The Christmas Spirit (16 page)

Natalie, too, was watching the Queen’s Speech and hoping her
luck had changed. She’d had a good year this year with the birth of Prince
George. Natalie had always admired the queen, second only to Queen Victoria in
her opinion, both long-reigning monarchs, with a fair bit of responsibility on
their hands, both unlucky in many ways, she always thought, but blessed in
others. As she added some more custard to her Christmas pudding, she
congratulated herself on a job well done. This year had gone exceptionally
well.

Crackers were pulled, party hats were donned, whistles were
blown at Aberlomond House Hotel, as Stanley dined with his grandchildren, for
he now thought of Catherine as his granddaughter. They were joined by many of
the wedding guests and relatives, who had either come from abroad or who had
extended their stay to include a Christmas break after the wedding. In total
there were nineteen of them. Stanley thought, except for the absence of his
beloved wife and son, this could possibly be the best Christmas Day ever. Who
knew that having Christmas outside of the home could be so wonderful and such
fun?

As Stanley tucked into his posh dinner; ham hough in herb
ballatine, pan seared black gold fillet steak with roast root vegetables and a
red wine jus, rounding off with meringue with Chantilly cream and boozy
berries, instead of the usual traditional Christmas pudding, Stanley thanked
God for the arrival of his grandson.

Catherine and Thomas would soon leave to start their
honeymoon up north, and he would see them only on their return trip, before
they flew out of Glasgow Airport the day after. Yet, although Stanley knew he
would miss them a great deal, he felt buoyed by the new friendships he had made
at the club and had been invited round to George’s for a small sherry on Boxing
Night. Finally there was something he could be grateful for this year and something to look forward to next year.

Even in as grand a house as Amelia’s, fitting twenty-one
people in comfortably for dinner was a tall order. The main dining table which
seated twelve was sandwiched between two smaller tables, which had been added
on either end. The result was haphazard but it worked, although those at the
opposite ends of the table had to shout to be heard by the person furthest
away. The seven of them, Gareth’s parents and his siblings, their children, a
couple of Gareth’s cousins, Meredith and Amelia’s own parents, plus two of
the children’s friends whose parents were working overseas for Christmas, and a
work colleague of Gareth’s who was single this year with no family close by,
made up the twenty-one. It was quite a haul.

Amelia had prepared everything from scratch, although being
good at delegating, unlike Meredith, who was only beginning to learn, had roped
in her older children and her husband with the simpler tasks and even Edward
had helped set the table. Festive red runners ran the length of the three
tables, whilst tasteful centrepieces of silver and gold intertwined snowflakes
and Christmas trees adorned each one. The dinner service used on only special
occasions had been polished until it shone, as had the crystal glasses. Edward
had done a stellar job. When the guests had arrived for pre-lunch drinks at two
o’clock, they had been shown into the lounge, not the living room, which was
the children’s haven on Christmas morning, and although now free of wrapping
paper and other detritus, was still bursting with toys, books, clothes and
selection boxes.

The lounge also sported a beautiful Scots pine, this covered
solely in white lights set on a timer and which had ten different modes. The
remainder of the room was lit by red and white candles in elaborate candelabra,
many of them antique; one of Amelia’s passions was to collect certain items -
candleholders was one of them. A makeshift bar had been erected at one end of
the room and Jasper acted as barman, although his mother did check occasionally
to ensure he didn’t imbibe. He may be almost of age but she didn’t want him
falling face down into his Christmas pudding.

Dinner was exceptional and not only the food. The company,
Meredith found, was to her liking. She was starting to feel in better health
and she was certain much of it was down to the easy way Amelia ran her chaotic
household - with lots of love. So, too, her dinner parties were events to which
one could aspire. She had to applaud Amelia - she knew how to bring out the
best in everyone and every situation. Looking around the table, Meredith saw
only beaming smiles, heard only raucous laughter and intermittent giggles. She
felt truly honoured to be part of it and hoped there would be many such
occasions in the future.

Long after her mother had gone to bed, and that was late as
they had played board games for a few hours first, something they hadn’t done
since she was a child, Rebecca sat cradling a glass of wine and chatting with
her father. Too much time had elapsed since they had done this properly - they
were still close, but it was never the same over the phone. Normally she would
have discussed in great detail the situation with Ethan, the flat move, and her
new career, with her dad before making a final decision. With her parents’ move
to Oxfordshire, which had almost exactly coincided with her taking up with
Ethan three years ago, those cosy chats had become a thing of the past. She was
glad to resurrect it here on Christmas Day.

She told her father of her hopes and aspirations for the
future, explaining how much she had loved her job and particularly her boss,
who was a sweetheart, but how she had felt trapped, that there was nowhere for
her to go and she was stagnating. The joy she felt at this new career
opportunity could clearly be heard in her voice; her excitement apparent.
Equally when she spoke of Rose Cottage, it was with a sense of contentment,
rightness. She described how that had come about.

Her father remarked how odd it was that life sometimes threw
us the answers quite by chance. If she hadn’t happened to moan to Jacob about
having to move, he would never have thought to mention that Natalie was leaving
in a few days and that Rose Cottage would then become vacant.

As soon as Rebecca had set eyes on the picturesque cottage,
she had fallen in love with its postcard-like exterior and its homely interior.
She could so imagine living there. From the ivy covered trellises, to the Aga
in the lovely country kitchen, to the amazing shower room complete with
rainforest shower, all of it was to her liking. She’d literally clapped her
hands together in delight when she’d toured the cottage. It didn’t get better
than this, especially after the dumps she’d visited and the bland new build on
which she’d almost signed the lease. When she’d returned to Sugar and Spice,
she’d hugged Jacob and Natalie and immediately asked how to get in touch with
Mrs Williams, just in case anyone else got in before her. After a brief chat
with her new landlady, she’d called the estate agency to cancel the signing of
the lease.

Next year was going to be a year that heralded changes for her.
Romantic relationships didn’t even figure on her agenda, although you could
never tell. For now she had enough to keep her occupied and she couldn’t wait
for the New Year to start.

‘I so miss blue cheese,’ grumbled Tabitha, patting her
stomach, which was replete with her three course Christmas dinner, mints,
crackers and cheddar, and now several Roses she’d snaffled from the tin.

‘You’ve hardly been underfed today,’ Jacob pointed out, as
he removed the yellow and purple wrapper, then popped the caramel into his mouth.

‘I’m eating for two, remember,’ she grinned.

‘That’s a fallacy. You’re only meant to eat for two in the
last two months and only by two hundred calories a day.’ Jacob had been
checking out all the information. He wanted to be able to help Tabitha properly
throughout her pregnancy, and surely it was part of his duties as godfather?

Tabitha regarded Jacob with tenderness. She was so happy he
had blossomed since her revelation about the baby. Always a kind, generous
person, Jacob, when faced with the advent of a new family member, had stepped
up and not only done his duty, but had become even more involved than Tabitha
could ever have hoped. He so much wanted to be a part of her child’s life, in
many ways he would be a substitute father to it, or at least a father figure,
and Tabitha could think of no-one better. All a child needed was love and Jacob
had plenty to give.

‘I’m going to put some music on. Do you fancy anything in
particular?’ Jacob asked.

‘Normally I’d say
something Christmassy
,
but we’ve been listening to Christmas songs all week. What about something
classical, but soothing?’

‘OK, I’m sure I can find something suitable.’ Jacob fiddled
with his iPod for a bit and then the sound of Chopin filled the air.

‘This one’s supposed to be suitable for babies,’ he said.

Tabitha laughed. Her brother was going to be a nightmare,
but in a good way. He wanted everything to be just right for the baby, whereas
she was much more laid back.

‘I hadn’t planned on playing the baby
The
Funeral March
or anything, but I’m sure it could cope with the
1812 Overture
,’ she remarked.

Jacob looked doubtful.

As they sat in silence, letting the music wash over them,
each lost themselves in their thoughts, Jacob imagined what the future might
hold, whilst Tabitha caressed her stomach and told the baby everything would be
all right. They would be all right - the three of them. Tabitha became aware of
something digging into her back and shuffled around until she could remove it;
it was the baby rattle Natalie had given her. How it had got there? She was
sure she had put it in her room. She turned it over and over in her hands,
examining the craftsmanship. It really did look very old. She said as much to
Jacob, who shrugged and returned to listening to the music.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Tabitha turned on her
tablet computer and typed a description of the rattle into Google. After much
searching she came across one almost exactly like it - she read through the
information provided and there was the date manufactured - 1820. It was almost
two hundred years old! Surely not. She showed Jacob the page and he agreed that
it did look identical to the one Natalie had given her. According to the
website only five had ever been made and only one was known to remain, but
no-one knew of its whereabouts. Had Natalie given Tabitha an even more precious
gift than first thought?

For some reason Jacob went to pick up his snow globe. He
still couldn’t get over the fact Natalie had managed to get one depicting the
street where their bakery was. It was so cool. She must have contacted a
specialist supplier. As he picked it up, he noticed the scene had changed. The
shops were in darkness, but now a few lights came on in the windows above the
shops; the flats overhead.

Must be a trick of the light
,
thought Jacob, until he saw a door open and a young boy come out, dressed in a
thick winter coat. He started walking down the street, past the bakery, and
Jacob recognised him as a boy who often came in to buy bread and cakes for his
mum. Unsure of how to approach Tabitha with this discovery, he sat mouth agape
for a good few minutes, before Tabitha asked him what was up.

Taking the snow globe over to her, Jacob sat it down and
pointed. Now the young boy was walking back. Had he had been delivering something
for his parents, perhaps a belated Christmas card? Tabitha took in the scene,
her jaw dropping in a fashion similar to the way Jacob’s had. Once the boy had
gone indoors, they waited a while, but nothing happened. Jacob picked up the
snow globe and shook it. It began to glow. When the snowflakes settled, they
both gasped. There was Natalie, sitting by the fire, knitting, in what they
presumed was Rose Cottage. Had she actually told them where she was spending
Christmas? They tried to think back. No, she’d only said she’d be moving on and
Christmas Eve would be her last day at the bakery. She seemed perfectly happy
and not remotely upset that she was spending Christmas Day alone. Unexpectedly,
Natalie looked up, smiled and then waved at them. Jacob and Tabitha almost fell
off their chairs in shock. Had they really just seen what they thought they
had? If it wasn’t for the fact that Tabitha was pregnant and thus one hundred
percent sober, they would have assumed they had just partaken of too much
alcohol.

‘Am I going mad, or was that Natalie, and did she just wave
at us?’ Tabitha asked.

‘You’re not going mad, either that or we both are, but how
is what we saw even possible?’ Jacob was stumped. He and Tabitha debated this
well into the night, but never solved the mystery.

Natalie stretched and yawned. It had been a busy month, but
she was glad to see her work was up to her usual exacting standards and that
everyone was right where they belonged on this important day, even her. She
liked to spend Christmas Day seeing how the fruit of her efforts had turned out
and she wasn’t disappointed this year. She had grown fond of Jacob and so she
had been a little naughty and given him the snow globe. He had been partly
right in thinking it had been specially commissioned, but not in the way he
thought. Likewise, giving Tabitha’s baby the rattle she’d kept in case she ever
had children of her own, which now she’d passed three hundred years of age, was
unlikely to happen, had seemed the right thing to do. Tabitha’s child would, as
a result, always have Christmas spirit.

Each year Natalie changed her name to something different;
call it a quirk, but she felt it necessary to protect her identity. This year
it had been Natalie Hope, which she particularly liked as it embodied who she
was; Natal - from the Portuguese for Christmas, with Hope, what she tried to
create in those she sought to help. In the past she’d been Joy Makepeace,
Charity Goodwill and Gabriella Goode, but Natalie Hope felt the most
satisfying.