Even Shakespeare loved gingerbread! To quote Love’s Labour’s Lost – ‘An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst have it to buy ginger-bread.’
I’ve never seen Mistletoe Gardens on Christmas Eve night. Like most people, I’m usually curled up under blankets on the sofa, watching festive films and eating a rhino’s bodyweight in chocolate, but tonight, the residents of Folkhornton are having a private celebration.
There’s hot chocolate, mulled wine, and after everything this morning, Mum went back to the bakery and made several batches of candy cane cupcakes while she ruminated on whether Mervyn could be forgiven or not, and now everyone’s come out to toast to Mistletoe Gardens, even Santa, which somewhat undermines the illusion that he might be the real thing, or he’d be otherwise occupied on Christmas Eve.
Joss and I are huddled on the bandstand wall. My head is on his shoulder, and our hands are tangled together, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this contented and peaceful.
Mr Arkins and the MMM, who turns out to be called Martha, are wandering the mistletoe path and stopping for a peck under every tree. She looks like she’s making the most of not having to kiss a dinosaur.
Everyone’s feeling the love tonight; even Mrs Allen and Mr Selman, the warring neighbours Mum and Mervyn have been trying to get together for months, are wandering arm-in-arm.
‘Nothing’s unforgivable at Christmas.’ Joss moves his head to indicate where Mum and Mervyn are slow-dancing under a tree full of mistletoe as ‘Candlelight Carol’ plays softly from someone’s phone.
‘He did the right thing in the end. That counts for a lot.’ I lift an arm over Joss’s shoulder to pull him into a hug, and we sit there for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth on a chilly Christmas evening, and when we eventually disentangle ourselves, Mum’s walking towards us.
‘Ess, can I talk to you for a minute?’ She jerks her head to indicate I should follow her under a tree, and looks around until she can beckon Saff over too.
‘Is everything okay?’ I sip my cup of hot chocolate from Douglas’s coffee shop stall.
‘How would you girls feel about more responsibility at the bakery? Or maybe… less interference would be a better way to put it.’
I look at Saff. ‘We’re listening…’
‘When I was baking earlier, I wasn’t just thinking about Mervyn. Those nice chaps this morning offered me a job on the council. They think Mervyn needs a mitigating influence, and they want someone to speak for the residents to prevent something like this happening again. I know we need more staff, but you’ve both proved yourself capable of handling things without my input, and if I’m honest, I’m ready to step back from Dancing Cinnamon, even if it’s taken me a while to admit it to myself. My heart is with my resident work now. What do you think?’
Saff is clearly trying to hide her thoughts behind a paper cup of mulled wine. ‘The council aren’t going to know what’s hit them.’
‘Poor Mervyn!’ I add.
Mum laughs and smacks my shoulder. ‘I know you want to do bigger things, fancier display pieces, and you’ve got help with the construction angle now.’ She glances over her shoulder towards Joss. ‘And if you think new options and online sales are the way to go, then I’ll fully support you in that, and I’ll keep my beak out.’ She looks between us. ‘Unless you want my beak in?’
‘No!’ Saff and I say in unison.
‘Just don’t take your beak too far. We wouldn’t mind a little bit of your beak every now and then. You’re still the matriarch of Dancing Cinnamon, like Nan was when you took over, and her mum must’ve been when she took over.’
‘Don’t you dare call me a matriarch – it makes me sound like I’m ninety years old!’
We have a group hug and then she flaps a hand in front of her face excitedly. ‘Ooh, I can’t wait to tell Mervyn. Who’d have thought it, eh? Little old me – resident representative for Folkhornton council. I’ve made enough of a nuisance of myself over the years, I suppose they think I’ll be less trouble if they pay me.’
‘Oh, have they got another thing coming.’
Mum looks like she wants to argue and then shrugs instead. ‘Yep, they really have.’
Joss is watching the couples in love and friends enjoying a perfect festive night when I walk back over to the bandstand. Instead of sitting back down, I stand in front of him for a hug as I tell him what’s just happened.
‘Do you know, I’ve never felt sorry for our council before, but your mum is going to tear the place to shreds.’ He grins up at me. ‘And it’s exactly what they need.’
‘Speaking of things we need,’ I say as Martha the MMM walks over, no sign of the horse’s head tonight.
‘Congratulations on a good job done well, dearies.’
‘It was everyone, not just us. Can’t take credit for it,’ Joss says.
‘You two have inspired everyone, Mr Hallissey. We’re all making plans for how we can utilise Mistletoe Gardens in the warmer weather. We won’t be taking it for granted any longer. You’ve made us appreciate what’s been right in front of us all along.’
‘No potions tonight?’ Joss asks her.
‘Exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I use you two in my marketing materials? You’re proof that a love potion worked.’
‘I thought it “wasn’t to make us fall in love with each other”?’ Joss quotes what she said to us last week.
‘Oh, nonsense, it was to make you fall in love with whatever brings joy back into your lives. And you clearly bring joy into each other’s lives, therefore, it worked.’
With an arm over his shoulder, I look down into his deep, unhidden eyes. ‘Yes, we do,’ I murmur, loving the way his lips curve into a smile.
‘Just one problem though, MMM.’ Joss’s fingers squeeze my sides. ‘I was in love with Essie long before one of your potions touched my lips.’
‘Ah, but were you? Were you really?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well, my customers aren’t going to know that, are they? Details schmeetails!’ She walks off with a wave.
‘You say that, but you did rediscover the joy of Christmas, just like that potion she gave you,’ I say to him when she’s gone back to join Mr Arkins under another bunch of mistletoe.
‘I don’t think it was much to do with the potion.’ His arms tighten around me and his chin presses into my shoulder.
‘You don’t know that. Maybe there’s something in it.’
‘Capri Sun, most likely.’
I slip my hand into his and pull him up, and we walk over to the biggest tree, the one my Victorian great-great-grandmother pushed the first mistletoe berries into all those years ago.
‘I know what you’ve got in mind…’ Joss says with a teasing tone.
‘Something I’ve wanted to do for a very, very long time – kiss someone I love under the mistletoe in Mistletoe Gardens.’
‘Do you want me to go and get Beryl for you?’
Instead of walloping him, I pull his head down, leaving no doubt about who I want to kiss.
The kiss is everything I hoped it would be. Christmas magic tingles all around us, and my hand feels like it’s sparkling as I trail my fingers up Joss’s arm to grip at his shoulder, and he surprises me by dipping me in a proper Hollywood kiss – a real movie-moment that I’ve always wished would happen in real life, but never has until now.
I squeal in delight and he nearly drops me. But you can’t have it all.
‘Do you believe in the magic of Mistletoe Gardens yet?’ I whisper, my forehead resting against his when we pull back.
‘Something magical has happened in the past few weeks. I don’t know if it was Christmas magic, mistletoe, or just being in the right place at the right time, but I’ve never been happier than I am right now.’
He always knows exactly what to say.
‘Me neither.’ I push myself up on tiptoes to brush my lips against his cheek.
‘I still think the electric forcefield of all these Christmas lights has frazzled our brains, though.’
It makes me giggle and he pulls me into the tightest hug. My arms slide around his neck and he bends to hold me tightly, and if we stayed here like this for the rest of the night, it would be the most perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.
Whether there’s any such thing as magical mistletoe or not, maybe the only thing any of us need is to find someone who makes the world seem a little bit more magical than it did before.