Mince Pies and Mistletoe at the Christmas Market

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Oh, he’s precious,’ I laughed, ‘he looks like a proper old-fashioned Rudolph to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she mused, admiring her creation at arm’s length, ‘he is. I rather like this vintage style so I based him on a design from an old snow globe. You know, I might get Ben to lend me his tools so I can make a stencil and cut out some smaller ones to paint and sell on the stall. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that sounds like a wonderful idea!’ laughed Jude as she walked by with an armful of presents for her and Simon’s lucky dip. ‘I’d buy one,’ she winked, ‘and a matching jolly old Santa would make the set complete, assuming of course that you can find one.’

  ‘You know what,’ said Lizzie seriously as Jude carried on her way, ‘she might be on to something there. I was hoping to add some extra stock as the week’s countdown to Christmas and these,’ she added, shifting the cumbersome Rudolph from one arm to another, ‘if carefully scaled down, might be just the thing.’

  By six o’clock the market square was packed to full capacity and I even noticed a few eager press photographers amongst the throng, all no doubt keen to catch a glimpse of our celebrity chef. As the town hall clock finished chiming the hour, the man himself, who had somehow managed to remain incognito until that very moment, stepped up on to the raised platform and the crowd gave an almighty cheer. I was relieved to see that no one actually fainted, but when Jemma turned round to give me the thumbs up, her cheeks were positively glowing.

  ‘My goodness,’ laughed Paul into the microphone, ‘what a welcome.’

  The shouts and claps triggered by his first few words meant that he had to wait almost a full minute before he could carry on.

  ‘Thank you,’ he laughed, ‘thank you all for making me feel so welcome in your pretty little town.’ This was met with more cheers and whistling. He then went on, sounding more serious than I would have expected. ‘Before we get down to the business in hand,’ he said, ‘and turn on these spectacular lights, I want to say just a few words, if that’s all right with you?’

  More shouting.

  ‘These few days around Wynbridge have been my first in the Fens,’ he explained, ‘but they certainly won’t be my last! Don’t get me wrong,’ he raced quickly on before the crowd erupted again, ‘life in a city is all very well. It is busy and exciting and constantly changing but here, and I know there are places just like Wynbridge up and down the country,’ he continued, ‘life beats to a slightly different pulse, a calmer pace, and it’s communities pulling together to support one another that makes events like this happen.’

  The crowd fell almost silent and began to listen more intently.

  ‘The fun and games here tonight haven’t been organised by some think tank or some suits sitting around in a boardroom and having planning meetings for the last six months. This is grass roots stuff, people pulling together, people who care enough to give their time to make a difference and we should applaud that.’

  ‘Yes!’ roared Chris from his position at the back of the crowd.

  ‘Treasure your community, folks,’ Paul continued, ‘support one another and never lose sight of the fact that even though the town of Wynbridge may be smaller than some, it has a strong heart, an important history and a warm welcome for any wayward traveller such as myself!’

  Everyone started to applaud and eventually the countdown began.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Bea, suddenly appearing at my side and linking arms, ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

  ‘I didn’t want to get too near the front,’ I admitted, ‘I wouldn’t put it past Paul to try and pull me on to the stage!’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Bea, looking at him with interest. ‘He really is the bad boy the papers suggest then!’

  ‘You know what,’ I laughed, ‘I was beginning to think so, but having just heard his rousing little speech I’m inclined to think he has hidden depths! Come on, let’s count down together.’

  ‘Three, two, one!’ everyone shouted in unison and Paul, making a great show of the moment, pressed the button with an elaborate flourish.

  No one beyond the stallholders, Tom and I knew that there were going to be fireworks as well as the stirring sound of the Salvation Army band, and as the rockets and Catherine wheels began to launch at exactly the same moment as the lights came on, the crowds stood open-mouthed, their faces aglow in the light of the spectacular display. It was beautiful, rousing and exactly the kind of festive debut the town deserved.

  It wasn’t until the final fireworks fell that everyone could really appreciate the dazzling light display in all its glory. The trees supplied by Chris and Marie were huge, and Tom’s insistence on keeping the lights all together in the market square made for a thoroughly impressive and spectacular show. I only had to listen to the gasps of the adults and the ‘wows’ of the children to know that everyone was mightily mesmerised.

  The mayor, looking completely overwhelmed by the whole spectacle and blushing profusely, stepped up to the microphone to thank Paul for playing his part and then called Dad to the stage.

  ‘Well, Mr Smith,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘you have absolutely surpassed yourself this year! I don’t think I’ve ever seen the town looking so ready for Christmas!’

  I was relieved to hear Dad cut in before the mayor really got into his stride.

  ‘I can’t actually take any of the credit this year,’ he said, clearing his throat. I couldn’t help thinking that he sounded far happier than he was probably feeling. ‘Not all that many days ago I passed the task of festive planning over to my deputy Tom and between him and the market traders they have produced this spectacular show. I think we should all,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful, ‘give Tom and the traders, especially Chris and Marie Dempster, who as I understand it donated both of these beautiful trees, a warm round of applause.’

  Everyone clapped, whistled, stamped and cheered but no amount of cajoling would get Tom up on to the stage, and so without further ado Paul grabbed the microphone and insisted that everyone should make the most of the fun and games on offer and make at least one stop at the hog roast where he would personally be serving customers and offering extra crackling to whoever took the best selfies and uploaded them to social media.

  ‘Gosh,’ I said when I eventually found myself at the front of the queue, ‘this is very generous of you, Paul. You’re going to be here all night. Won’t your face ache from all this smiling?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he insisted, ‘I’m having far too much fun and besides, I’m taking a leaf out of old Swifty’s book.’

  ‘What?’ I frowned. ‘Who on earth is old Swifty?’

  ‘Taylor Swift,’ he said impatiently. ‘I don’t want the press guys making a fortune out of snapping me at the right moment and selling the shot on, so I’m flooding the market myself. That’s what she and her friend did with their bikini shots.’

  ‘Did they really?’ I gasped. ‘But why should you care if the paps make a few quid?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, bending to give me a swift peck on the cheek, ‘like I said, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself and I won’t have the press twisting the situation and saying that I did all this for any other reason than helping you guys out. I know you and Amber said it would be good PR, but right now I don’t actually care about any of that!’ he shouted. ‘I’m having too much fun! Now, who wants more crackling?’

  Chapter 13

  Paul did indeed continue, along with everyone else who had braved the rapidly dropping temperature, to have fun for the rest of the evening. Offering the games and extra food and drink turned out to be the perfect inducement to keep the money rolling in and stop the townsfolk heading home. From what I could make out, all of the stalls, including mine, had a steady flow of customers all night, but it was the old-fashioned children’s games, such as Lizzie’s clever Rudolph and Simon and Jude’s lucky dip, that drew the biggest queues.

  ‘Well, you weren’t wrong, were you?’ said one young mum as the
crowd finally began to thin out a little.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You told my husband and I earlier in the week that things would be better this year. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I smiled, ‘of course. Has it been better than another Saturday night in front of the television then?’ I asked the little girl who was holding the woman’s hand and making short work of her sticky tangle of candyfloss.

  ‘Heaps,’ she grinned. ‘I’ve had a lovely time, but Daddy was totally rubbish at pinning on Rudolph’s tail!’

  ‘Oh dear!’ I laughed. ‘Perhaps he’ll have better luck next year.’

  ‘Assuming this is all here next year, of course,’ said her mum, looking round with a sigh.

  ‘What makes you think it wouldn’t be?’ I frowned, shocked by her sudden change of tone.

  ‘Well,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders, ‘you know how folk talk.’

  ‘Are you gossiping again?’ tutted her husband as he wandered up with the pushchair.

  I could just make out the sleepy face of a very drowsy little girl inside. She was cosily wrapped in a fleecy blanket and, given how cold my toes were, I wouldn’t have minded swapping places with her at all.

  ‘No,’ said the woman, looking sheepish, ‘just chatting.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Whether or not the market will still be here next Christmas.’

  ‘There,’ he said smugly, ‘I knew it, gossiping.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to worry about this place,’ I said quickly, ‘as long as people keep using it on a regular basis, the market won’t be going anywhere.’

  ‘But what about the site?’ whispered the woman, ‘I heard—’

  ‘Never mind what you heard,’ cut in her husband, ‘probably just a load of old rubbish being bandied about at the school gate.’

  His wife shrugged again, forbore to expand on the intriguing titbit she had let slip and turned her attention to the little girl in the pushchair who had started to wriggle.

  ‘Well, we’d better get off home,’ said her husband as he took his daughter’s hand, ‘it’s way after your bedtime.’

  ‘I’m not tired,’ she said, stifling the biggest yawn, ‘not at all.’

  ‘Well, I am,’ he laughed. ‘Come on. Let’s go home.’

  ‘I hope you’ve got lots of other things planned,’ said his wife. ‘It would be lovely to come into town and do something a bit different for a change, especially in the run up to Christmas.’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ I told them as they walked away, ‘and I’ll see what I can do!’

  After they had gone I looked at the little stock I’d got left and decided it was time to start packing away. I’d completely sold out of Jemma’s bakes and biscuits and with the frosty air really beginning to bite, a warm fireside beckoned. I stowed everything away in record time and then went to see if Gwen needed a hand.

  ‘All done,’ she beamed when she spotted me heading over, ‘you’re too late!’

  ‘Well, that was fast work,’ I laughed. ‘Last time I looked over at you, you were still swamped with customers.’

  ‘Well,’ she admitted with a wink, ‘I did have a bit of help.’

  She pointed across the square to where I could see Sam walking Minnie. Well, when I say walking, I mean he was holding her lead at arm’s length and Bea, by his side, was looking absolutely terrified.

  ‘Sam and Bea very kindly offered to help,’ said Gwen, apparently unaware of the sheer panic and fear on her poor assistants’ faces. ‘They’re a lovely couple,’ she mused. ‘I hope he doesn’t keep her waiting much longer.’

  ‘Waiting for what?’

  ‘You know what,’ chuckled Gwen, clicking her tongue. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Ruby Smith. I bet it’s all you girls talk about!’

  ‘Look out,’ I hissed, as the pair headed back in our direction.

  Gwen looked smug as Sam quickly handed back Minnie’s lead and I had everything crossed that she wouldn’t say anything. Bea would have been mortified if she knew anyone thought she was holding out for a proposal, or a leap year for that matter.

  ‘Gwen,’ said Sam, ‘some of the others have decided to finish off the evening in the pub. Do you fancy it?’

  ‘Oh my dear boy,’ she giggled, ‘that’s the best proposal I’ve had in a while!’

  I wouldn’t swear to it, but I’m sure she winked at me as she said it.

  ‘But no,’ she continued, ‘not tonight. I think I’ll be heading home. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’

  ‘In that case,’ suggested Bea, ‘let Sam drive you home. Gwen and Ruby and I will wait for him in The Mermaid.’

  ‘Well, only if you’re sure,’ said Gwen, keen as ever not to be a nuisance to anyone.

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Sam.

  ‘That is really most kind,’ smiled Gwen, quickly tucking Minnie under her arm and taking Sam’s hand, ‘I’ll see you both on Monday.’

  With Ella and Noah tucked up for the night at Angela’s house, Tom, Jemma, Lizzie and Ben, along with practically everyone from the market, were already settled in the pub when Bea and I arrived.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ said Tom, his eyes shining as he dragged over a couple of extra chairs to where the gang were sitting around the fire. ‘Can you really believe that was the Wynbridge we know and love?’

  ‘Tom, I know exactly what you mean!’ laughed Bea. ‘Who would have ever thought the sleepy little place could be so transformed, and so quickly!’

  ‘And it’s all down to Ruby,’ he said, sitting back down next to Jemma and taking a pull at his pint. ‘She’s the one who really made it all happen.’

  ‘She certainly is not,’ I hastily put in, although I couldn’t help thinking Dad might have acknowledged at least some of the effort I had put in during his little speech. I wasn’t expecting to be carried through town on the May Queen’s throne or anything, but a quick mention wouldn’t have gone amiss. ‘Anything that I had a hand in helping along was down to sheer good luck,’ I said, trying to sound generous. ‘If you hadn’t sent me to Skylark Farm, for example, Tom, you would have had to go yourself, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he shrugged.

  ‘And you would have asked the lovely Mr Thompson to help out you when you realised who he was, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘No way,’ he gasped, ‘absolutely not. I wouldn’t have dared!’

  ‘Really?’ I said, laughing at his shocked expression.

  ‘Really,’ confirmed Jemma, as she leant in and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘He would have been far too shy, wouldn’t you, my lovely?’

  ‘Don’t tease,’ said Tom, ‘I can’t help it if I like to stick to colouring in the background, can I? But if you really are so unwilling to take all the credit, Ruby, how about we split it? We’ll call the whole evening a combined effort and unmitigated victory for both of us.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I heartily agreed, ‘sounds good to me, and talking of Mr T, where is he? I rather thought he’d be in here, holding court and regaling tales from his most recent misadventures!’

  ‘He’s already gone back to the farm,’ explained Lizzie. ‘Amber had to leave a little earlier to relieve the babysitter for Honey so Paul stayed on and helped Jake finish up and they headed back together.’

  ‘Crikey,’ said Bea, ‘he’s full of surprises, isn’t he?’

  She bent her head so only I could hear her and nodded towards the bar where Sam had just arrived and was ordering our drinks.

  ‘I wonder if he could give my man there a few tips before he leaves for London,’ she whispered with a frown, ‘I’m beginning to think Sam’s never going to surprise me.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he will,’ I soothed, while wondering if Sam had any idea that his dearly beloved was on tenterhooks.

  Eventually he came and joined us around the fire, bringing with him a tray loaded with snacks and crisps as well as glasses.

  ‘How can you possibly still be hungry?’ m
oaned Bea as she helped him pass around the glasses. ‘I saw you go back to the hog roast at least twice!’

  ‘They aren’t all for me,’ he said, sounding really rather put out that she had commented. ‘God, Bea, you sound like a nagging wife.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ she muttered under her breath.

  Given Sam’s change of mood I couldn’t help but wonder whether the temptation had proved too much for Gwen and she had said something about him dragging his heels after all.

  ‘Thanks, Sam,’ I said, raising my glass to toast him.

  ‘I know it isn’t really your preferred current tipple,’ he said with a wink, ‘but it’s the best I can do.’

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to my recently acquired taste for Skylark Scrumpy or something else, but I didn’t much like the thought that I had already developed a reputation for draining the pub’s resources dry. Fortunately he didn’t give me many seconds to ponder.

  ‘Steve tells me champagne, Cristal no less, is really more up your street these days.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, my temperature rising as I thought of our giggly journey home from the radio station in the back of Paul’s car.

  ‘What’s all this?’ demanded Bea.

  She was clearly put out that she’d missed out and that Sam knew something she didn’t. I ignored her.

  ‘And where is Steve?’ I asked Sam. ‘Is he still packing up? I thought I saw Chris and Marie in the snug.’

  ‘No, he’s having a meal next door,’ said Ben with a nod to the pub’s restaurant, ‘I saw him before you got here.’

  ‘He’s no doubt with the magnificent Mia then,’ I said under my breath.

  ‘No,’ smiled Ben, ‘he’s on his own actually.’

  ‘Ruby,’ frowned Sam, leaning forward in his seat, ‘I think you’ve got the wrong idea about him and Mia.’

  ‘Oh well,’ I said, jumping up and grabbing what I guessed was Steve’s pint. ‘I’ll take this through to him and head home, I think. I can’t wait to hear what Dad has to say about the switch-on.’