by CP Ward
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Call it intuition. We’ll be fine. Look, we have way more pressing concerns.’
‘Like what?’
‘The park opens in two days. We have to be bang on the money. And Barry’s lot will show up. It’s going to be utter chaos. I can’t believe I got myself into this.’ Debbie rubbed her forehead. ‘I mean, what if Shaun, Ben, and Mitchell go at it in the middle of Barry’s wedding? If Shaun and Ben are in costume, Father Christmas and an elf beating on a deaf guy, that’s going to scar any children watching for life. Scar them, Bon.’
Bonnie wiped tears out of her eyes. It would make the greatest wedding video of all time.’
‘Yeah, and destroy the childhoods of millions. You know Larry is a top YouTuber, right? He reviews video games. He has three million subscribers. That’s influence, Bon. With thirty seconds of footage he could end Christmas forever, and it would be all my fault.’
Bonnie stared at the serious expression on Debbie’s face as her friend downed the remaining half of her pint before wiping a sleeve across her mouth. Then, as if the whole world had turned on its head and stood there dangling precariously with its feet wiggling in the air, she burst into laughter.
29
Grand Reopening
‘Okay, last minute checklist. We have regular milk, soy milk, almond milk, and coconut milk?’
Debbie nodded. ‘Check.’
‘And we have an ongoing order for more of the same every two days throughout December?’
‘Uh … check.’
‘We have chocolate, ground and in bars?’
‘Check.’
‘And we have cinnamon, nutmeg, Christmas spice, ginger, and turmeric?’
‘Ah, yeah, I expect so.’
‘Yes or no?’
‘Let’s go with yes?’
‘I’ll check for myself later. We’re totally loaded with marshmallows?’
‘You mean in the rack or in my stomach?’
Bonnie rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose both. If you’re full, you won’t eat any more.’
Debbie spread her hands. ‘What do you take me for? I would never eat any of the stock. I stuffed myself in that new waffle place this morning while you were still getting dressed, just in case I got tempted.’
Bonnie smiled. ‘Then we’re all set. Let’s go and meet the first arrivals.’
The official opening was at ten o’clock. With the first train arriving at Ings Forest station at nine thirty-five, everyone was hoping there would be a sizable crowd in attendance when Gene stepped up to cut the tape. The railway company had been persuaded to put on an extra carriage just in case. Overnight bookings were full, but with a strict limit of five hundred people per night, it would be the day customers who made the real difference.
‘Do I really have to wear that outfit? I mean, come on, Bon, it’s pink.’
‘It’s pink and white. It’ll make you look nice, even with all those piercings and tattoos. You might even like it.’
‘I will never, ever, ever like wearing pink.’
Bonnie lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’m the boss.’
‘Just for you, Bon. Just for you.’
Twenty minutes later, they joined the rest of the staff by the gates. Everyone was in full costume, but even so, Debbie and her bubblegum pink nineteen-fifties waitress outfit caught the most glances. Bonnie had found the costumes in a cupboard. Mervin had worn an orange and blue pinstripe suit, but Bonnie had decided to retire it in his honour. The old waiting staff uniforms would do until she could decide on some new designs, but if she were honest about it, they were no worse than what she had to wear at Morrico. With her hair done up in a bun, she actually felt quite stylish.
‘Here they come,’ Brendon said. Gene, in full Victorian Father Christmas woodland garb, slammed him on the colourful back, causing a loud glockenspiel tune to play. June, frowning, reached across and adjusted a volume control.
Nearby, Shaun, Mark, and Alan were practicing some dance steps in freshly washed and ironed elf costumes. Jason had shown up with a reindeer, which snorted and pawed at the ground as he held it by the reins. Belinda wore traditional Lapland garb, and looked like an ancient tribal elder. Jan and Daniel from Bad Taste Christmas Goods wore matching jumpers with LED Christmas presents on the front, and from the look of some of the other catering staff, they had shared a few out. Only Niall, wearing a simple red Christmas hat with his bomber jacket and jeans, looked in any way normal.
The first customers appeared through the trees. Bonnie blinked at the size of the crowd; the train must have been packed. Those nearest the front appeared to be jogging to get there first. As the crowd assembled behind a ticker tape line, facing the staff across the plaza, Gene stepped forward, with Ben at his shoulder. Bonnie noticed how the big man limped a little, a grimace on his face hidden to anyone who didn’t know him by his thick beard, like a warrior moving to his spot on the battlefield to make a last, valiant stand. With Ben beside him, dressed in similar but slightly less dramatic garb like a trainee actor learning from an old master, she sensed this was the moment the baton passed.
What had at first resembled a bedraggled old pine standing off to the side of the main square had been snipped and manicured into a magnificent Christmas tree nearly ten metres high, decked out in all manner of ornaments and lights. Gene, walking slowly as the crowd hushed, reached a podium and climbed up to a dais set up on the top. Ben stood respectfully on the step below, holding a thick extension cord leading from the tree in one hand, and a plug in the other.
‘On this, the fifth of December,’ Gene bellowed into a microphone, his voice echoing through the trees, ‘I, Saint Nicholas of Myra in what is now known as Turkey, taker of all manner of names, Father Christmas, Santa Claus, Sinterklass, Chris Kringle, Ded Moroz, and a hundred others, declare, with the power of the North Pole, Greenland, and everywhere in between, that our magnificent Christmas Land, great bringer of magic to all who enter its gates, be returned, restored … reborn! Welcome, one and all, to the most magical place on this or any other earth. Welcome … to Christmas Land!’
He sagged as he hollered the last sentence, leaning on Ben’s shoulder as his grandson struggled to hold him up. The crowd cheered. Bonnie noticed how Ben said something, but Gene gave a quick shake of the head, his hands reaching out as he regained his stance. Ben passed up the two wires, and Gene, his face contorting with pain, lifted the plug and socket above his head.
‘We are … born again!’
As Gene connected the wires, the Christmas tree illuminated with a glow so bright that the nearest people covered their eyes. Flame-like lights flickered all over its branches, and a glittering star flickered red, blue and green. From somewhere behind came the tinkle of Christmas music, and then the gates began to move, a series of recently repaired cogs, wheels, and pistons rising and falling as bursts of steam rose out of little funnels and dissipated into the air.
As planned and practiced over the last few days, the staff quickly dispersed, some running to the ticket offices, others back into the park to take up their positions or start kettles boiling and ovens heating. Those in character dress made a guard of honour with Brendon dressed as Mr. Glockenspiel standing at the front, with Jason, still holding the reindeer, beside him. Gene, once again leaning on Ben’s shoulder, stood alongside, waving as the first customers streamed towards the gates. Bonnie, standing off to the side with Debbie beside her, smiled at the sight of a few familiar faces. Larry and Mitchell gave her a wave, as did Barry, on the arm of a pretty young lady. She saw Tim and John, the elderly couple, shuffling forward, and there, behind them, to her surprise, was Jean, wearing a Christmas hat. ‘The old goat gave me the weekend off!’ Jean hollered in Bonnie’s direction, frantically waving her hands over her head as the crowd took her forward. And a few steps behind her came Len from The King’s Thistle, standing beside a tall, handsome young man who had to be his son, Thomas. Len noticed Bonnie and gave a polite wave which she returned wi
th a wave and a smile.
‘Is it over yet?’ Debbie whispered beside her. ‘Can I look up now?’
Bonnie started to laugh. ‘I think you’re okay,’ she said. ‘Come on, we’d better get in and get set up before they all get tired of the coaster and the sleigh rides.’
She was just about to head for the gates when she remembered Gene. As the crowd made their way through the ticket turnstiles, she saw him, standing behind, supported by Ben, still waving at the last customers as they filed inside. Brendon, his duties over, turned towards him, getting there just a step before Bonnie and Debbie.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
Gene winced. ‘Think I might need a little more than Christmas magic for this one,’ he muttered. ‘Anyone got a phone that works?’
Debbie pulled out her smartphone. ‘Picked myself up a roving wifi hotspot,’ she said, pulling up emergency services and giving the button a quick tap. ‘Songs were taking far too long to download. Now, where’s the best way in for an ambulance?’
30
Weddings and Possibilities
‘Now, Barnard Jonas Winkleton, please repeat after me. “I do take thee, Catherine Savoy Lane-Jenkins, to be my lawful wedded wife.”’
As Barry repeated the vicar’s words, Debbie, standing in the fourth row beside Bonnie, sniggered.
‘Why do rich people always have the stupidest names?’ she whispered.
‘Shh! Have you been on the punch already?’
‘No, but come on, Winkleton? Savoy? What kind of a middle name is that? Was she named after the hotel where she was conceived or something?’
‘Better than Number 9 Bus Shelter,’ Bonnie whispered back. ‘I remember your mother telling me that was her second choice for your middle name after Maud, but your dad and the postman outvoted her two to one.’
‘Shut up. How did you know my middle name was Maud?’
‘After you left your wallet at the pub the other night, I had a quick glance through to make sure nothing had been stolen. Look, here they come. Get ready to throw that confetti.’
‘Good call on shredding last year’s menus,’ Debbie said, holding up a bag of colourful paper.
‘Out with the old, in with the new,’ Bonnie said. ‘I felt it was best to put my own mark on things.’
‘Judging by the crowd yesterday, it’s going all right.’
Bonnie smiled. Her arms still ached from a long evening of preparing marshmallows, after completely selling out during the first day. She’d sold more in five hours of business than she’d expected to sell in the first week. Several return customers had spoken of their love for Mervin’s café, and told her how glad they were that the place was open again. Bonnie was of course delighted, but aware she would need to hire more staff if she wanted to have any energy left by Christmas.
A clanging of bells signaled the end of the ceremony. Bonnie and Debbie joined the other guests as they filed out, heading for the plaza outside of the wedding chapel where photographs would be taken. As they stood around in the cold while flakes of snow fell around them, delighting the main party guests, Bonnie eyed the restaurant forum across the plaza.
‘Do you think they’d notice if we headed over to the reception a little early?’ she said.
Debbie shrugged. ‘I imagine they could grab a picture off the website and Photoshop you into the group pic if they really wanted to. Let’s go.’
An area of the restaurant forum was cordoned off for the wedding reception, but the rest was open for regular customers. Bonnie and Debbie ordered a couple of coffees and took them to a terrace which overlooked the group milling around in the plaza outside. A photographer the wedding party had brought with them was attempting to organise people into groups, while another from Christmas Land, a man dressed in a brightly coloured ragdoll outfit, was also attempting to take pictures, cajoling small groups to make cartoonish expressions for his bubblegum coloured, oversized camera.
‘Is that Mark in there?’ Bonnie asked.
Debbie shook her head. ‘Alan.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘I saw him pinch a glass of sparkling off the buffet table just before the ceremony started. And he mentioned it in the pub yesterday. Said he’d be breaking out a new costume today and he was a bit nervous.’
‘I’m not surprised. He’s doing a good job, though.’
A shadow fell over the table. Bonnie looked up to see Len standing there, with Thomas beside him.
‘Bonnie, there you are. I went over to the café but the lad you left in charge said you’d be here.’
‘Thanks for coming back again, Len.’
Len smiled. ‘We had such a great time yesterday that we couldn’t resist coming again today, could we, Thomas? Plus, I don’t have my lad home so often.’
Thomas smiled. ‘Dad always said this place was tacky. I have no idea what he was talking about.’
‘Amazing what a bit of paint can do,’ Bonnie said.
‘You should be so proud,’ Len said. ‘It’s fantastic. And there are so many people here. You know, my guest rooms were full yesterday because there weren’t enough chalets available onsite.’
‘We have a strict limit,’ Bonnie said. ‘Part of the environmental agency contract, apparently.’
‘And I had to bust out the karaoke machine for a group on their way home last night too,’ Len continued. ‘I’ve never heard Christmas songs sung so loud.’
Bonnie became aware of Debbie kicking her under the table. She ignored it as long as possible before giving Debbie a sharp glare. Debbie mouthed something and rolled her eyes.
‘Anyway, I was hoping to catch up with you because I remember you were asking about a book,’ Len said. ‘I went round to see my old dad a couple of days ago and he had a copy. I couldn’t bring it up to the park because I gather it’s a bit of a collectors’ item, but it looked complete. If you could stop by the pub in the next few days I’ll gladly let you have a look.’
Bonnie could barely bring herself to speak. She stared at Len, aware Debbie was assaulting her leg again like a frustrated kickboxer.
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I certainly could. I’ll be busy over the next couple of days until the wedding party has gone back, but I’ll definitely have time over the weekend.’
The spotlights set into the room appeared to have given Len’s cheeks a reddish tint. ‘Sounds good,’ he said. ‘I look forward to seeing you.’
As Len and Thomas headed off in the direction of the reindeer enclosure, Debbie gave Bonnie’s leg one more swift kick.
‘Good god, will you stop that?’
Debbie leaned forward. ‘I was trying to get your attention.’
‘Attention got. Why?’
Debbie held up three fingers. ‘Which one was missing?’
‘Do I need to find a pair of scissors or something?’
‘His wife! Where’s his wife?’
Bonnie shrugged. ‘Perhaps she was shopping or something? I mean, some of the shops here sell some pretty nice stuff.’
Debbie shook her head. ‘No. Are you really not seeing this?’
‘Seeing what?’
‘You’re what, fifty-five?’
‘You know I’m fifty-two! My birthday’s not even until September.’
‘And Len, he’s about the same, right? His son—his really handsome son—is at the tail end of a university degree, so he’s what, twenty-two, twenty-three? If Len had kids around thirty, he’d be what, fifty-three, fifty-four?’
‘I’m pretty sure we’re not going to need a calculator to figure all this out.’
‘Tell me, have you ever seen his wife?’
Bonnie frowned. She had visited the pub a few times, but seen no sign of any woman in Len’s life. She had mentioned bringing his wife and son to the park, but Len had neither confirmed nor denied the existence of a woman in his life. And there was something about him that was attractive, something difficult to place at first. On the surface he was plain-looking, mostly bald, wide-sho
uldered but soft around the face, his features subdued rather than prominent. But he was kind, and when he talked to her she could tell he really listened. He wasn’t just waiting for his turn to speak.
‘Please don’t suggest you’re thinking to match-make me.’
Debbie grinned. ‘Oh, Bon. Would I ever do such a thing?’
31
Investigations
The wedding reception was a riotous affair which went on until nearly midnight. Bonnie, feeling her years, ducked out long before Debbie did, later hearing her friend stumbling up the stairs some time in the small hours. Aware that customers waited for no one, Bonnie pulled herself out of bed just after six o’clock and made her way to the kitchen to get herself some coffee.
It was set to be another busy day. While it was only December 7th, with several weeks yet before Christmas, she hadn’t felt so festive in years. In Morrico, relentless lines of shoppers humming along to the day’s fifteenth play of Slade tended to squeeze out any excitement. Now, despite a mild hangover, she found herself humming the very same Christmas tune she had come to loathe over her supermarket years, as she made coffee and carried it upstairs, through the grotto and onto the rooftop terrace.
Christmas Land was beginning to wake up. Snow had fallen overnight, but the parasol Bonnie had set up over her little table and chair had kept them clear. She sat down, listening to the birds singing in the trees, her thick dressing gown keeping out most of the morning chill. Like a giant dragon, the coaster made a lethargic trail through the trees, its first empty run of the day always a slow loop to make sure the tracks were clear of branches or accumulated snow.
Even at this time of the morning, she heard the laughter of children, already outside playing in the snow, and the frustrated cries of sleepy parents telling them to put on hats and gloves or zip up their jackets. Bonnie smiled, taking a deep breath as she sipped her coffee. It was set to be a good day. A phone call last night from Ben had told her that Gene was stable in hospital, and might even be out by Christmas, although he would be in strict rocking chair duties. And later in the evening, she had bumped into Jean, enthusiastically displaying a sparkling new Christmas jumper. Although Jean had clearly been on the sherry, she had sounded pretty interested in a potential assistant manager position, should one become available.
