Page 100 of The Merry Christmas Project

‘Not really,’ said Nigel. ‘But can you tell them my auntie’s bin hasn’t been emptied for a month, if they’re not too busy drinking at the taxpayers’ expense.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Will laughed and made his way to the door. ‘Good luck, see you in the newspaper !’

I checked the time myself after Will had disappeared and my stomach did a loop.

‘It’s almost half past two,’ I said. ‘The Christmas Project is officially live. Let’s get to work.’ I paused. ‘And thanks everyone, I didn’t really have the experience to manage this project but you’ve made it so easy for me and I appreciate it.’

I got another round of applause for that and so it was with rosy cheeks that I led my little band of helpers back out into the market square. With the exception of Astrid and Fred, who paused to help themselves to coffee with whisky.

‘Hair of the dog,’ Fred muttered sheepishly.

Outside, the snow was coming down even thicker than before. There was a lovely satisfying crunch to my footsteps and although visibility wasn’t great, the festive mood among the various community groups was plain to see.

The traffic had thinned out and the sound of the remaining cars was being muffled by the snow and everywhere felt other-worldly. Although we were in the centre of town, the snowy silence lent a sprinkle of Narnia to the scene. Children raced around catching snowflakes on their tongues and flinging themselves onto the ground to make snow angels. Otto was in his element, snapping at the snowflakes and chasing his tail whenever one landed on it. A queue had already gathered for the trees but like a well-oiled machine, we all knew what our jobs were and before long, Christmas trees were popping up all around the marketplace.

‘When do we crack open Hester’s mince pies ?’ Nigel asked as he brushed past me with a sturdy little tree for the Girl Guides.

‘And Astrid’s delicious German cookies,’ Fred added, earning himself a peck on the cheek from Astrid.

After learning that one of Benny’s traditions was to supply mulled wine and mince pies on Christmas Eve, Hester had rounded up several cases of unsold gourmet mince pies from the studio and sent them our way. We’d be doing them a favour, she’d promised me, confiding that her three mince pies a day habit had got to stop.

‘Not until all the trees are in place,’ I said sternly. ‘And don’t forget the rule : FHB.’

‘I don’t know this rule ?’ Astrid frowned. At least I think she frowned ; it was hard to tell behind the dark shades.

‘Family hold back,’ said Fred. ‘I haven’t heard that for a while.’

‘I haven’t used it for a while,’ I said with half a smile.

I’d learned it at my favourite foster home. My foster mum used to say it. There had been eight of us children at one point and whenever there was a party of any sort, she’d always remind us about it so that our visitors wouldn’t go without. I’d always liked the saying because of the implication that I was part of something.

Just like now.

Fred squeezed my hand. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me for a long time. Feeling as if you’re among family is the biggest compliment you can pay someone.’

‘Thanks, Fred.’ I leaned against him. ‘I agree ; it’s the best feeling in the world.’

‘Merry ?’ a man shouted in the distance.

I looked up straight away, hoping it was Cole. But it was a man from the rambling club who needed help with his fairy lights. For the next hour or so, the snow continued to fall, and I continued to watch out for Cole as I oversaw the progress of our project. I bumped into people who’d become customers and friends over the last few months and seeing how much they were enjoying decorating their trees warmed my heart.

The Women’s Institute had done a lovely job on their tree. It featured exquisite felt figures which one of the ladies kindly explained to me were of historical women who’d changed the world over the last five hundred years.

Astrid was directing proceedings at the Rosebridge retirement village tree. The decorations appeared to be a combination of paintings and handmade garlands.

‘What do you think ?’ she said, slipping her arm casually through Fred’s as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Both of them seemed to have a bit more colour in their cheeks ; I suspected Sadie’s whisky might have had something to do with it.

‘Have you painted all these ?’ I said, examining the decorations.

‘We all did one during Astrid’s art class,’ Fred nodded proudly. ‘Then someone’s grandson came in with his machine and laminated them all.’

‘That way, they’ll stay waterproof,’ Astrid explained.

‘The garlands were my idea,’ Fred put in. ‘Everything we used is edible for birds, they’ll be glad of it if this snow holds up.’

I smiled at them both fondly, delighted that they’d found each other and that they’d found a way to showcase their interests and talents on a Christmas tree.

Olek arrived with a crowd of family : his son Max, his parents, Mr and Mrs Dowmunt ; and his in-laws the Thornberrys, who were dressed head to toe in expensive-looking ski-wear.