by CP Ward
Brendon grimaced. ‘Haven’t finished the reindeer forest yet, then,’ he muttered. ‘Better get another team on that soon.’
They swung around another corner and into a terrifying drop. Up ahead was only darkness, the underground tunnel.
‘The dwarf mines,’ Brendon said, sounding a lot more distressed than he had before they began. ‘Where they mine all the goods for the Christmas presents.’
Protected from the elements underground, the display of little marionettes working in a mine while singing Christmas songs was in better working order than the previous one, even though a few light-bulbs needed replacing. Bonnie smiled at the colourful carts moving through the brightly lit display, loaded with glittering jewels.
Then they were rushing back up into the daylight, cutting around a corner, and passing along a flat section passing over the main plaza. Mervin’s Marshmallow Café, with its freshly painted walls and glowing sign stood to one side. Bonnie smiled, glancing up at the windows of the upstairs flat which was now hers, and the rooftop, with its secret patio, carefully concealed to be hidden from the coaster’s riders. It had been nearly a month, and Bonnie could still hardly believe how easy it all felt. By now, the tenants would have moved into her house in Weston. Aside from a couple of phone calls from the letting agency, she had heard nothing, and had barely even thought about it. Here among the trees of Christmas Land, with its gradually declining temperatures and light dustings of morning snow, she felt more at home than ever.
The coaster jerked around another corner. Twenty metres below, the reindeer wandered around their enclosure, some of them picking at a food trough, others rubbing their antlers against a couple of scratching posts.
‘Oh, here we go,’ Brendon said. ‘The enchanted forest.’
‘Where?’
‘We’re leaving the park. At least the main part of it.’
The coaster passed over the top of the perimeter fence, cutting through trees which had been allowed to grow up around it, creating a leafy avenue just over their heads. Its speed slowed to allow them to enjoy the scenery, then it carved around an outcrop of rock and passed through a narrow, rocky valley. By now Bonnie had no clue where they were. As it began to slow again, she wondered if they were about to break down. She was just about to voice her fears to Brendon when the valley opened out, and the coaster cruised past a little log cabin hidden in the forest. Outside, a model of Father Christmas lifted a hand and waved, his head nodding from side to side. Beside him, a reindeer missing one side of its antlers lifted its nose and gave a sudden snort.
‘Need to get someone out to fix that,’ Brendon said. ‘Otherwise, it’s looking okay.’
‘Where are we?’
‘Father Christmas’s Cabin,’ Brendon said. ‘In the winter, we do guided forest walks out here. There’s an entrance on the other side, and inside the cabin is a little grotto with comfy chairs where you can get hot chocolate and mince pies. At least, we used to. It’s been closed for about six years.’
‘I’d suggest you get it open as quickly as possible.’
‘We’re working on it. By Christmas, if we have all hands on deck.’
The coaster angled back through the forest, its speed slowly increasing. Bonnie turned to Brendon, one hand closing over his arm.
‘What’s going on?’
Brendon grinned. ‘Oh, you didn’t think it was all gentle and safe, did you?’
The passengers began to murmur nervously. Bonnie looked ahead through the trees, to where the rails appeared to lift vertically in front of them.
‘Oh my—’
They were through the loop almost as soon as they hit it, but for a couple of brief seconds, Bonnie felt her life flash before her eyes. Then they were gliding gently into the station as people simultaneously gasped with fright and cheered. They came to a stop and the safety bars lifted. Bonnie turned to look for Debbie as she got out. Her friend had been seated a couple of rows behind her, and as they hit the loop, Debbie’s cry had been by far the loudest.
‘I wasn’t scared!’ Debbie snapped at Jason, as the reindeer handler laughed. ‘I swallowed a butterfly or a spider or something. That’s all. Don’t look at me like that. I could do it again right now, but I think I should let someone else have a go, don’t you?’
Bonnie glanced at the waiting line, which currently numbered only Belinda, who had decided, due to her advanced age, to sit the ride out.
‘What did you think?’ Brendon asked, as June and Niall crowded around.
Bonnie smiled. ‘Fantastic,’ she said. ‘I think I need a hot chocolate and a marshmallow to calm my nerves, though. Party’s on for anyone who wants to come.’
26
The Mystery
Bonnie set the tray of marshmallows down on the table with a slightly louder thump than usual. Debbie, staring out of the window, jerked her head around.
‘Any chance of getting some help this morning?’ Bonnie said. ‘I don’t want to be the dragon manager or anything, but it would be nice to have someone perhaps take the chairs down off the tables.’
Debbie sighed. ‘All right.’ Like something in a liquid state, she started to rise, one arm pushing her body up while her legs seemed to stay behind.
Bonnie grinned. ‘Worried about Mitchell showing up?’
‘How did you know?’
‘Because they’re due today, aren’t they? The whole wedding party and all that? Another reason why I’d really love some help with these marshmallows. I need to make about another thousand, and my arms are killing me.’
‘Sorry,’ Debbie said, standing up. ‘It’s just that I’ve never been in a love triangle before.’
‘I thought you said Shaun and you had broken up?’
‘Well, I lent him some CDs, and he’s all like, we have the exact same music tastes. Like, we were separated at birth.’
‘Isn’t that a bit weird?’
‘He meant cloned or something, not like brother and sister.’
‘I’m still finding that weird.’
Debbie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I mean, he’s cool, but I don’t know if I want to be bogged down in a relationship with someone who lives around the corner, and who dresses like an elf and does that weird little jig for a living.’
‘As opposed to a deaf metal drummer?’ Bonnie laughed. ‘That wasn’t meant as a joke.’
‘Mitchell works in HSBC. He’s an accounts manager. That’s cool and everything, but I can’t do the corporate dog thing. I’m a liberal.’
‘Right.’
‘I can’t go against my beliefs, just for the sake of a man.’
‘Nope.’
‘I mean, it’s tempting, but I’m torn.’
‘Like that girl from Neighbours?’
Debbie rolled her eyes. ‘I forgot that you were young in the nineties.’
‘I wasn’t that young. Younger. My kids used to watch it.’
Debbie looked up. ‘Did either of them respond to your letters?’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘Not yet. Claire, I can understand. Who knows where she is right now. Last time I checked her social media she was in Russia. Steve, though … I thought he might have got back to me.’
‘Maybe he’s just busy.’
‘Maybe.’
The bell above the door went. Gene, dressed down by his standards in a brown Medieval smock and a leather waistcoat over trousers than looked hand-woven out of cord, stepped inside, then waved someone in after him.
‘Ladies, good day to you. I just wanted to introduce you to Ben.’
The young man was about thirty, with light brown hair and dark, hazelnut brown eyes. When he smiled Bonnie felt a sense of peace inside. Dragging her eyes away from him, she glanced at Debbie, who was staring wide-eyed.
‘My grandson,’ Gene said. ‘He’s raw, but he’s keen. Aren’t you, lad?’
‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ Ben said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you around.’
‘I’m getting too old for this
gig,’ Gene said. ‘At least the more active parts of it. Each time the kids treat me like a tree I feel something pop. The lad here’s got a bit more life in him. I’ll be stepping back, sitting on the porch a lot more.’
‘I can’t believe this place even exists,’ Ben said. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘We think so too,’ Bonnie said.
Debbie was still staring.
‘Debs?’ Bonnie said.
‘What’s your favorite Judas Priest album?’ Debbie said, in a startling monotone.
‘Screaming for Vengeance,’ Ben said without hesitation. ‘Although I know most people go for Painkiller.’
Debbie gave a slow nod. ‘Awesome,’ she said.
Gene frowned at Bonnie, eyebrows so thick they almost covered his eyes. Bonnie just smiled. ‘Be sure to stop by for some marshmallows,’ she said. ‘We have the best around here.’
‘Thanks,’ Ben said. Then, turning to Debbie, he added, ‘I’ll see you around?’
‘Sure.’
As they left, Bonnie started laughing. ‘Should we make it a love-square?’
‘Are you making coffee? I think I need to sit down.’
After lunch, leaving Debbie to continue with the marshmallows, Bonnie took a walk around the park. She had made it her policy not to overwork herself, making sure she spent plenty of time out in the fresh air, something she had rarely done in Weston, even with the seafront just a short walk away. If she was going to change her life, she was going to do it the right way, and not just switch one stressful situation for another.
Stopping by the restaurant forum to see how work was going on a paint job for the building’s ceiling, she found Brendon sitting outside Russian Steppes Donuts and Milkshakes. She ordered a drink from Richard and went out onto the patio to join Brendon. He was peering into a laptop computer, and looked up with a smile as she approached.
‘We just got another booking,’ he said. ‘Someone’s cashed in one of your golden tickets. A Mr. Cyril Reeves?’
Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘The Old Ragtag! He actually used it.’ At Brendon’s confused expression, she added, ‘Sorry, that’s my old boss. He was a right old scrooge and a general pain in the bum. I sent him one as a kind of peace offering.’
‘Well, he’s booked over the wedding weekend.’
‘I’d better make sure to mop my floors twice every morning,’ Bonnie said. ‘He’s a clean freak. Always used to make us clean everything twice. Drove us mad, he did.’
‘Did you give out the rest of your tickets?’
Bonnie nodded. ‘No takers yet?’
‘Not yet. We’re nearly full for opening week, though. This is going to be incredible.’
‘Do you think we’ll get a stay of execution, or will the mysterious owner pull the plug anyway?’
Brendon shook his head. ‘We can but hope.’
‘And you have no idea who it could be?’
‘None. In all the time I’ve been here, I never heard anything about the park’s owner until that letter came.’
Bonnie frowned. ‘Isn’t there some way I could find out?’
‘No idea. When we saw the lease for the Mountain Breeze advertised, we just went with the hundred year thing. Never thought it could get pulled out from under us, and until last year, we’d barely even thought about it.’
‘That’s the general problem. Everyone burying their heads.’
‘Well, thanks to you, we’ve got another chance.’
‘Thanks to my uncle. All I did was post his letters.’
‘And a good job you did.’
Bonnie decided to leave him to his work. Giving herself another twenty minutes before she had to get back and relieve Debbie, she took a meandering walk around the back of the park, past the reindeers, and through an area set aside for older customers. The low building had a small heated swimming pool which was now open again for three hours every morning and evening, as well as a wide seating area for relaxing, and a small library, mostly filled with books on local history.
Bonnie, unsure quite what she was thinking, headed inside. With the park still closed to customers, the building was empty except for its resident custodian, another long-term park resident called Louis Vierstein. Bonnie found him pottering around in the lobby, dusting off bunches of plastic flowers. She asked him if there were any books in the library on the park’s history, and after a shrug, Louis directed her to a corner shelf.
Judging by the coating of dust, the books looked rarely if ever read. Bonnie took one down and carried it to a table, wincing at the grime on her finger after wiping it along the spine. A general book about local history, the pages inside were crisp and almost stuck together. Bonnie turned them slowly, one at a time, peering at black and white photographs of local mines and quarries, half-built cottages, lakeside piers, horse-drawn carts, early tractors, wide, grainy Lake District landscapes, and lines of felled trees stacked up for logging.
One by one, she skim-read the captions, hoping for some clue. She turned a page with a picture showing the opening of a bank in Quimbeck, and then … nothing.
Her fingers lifted the shredded triangle at the bottom of a torn out page. The beginning of a caption read: the founders, at the breaking of the ground on the Christmas Land proj—.
The picture was missing. Frowning, Bonnie felt along the tear, but there was no clue as to how long ago the picture had been torn out. It could be days or years, decades, even.
The founders….
She closed the book, putting it to one side, and hunted for more, but while she came across several other local history books, she found no other mention of Christmas Land.
She took the first book and went to see Louis, but the old man just shrugged. ‘No one much looks in that section,’ he said. ‘Page there could have been torn before you was born.’
‘You have no idea who might have taken it?’
‘Nope.’
‘And you have no idea who these founders were?’
‘None. I arrived in seventy-four. Park had been open a few years by then.’
‘And you’ve never heard of anyone with the initials S.N?’
‘Nope. Never met him, never seen him. Never heard from him neither until that letter arrived last summer.’
‘You got one too?’
‘Yeah, course. I own a stake in the pub. Twenty-percent.’
‘Do you mind if I borrow this book?’
‘Nope, so long as you bring it back.’
Back home at the café, Bonnie let Debbie off on a break and a hung an OUT TO LUNCH sign over the front door to make sure she wasn’t disturbed. Then, she took the book upstairs, made a coffee, and sat down on the sofa to study it further.
No matter how hard she looked, though, the picture was still gone. She had wondered whether it might have been torn out by accident and slipped inside the dust jacket for safekeeping, but it was nowhere to be found. Definitely stolen, she concluded, to hide the group’s identity.
After finishing her coffee, she headed upstairs to Mervin’s grotto, and searched his bookcase for another copy of the book, but found nothing. There were a few other books on local history, however, but on flipping through them, she found the same thing: any mention of Christmas Land was suspicious by its absence. Bonnie shook her head, mystified. It was as though the park ceased to exist the moment you boarded the train at Ings Forest station.
Muffled through the floor, she heard Debbie coming up the stairs and hurried down to meet her. Debbie looked flustered, her cheeks glowing.
‘What happened?’
‘Sorry, just took in a lunchtime pint,’ Debbie said.
Bonnie frowned. ‘You’re supposed to be on duty.’
‘Yeah, but we’re not open yet, are we?’
Bonnie laughed. ‘I’ll let it go this time. Anything interesting happen in the pub?’
‘For once, no.’ Suddenly noticing the book Bonnie was holding, Debbie frowned. ‘Doing some swatting up?’ she asked.
Bonni
e explained her mission to find the missing photograph, and her growing suspicion that someone in the park might have taken it.
Debbie waited until she’d finished, then said, ‘Easy way to find out. Here, let me see.’
Bonnie passed Debbie the book. Debbie opened it to the title page and pointed at some small print at the bottom.
‘The publisher,’ she said. ‘See if they’re still operating, and if so, ask if they have any copies in print. Failing that, go down to Quim and see if there’s a local library. Bet you there is. Bound to have a copy, aren’t they?’
Bonnie mentally brought up the train times to Quim in her head. ‘Do you think you could watch the café for me for a few hours?’
‘From the inside or from the window of the pub?’
Bonnie laughed. ‘You can have the afternoon off, so anyway you choose. I’ll be back later, unless I miss the last train.’
Debbie grinned. ‘Give me a call if you end up having to walk back. I’ll get Jason to go and get you with the sleigh.’
27
Paper Trail
During the short train ride Bonnie searched for the book’s publisher on her mobile phone’s internet application. Unsurprisingly, the company had long ago gone out of business, leaving her with no choice but to hope a copy of the book was stocked somewhere. On a bookseller website she found the book listed for the extortionate price of five hundred pounds, but when Bonnie clicked to check availability, it was listed as out of stock.
In Quimbeck, she headed to the town centre where she knew there was a local map. She found the library, but when she arrived, she almost thumped the door with frustration. A sign hung in the window: closed on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
With a couple of hours to kill before the next train, she wandered up and down the little high street. Most shops were decorated for Christmas, with quaint displays of local ornaments and trinkets. Bonnie picked up a couple of things that would look nice in the café’s windows, even stopping to order a couple of dozen hand-carved reindeer figurines she thought would make pretty table ornaments. The craft shop lady told her to return in a week, handing her a receipt.
