In the morning, Emily figured to hell with the parish council’s rules and set up her tree. The only downside was that after Veronica’s revelation, they hadn’t bothered to buy any decorations. She did a search of the holiday let’s cupboards but found nothing. After a couple of days in Cottonwood, she was feeling a little claustrophobic, plus she needed to check the teahouse’s post, so she headed back to Birchtide. There, in the garage at the back, she found Elaine’s treasure trove of Christmas decorations, several boxes of fairy lights, tree ornaments, garden displays, some singing toys and even a couple of Father Christmas costumes. Elaine had always dressed up at Christmas, taking on the role of Father Christmas, with Emily alternating between an elf and a fairy, depending on her mood. One of Elaine’s joys had been to burst into random song, encouraging the customers to sing along, so in the evenings they had practiced to the point where there wasn’t a Christmas song even vaguely famous for which Emily didn’t recall the words.
She only just managed to get all the boxes of decorations into the car. Afterward, she retrieved the post, before pausing for a moment in the empty teahouse’s dining room, feeling both a wave of nostalgia and regret, plus a hint of guilt that by taking the decorations she was beginning the gutting process in her grandmother’s passing, and that piece by piece the teahouse and her memories would fade until eventually nothing was left. With a sigh, she went back to the car, sitting in it for a long time before turning on the engine.
Just as she was about to pull away, her phone buzzed. Karen. Emily put the handbrake back on while she answered.
‘Hi, how are you doing?’ came Karen’s cheerful voice. ‘Are you still in Cottonwood? Did you find out who wrote that letter yet?’
‘Well, yes and no. I’m there, but I’m not currently there at the moment, if that makes sense. And no, not yet. Although I’ve met a few people, so I might have without knowing it.’
Relieved to be talking to someone who understood her, she went over what had happened in Cottonwood over the last couple of days.
‘What a strange place,’ Karen said at last. ‘Who’d ever think to ban the use of fairy lights? I mean, haven’t they heard of solar power? Most of the outdoor ones you get these days have a little solar panel you plug into the ground somewhere. Are you going to upset the status quo and cause a scandal?’
Emily grinned. ‘I most certainly am.’
‘Well, when you rile them up and get a big Christmas carnival started, give me a shout and I’ll get David’s clan to drive over en masse. Always nice to get out of the house for a while. David’s father thinks he’s Chevy Chase in National Lampoon, and there’s only so much of that cheesiness I can handle. Plus, the boys, there being seven of them, are constantly breaking into that irritating dwarf song from Snow White. So have you seen the landlord again?’
‘Not since I arrived.’
‘Can’t you pretend the hot water’s not working or something and get him around to warm you up?’
‘Karen!’
‘Well, it must be dark and lonely over there if you’re not allowed a Christmas tree. You’ve got to spend your time doing something.’
‘I was planning to read a few books.’
‘Oh, how exciting. Well, I’ve got to go. The future M-I-L is back from Waitrose so I’d better go and help her unload.’
‘Sure. Speak to you soon.’
As she hung off, all the excitement Karen had pulled bubbling to the surface began to subside. Emily looked over her shoulder at the mounds of Christmas decorations piled into the back of her car. What if no one in Cottonwood wanted her intrusion? What if they were happy with their dark, windy, tree-less Christmas?
As she turned back to start the engine, she felt the press of the letter, still in the pocket inside her jacket.
Despite the impression she had got, not everyone was happy about it, and if one person was motivated enough to write a letter about it to a tree in Germany, it was safe to assume that person wasn’t alone.
Cottonwood was as she had left it; quiet, gloomy and, well, more quiet. A couple of cars were parked outside the church, but there was no sign of their owners. Emily parked in her space, unlocked the holiday let’s front door, and began carrying her boxes of ornaments into the house.
She had just done the third box and was coming back for the fourth when she noticed Peter from the shop standing beside her car.
‘Would you like some help?’ he asked her. ‘I saw you through the window and, well, we’re not busy.’
‘Okay, thanks. If you could just take that box and bring it into the house over there. They’re heavier than they look, and I’m not in the best of shape.’
Like an obedient dog, Peter did as he was told, trailing after Emily with a box of Christmas decorations in his arms. He carried it through into the kitchen and put it down on the table where Emily instructed.
They returned to the car for one final load. As Peter put it down on the floor in front of the larder, he turned to Emily and asked, ‘What’s all this stuff for?’
Emily smiled. ‘I’m going to be staying over Christmas, so I want this place to look a bit merrier.’
‘But there’s enough stuff here for an entire street.’
With a nod, Emily said, ‘Well, that’s kind of the plan. I thought I’d ask around, see if it was okay to put some lights up around the churchyard or on the village green.’
Peter winced as though someone had punched him in the stomach. ‘You won’t be allowed,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s the village rules.’
‘It’s a stupid rule.’
Peter shrugged. ‘I know that, and you know that, but I didn’t decide it.’
‘Who did?’
‘Trower. Chairman of Cottonwood Parish Council. Him and his city mates. They applied to the government to get Cottonwood allocated as some kind of eco-village. We have to follow certain rules or we’ll lose our status.’
‘Like not putting up Christmas trees?’
‘Saving electricity.’
‘Solar-powered fairy lights?’
‘Light pollution. Cottonwood is an environmental black spot.’
Emily rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve noticed.’
‘As in, it’s considered a place with clean visibility. You can see more stars here than you can in other places.’ He sighed. ‘Well, you would if it wasn’t for all the other villages and their lights which aren’t part of the same system.’
‘So it’s a waste of time?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’
‘Yet you all stick to it?’
Peter shrugged. ‘Not worth the hassle of standing up against it, really. A few people tried two years ago, the first Christmas it came in, and it didn’t work out too well. There used to be another pub at the other end of the village. It’s closed now.’
‘These people got a pub closed down for using fairy lights?’
‘Kind of, yeah. Slammed it online so bad people stopped going. In a place like this your profit is minimal at the best of times. A few hard weeks and you’re done.’ Peter shrugged. ‘You won’t say anything to anyone about what I’ve said, will you? I mean, I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but some people are on Trower’s side, and others not. You don’t want to go around spreading rumours. It doesn’t matter much to me because as soon as I graduate I’m out of here and I’m not coming back. Mum still runs the shop, though, and business hasn’t been good for years.’ He lowered his head. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I’d better go.’
Without another word, he went out, leaving Emily standing bemused in her kitchen among a jumble of boxes.
‘What’s going on with this place?’ she muttered, giving a little shake of her head.