Amelia was stacking her packets of Lebkuchen, roasted almond brittle and marzipan sweets on the makeshift counter of her stall. She tried not to check her watch for the umpteenth time. Ella had left for the lot more than an hour before and neither hair nor hide of her had been seen since. She hadn't even been on her phone, according to the "last seen" time stamp. It's not that Amelia was worried. On the contrary, she was excited.
She grinned as she remembered what her husband, George, would say in situations like this. "No news is good news, Amelia. If it helped our parents' generation get through the war years, then we can get through this." She swallowed. This would be her first Christmas without him. Ella's presence had abated the loneliness somewhat, and she'd probably overdone her baking and preparations for the stall, just to give herself something to do.
"You would have loved it this year," she said, imagining George could really hear her.
"What's that, dear?"
Amelia focused her eyes and saw Jerry Twigg standing in front of her. "Jerry! Sorry. Just thinking out loud. But I am so glad to see you. Do you have any news?" She said the last word deliberately, while giving Jerry a knowing look.
"Let's just say that if any more sparks fly between those two then I am in danger of losing all my stock." His chuckles echoed Amelia's giggles.
"I suppose I should feel bad for meddling, but..." Amelia shrugged. "Now, can I interest you in some Mince Pies?"
"I am always interested in the things that come out of your kitchen, Amelia." He held up a flask. "Do they go well with coffee?"
"Absolutely," said Amelia, feeling more flustered than she should. "Let me just get some more serviettes."
Jerry decided not to point out that there was a stack on the counter already.
*
"Mrs Fresnaye, with all due respect," said Frankie Busybody, "I find myself siding with your husband on this issue. Let's leave the garlands as they are and, as a gesture of goodwill, if you do not sell this one then I will acquire it for the mayor's office myself." Satisfied that she'd managed to placate one of the most emotional stallholders of the century, Francine took her leave and made her way to the far end of the market. Things looked beautiful and the atmosphere was festive. If they were this busy in the last week of November, then she hoped they would continue to do a roaring trade until Christmas Eve. As much as it pained her to admit it, the community had really pulled it off. She surveyed the square. Children were queueing for photos with Father Christmas while their parents chugged eggnog, apple cider and glühwein. She'd even allowed Sven Sørensen to sell his dreadful honey mead this year, and it seemed quite a few people were buying bottles of the stuff. She hoped they were gifts intended for people they didn't like. On the other end, the smell of baking, fried meat and roasting chestnuts mingled with the crowds. The gingerbread house competition was also underway and the judges had their hands full judging a ricecake house alongside a Lego and donut one... She tutted. The rules clearly stated that the houses had to be made from gingerbread. A hand slipped around her waist.
"You look pleased with yourself."
"Derek Boysen. How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?"
He gave her a playful peck on the cheek. "And when do I ever listen to you?"
Francine laughed. "Do you know they still call me Frankie Busybody? They all think I don't know."
"Take it as a compliment," said Derek, squeezing her arm. "If you don't have a nickname in this town then it's as good as not existing."
"They don't have one for you!"
"That's because they know I have the power to make their lives very difficult." He scowled playfully. "And I don't care if they call you odd names, my love. Look at what you've achieved."
Francine sighed. "I had help."
"Well done, my love." Derek checked his watch. "Must dash. It's time for my speech. Do I look mayoral?"
She dusted the shoulders of his jacket and straightened his chain. "Better than. Good luck."
*
Jonas was so busy selling trees that he hardly had time to reflect on what had transpired mere hours before. It seemed that he might have a gap once the Pullen family carried off their Fraser fir and he welcomed the lull. After checking that there were no more interested buyers, he bundled himself into the hut.
"Sorry I'm late!" It was Eric, Jerry's grandson. His cheeks were flushed and he trailed a faint scent of women's perfume.
"Having a girlfriend will do that to you." Before Eric could protest, Jonas added, "Take the sales shift for the next few hours, will you? I have some admin to do here." He thrust a price list into the younger man's hands. "Memorise those prices. Tips you can keep. But..."
"Don't forget to log every sale. Got it. Where's Grandpa?"
"He's around." Jonas noticed the Acorn family through the hut's window. "There's your first set of customers now."
Eric grinned and tugged hard at his beanie. "What's the highest number of tree sales we've had in a day?"
"Sixty-eight. Why?"
"Challenge accepted," said Eric and stepped out into the lot.
Jonas chuckled and shook his head. Eric may be scatter-brained, but he could sell sea water to a pod of whales. He looked around for Jerry's flask. Nowhere. He'd have to sneak out and buy coffee at one of the stalls. On second thoughts, he'd prefer a few moments of quiet. He opted for the café on Main Street and ten minutes later he was sitting in a booth with a steaming mug. He closed his eyes, exhaled and massaged the skin where the bridge of his nose met his forehead.
He'd kissed her. It was so out of character for him, but the Marco Polo cat-and-mouse game had made him a little more reckless than usual. What had surprised him even more what that when he broke the kiss she'd reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss him back. He could still feel the weight of her arms on his shoulders and the impression of her mouth on his. He opened his eyes with a start when someone at another table dropped their teaspoon with a clatter. Jonas leaned forward to see who was responsible for the commotion and his mouth went dry.
Ella felt every eye in the café on her as she bent over to pick up the teaspoon. "Sorry, sorry!" It came out as more of a stage whisper than she'd intended. By the time she was upright again, she became aware of a familiar figure across the room. He looked guilty, as though he was a schoolboy caught bunking a class. She got up and went over to his table.
"Hiding?"
"Maybe."
"Want some company?"
"Sure."
She sat opposite him and then jumped up, realising that she needed to fetch her coffee and handbag from the table she'd occupied. She felt him tracking her with his eyes. By the time she sat down again, he looked more relaxed and there was even a hint of a grin on his face.
"I'm not always that klutzy. I was just distracted."
"I can imagine," said Jonas. He leaned forward on his elbows and sipped his coffee.
"And I want to apologise about before."
"You mean dropping your spoon? Hardly worth apologising for."
"That's not what I am talking about, and you know it." She folded her arms and sat back in her chair. "Seems to me you're good at avoiding issues."
"I don't want you to apologise for kissing me," said Jonas. "Technically, I did kiss you first. And I won't apologise for that."
Ella narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"
"I wanted coffee. Jerry ran off with his flask."
"What about the lot?"
"Eric's got that covered. He's going to try to beat the highest number of daily tree sales we've had." He stared into his mug. "And I wanted time alone. To think."
"What about?"
"You."
"Why?"
"I like you. Perhaps more than I allowed myself to believe until a few hours ago."
"You hardly know me."
"True. But I know me. I don't kiss people at random."
"Really? I had you down as the guy who raised money at his high school fair by manning the kissing booth."
"I might have built the booth, but that is as far as my involvement in those types of things goes."
"How did you end up here, Jonas?"
"I walked down Main Street."
Ella rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. Keep your secrets." She stood up to leave.
"My mother raised me alone for the first four years of my life. Then she met my step-father and we moved to the Big City where he worked in a bank. I hardly saw my mother after that and I spent most of my early years with my grandparents. I suppose you could say they raised me."
She sat down as quietly as she could and waited for him to continue.
"They're both in their nineties now. They taught me about manners and traditions. I suppose I am a bit old-fashioned and set in my ways because of them. Then, when I was seven, my step-father took my mother and me to America. There, I discovered music by bands with weird names like Black Sabbath and I heard the music of David Bowie, or Ziggy Stardust. It opened a whole other world for me. I connected with my step-father on that trip and he showed me how to be a man. My own father is an absolute jerk, and I dropped his surname as soon as I could. My mother should never have had me, but I am glad she did because I got to meet my step-father through her. I owe him so much." Jonas sat back in his seat and stared out of the window. "He died just over ten years ago and my mother moved on with this other man who is an even bigger jerk than my own father. So I came here, to the the place my step-father was born, to try and build my life again. Today is ten years since I arrived." He raised his mug in a toast and finished his coffee.
Ella reached across the table and took his hand. An electric shock passed between them. Her eyes were shining. "Thank you." It came out as a whisper.
Jonas nodded. He'd never shared so much with someone in such a short time. But once he'd started talking, he couldn't stop. He noticed that Ella was wiping her cheeks.
She cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should start again? It occurs to me now that I've been less than friendly to you since we met. Apart from kissing you this afternoon, but that was an aberration."
"I don't want a do-over," said Jonas. "We've been more real with each other this week than most people are after a decade together. Yes, OK, we've done things a bit backwards, but it's not like there's a rulebook we're supposed to follow."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, let's take things day by day and see where we end up. I like you and you've made it clear that you like me, even if you find me annoying."
Ella laughed. "You are something else, Jonas." She wrinkled her nose and then said, "What's your surname? Barrymore?"
"No, I bought the store from that family. My surname is Knight."
Ella couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course it is." She stood. "Let's go back to the market. I expect my grandmother is ready to send out a search party already."
They stepped out of the café and paused to look at the decorative lights down Main street. Francine had pulled out all the stops this year.
Ella linked her arm through his as they walked. "I know a shortcut through the park," she said.
Jonas didn't have the heart to point out that she was taking the longer route. "Lead the way."
Their conversation flowed effortlessly and they chased the fog of their breath through the trees. When they came to the pond, Ella stopped and stared at the lights twinkling in the water.
"It's perfect," she said. "Even better than I remember." She tugged Jonas's arm. "That was your cue to kiss me."
He didn't need to be told twice.
*
Amelia looked up from selling the last of her rosewater jellies and saw Ella approaching the stall with Jonas in tow.
"Everything all right, dear? You look a bit flushed."
"I'm wonderful, thanks Gran. Must be all the glühwein." Ella turned to Jonas and smiled.
Amelia raised her eyebrow. "Yes, I hear they've got an especially good batch this year..."
The End
To read part one of this story, click here. Part two can be found here.
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