Page 5 of Christmas, Actually

‘Silk. Now you’ve gone and done it.’ Liam sighed. ‘Down, boy,’ he muttered, grabbing Figgy’s collar and clipping on the lead. ‘What do you mean when you say trouble, Nora?’ He turned to the group, tugging the dog closer to his side. ‘Sorry I was so late.’

Liam didn’t tell them his faulty timekeeping was because he’d stopped to speak to Clara – or that she’d refused to get into his car – which she appreciated. Hudson would often blame his lack of punctuality on her. Then again, as head of the company it was important he kept his faults to a minimum, while a member of his team could have as many as they liked. Which was fortunate because she had a plethora of them.

‘We’ve got a bit of a disaster on our hands,’ a tall, lanky man with a handsome face, greying hair and a fuzzy dark beard peppered with white reported – his voice as dry as parched soil. He was sitting at the other side of the table with his long legs crossed at the knee. His chair was pushed back, away from the rest of the group, as if he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to be associated with them and had simply been dragged along against his will.

‘Before Ebenezer, as I like to call him, shares today’s trauma, would you like a drink or something to eat?’ Eleanor asked sweetly, giving the man a look filled with challenge and humour.

‘My actual name is Ezra Bell, I run The Reading Room Bookshop on the high street.’ The man offered Eleanor a tight smile as he peered over the top of a set of wire-rimmed spectacles, his full lips twitching. ‘Please pop in anytime. It would be nice to find out if at least one member of Eleanor’s extended family could read.’

Her godmother snorted delightedly. ‘As I was saying, if we’re going to subject Clara to our latest drama, we ought to make sure she’s comfortable first.’ Eleanor eyed Clara, her attractive round face sympathetic. ‘I’m assuming you just flew in from New York, so I’m guessing you’re hungry?’

Clara shrugged. Her brain wasn’t processing very well, so she had no idea how her godmother had worked that out. ‘Yes.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘Well, no.’ She eyed the remainder of the chocolate cake in the centre of the table and her stomach grumbled. ‘I’m not hungry, actually,’ she lied because she shouldn’t eat sugar before she went to bed. She wouldn’t sleep. ‘But a drink might be a good idea.’ Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t drunk anything since she was on the flight and she was thirsty. Which might explain why her brain was finding it so much more difficult to connect her thoughts.

‘There’s tea, coffee – both heavily caffeinated which you can blame your godmother for, because it was her turn to provide refreshments and she hasn’t heard of decaffeinated beverages, apparently,’ Nora said sharply.

‘Drinking decaf is like going to the cinema and watching a blank screen,’ her godmother murmured.

Nora ignored her. ‘So if you actually want to sleep tonight, I’d recommend a shot of mulled wine and you’re in luck because I brought some with me just in case.’ She reached down and dragged a small silver flask from her bag before jiggling it. ‘There’s plenty left.’

Liam tipped his chair so he could lean closer to Clara. ‘As a voice of experience I’d recommend you turn that down,’ he whispered as his warm breath sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Unless you want to spend your first day in Hollythorpe with a monumental hangover. Nora’s idea of a dash of brandy is more of a waterfall.’

Clara nodded discreetly. ‘Um, you know what, thank you, but I think I’ll stick with water because I’m getting a bit of a headache. Do you have any?’

‘There’s plenty in the tap,’ Nora muttered, looking disappointed as she put the flask away.

‘I’ll get you some,’ Liam said, rising and heading for a doorway to the right of them, taking Figgy with him. He returned moments later with a full glass and set it on the table in front of Clara. As he sat, she saw him check his watch, before worry flickered across his face. ‘I’m so sorry but we probably need to get started. I’ve got to—’ He paused. ‘Be somewhere by ten and I’d rather not be late.’ She heard the buzz of a mobile and saw him check the screen and frown.

For a nanosecond Clara wondered where Liam had to be before she shook the thought away. It was none of her business.

‘Of course,’ Eleanor said. ‘So the bad news is⁠—’

A man wearing a top hat who hadn’t spoken yet sat up and tapped a long black stick on the table. ‘We’ve lost Mrs Christmas,’ he said dramatically before turning to Clara. ‘I’m Joe Abbot, I run The Mistletoe Magic Shop on the high street. If you ever want to make someone disappear, come and see me. I’ve got a dozen options suitable for every budget.’ His long, grey face lit.

‘Nice to meet you, Joe, and, um, thank you I think,’ Clara said politely. There was no way she’d be able to keep up with all of these names. Hopefully, Eleanor would remind her of them tomorrow when she wasn’t so tired.

‘What do you mean lost?’ Liam piped up from beside her. He frowned and sat straighter before looking around the table. ‘I thought Tabitha was going to be back in Hollythorpe and available from tomorrow – we’re supposed to be getting new promotional photos taken. Is she okay?’ He turned to Clara looking worried. ‘Tabitha Mews, she’s played Mrs Christmas for the last two years,’ he told her.

‘Mrs Christmas,’ Clara repeated, trying to keep up.

‘Her jury service has just been extended,’ Nora explained, looking unhappy. ‘There’s new evidence to present and the whole thing could go on into the new year.’

‘So…’ Liam drew out the word. ‘What are we going to do?’ He looked around the table. ‘Tabitha was supposed to be appearing in Sugarplum Cakes & Bakes next Tuesday afternoon.’

‘We haven’t told Hazel, yet. My sister. She was supposed to come tonight, but there was some kind of emergency with the boys,’ Eleanor said, wringing her hands. ‘She runs the café on the high street. I know you haven’t met, but she’s going to be so excited you’re here,’ she told Clara, gifting her with a quick flash of a smile before her expression turned worried. ‘I was hoping we could come up with an alternative, but we’ve just been racking our brains. Everyone’s busy in their shops, or they have day jobs so they’re tied up, or they’ve already taken on enough of the organisation for the fayre already.’ Her blue eyes flashed. ‘I can’t think of anyone who can step in with so little notice, and we need our Mr and Mrs Christmas. They raise over half the money we collect for the high street. Without it, there’ll be no summer parade, no Christmas lights next year and probably no fayre either…’

‘So no over-commercialised, financially draining, inauthentic – and somewhat sticky community events. Yey,’ Ezra said dryly, but everyone ignored him, aside from Eleanor who narrowed her eyes.

‘Mr and Mrs Christmas?’ Clara repeated as the expression on the sea of faces grew grave.

‘Sorry, love, I should have explained.’ Eleanor shook her head, her voice kind. ‘As well as the Christmas fayre which we put on in the high street on the twenty-fourth of December, the Hollythorpe village Christmas fayre committee – namely, us…’ She glanced around the table. ‘Appoint a Mr and Mrs Christmas each year.’

‘The same people usually play the parts,’ Joe told her, tapping the thick black stick on the table again. ‘Because the costumes fit and they already know what they’re supposed to be doing.’

Eleanor nodded. ‘During December they make appearances around the area – places like the Evergreen House retirement community and various shops on the high street.’

‘They’re supposed to be coming to mine,’ Nora said glumly. ‘I always put my hearing aid on for that because people bring their kids. Children are a lot nicer to be around than adults.’

‘The point is, the visits bring a lot of new customers into the village,’ Joe filled in. ‘Customers we all need. Christmas is an important time for the businesses around here. December is a make-or-break month.’ Even Ezra nodded at this.