Celia and I had a brief tussle about who was going to pay, but I won. We took our drinks and continued our circuit around the stalls.
“You know, he should be on a stage making those drinks,” I said. “It was like theatre.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Maybe we could combine it with the decorations workshop.”
I took a sip from my reusable mug and swallowed. “Wow, that’s really good. But really bad for me.”
Celia laughed. “This is why Christmas should only be once a year.”
We came to Jim’s stall, which wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. I wasn’t sure how a florist was going to make money at a Christmas market, but the stall was full of door wreaths made of fir and pinecones, cinnamon sticks, and brightly colored baubles. How long would it take for the fir to fade?
“How’s business?” Celia asked.
Jim bobbed his head noncommittally. “Busy. Not sure I’m as busy as last year. I’ll submit takings numbers by midnight.”
We said our goodbyes and headed on, though Celia fell quiet.
“I remember even when I was a child, Jim always expected the worst to happen,” I said. “He clearly hasn’t changed. Wait until you see the data before you get disappointed.”
Celia nudged me. “How did you know the exact right thing to say?”
“Because I know you want Snowsly to have the perfect Christmas and it would worry you if you thought first night of the market takings were down on last year. It’s why you’re asking people when you know they don’t know anything for sure until the market closes. But you’re going to have to be patient and just wait for everyone to submit their numbers. Don’t borrow trouble.”
Celia nodded and linked her arm through mine again and I tried not to enjoy it too much. We headed toward the raffle.
“So what happens on the twenty-sixth?” I asked. “Do you morph into a cynical data analyst who doesn’t leave her home and barks at any villagers she sees, warning them to keep their distance?”
She stopped and laughed as if she couldn’t possibly combine walking at the same time. “It’s far worse. Well, the twenty-sixth is Boxing Day, so obviously that’s still technically Christmas, but on the twenty-seventh I spend the day taking down my decorations.”
I’d been joking, but her response surprised me. “You do? But don’t you want Christmas to last forever?”
“No, I’m happy to be festive in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and the holiday itself of course. But I need contrast. I like the fresh start of a new year. Everything in the previous year is forgotten and I get to start over again, no mistakes. So even if Christmas didn’t live up to expectations, it’s all in the past when the New Year arrives.”
“I can’t imagine any Christmas would fail to live up to your expectations. You’re so particular about everything. Isn’t every Christmas you have perfect?” I knew something had happened last year that had upset her, and I wanted to know what. I found myself wanting to know her better.
“Far from it.” She sighed. “Some things are out of even my controlling, overbearing hands.”
I laughed. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
An alarm sounded and Celia dug her phone from her pocket. I noticed that her Christmas tool belt had been left behind today. “It’s my time to run the decoration-making station. I’d ask you to help but the children don’t need to meet a real live grinch.” She laughed and inexplicably twirled in a complete circle before heading off in the direction of two large tables covered in glitter and ribbons.
As she walked up to take over from Barbara, the children’s faces lit up. They clearly knew her—probably from last year. And their Christmas was made all the more magical for Celia being a part of it.
All but once since I’d met her, Celia had worn a smile front and center, but more and more frequently, I hadn’t been convinced that her expression reflected how she felt on the inside. This afternoon wasn’t one of those times. Her grin lit up her entire face, and her white-blonde hair became almost iridescent under the lights that had been strung above the tables. I could hear her infectious laugh from here. She looked entirely at ease making a gaggle of children happy.
There was something about being in Celia’s orbit that made me want to believe that good things happened to good people. That magic could be real. And that Christmas could be everything I’d ever hoped for as a boy.
Ten
Celia
I didn’t let my gaze drop from Barbara’s face from the moment she came into Ivy’s sitting room and took a seat on the upholstered bench by the fire. She was the only one in the village who knew how all the businesses in the village had done yesterday, and she wasn’t giving anything away. She didn’t wear a grin, like we’d all won the lottery, but she wasn’t hang-dogged and miserable either. I’d texted her last night to try to find out whether or not it was good or bad news from the first day of the market. She’d insisted she hadn’t added up all the numbers. How long did it take, for goodness’ sake?