Mince Pies and Mistletoe at the Christmas Market Read online

  I can’t deny I felt more than a little uncomfortable with the idea of Steve dating women on a weekly rotational basis.

  Chapter 3

  I’ve never been a fan of early starts, especially in the depths of winter when there is more dark than light crammed into the day, so the alarm buzzing away at six a.m. the next morning was less than welcome. I had spent the night tossing, turning and thinking about how different my life would have been if Steve’s brother’s motorbike had made it round the sharp right-hand bend at Hecate’s Rest. It was shocking to think that at twenty-two I had already lived more of a life than Sean Dempster had ever had a chance to.

  Unbearably for Steve and his parents there had never been any solid evidence to explain what had caused Sean to clip the trees that bordered the crossroads that night. Excessive speed was suggested, although everyone who knew him thought it unlikely. A deer in the road, or the involvement of another vehicle hadn’t been ruled out either, but the plain truth was that no one knew and the family, along with their friends, had to come to terms with the fact that they never would.

  ‘You all set then?’ smiled Mum, setting down a steaming mug of tea and a glass of orange juice in front of me as I slumped at the kitchen table and twisted my hair up into a loose knot. ‘You don’t exactly look full of the joys.’

  ‘I hate getting up in the dark,’ I yawned. ‘You know that.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to get used to it,’ said Dad unhelpfully as he walked into the kitchen dressed, shaved and sickeningly prepared to face his working day. ‘Market traders keep ungodly hours. Earlier than this actually,’ he added glancing at the clock. ‘Oh dear, you’re running late already, Ruby!’

  ‘Actually,’ I snapped, snatching up the mug of tea, ‘I’m early. We’re just getting everything ready today. This time tomorrow I’ll be setting up.’

  My insides groaned at the thought, but I wasn’t going to let Dad know how much I was suddenly dreading the early, frosty starts.

  I skirted around the edges of my fellow traders in the market square. They all looked as though they had almost finished setting up and were ready to begin selling. I shuddered nervously at the thought that tomorrow I would be joining them, and made for The Cherry Tree Café. My sagging spirits soared as I pushed open the door, the rich aroma of the much-anticipated coffee sweeping over me, and the little bell announcing my arrival tinkling excitedly overhead. I had never been able to put my finger on exactly what it was that made the café so perfect, but the enthusiastic and warm welcome that enveloped me definitely went some way to explaining it.

  ‘Ruby!’ shouted Ella, Jemma’s daughter, as she darted around the tables and chairs. ‘You’re here!’

  ‘I am,’ I beamed, ‘and my goodness, look at you! However much have you grown?’

  ‘Too much,’ said Jemma, appearing from behind the counter, ‘she’s already outgrown the school shoes she had in September!’

  ‘Jemma,’ I said rushing towards her, ‘gosh, it’s good to see you.’

  ‘And it’s good to see you! I can’t tell you what a relief it was when Lizzie said you were thinking about helping out with this market stall idea.’

  ‘Well I’m not thinking any more,’ I told her, ‘it’s happening. In fact, I can’t wait to get started!’

  If it wasn’t for the absurdly early starts, I really would have been as enthusiastic as I pretended to be, but I wasn’t about to say anything that would wipe the smile off Jemma’s pretty face.

  ‘Wait ’til you see what you’re going to be selling,’ said Ella dreamily. ‘Everything Lizzie has made is so sparkly and pretty. I’ve already put loads of things on my Christmas list!’

  ‘Christmas list,’ I teased. ‘Ella, it’s the middle of November! Surely you can’t be thinking about Christmas already?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ she said witheringly, ‘it’s my way of helping Mummy and Daddy spread the cost.’

  Jemma looked at me and rolled her eyes.

  ‘She’s all heart, this one!’ she laughed. ‘Come and grab a coffee. Tom will be here with Noah in a minute. He’s ferrying the kids about today so we’ll have a few minutes to chat and look through the stock before we get busy.’

  She slid a mug across the counter and I reverently cradled it in my hands, closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

  ‘You’re supposed to drink it,’ said Lizzie as she pushed her way through the beaded curtain that separated her flat above the café from her work, ‘not inhale it!’

  ‘Oh I know,’ I said, ‘and I will, but first I just want to savour the moment.’

  ‘Student overdrafts and waitressing wages don’t run to finest blend then, I take it?’ she asked, tying her pretty cupcake-patterned apron around her waist.

  ‘Afraid not,’ I sighed, ‘but believe me,’ I confirmed as I took my first sip, ‘this has been totally worth the wait!’

  A sudden rush of chilly air announced the arrival of Tom with Ella’s curly haired little brother Noah and just after that Angela, the third member of the Cherry Tree workforce, joined the throng and the place descended into momentary chaos.

  ‘So,’ said Tom, helping himself to coffee as Angela made sure Noah was comfortable in his buggy and Jemma frantically checked that Ella had remembered to put her homework in her school book bag. ‘How did your dad take the news?’

  ‘Well, obviously he was overjoyed that I’ve decided not to finish my Masters,’ I nodded.

  ‘Oh Ruby,’ he said impatiently. ‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I haven’t dared mention anything about this stall idea when I’ve seen him at work. He’s like a bear with a sore head at the best of times these days as it is.’

  ‘Is he?’ I frowned. ‘Why’s that then?’

  That didn’t sound like Dad at all. He was usually in his element at work. Even happier than when he was at home sometimes.

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ shrugged Tom, ‘but I can’t help feeling there’s something a bit off going on that I don’t know about and that your dad is at the centre of it.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound right to me,’ I told him, ‘I think you’re letting your imagination run away with you, Tom. You know as well as I do that Dad runs a very tight ship. He simply wouldn’t allow anything untoward to be “going on” as you put it.’

  ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I hope you’re right and I’m sure time will tell but one thing I am sure of is that if he gets wind of the fact that I knew you were planning to help the girls run the stall, my life wouldn’t be worth living.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I told him, ‘your name hasn’t come up at home so if I were you, I’d deny all knowledge. Blame it on us girls.’

  ‘You could even make out you aren’t happy about the idea,’ Angela suggested as she swept by, planting a perfunctory kiss on my cheek. ‘I have something for you, Ruby,’ she whispered.

  I was just as thrilled to see Angela as Jemma and Lizzie. She had initially taken over my few hours when Dad made me give up the job to focus on revising for my A levels and she had been an instant hit. She was the perfect fit for the place and from what I could recall it wasn’t long before she was spending as many hours as Jemma in the kitchen. Initially she had taken the job to see her through a rough time after the death of her husband, but now no one could imagine the place without her. Her daughter had moved to Australia a long time ago and I was sure both Lizzie and Jemma thought of her as an extra mum.

  ‘Actually,’ said Tom, raising his voice loud enough for Jemma to hear, ‘to tell you the truth, I’m not all that sure I am pleased about it. Jemma has enough on her plate at the moment without having all this extra baking for the stall to worry about, even if it is just for a few weeks.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ warned Jemma, pointing at the clock on the wall, ‘there’s no time and anyway, Ruby’s here to save the day. Everything’s going to be fine now.’

  ‘Was it not fine before then?’ I said to Angela as she reappeared from the kitchen.

>   ‘Don’t ask,’ she whispered, spinning me around to tie my own apron in place. ‘Just don’t ask. There now,’ she grinned, ‘I think Jemma always hoped she’d see you wearing this again!’

  I smoothed down the prettily patterned fabric and smiled at the sea of faces before me. It felt good to be part of the Cherry Tree family again.

  With Tom, Ella and Noah finally out of the door we grabbed the opportunity to sit in the area of the café designated for the crafting courses Lizzie ran, and looked through the plans and products that she and Jemma had come up with for the market stall.

  ‘Don’t hurry through it all,’ insisted Angela, as she refilled my mug and handed fresh cups to Jemma and Lizzie. ‘There’s plenty of time.’

  ‘OK,’ sighed Jemma, as she pulled out a notebook and pen from her apron pocket. ‘Thank you, Angela. Now Ruby, as you may or may not know, trade at the market has taken a bit of a tumble in the last few months.’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘I do know a bit about the situation. Lizzie has been keeping me up to speed.’

  ‘And so,’ she continued, ‘with that in mind, initially just in the run up to Christmas, there are going to be a couple of extra stalls to try and help draw the shoppers back in.’

  ‘So I’m not going to be the only newbie then?’ I asked, delighted by the unexpected revelation. At least I wouldn’t be the only one who hadn’t run a stall before.

  ‘Well, new sellers haven’t exactly been queuing up for the pitches,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘So far the extra spots have been filled by us, a roasted chestnut vendor and a couple called Simon and Jude who sell vintage stuff.’

  ‘But the whole retro vibe is ridiculously popular right now,’ nodded Jemma, ‘and from what I’ve seen their stock is top shelf so hopefully people will like what they have on offer and be tempted to look at the rest of the market.’

  ‘And what exactly am I going to be selling?’ I questioned. ‘I know Ella was pretty excited by what you’ve been making, Lizzie.’

  ‘I’ll go and get you some bits and pieces to look through while Jemma runs you through the list of what she has come up with,’ she said, pushing back her chair and standing up. ‘I can’t risk eating or even hearing about any more of these festive sweet treats. At this rate I’m going to be the size of a house!’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, rubbing my hands together in anticipation, ‘that good, eh?’

  ‘That good!’ confirmed Lizzie and she wasn’t wrong.

  ‘I love the sound of the star-topped mince pies and the iced and spiced buns,’ I said a few minutes later, ‘and the cinnamon and cranberry tray bake slice.’

  ‘Not to mention the sticky toffee, toffee apples and the bags of marshmallow-filled rocky road,’ drooled Lizzie, picking up the thread as she dumped another box on the table.

  ‘And the mini gingerbread family complete with the dog,’ I added for good measure. ‘But how on earth are you going to keep up with demand, Jemma?’

  ‘Do you know,’ she said, biting her lip, ‘at the moment I have absolutely no idea, but we’ll manage. I keep telling Tom I can cope, so I’m going to have to find a way.’

  ‘And I’ll help, of course,’ said Angela as she bustled by to turn the café sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. ‘We’ll all chip in.’

  By the time I had finished looking through all the things Lizzie had made to sell I really couldn’t wait to get started and I could totally understand why Ella had such a gargantuan Christmas list already.

  ‘These advent calendars are so pretty,’ I told Lizzie, ‘and the idea of supplying so many things in kit form is inspired!’ I picked up one of the bags, thinking about how the demand for homemade and homespun seemed to be increasing all the while. ‘People don’t always have the time to make things from scratch so these kits are the perfect compromise.’

  ‘Well, I’m pleased you think so,’ smiled Lizzie. ‘It’s good to know Jemma, Angela and I aren’t the only ones who like them.’

  ‘Love them,’ I corrected.

  The calendars were made up of twenty-four numbered drawstring bags in various colours and patterns which would be strung up using little pegs along a piece of wire or a length of gingham ribbon.

  ‘These must have taken you ages to make,’ I said, taking a closer look.

  ‘Not really,’ she shrugged, as if her clever efforts were nothing. ‘Once you get a production line going, you’d be surprised.’

  ‘And I love these stockings,’ I gushed on, ‘and this festive bunting.’

  ‘And what about these gingerbread decorations for the tree,’ Jemma cut in. ‘How sweet is he with his little gingham bow tie?’

  ‘He’s adorable,’ I nodded, ‘but I think these are my absolute favourite,’ I said, reaching for one of the mason jars which contained a little snowy scene complete with a tiny deer and a couple of fir trees.

  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Jemma and Lizzie exchanging a quick smile.

  ‘You know,’ I said, looking back at the table which was laden with Lizzie’s festive makes, ‘I think this stall is only going to be open for business for a week, two at best.’

  ‘What?’ cried Lizzie. She sounded utterly outraged and I couldn’t help but laugh as her complexion turned as red as her head of unruly curls. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘I can’t possibly see how you can have enough stock to last until Christmas!’

  Lizzie looked relieved and started to laugh with me.

  ‘Oh she has,’ said Jemma, pointing at the cupboards that ran along the length of the crafting area, ‘believe me, it will be a miracle if she sells out!’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘prepare to be amazed, ladies, because I reckon this stuff is going to fly off the stall.’

  ‘All we need now,’ said Jemma chewing the end of her pen, ‘is a name for the venture.’

  ‘Oh I’ve been thinking about that,’ I cut in. ‘How about, Makes and Bakes from The Cherry Tree Café?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ clapped Jemma, ‘I love it!’

  ‘I’ll paint up a banner this afternoon!’ joined in Lizzie, grabbing Jemma’s notebook and pen.

  Chapter 4

  By lunchtime I had sorted through and re-packed Lizzie’s pretty Christmas crafts, helped her make the banner to hang across the front of the stall and worked out with Jemma rough numbers for her batch baking of biscuits and buns. Lizzie’s plans, of course, were far simpler because her products didn’t have an expiration date and, as I watched Jemma rushing around working things out, I began to understand what Lizzie had been trying to explain when we’d spoken on the phone. Seeing Jemma working flat-out I could also understand why Tom still wasn’t sold on the idea of the stall, but hopefully his opinion would change when it was up and running and we’d established a routine.

  ‘Time for a quick sandwich and a chat?’ said a familiar voice next to my ear.

  ‘Bea!’ I squealed, jumping up and pulling her into a hug. ‘I didn’t expect to see you today! I thought you were at work!’

  ‘I am,’ she said, ‘but my next client isn’t booked until one, so Mum suggested I come over and surprise you. Surprise!’ she laughed.

  ‘Oh wow,’ I grinned. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  Bea’s family business was conveniently located on the opposite side of the market square to The Cherry Tree Café and therefore perfectly positioned for popping over to stock up on coffee and pastries.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, tugging at the corner of my apron. ‘Let’s grab a table before they’re all gone and have a proper catch up.’

  With our paninis and drinks ordered, we sat deep in conversation with our heads together, totally unaware of what was going on around us.

  ‘I have to say,’ I smiled as I admired her flawless complexion and manicured nails, ‘you are looking incredibly groomed for a work day. What’s the occasion?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she shrugged, a slight blush blooming. ‘Are you suggesting that I normally look as unkempt as you curren
tly are, with your hair all piled up in a nest and your mascara smudged? What’s that all about? Normally I feel like the scruffy one when we’re together. Have you completely let yourself go or is this just a one off?’

  Fortunately I knew her well enough not to take offence, but I could have done without her drawing attention to the state I was obviously in. I always took pride in my appearance, but having felt so groggy when I got up I hadn’t bothered to tidy my casual up-do before leaving the house. The smudged mascara was just an unfortunate coincidence.

  ‘Oh God,’ I frowned, grabbing a knife and using the blade of it as a makeshift mirror. ‘The hair was supposed to pass for boho casual, but you’re right. This look is definitely more bag lady than couture chic.’

  Bea giggled and took a delicate bite of her panini.

  ‘Anyway,’ I huffed, discarding the knife and banishing my unsatisfactory reflection, ‘never mind the state I’m in. You still haven’t answered my question. Of course you always look gorgeous, but even I can see that you’ve cranked things up a notch for a Monday!’

  ‘It’s for Sam,’ she murmured, blushing deeper this time. ‘I want him to see just what he’s missing.’

  ‘What he’s missing?’ I gasped. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve binned him off?’

  ‘No, of course I haven’t,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I just don’t think it will do any harm in the run up to Christmas to let him see me at my best.’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ I tutted. ‘The pair of you are so perfect together you already look as if you should be decorating the top of a Christmas cake. This is all about your fantasy festive proposal, isn’t it?’

  ‘Might be,’ she conceded as I rolled my eyes. ‘I can’t wait another bloody year!’ she added testily.

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘What?’ she pounced.

  ‘Nothing,’ I shrugged.

  ‘No, come on,’ she continued, ‘you’ve clearly got some opinion on the situation . . .’