Mince Pies and Mistletoe at the Christmas Market

by Heidi Swain

  My mind was off and racing with all manner of ideas that could keep the community spirit of the entire town, not just the market, thriving throughout the entire year.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure you have to leave us so soon?’ wheedled Harriet. ‘Wynbridge could really do with someone like you sticking around to give us all a kick up the backside when we start to get stuck in our ways and take things for granted again.’

  ‘Don’t tease,’ I blushed.

  ‘I’m not,’ she said seriously, ‘I really mean it. Your ideas are wonderful, Ruby! I think the wider world has this idyllic idea that everyone who lives in a country town is somehow automatically part of the rural community and vice versa, but actually, more often than not it isn’t the case at all, is it?’

  ‘Half the children round here don’t see chicks or lambs from one year to the next, which is why your suggestions are so inspiring, Ruby.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, feeling secretly rather chuffed that they both liked what I was saying. ‘How about I write a few things down and leave them with Lizzie when I go?’

  ‘I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,’ said Harriet.

  ‘Really wonderful,’ agreed Rachel.

  ‘What’s wonderful?’ butted in Steve.

  He had just arrived back in the van, having no doubt spent the morning making more bespoke Christmas veg box deliveries.

  ‘Ruby,’ said Harriet.

  ‘I could have told you that years ago,’ Steve yawned, stretching his hands above his head and giving me and the rest of the world a tantalising glimpse of his wonderfully toned torso.

  ‘Oh dear, Steve,’ laughed Harriet. ‘Are we keeping you up?’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, dropping his hands, ‘I’m done in. We seem to have twice as many orders to deliver this year and if I’m not out in the van I’m at the warehouse getting them ready to go out. I blame you, Ruby.’

  ‘Me?’ I squeaked.

  ‘Yes you,’ he said, fixing me with a blatant stare. ‘You and that Kirstie Allsopp woman and Nigella, you’re all in it together.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I frowned, but feeling flattered to be in such esteemed company.

  ‘Homespun, homemade, home grown,’ he groaned, ‘the world’s obsessed, and if folk can’t create it, make it or grow it in time for the big day then they’re heading to Wynbridge market to buy it.’

  ‘Well, don’t knock it,’ said Harriet, steering Rachel over towards the Cherry Tree, ‘think of your healthy bottom line!’

  I wished Steve would go away with them. His healthy bottom line was all I could think about since he’d stretched in my eye line.

  ‘You all right then?’ he asked when they were finally out of earshot.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Finally got rid of the cold?’

  ‘Yes, just about. I think the snow finally saw it off, or froze it out, as it were.’

  ‘Oh very good,’ he grinned, ‘ha, ha.’

  It hadn’t been meant as a joke.

  ‘And we’re all right, aren’t we, Ruby?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, tucking in his shirt and buttoning up his jacket. ‘I just kind of got the impression that you’ve been avoiding me.’

  ‘Of course I haven’t,’ I lied, ‘I’ve just been so busy here. To tell you the truth, I haven’t really seen anyone. I haven’t made it to the pub once in the last few days and I can’t imagine I will before Christmas now.’ I stopped, horribly aware that I was gabbling on and doubtless over-gilding the lily in the process.

  ‘Well that’s all right then,’ he sighed, his shoulders dropping, ‘I was beginning to feel a bit paranoid.’

  ‘About what?’

  He shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other on the icy cobbles and ran his hands through his hair.

  ‘I thought I’d upset you,’ he said, ‘misread the signs.’

  ‘What signs?’

  ‘Well, ever since I told you that I’d finally got the message about us, you’ve kind of seemed offish.’

  ‘Offish,’ I frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen enough of you to be “offish”.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘and that’s what made me think you were avoiding me. I thought perhaps you might be having regrets.’

  ‘Of course not,’ I lied again, giving the idea the eye roll it deserved, ‘absolutely not. Like I said, I’ve just been busy and you’ve been making all these deliveries so it’s hardly surprising our paths haven’t crossed during the last few days.’

  I did my best to return his stare and crossed my fingers behind my back in the hope that my pupils weren’t doing their utmost to contradict me.

  ‘And you’ve still got no idea what happened at the wreath making that has put my mum in such a funny mood these last few days?’

  ‘Funny’ was an interesting choice of word, but I let it pass, lest I became embroiled in one more conversation I’d really rather avoid.

  ‘Nope,’ I said, shaking my head and feeling relieved that he’d moved the conversation on, even if it wasn’t into much safer territory. ‘No idea.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, still staring. ‘How was the sleepover at Bea’s?’

  ‘Fun,’ I said, my stomach rolling at the thought of heading back home later.

  I’d stayed with Bea for two nights but she had told me that morning over tea and toast that Sam would be staying over for the rest of the week and I had no desire to hear their bedroom gymnastics.

  ‘So are you all set for your big adventure then?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ I said, surprised that he had mentioned it. ‘What’s with all the questions all of a sudden?’

  ‘I’m just interested,’ he shrugged. ‘Trying to be friendly, you know, steer us away from awkward.’

  It wasn’t really working.

  ‘India first, isn’t it?’ he went on. ‘Have you had your jabs?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘every last one, but how did you know?’

  ‘There’s one dead giveaway,’ he said, pointing over my shoulder at the now creased dream beach picture, ‘and it came up in conversation when I was talking to Paul Thompson.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said lightly, ‘I didn’t know you two were still in touch.’

  I hoped Paul hadn’t mentioned how he had been helping me out on the accommodation and work front.

  ‘Just the odd text,’ Steve shrugged. ‘Nothing more.’

  I couldn’t help thinking that texting and talking were two very different things, but I didn’t point it out.

  ‘Excuse me love, how much are the big stockings?’

  ‘Well, I’d better let you get on,’ said Steve, backing towards the van again.

  ‘They’re twelve pounds fifty,’ I said, painting on my jolliest smile and giving the customer my full attention. ‘Would you like me to unfold it so you can get an idea of the full size?’

  ‘See you around, Ruby Sue!’ Steve called before jumping back in the van and driving off again.

  Chapter 27

  I really needn’t have worried about life back at home with Dad being awkward because I hardly saw him for the next two days. Evidently we were both making an effort to stay out of each other’s way and Mum had cleverly managed to separate herself from the situation by plunging into Christmas overdrive.

  The house, continually filled with smells of her delicious baking, could have easily rivalled those Jemma had been concocting at the Cherry Tree and I couldn’t make it through either the kitchen at home or the café without pausing to grab a sausage roll, mince pie or slice of Yule log. Something told me, as my jeans began to feel a little tighter than I would have liked, that I wouldn’t be in any hurry to send back bikini selfies from my dream beach destination when I finally got there.

  ‘Are you going up to bed already?’ asked Mum, when she spotted me heading for the stairs that Wednesday evening. ‘It’s not even nine.’

  ‘It’s late night shopping tomorrow,’ I remi
nded her, ‘the last one before Christmas. Something tells me I’m going to need to be on my toes to face the clamouring hordes.’

  At the time I had no idea just how prophetic those few words were going to turn out to be.

  It didn’t matter how hard I hit my alarm clock the next morning or how many buttons I tried to press, I couldn’t stop the noise that had dragged me from the depths of a sleep that I could have happily indulged in for a few more hours at the very least. Eventually I gave in, opened one eye and squinted at the clock next to my bed. Four forty-five. There was no way on earth that I would have set my alarm for four forty-five, even with the hectic day I knew I had ahead of me. In a befuddled daze I smacked the buttons again and it finally dawned on my fuzzy brain that the noise wasn’t coming from my clock or my phone, but from downstairs.

  ‘What the hell?’ I groaned, pulling myself upright as Dad came rushing into the room and over to the window. ‘Will someone kindly tell me what on earth is going on?’ I demanded as he peeped through the tiniest crack in the curtains and down into the garden below. ‘Dad!’

  ‘Shush,’ he said, waving one hand behind his back. ‘Be quiet, Ruby. If we can just stay quiet they might go away.’

  ‘Who might go away and why have we got to keep quiet?’

  ‘Meet me in the dining room in ten minutes,’ he whispered urgently as he rushed back across the room, ‘and do not, under any circumstances, turn on any lights or open the curtains.’ He disappeared out of sight for a second and then just his head reappeared around the door, ‘or flush the toilet.’

  Ever since I’d arrived back in town I’d known he was going to lose it, and given everything I had just seen and heard I guessed it had finally happened. Shame it was on what I had been hoping was going to be the busiest day of my time on the market, but at least I was still in the country and would be on hand to help Mum get him to the doctor’s, committed or otherwise.

  ‘Will someone please tell me what is going on?’ I yawned, as I padded down the stairs, tying my dressing gown more securely around me.

  Whoever was hammering on the front door and rattling the letterbox was pretty persistent and I was half tempted to yank it open and remind them of the ungodly hour.

  ‘In here,’ hissed Mum, who was clearly in on whatever was going on, as she pulled me into the dining room.

  ‘Change of plan,’ said Dad, crashing into us and landing with his full weight on my right foot. ‘They’re in the garden. I think we better go back up.’

  With him leading the way like Captain Mainwaring in stealth mode, Mum and I followed up the rear and into their bedroom which was located at the back of the house.

  ‘Close the door,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve already made a flask and I packed a few of these mince pies, just in case.’ She fished a bag up from next to the bed and began arranging the strange breakfast picnic on the duvet.

  ‘Just in case of what? And why on earth would I want to be eating breakfast at this time?’ I said exasperatedly. ‘And I know I’ve already asked, but will one of you please tell me why we’re being held hostage in our own bloody home?’

  Mum started to sniff into her dressing gown sleeve and Dad left his station by the window and plonked himself on the bed next to her.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ he said, running his hands through his hair in a way that reminded me of Tom in full-blown crisis mode, ‘I’ve made a bit of a fool of myself, Ruby.’

  ‘A bit!’ said Mum, letting out a strangled sob.

  Dad reached out and grabbed her hand.

  ‘All right,’ he admitted, ‘I’ve made a total prat of myself.’

  I was beginning to panic. Not only had he let my cursing pass without admonishment, he’d now also added his own.

  ‘That’s almost right,’ said Mum with a disgruntled snort and uncustomary toss of her head. ‘Personally I would have added a few fruitier expletives just to really hammer home the point, but you’re the one doing the explaining.’

  ‘Explaining what exactly?’ I asked for what felt like the hundredth time, as the increasingly familiar knot of pain began to twist and writhe in the pit of my stomach again.

  Dad let out a long slow breath and resignedly shook his head.

  ‘You’d better read this,’ he said, reaching under his pillow and pulling out a copy of the local paper. ‘This is hot off the press,’ he added. ‘An early copy. It was shoved through the letterbox about an hour ago and will be on the doormat of practically every household in Wynbridge by breakfast.’

  ‘Who delivered it?’ I frowned, picking it up.

  ‘Could have been any number of people,’ stated Mum. ‘Your father has managed to offend and upset practically everyone in this town at some point or other during his career with the council.’

  I saw Dad wince but he didn’t contradict her.

  ‘My guess is the editor,’ he admitted. ‘According to your mother I’ve given him enough reason to want to get his own back and a pretty nasty spin he’s put on the whole thing.’

  ‘Well, you can hardly blame him,’ Mum tutted, ‘always pointing out all those mistakes. I told you no good would come of it, didn’t I? Didn’t I always try and warn you what would happen one day? And now it has.’

  ‘But my reasoning for always pointing out those mistakes was that they should never have been there in the first place,’ Dad insisted.

  ‘Your problem is you’ve never known when to stop,’ Mum carried on, ‘until now.’

  Gingerly I picked up the paper, only just noticing that the majority of the front page was filled with Dad’s face and it certainly wasn’t the most flattering of close-ups.

  ‘They snapped that as I was leaving their offices,’ Dad tutted. ‘The fellow with the camera couldn’t have got any further up my left nostril if he tried.’

  ‘You don’t look very happy,’ I said, not really thinking. ‘What were you doing at the newspaper offices?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, just read it, Ruby,’ said Mum, wringing her hands.

  The unpalatable truth, I discovered as I skimmed the column inches, was that Steve had been right. Not the part about the new car being paid for with a Retail Park planning approval bribe, the car had very definitely been financed by Dad’s inheritance pot, but the part about the future of the market was bang on.

  ‘So who exactly is this Mr Monroe?’ I frowned, trying to make some sense of the words that were swimming in front of my eyes.

  ‘He’s a property developer from Manchester,’ Dad said quietly.

  ‘And what was his interest in the market square exactly?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t really know,’ said Dad, looking embarrassed. ‘All I can say for sure is that he just wanted to get his hands on the site.’

  ‘And according to this,’ I said, pointing at the paper, ‘he was prepared to pay you a pretty penny for helping him get it.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ sobbed Mum. ‘Whatever came over you, Robert?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his head now in his hands and his voice barely audible, ‘I just got swept along with it all. One of the councillors at Fenditch introduced us and before I knew it I was in it up to my neck. To begin with all I could think about was our retirement fund and how it would swell the coffers and by the time I’d come to my senses and realised how wrong it all was, it was too late.’

  ‘So how has all this come about?’ I said, with another nod to the paper. ‘Who spilled the beans? Was it you?’ I frowned, the penny finally dropping. ‘Is that what you were doing at the newspaper offices when the guy snapped the photo?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad, ‘and that’s why they’re all down there,’ he added with a cursory look towards the stairs, ‘no doubt baying for my blood and hoping for another scoop.’

  ‘Just stick to the facts, Robert,’ Mum said grimly. ‘We can do without the drama.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he sighed and then carried on, ‘by the end of last weekend I’d had enough. I realised I’ve made enough of a balls-u
p of the things in my life that really mattered and I couldn’t have this hanging over me as well. It was time to come clean and put an end to it all.’

  I swallowed hard, guessing that he was talking about the little heart-to-heart we’d had about mine and Steve’s relationship, but I didn’t say anything.

  ‘By Monday I’d made up my mind. I was going to the paper and I was going to tell them everything, well, almost everything. There are certain things I’ve held back on, but it will all come out in the end. I’m just relieved I saw sense before I had any of the money.’

  ‘And what was it exactly that made you see sense, Dad?’ I asked, still unable to equate what the paper was saying he had almost done with the man who resembled my honest, loyal and sometimes ever so slightly superior dad.

  ‘It was you actually, love,’ he said, looking right at me.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he smiled, looking more like the affable man I remembered, ‘you, Ruby.’

  ‘But how,’ I gawped, ‘what have I done?’

  ‘You made me believe in the importance of the market again,’ he explained, ‘and the entire town, for that matter. You’ve only been here a few weeks but in that time you’ve achieved so much and it made me realise that Wynbridge and the people who live in and around it are worth a whole lot more than a few grand deposited into my bank account. In short, you managed to open my eyes and see how wonderful it is all over again.’

  I couldn’t help wondering if this new-found attitude explained why he had decided to help show Simon and Jude around the empty unit and whether his recently rediscovered feelings for the community would extend as far as shaking hands with the Dempster family.

  ‘I’m just so pleased you decided to come back,’ he sniffed, ‘and I’m even more pleased that you took on the market stall. I dread to think what might have happened if I’d been left to my own devices.’

  ‘But what about your job?’ asked Mum. ‘What about your position at the council?’