an instant thumbs down. ‘Sorry, but there’s only room for one Santa in St Aidan. Gary from the jingle bells pony cart gets very cross about imposters.’
Weird, but fine, Santa was way off what I’m after anyway. ‘We definitely don’t want to upset any locals.’ As he didn’t dismiss it entirely it’s worth another try. ‘But if red coats are out, an evening suit might work?’
His voice shoots up. ‘If you knew my dad, you would not be asking that. Don’t catch me, don’t change me free spirits don’t dress to order, he’s all about wild hearts and the open road.’ He takes a second to blow out his cheeks. ‘If you want a guy in a tux, you’ll have to sweet talk me.’
I ignore that my toes just turned to hot syrup. ‘That’s not a thing I’ll be doing any time soon.’
‘Great, well in that case, let’s look at this lot.’ He’s scowling at my accessorising heap. ‘I simply can’t see how shitloads of superfluous ornamentation are going to give anyone a great time.’
Which goes to show how very wrong first impressions can be. He was such a happy guy all those years ago by that alpine fire, there was no sign whatsoever he’d turn out this grumpy. Me not getting what my most secret inner self wished for back then saved me from the hugest heap of trouble. All I can think is that over the years, having him all to myself in my head, I must have gradually changed him, whittled him into someone else entirely. I’ve somehow built him into someone very different from the guy himself. It was bound to happen. That’s the trouble with fantasies, when you give them free rein they travel a long way from their real life counterparts. They never talk back either. Which is possibly why having too many of the damn things isn’t ideal.
I’m going to have to put him right on that all-encompassing comment though. ‘If you create the most magical setting imaginable, those all-important people enjoy it so much more.’
‘Excuse me for missing there was so much alchemy involved.’ It’s that snarky tone and – oh joys – he’s shaking his head again. And to think I thought him being an anti-child dog-phobe was as bad as it was going to get.
I have to stick up for #TeamChristmas. ‘We’re creating memories that will last a lifetime, you can’t put a price on that.’ I stand up, give Merwyn a tickle to remind Bill we’re two against one here, and start to search for containers to put the trees in. ‘A castle and a beach is already fabulous, but overlay it with candlelight and pine needles, cranberry cocktails in frosted glasses, warm baked cinnamon biscuits and gingerbread houses, the distant sound of Santa’s sleigh bells, and it’ll never be surpassed.’ My eyes are probably sparkling too much as the images of present piles and frosty mornings flash through my head, I might be giving too much away here, but I don’t even care.
Bill’s blowing out his cheeks and sounding disgusted. ‘You’ve really fallen for the whole stockings hanging by an open fire thing haven’t you?’
My shriek of protest comes out louder than I’d planned. ‘And I’m completely happy with that. Some people live for summer, my time is December.’ Or at least, it used to be. And then something beyond the pile catches my eye. ‘Are they what I think they are?’
‘Traditional alpine toboggans? Just like we had in the mountains.’
I ignore the last bit because I really am gasping with excitement. ‘You have that much snow here?’
He gives me a hard stare. ‘Why the sudden interest? From what I remember in Chamonix you prefer to stay indoors.’
Once again, I’m quietly cursing his recall. ‘Those mountain ski runs scared the bejesus out of me, even the nursery slopes were too steep, but in any other situation snow is dreamy.’
His eyes have locked with mine. ‘So that finally explains why you concentrated on the hot chocolate, not the black runs. Why didn’t you say? I’d have helped you.’
I may as well be honest, even if I wasn’t then. ‘I was enough out of my depth as it was, I’d rather have dived head first into a snowdrift than admit I couldn’t ski.’
He shrugs. ‘I did come back early every day so you had company.’
I’m not sure he’s thinking of the right holiday. ‘I thought you came back so you could grab the steam room first?’
His head is tilting. ‘That was Gemma, not me. When she wasn’t falling over in front of me she pretty much superglued herself to my snowboard, that’s why we always arrived back together. But I came back to see you.’
I’m blinking. ‘Sorry?’
‘As I remember, I especially liked your jumpers.’
I can feel my eyes stretching open as I shriek. ‘What?!!!!’
‘They were really nice. Everyone else was in ski jackets, you were always in your base layer.’
I’m still squeaking in shock. ‘Jeez, Bill.’ Then it hits, from the way his eyes are dancing, this has to be a total wind up.
‘I liked how you made me laugh too.’
I let out a groan. ‘Please tell me you’re joking me.’
‘Of course I am, all I ever wanted was to get in that sauna. That’s why I was always hanging round the fire telling you my best jokes, they can’t have been very good if you can’t even remember them.’
I can feel my lips curling even though I’m trying to stop them. ‘What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman?’ And more fool me for encouraging him here.
‘Snowballs.’ He gives that resonating low laugh. ‘Something tells me you know a lot more than you’re letting on, Ivy Starforth.’
Oh my days, now he’s tied me up in knots again. I’ve no idea what he means, so to save my sanity I’m taking this back to where we left off. ‘If you gave us a snowy Christmas, you’d be off the hook with Libby.’
He’s back to staring at me in that same, slow way he has. ‘I’ll talk to Tomasz Schafernaker and see what I can do.’
‘Who the hell is …?’
‘He’s a meteorologist.’ He’s tilting his head, looking down on me through those narrowed eyes again. ‘The BBC weather man.’
Forget the protests about how bloody condescending he is, there are way more important questions. ‘There’s really a chance of snow?’
He gives a shrug. ‘It’s not unknown.’
‘We’ll have all the sledges then.’ I’d love snow so much, I’m not even daring to think about it, so I’m moving this on. The thing is, for me, in a world where lately it feels like nothing can be relied on, Christmas is the one certainty I can cling onto. I know the recipe to make Christmas work. Other things spiral out of control and my life comes crashing down. But so long as I have enough lamella and berries, I should be able to win with Christmas and everyone else will get the benefit.
‘It’s a simple equation – the more glitter you throw at Christmas, the more enjoyment you get back. Name me anything else that sure to pay off?’
He
