Ivy said nothing but I could almost see her brain whirring.
“Yes,” I said. “A bauble ceremony might be another attraction to draw in the crowds. If not this year, then in the future. I’ll have a think about what else we could add to the occasion. Maybe a brass band playing carols or—”
“You and Sebastian should put your heads together,” Ivy said. “You’re a great team.”
Sebastian was a great team all by himself, that much was clear. All I did was hand him the problem. He solved it.
“This time next week then,” Ivy mumbled.
“If you’re feeling better,” Sebastian said.
“This time next week,” Ivy repeated. “Now, it’s time for bed. Mary,” she called out. “I need a hand upstairs. Sebastian, will you see Celia home, please?”
“I’m completely fine,” I said. “Just across the green.”
“It’s dark out there. The Christmas stalls have been put up and goodness only knows what those men left behind. I don’t want you tripping over something. The last thing we need is you down with a bad ankle or a broken leg or something. Sebastian doesn’t mind walking you home, do you, Sebastian?”
“Be happy to,” he said, his surly expression giving away what an inconvenience it was to him.
“And maybe you can come up with some good ideas about the bauble ceremony at the same time,” Ivy said. “You should show him your decorations as well, Celia. Your cottage always looks so pretty. Off with you, then.” She waggled her finger in our direction. Neither of us argued as we got up and left, Sebastian needlessly accompanying me across the green.
Five
Sebastian
Celia only lived across the green from the Manor, but within seconds of leaving the warmth of the fire in Granny’s sitting room, the cold had burrowed under my clothes and started to wind itself around my bones.
“If it’s this cold and clear tonight, I’m hopeful for some blue sky tomorrow,” Celia said, putting a positive spin on something hopeless. I hadn’t known her long but I knew that was her MO. “Hopefully that will make more people come out and see the market.”
I pushed my fisted hands deeper into my pockets. I wasn’t sure it ever got this cold in London. Or maybe I just didn’t walk anywhere to feel it. I was always hopping from car to building. I glanced up. “You can see almost every star in the sky here.” I used to lay out on the green at night for hours watching this sky. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even looked up at night. In London there was no point—there was nothing to see.
Celia laughed, her breath dancing and twirling in front of her. It was dainty. Just like her. “Almost. When we get off the green, more will appear—the lights from the Manor and the pub completely disappear.”
“You seem to have cheered up since you found out about the website,” I said.
“Well of course.” She shook her head as we got to the edge of the green. “It’s amazing news. Thank you. And the igloos. They are genius.”
I hadn’t brought it up to get her thanks. It was just this Celia was different to the one in the meeting last night when I’d first met her. Both had wide smiles and endless enthusiasm, but tonight’s Celia had a little less tension in her jaw. Her shoulders sat a little lower and she didn’t look like she had a thousand thoughts in her head she was trying to sift through. Presumably the website and igloo were the reasons for her change in mood, but why? Why was Christmas in Snowsly that important to her?
“Do you always spend Christmas in the village?” I asked.
“Ever since I moved here five years ago.” She stopped to reach under her coat, resuming our walk only after she’d extracted a large, black torch.
“Should I ask where that’s been?” I asked.
She laughed as she switched it on. “I really need an extension on my toolbelt so it will fit over my coat.”
“You use it a lot then? I can’t remember when I’ve last done such physical work. Probably when I went and built roads in South America on my gap year.”
“You built roads?”
“A long time ago.”
“And now you’re some kind of business mogul slash comedian who doesn’t own gloves.” She reached and pulled my arm from my pocket as if she needed evidence. Her touch was soft but determined, which seemed to sum her up. She always had a smile, but I could see that it masked a determination to get Snowsly’s Christmas off the ground without a hitch. “I’m surprised you have any fingers left after today. It’s been icy. I’m going to have a dig around at home and see if I can find a spare pair large enough for you.”
For a second, I thought about asking whether or not she was searching for something left over from a brother or an old boyfriend, but it was none of my business. I didn’t need to get to know Celia any better.
She dropped my hand. Despite not feeling the cold, I pushed it back into my pocket.
“You like to make everything right,” I said.
“You’re no good to me without fingers,” she replied. “I’m just being practical. Anyway, you’re one to talk after today. You’ve been like a Christmas wizard.”
I’d done it for Granny. That’s why I was here, after all. “So, I presume you own a shop in the village. What do you sell?”
“A shop?” Celia laughed like it was the most ludicrous thing she’d ever heard. “What made you say that? My life is far more boring than running a shop in this beautiful village. I build analytic models out of census data.”
I chuckled. Of all the things I imagined Celia to be, that didn’t make the top one hundred. But now she’d said it, it sort of suited her. She was clever and detail-orientated and wanted everything to be just so.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better suited to floristry. Or maybe running an art gallery. In the meantime, turns out, I’m pretty good at cutting data. And don’t tell anyone, but . . .” She put her forefinger over her wide smile. “I actually quite like it.”
From data analyst to Christmas connoisseur. Who knew? “I assumed you were going to tell me you owned the Christmas shop.”
She grinned as she nodded toward Delphinium Row. “Yes, that would be fun. I’d get to be surrounded by baubles and tinsel all year long.” She paused and twisted the torch in her hand. “I don’t know, though. Maybe it would take some of the magic away if I were surrounded by it all the time.”
I snorted. “What magic?”
“You still haven’t told me why you hate Christmas. It’s so full of joy and cheer. What’s not to like?”
“Is it though?” I asked. There wasn’t anything joyful about my Christmases as a child. They were about as magical as an old sock.
“Of course. It’s a festival of lights, a time to come together—to eat, drink, and be merry.”
“It’s not religious to you, then?”
“Not particularly. The human race has always needed something to cheer them up during the dark, short days of winter. The winter solstice, Christmas, Hanukkah, the birthdays of Zeus and Jupiter—actually, let’s not even go down the pagan god route, because there are like fifteen of them or something who all had their birthday around this time. All I’m saying is that Juliet was right when she said, ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’” She grinned as she opened a wrought-iron gate in front of a thatched cottage. “That’s what my mother said to me when I asked her if Santa was real.” She laughed at the memory. “I didn’t have a clue what she meant but I was so confused I didn’t ask again. My parents always made it so special for me as a child and I’m determined that it will be special forever. But this year, especially this year, Christmas has to be perfect.”