’t know. She could only hope, otherwise by the end of January she would be homeless. She still had her house in Weston super Mare, of course, but she had rented it out and the tenants had a one-year lease. The rent was enough to give her a small profit over the cost of the mortgage, but it wasn’t enough to rent something else, and without a job, she would need a sofa to sleep on.
‘Stop brooding,’ Debbie said. ‘We’re game on. No way the Boss is going to shut the park after all this community effort.’
‘I hope not,’ Bonnie said. ‘It would be easier if we knew who it was, in order that we could appeal to him directly.’
‘Just trust me, it’ll be fine. So, who are you going to send your golden tickets to?’
The idea of handing out exclusive tickets had been a popular one. Each member of staff had been given five tickets to hand out to whomever they chose. The condition was that each ticket was valid for a three-night stay for up to a family of four, bookable when space was available. Each ticket came with a hundred-pound voucher to be used on drinks, entertainment, or in any shop of their choice. The theory behind it was that once here, customers would spend lots of additional money, while giving a favourable review of the park to anyone who would listen, word-of-mouth being by far the best advertising.
‘I haven’t quite decided,’ Bonnie said. ‘I’m going to give one to Jean from work, because she was always nice to me, and I feel bad about leaving her behind. And I thought I’d give one to my old boss, you know, just so he can come up here and see how much better off I am.’
‘Come on, you know that’s not the reason. Gloating isn’t you, Bon.’
Bonnie shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose I just wanted to offer an olive branch. And he was always so miserable at work, who knows what kind of a personal life he has. I thought it might be nice to cheer him up a little.’
‘That’s very charitable of you.’
‘And my kids.’
Debbie lifted an eyebrow. ‘Steve and Claire?’
Bonnie sighed. ‘I can’t hate them, you know? They’re my children.’
‘They both took Phil’s side. I’m surprised you didn’t burn every picture you have of them.’
‘One day you might understand,’ Bonnie said. ‘They’d have to commit murder before I’d disown them. And even then, it would be hard.’
Debbie patted her on the hand. ‘You’re a saint,’ she said. ‘If I told Mum that Dad had run off because she dressed like a potato and was as boring as washing up, I’d expect to get kicked out.’
Bonnie rolled her eyes. ‘They didn’t say that. Not those exact words, anyway. And I know your mum. She wouldn’t throw you out.’
‘She might.’
‘She wouldn’t. I never threw my kids out. They had both already moved out. Yeah, they said some pretty hurtful things, but I don’t think they knew the whole story. I always put on a face for them, you know. I knew what Phil was doing, but I never let it show. And I had a house to run. I had food to put on the table, cleaning to do, money to earn, since our savings always seemed to be shrinking. I was a fool, I know I was, but I did it for them.’
‘I wish you were my mum,’ Debbie said. ‘Well, at least my second mum. My first one is decent enough.’
‘I am. Who was it who carried you up the stairs last week?’
‘Ah, you were just being a mate. And I would have made it eventually. Me and Alan got on the sherry. I’m not used to granny drinks.’
‘Alan?’
‘Ah, we’re just mates.’
Bonnie smiled. ‘I’m glad you have friends. Right, we need to get back to the café. I want another go at turning those lumps of tree into hot chocolate.’
As they headed back across the plaza, the hum of machinery around them, Bonnie thought about the golden tickets tucked into an envelope in the café’s kitchen. She knew Jean would be delighted, and even the Old Ragtag might crack a rare smile. But she worried about the others. What would Steve and Claire say? Claire, off backpacking across Africa or somewhere, probably wouldn’t come, but Steve, living in Swindon with his wife and young son—a grandson Bonnie had rarely met, and not at all in the last eighteen months—would have no excuse. Little Timothy would love the reindeer and the fairground rides. If they chose not to come, it would be a greater rejection than any other.
24
Snow
‘Hi, Bonnie,’ Len said, smiling as she pulled up a stool and sat down. ‘I
was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.’
Bonnie smiled. ‘I’m afraid I decided to stay after all. Here, I brought you these.’ She reached into a bag at her feet and pulled out a paper bag and a sealed plastic container.
‘What have you got for me?’
She pushed the paper bag across the bar. ‘A present. A fresh batch of marshmallows.’ She grinned. ‘Try them and tell me I’m not getting better.’
‘They were fantastic before.’
‘Ah, last time I had the sugar content totally wrong, and I didn’t whisk the egg enough so it tasted more like a lump of plastic than a marshmallow.’
‘I thought they tasted great.’
‘You’re just being nice.’
‘My son was visiting, so I gave one to him, and he said the same,’ Len said. ‘Only one, mind. And Young Bill, my oldest and most regular customer, he had a little taste.’
At the end of the bar, a grizzled man wearing a green parka jacket raised a hand and gave Bonnie a gap-toothed smile. ‘Divine,’ he said, before turning back to his pint.
‘You’re onto a winner with these,’ Len said. ‘What’s in the other bag?’
Bonnie gave a sheepish grin. ‘Well, I was wondering if I could offer you a little business preposition.’
‘Oh?’
‘This is some homemade hot chocolate mix. Off the tree in Christmas Land. I concocted it myself. Plus some sugar and cinnamon out of the shops here in Quim. Totally local.’
‘You want me to drink it?’
‘And if you like it well enough, I want you to sell it.’
‘Here?’
‘Why not?’
‘This is a pub.’
Bonnie pointed at a coffee machine behind the bar. ‘You sell coffee, and I know you do hot chocolate, because I’ve seen you carrying it outside.’
Len shrugged. ‘But that’s just packet stuff.’
‘Exactly. I want you to sell my stuff, and tell people where it comes from.’
‘And what do I get out of it?’
‘Money. You can sell it for however much you like, and hopefully I’ll get a few more customers up in Christmas Land. We’re only allowed a certain number of overnight visitors, but day visitors are also important.’
Len grimaced. ‘Christmas Land. Huh. I’ll think about it.’
‘We’re undergoing a few changes,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty sure you’d like it.’
‘Haven’t been up there since I was a kid, and it was tacky even then.’
‘In the last month alone, we’ve had a ton of investment. There are plans for an interactive Nordic museum, which will focus on Scandinavian culture to carry the park through the summer months. We’ve contacted schools all over the region about visits, and had a good response. Christmas Land is sticking around, whether you stuck up types here in Quim like it or not.’
‘We’re not stuck up.’
‘Yes, you are. All “look at us in our posh little Lake District village.”’ Bonnie grinned, impressed with her own impression.
‘You haven’t grown up with the tackiest theme park in England just five miles up the road,’ Len said.
‘It’s not tacky anymore. Well, it won’t be soon, once we reopen.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to force myself to visit sometime.’
Bonnie reached into a pocket of her coat and pulled out an envelope. ‘Now you have no choice,’ she said.
‘What’s this?’
‘Open it and find out.’
Len lifted an eyebrow as he opened the envelope and slid out the golden piece of paper. ‘Huh? “Grants the holder three nights in the world’s only Christmas-themed amusement park”,’ he read. ‘What?’
‘You could bring your wife and son,’ Bonnie said, getting up from the stool and picking up her bag.
‘My….’ Len was still staring at the ticket. ‘Um, thanks.’
‘I look forward to seeing you there,’ Bonnie said, flashing Len a smile as she headed for the door. ‘Be sure to come by for some marshmallows and hot chocolate.’
It felt good to have a purpose. Until she had made the final decision to take on Mervin’s café, basic survival had been Bonnie’s main aim. Getting through the day without losing her job, her house, or her health, there had been nothing to look forward to other than her cornflakes the next morning, and hopefully a chat with Jean over whatever was on the front page of the day’s newspapers.
Her new role still felt unfamiliar, but she was growing into it. At first, telling people what to do had felt strange, but after reading through the letters Uncle Mervin had prepared but never had time to send, she realised there was no other choice. Her uncle’s enthusiasm and drive to save the park which had become his home couldn’t be ignored.
Back at Christmas Land, she found a team painting and repairing the gates, filling in potholes in the approaching path, and repairing holes in the perimeter fence. Brendon, dressed in overalls, spotted her and waved.
‘Good news,’ he said, as she wandered over. ‘Safety standards officials just gave the green light to the Christmas Land Coaster. It’s been years since that old thing ran, but we’re about to see it operating again.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks to a group of your uncle’s friends.’
‘I guess his marshmallows must really have been something,’ Bonnie said. ‘If mine are half as good, I’ll be happy. Is everyone ready for the café’s official reopening party tonight?’
‘As soon as we’re done here, we’ll be right over,’ Brendon said.
Bonnie smiled. Aware she had a lot of preparation to do, she headed back to Ings Forest station and skirted the lake until she came to the fenced area where Mervin’s mallow plants grew. With only a tiny yard at the back of her house in Weston, gardening was something else she had needed to learn. With the help of a couple of the park’s resident caretakers, she had sectioned off the patch of marshland by plant size, with one area reserved for newly planted seedlings.
Among his belongings in the grotto, Bonnie had found a notebook, in which Uncle Mervin had kept a rough diary, along with a list of recipes he was working on. Local Mallow was only one of his recipes, with others coming from all over the world. She discovered he’d had a fascination with mountain blends, with Himalayan Mallow, Andean Mallow, and even Kilimanjaro Coffee Blend Mallow all appearing on his menus. Bonnie had managed to hunt down a list of suppliers and ask them to resume their service.
The garden was looking good. She waded into the water and selected a couple of roots, amazed at how easy it now seemed. Then, after tucking them into a plastic bag, she headed back to the park. She was nearly at the gates when she saw something floating gently down through the air.
A snowflake.
She stuck out a hand and it nestled briefly on her palm before melting away. Bonnie stared at where it had been, then looked up, realising others were falling around her, the air filling with a light, feathery curtain of snow.
25
Coaster
The Christmas Land Coaster was more of a scenic ride than an out-and-out thriller of a rollercoaster, but as Brendon interrupted the café’s opening party to announce that it was ready for its inaugural reopening ride, Bonnie couldn’t ignore a shiver of excitement. It’s curving metal rails were visible all over the park as it twisted and turned through the trees overhead, making sharp cutbacks and at one point dipping down into an underground tunnel before reemerging a couple of hundred metres away. With a tall fence protecting the entrance and exit, Bonnie had no clue what was down there, nor did she know where it went when it arced outside of the park grounds and disappeared into the forest, before reappearing again near the station at the very rear of the park.
While the rails were out in the open, the trucks had always been hidden away in a shed behind the station. Now, sat on gleaming, freshly polished rails, they were a series of mini sleigh designs, with the front locomotive designed to look like a pair of reindeer.
Waiting with the rest of the assembled staff, Bon
nie was about to climb into a cart near the back when Brendon raised his hand and waved her over.
‘No, come up here, please, Bonnie. This old thing would still be rusted solid if it wasn’t for you.’
‘I’ve never been on a rollercoaster before,’ she said, reluctantly heading to the front.
Brendon waved her into the first car, right behind the reindeer. Gingerly, Bonnie climbed into the seat. Brendon climbed in beside her and pulled down the safety bar.
‘Let’s see how the old girl goes, shall we?’ he said. ‘I’m afraid work hasn’t finished on some of the displays, but we’re getting there.’
With everyone in their seats, the coaster began to move. Slowly at first, it rose up a slight incline towards a dipping corner. Bonnie, who had never been on a rollercoaster in her life, clung to the safety bar with all her might, terrified it would suddenly give way and throw them out into oblivion. As the coaster crept up the incline towards the first drop, she was certain she was about to die, be sick, or both.
‘Relax,’ Brendon said, laughing. ‘It’s pretty tame.’
‘I’m trying,’ Bonnie said through gritted teeth. ‘I haven’t been this scared since I was last in a car with my maniac daughter driving.’
‘If it’s anything like June’s,’ Brendon said, turning to wink at his wife in the seat behind, ‘I imagine this will be tame in comparison.’
‘Watch it up there,’ June said. ‘Remember who controls what you eat.’
‘Sorry, love,’ Brendon said, as June gave him a lighthearted thump on the back, causing a distorted groan of piped music.
‘And don’t forget to change your batteries before we open.’
Brendon looked about to reply, but the coaster suddenly dropped, throwing them all back in their seats. Bonnie was too scared even to cry out as they hurtled into a sweeping bend before passing through a series of dips and rises. On the last, they passed a display of reindeer-shaped marionettes standing around among a forest of plastic trees devoid of fake snow.
