After the workmen got back to their pseudo-digging, which, via Emily’s instructions, now included ‘as many coffee and mince pie breaks as you can handle,’ Emily found herself with an hour to spare before the meeting started.
Needing a break, she retrieved her laptop and went online, at first putting in place a few things for the upcoming carnival including an advertising spot reserved in tomorrow’s local paper—which she could cancel if the group decided the carnival was too big a risk—and a couple of emails to old contacts of her grandmother’s. One was a company which specialised in industrial-sized tents used for wedding parties and fetes, another a company which provided PA systems.
Emails sent, she still had half an hour before she had to go, so had an idle around on social media to unwind a little. Browsing Facebook, she wondered on the off chance if Trower was on there. It wasn’t a common name, so she doubted she would be presented with a long list to trawl through. The search function, however, came up with nothing, but there was a Liselle Trower listed who lived in Brighton. Nathan’s sister? It couldn’t possibly be, but Emily sent her a private message just in case.
Liselle happened to be online, and sent her an almost immediate message back. Yes, she was Nathan’s sister. Emily gave her a brief explanation of who she was before asking if she could perhaps call Liselle for a chat. Liselle agreed. To Emily’s complete surprise, a minute later a woman’s face appeared on screen via Skype. Like Nathan, she was hopelessly attractive, but when she smiled it had far more of the sun in it than his ever did.
‘Very nice to meet you, Emily,’ Liselle said. ‘I have to say, this is rather unexpected. You said you’ve met my brother? That must have been a delightful experience.’ Liselle laughed. ‘What would you like to know?’
The front bar of the pub was empty besides Skip, who was polishing a glass when Emily came in, five minutes late.
‘There you are,’ he said. ‘Quick, get back there before there’s a riot.’
‘Did many people show up?’
‘All of them,’ Skip said. ‘I don’t know who you are or what power you have over people, but you’ve got them practically frothing at the mouth. In some cases literally. I, um, felt it appropriate to offer a free round of hot chocolates.’
‘With marshmallows?’
‘Of course. Hence the frothing.’
Emily headed for the Smuggler’s Bar. It was down a short corridor and she could hear a rumble of incoherent voices as she hurried down it to the door at the far end. Taking a deep breath, she pushed through, and found herself faced with around fifty people sitting on wooden chairs pilfered from the bar’s rarely used restaurant. There, near the front, was Alan, who gave her a reassuring smile. Beside him sat his children, Lily who gave Emily a thumbs-up, and John a shy smile. Next to them were Kelly and Peter, who was making surreptitious glances across at Veronica, who was sitting by the wall, and making surreptitious glances back at him. A couple of rows back sat Mrs. Taylor, while a couple of places across from her was Barney from Royston’s Lumber Yard, who must have heard about the meeting from a friend. Of the rest, she recognised most from her house calls, but there were at least a dozen others she had never seen before.
She had started the ball rolling, and word of mouth had done the rest.
‘Hello, everyone,’ she said, as a hush fell over the group. ‘Thank you so much for coming. I recognise a few of you, but it’s good to see some other faces too. Welcome.’
A small round of applause spread across the crowd. Near the back, someone she didn’t recognise called, ‘And who exactly are you, young lady?’
‘That’s a good question,’ Emily said. ‘Until now I wasn’t quite sure. You see, I only came here by chance. On October the first this year, my grandmother died. However, she wasn’t just my grandmother, but also my grandfather, and more than that, my mother and father and brothers and sisters all rolled into one. You see, my parents died when I was very young, and I had no siblings. My grandmother raised me from the age of three. And frankly, she did a really good job. To say she was my world is an understatement. I couldn’t have understood the void her death would leave until it happened.’
She paused for breath, realising she was crying. Murmurs spread across the crowd. She noticed Veronica and a couple of others staring at her, mouths agape.
‘My grandmother, Elaine Wilson, was a remarkable woman. Not only was she the light and soul of our community, but she ran its most successful business and always seemed to know what would make people happy. I lived in her shadow and I was happy there, but when she died, it was like the sun was shining in my eyes for the first time and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to hide.’
More murmurs. A couple of sniffs came from somewhere in the audience. Someone blew their nose.
‘I couldn’t handle the pressure. Not only was I grieving for her loss, but I was expected to step up into her position and take over her business. You see, she left everything to me, and her will requested that I continue the business in her memory.’ Emily took a deep breath. ‘So what did I do?’
Everyone was staring at her, their faces rapt, their eyes unblinking. Emily swallowed, aware her hands were shaking.
‘I shut the doors. I locked myself away and I hid from the world. I could barely bring myself to leave the house until a good friend showed up one day and told me to pull myself together. I couldn’t face opening up the business again, so instead of hiding, I started running away. We went travelling across Europe, and honestly, if she hadn’t needed to go back to work and the fear of being alone not been too great, I would have carried on running away forever. However, during the trip—on the last day, actually—I came across a letter. A letter from someone in this village, crying out for help.’
At this John Rowe’s head snapped up. Emily met his gaze and smiled, even though she had already decided not to embarrass him by naming him outright.
‘This letter was asking for Christmas to return to Cottonwood. The idea of a village without a Christmas horrified me, as Christmas had been my grandmother’s favourite time of year, when she had insisted above everything else that we make people as happy as possible. Her café became a communal living room, welcoming to everyone, full of laughter, singing, and really good food. It was a spirit I could never forget, and it was with that memory that I came here, running away from my own responsibilities, wondering if in Cottonwood I might find out something about myself.’
She paused again, aware she had been running away with herself, her heart beating, her words starting to lose their shape. Speeches had always been Elaine’s thing, with Emily standing patiently at her grandmother’s side, waiting to be given the all clear to spring into action. Now, with her grandmother gone, it was time to step up into the spotlight.
‘I might not have my grandmother’s gift for creating happiness, but when I came here and found that Christmas had been squeezed out of this village, I got this crazy idea in my head that I, a complete stranger to most of you, could do something to bring it back. However, I’m just one person, and one person on their own has no power to do anything. We all have to step up, put a hand in the air and shout together, “I want Christmas back!”’
As she shouted, she realised no one else had shouted with her. Her voice cracked, with “back” ending with a chalkboard nails shriek. Sweat rolled down her face as she glanced at the crowd, and saw stunned faces slowly turn to smiles. The first clap came from Veronica, who was holding a corner of her dress over her nose. Slowly the applause spread, until people started to rise to their feet. Emily stared as the whole crowd stood and cheered for her.
‘One, two, three!’ Alan shouted.
‘We want Christmas back!’ shouted everyone together, although two grinning boys near the front shouted, ‘Our maths teacher’s a pig,’ at the same time, hoping no one would hear. For their efforts they received a stern glare from a wiry lady sat on the other side of the room.
As the applause died down and people returned to their seats, Emily pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘Now, I think it’s best to have a long talk about what we can achieve.’ She held up her piece of paper. ‘I have a few ideas for an itinerary. I wrote them in pencil because I couldn’t find a pen.’