Christmas at the Marshmallow Cafe (Delightful Christmas Book 4)

by CP Ward

  ‘Come on, Bon,’ Debbie said, finishing her wine and pouring another glass. ‘You’re not exactly a dinosaur. And that uniform takes years off you.’

  ‘One or two maybe.’

  ‘More like ten or twenty. I wouldn’t go as far as to call you a fox, but you’re definitely in the vixen category.’

  ‘Um, thanks. I think.’

  ‘Did you pop into the Thistle when you were in Quim?’

  Bonnie shook her head, feeling a sudden flush in her cheeks. It was probably just the wine. Yes, definitely the wine. ‘I didn’t have time.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Social contact avoidance. I saw Thomas the other day. We had a chat.’

  Bonnie’s ears burned. ‘About what.’

  ‘Oh, the weather. What vegetables were on sale in the grocer’s. The usual things.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘He mentioned his dad.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He told me that he worries when he goes off to university. He worries about his dad. He said that even though it’s been a couple of years since his mum died, his dad still struggles.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with me? I mean, I feel sorry for his loss and everything—’

  ‘I suggested that he encourage his dad to ask you out on a date.’

  Bonnie sat up, nearly knocking over her glass. ‘You did not—’

  ‘I absolutely did. We both agreed that the pair of you need a push in the right direction.’

  Bonnie stood up. ‘I will not be match-made for your amusement.’

  ‘Sit down, Bon. We still have half a bottle to get through.’

  With a sigh, Bonnie slumped back into her seat. ‘I mean, I like him and everything, but he’s got a lot of history.’

  ‘He’s got baggage. So? You have, too. But, you’re both independent, both business owners now. No one’s going to be scrimping off the other. You can have a nice, mature, independent relationship.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t like me?’

  ‘So you are interested. I thought so.’

  Bonnie rolled her eyes. ‘Damn, it’s the wine talking.’

  ‘You’ve only drunk half a glass.’

  ‘I don’t have your capacity.’

  ‘Look, make whatever excuses you like, but I don’t think it would do you any harm at all to go on a date. I know you’re enjoying running the café and everything, but it’s just work. And you’ve busted your guts getting it off the ground. You need to let your hair down sometimes. You might even enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Bonnie shrugged. ‘Not like there’d be much point if the park closes in January.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen. Trust me.’

  ‘It’s out of your control. And mine. And anyone’s, by the look of things.’

  ‘Do you really think your grandfather could be alive somewhere?’

  Bonnie had told Debbie what Belinda had said. While Debbie had been skeptical, they had both agreed such a situation was technically possible. Perhaps, like some long-distance overlord, Bonnie’s geriatric grandfather was watching over them. From where, however, was the problem. Despite her best efforts to locate him, she had so far drawn a blank.

  The wine had started to go to Bonnie’s head. ‘I think I’ll call it a night.’

  Debbie smiled. ‘Let’s finish this up. Isn’t this great, though?’ She flapped a hand at the slowly falling snow as it began to fill in footprints and top up heaps alongside the paths. The park lights shone through it, turning it into a glittering spectacle of colour set against the dark of the forest pushing in from the park’s boundaries.

  ‘These are the best moments,’ Bonnie said. ‘Sitting here in the quiet, listening to the wind, thinking back at all the people who came in and left with a smile … I mean, it’s exhausting, but it sure beats swiping tins of beans any day of the week.’

  ‘Or standing in a dole queue,’ Debbie said, voice starting to slur, likely a concoction of the wine and the same tiredness that was making Bonnie long for her bed. ‘Your grandfather wouldn’t shut us down, would he? We’ve only just got here.’

  ‘No idea. Not like I can ask him.’

  Debbie grinned drunkenly. ‘Why don’t you write a letter to Father Christmas? Tell him you’ve been a good girl and your wish this year is for the park to stay open.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t even know where to address it to.’

  ‘The same place all the kids do. Father Christmas, North Pole. Let the post office figure out the rest.’

  ‘It’s a stupid idea.’

  ‘So is a year-round Christmas theme park. But it works.’

  They finished off the wine, their conversation turning to more casual things. It was nearly midnight when they headed inside, both shivering with cold on the outside, but lit from within by the wine and a bag of leftover marshmallows Debbie had brought out. They wished each other good night at the top of the stairs. Debbie went into her room, but Bonnie went into the kitchen, aware that if she went to bed without a glass of water, she’d feel terrible in the morning.

  A glass of water turned into a coffee. Still feeling tipsy, Bonnie found herself sitting at the table in the living room, scribbling down a note on a piece of writing paper left lying around. Her head was spinning so much that she wasn’t entirely sure what she was writing, but she signed off with P.S. A boyfriend would also be nice, but don’t worry if you’re busy. Then closing and sealing the letter, she addressed it as Debbie had suggested, and left it on the side to be posted in the morning.

  It was silly, of course it was. But, it was nearly Christmas. A person could dream, couldn’t they?

  34

  Stuck in the Snow

  Bonnie felt terrible in the morning. She was aware from the sunlight streaming in through her window that she had dramatically overslept. Rolling out of bed, she nearly tripped and hit her head on the bedside table, just managing to miss it as her feet fell out from under her.

  From outside the door came the unforgiving roar of the hoover. She staggered down the hall to the kitchen and found Debbie, already in uniform, in the middle of cleaning up. A bin liner stood next to the kitchen bar, and a wet cloth lay squeezed on the counter top. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Debbie said, giving Bonnie a wide smile that defied the laws of alcohol consumption Bonnie was starting to realise she needed to consider a little more, ‘Larry’s opening up. You take a rest until after lunch, if you like.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s bins day, in case you forgot. I figured you weren’t likely to be up to it, so I took charge. Plus, I figured I might as well give the place a once over.’

  Bonnie had a sudden moment of realisation. She looked at the coffee table where she had left the letter, but it was gone, the surface shining from a fresh polish. She glanced back at the bin bag, stuffed full of old papers and kitchen waste, and gave a shrug.

  It had only been a pipedream anyway.

  The next couple of weeks flew past. The park, fully booked for overnight stays and flooded with day visitors, was a roaring success. Bonnie found herself worked off her feet, crawling into bed each night with the buzz of conversation still in her ears, and the thrill of having made dozens of people happy. It was exhausting work, though, particularly now that they were expanding into doing birthday parties and other private bookings in the small function room around the back. Debbie had proved adept at such work, but even with Christmas just a few days away, Bonnie knew that both of them had to take a step back or face burning out. One evening, a week or so before Christmas, Bonnie decided they should have a meeting.

  ‘We’ve got to cash in, Bon,’ Debbie said, after they reviewed the takings figures. ‘After Christmas things will inevitably slow down. Got to get them in the door while we can.’

  ‘All this managing people stuff is pretty new for me,’ Bonnie said. ‘I’m not sure quite whether I’m doing it right. I mean, are you ha
ppy with your pay and conditions?’

  Debbie laughed. ‘Yeah, it’s all good. However, I do need to tell you something.’

  ‘Sure. What is it?’

  ‘After we’re done with Christmas, I want to head back to the smoke for a bit.’

  ‘You mean, go home?’

  ‘Just for a few months. I like it here, but … the music scene isn’t all that. I’m missing the gigs, and in summer you get the festival circuit. I’ll totally be back again in the autumn, perhaps around Halloween.’

  Bonnie felt like someone had kicked her in the gut. ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘I want to be seasonal, that’s all. There’s not enough going on in this forest to keep me interested all year round.’

  Bonnie decided there was no point bringing up the point that the park would probably be shutting in January anyway. They had both been over it to death. Still, the thought of losing her best friend—

  ‘So, what I was thinking was, I want to have a going away party.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, a big knees up in the café. Next Saturday night.’

  ‘But I thought you wanted to stay until January?’

  Debbie looked awkward. ‘Yeah, I do, but I want to get it out of the way, you know? Before the Christmas rush kicks in.’

  ‘Okay … that’s weird, but whatever you want.’

  ‘And I want it to be fancy dress.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Totally crazy stuff, anything goes. Everyone’s invited.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And so I’ve ordered something special.’

  ‘Okay….’

  ‘And I need you to go and pick it up on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Because it’s my party, and I want it the way I want it. If I go off to collect my costume, you might put up the wrong colour streamers, or buy in the wrong brand of stout from the pub. I need to oversee it all, to make sure it’s done right. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’m not worried about you. Where do I have to get your costume from?’

  ‘Kendal.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yeah, well, you have a car and all that so it shouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Thanks, Bon. You’re the best. I’ll give you an address and everything.’

  ‘What kind of costume is it?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll see. It’s the best. Trust me.’

  ‘I’m starting to run out of trust cards, but I suppose I could lay out one more.’ Bonnie shook her head. ‘Saturday. Kendal. Right, well, I had nothing else to do on my day off.’

  ‘Cheers, Bon. You’re my best friend forever.’

  The thought of Debbie leaving had rather dampened things for Bonnie, but over the next few days she adjusted to the idea. While Bonnie had slipped into the lifestyle of a café owner at Christmas Land with consummate ease, Debbie, even squeezed into the café uniform, was a fish out of water, missing her home comforts. It would be a shame to see her friend go, but she had got friendly with other members of the community, as well as a couple of people she had bumped into on her regular trips into Quimbeck. In less than two months, she felt more at home here than she ever had in Weston super Mare.

  Business was busy right up to the weekend, so by Saturday the 19th, with just a week to go until Christmas, Bonnie was happy enough to drive into Kendal to pick up Debbie’s costume. Debbie had written down an address, and had even checked the time of Bonnie’s train into Quim where she had left her car. As she prepared to set out, Debbie lingered by the door, her phone in hand, looking nervous.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Bonnie said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  ‘This is life and death, Bon,’ Debbie said. ‘Don’t miss that train, otherwise you might hit the morning rush hour, and then what will I wear?’

  ‘Relax.’

  Debbie shook her head. ‘I can’t. Go, go, go.’

  Smiling to herself over her friend’s excessive urgency, Bonnie headed out, walking to Ings Forest station through a light snow and catching the train to Quim. There, she found her car in the Christmas Land car park and headed for Kendal. There was only one real road in and out of Quim, and Debbie had been insistent that Bonnie take it. She thought about trying to find a scenic route through the farming lanes, but she didn’t really know the area, and she wanted to get back as quickly as possible. Plus, it was beginning to snow more heavily, and the last thing she wanted was to end up getting stuck in a snowdrift somewhere. It was her day off, after all.

  She had just crested the rise of the fell looming above the town, when a figure stepped out of a farm gateway and waved at her. As she slowed down, she saw to her surprise that it was Len.

  She stopped and wound down the passenger side window. Len, frowning, leaned inside.

  ‘Hello, Bonnie,’ he said. ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘Well, I was just heading into Kendal. I have to pick something up for Debbie.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Len shook his head. ‘Thomas wanted to go out on a hike this morning, despite the obvious snow. Perhaps for a city boy like him, he thought it would be pretty. He left me a message to meet him right here at ten o’clock, but it’s nearly half past and he hasn’t shown up. I tried calling him but I couldn’t get through. He said he was planning to go to Landerwater, over the fell there, but I’m wondering whether I missed him and he’s gone on already.’

  Bonnie found her mouth working without conscious thought. ‘It’s on the way,’ she said. ‘I can drop you there if you like.’

  Len’s face brightened. ‘Could you really? I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Not with it snowing like it is.’

  Bonnie took a quick glance around the inside of the car, checking for imperfections. It needed a hovering, but was otherwise clean enough.

  ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Get in.’

  Len shook the snow off his jacket and climbed into her tiny Metro. He seemed to double in size as he squeezed in beside her, thanking her as he settled into the seat.

  As she slipped the car into gear her sleeve brushed the arm of his coat. Rather than flinch away, Len just gave an awkward grin.

  ‘I really appreciate this,’ he said. ‘It almost feels like fate that you came along when you did.’

  Bonnie’s cheeks burned. She scrambled to switch on the air-conditioning, despite the snow falling outside. ‘Um, why’s that?’

  ‘Well, I managed to walk up here, but I caught my ankle on a root just a little way back down the road. I was prepared to limp over to Landerwater if necessary, but I wasn’t looking forward to it.’

  ‘Surely a bus would have come along soon anyway?’

  ‘They don’t run in the snow. No one goes out in conditions like this, because you never know how bad it can get.’ He gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘All the locals know that.’

  Bonnie winced. ‘Well, I suppose I’m not really local yet.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m glad you’re not.’

  ‘Why?’ Bonnie blurted, immediately feeling stupid. ‘I mean, um, why not?’

  ‘Um, well, because … oh, dear. Look at that.’

  Up ahead, shapes were appearing out of the snow, moving towards them. They looked like huge lopping ghosts, and Bonnie felt a moment of panic. Then, the first of the cows appeared out of the falling snow, and she let out her breath.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Not again.’

  ‘Just wait,’ Len said. ‘They’ll be past us in a minute or two.’

  They watched as the cows jostled past the car, some bumping against the sides. It was taking far longer for the herd to pass than it had the last time, on the day Bonnie and Debbie had arrived. Just as Bonnie was thinking there surely couldn’t be any more animals to come, the cows stopped moving, coming to rest beside their car, mooing and jostling with each oth
er as they bumped against the windows.

  ‘Um, that’s not good,’ Len said.

  Bonnie peered over her shoulder. She had pulled into a small passing place, but hadn’t gone close enough to the hedge to prevent the cows from surrounding them on all sides. She looked at Len.

  ‘Will they kick or get upset if we try to get out?’

  Len shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘But you grew up around here, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve never been a farmer. They look docile enough, but I wouldn’t want to make them annoyed.’

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. The cows didn’t move, continuing their frustrated mooing while snow pattered down.

  Len pulled up a bag he had put on the floor between his legs, a little hiker’s rucksack. He looked up at Bonnie and smiled as he withdrew a small flask.

  ‘Can I interest you in a brew?’ he said. ‘I’ve got a spare cup.’

  ‘I can’t, I’m driving. Well, hopefully at some point.’

  Len smiled. ‘It’s tea.’

  ‘Oh, well in that case, sure.’

  Len unscrewed the lid and pulled a second cup out of his bag. Balancing one on the dashboard, he poured Bonnie a steaming cup of tea and passed it across. She held it with both hands, appreciating the warmth.

  ‘Not what I had planned for my Saturday,’ Len said. ‘Although being stuck in a car with you is probably better than trudging through the snow. Just don’t wind down the windows.’

  ‘Thanks. I think.’

  ‘It was meant as a compliment.’

  Bonnie held up the cup. ‘And you make a fine cup of tea. Not too plasticky.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  Ignoring the cows standing at the windows, they began to talk of random things, the words coming easily as they relaxed into each others’ presence. Before she knew it, Bonnie had progressed from talking about the café menu and how she had decided on the colours for the new uniforms to her fears over whether her children would accept her new life, and why her marriage had failed. Len listened with barely an interruption unless she asked him for his opinion, his eyes holding hers, his interest sharp. In the end the conversation came around to the passing of his wife, and the hurt it had caused.