As we approach the long table in the conservatory a cheer goes up.
Tollie smooths down his beard, as he sits in the carver chair at the top end of the table, looking very at home. Abe sits to his left, with Ethel next to him. On the opposite side is Gray, next to Pete and David, who are deep in conversation. As soon as I place the platter on the table both Pete and David jump up, insisting I slide along the bench to sit next to my man.
‘Thanks, guys. This is awesome. What a way to start the first day of season nine. A bacon sarnie is guaranteed to keep out the chill.’
We raise our mugs to toast and wait for Tollie to do the honours.
‘To our Aysbury family. Most people don’t get to choose theirs, but I guess everyone around this table has chosen to be a part of the clan. Even if it’s only by virtue of the fact that they came and never left. One thing I do know for sure is that I count myself lucky to be sittin’ here with you all today. Certainly, both my life and Immi’s are the richer for your support and friendship.’
There’s a ‘hear, hear’ and a lot of nodding of heads. I believe that every single one of us around the table has a reason to count their blessings. Even Pete and David’s story isn’t straightforward. The brothers were born in Brighton, but both ended up living and working in London. Pete was in finance and David was an advertising executive. David was only thirty-two when he had a heart-attack. Stress, they think, was the cause, but the shock waves affected his entire family.
Their parents decided that the money they had sitting in the bank could be put to good use if their sons could agree on what sort of business they wanted to set up. A year later, both Pete and David, two keen home brewers, bought out the small microbrewery at Middle Norton, just three miles away. It was a steep learning curve in the beginning, I think they would both admit that now, but they’ve expanded it way beyond the on-site store.
It’s a firm reminder, though, not to take anything in life for granted, because you never know what tomorrow will bring.
‘It’s a bit late for breakfast!’ Mrs Price’s voice reflects surprise as she walks towards the table. The hand that was halfway to my mouth stops dead, holding that last, buttery piece of sandwich and dripping tomato sauce onto the table.
There is a moment or two of silence before Kurt speaks up.
‘It’s brunch, Mrs Price,’ he explains, sounding a tad guilty to have pulled us away from the task in hand. ‘The team were flagging, and we can’t have that. Can I get you a nice cup of Earl Grey tea?’
Mrs Price has a soft spot for Kurt. As soon as her eyes land on him, that iron-rod back of hers seems to relax immediately and her mouth softens, the strained look evaporating away.
‘Oh, that would be lovely, thank you, Kurt.’
Sarah immediately jumps up to give her place to Mrs Price, but Tollie is also on his feet and shepherds her around to the top of the table, instead.
‘I can’t stay long, but then I suspect you are all eager to get back to work,’ she hints as she settles herself into the seat.
We last another ten minutes, respectfully waiting until Mrs Price has finished her tea. There’s a lot of small talk about the work we have left to do to get everything ready and who is going to do what exactly. Then we disperse, leaving Mrs Price to chat to Jude and Jade as she asks how they are doing at school.
Heading out onto the towpath, I lean in to Gray. ‘Do you think she was a head teacher before she came here?’
He shrugs his shoulders. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a sergeant major,’ he replies, laughing.
As we walk back towards The Star Gazer, we bump into my boss from the Lockside Nurseries.
‘Hey, Immi. I wondered where you all were. I’ve just dropped off a tray of red poinsettias for the dinette tables. I left it on the gangplank.’
‘Ah, thank you, Martin. That’s very kind of you.’ He’s a great boss and he always donates something floral to brighten up The Star Gazer for the Santa Ahoy cruises.
Gray and I stop to chat, the others striding off in case Mrs Price suddenly appears. It’s not that she judges people, but more about the example she sets. Mrs Price is always doing something for someone else and I know it makes me feel uncomfortable if she catches me standing around, aimlessly chatting.
‘Are you still researching the history of the cottage?’ Martin poses the question, while slipping the rucksack off his back.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Well, I just delivered a vanload of plants to a big house over at Middle Norton. On the way back I dropped into the village hall. There was a Christmas tabletop sale going on, and I saw these and thought of you.’
Martin hands me a pile of aged photographs and a couple of very dusty books, all tied together with a faded blue ribbon. It looks as if it’s been hidden away in someone’s loft for years.
‘The sepia photograph on the top was taken from the other side of the canal. What caught my eye was seeing Lock Keeper’s Cottage before any of the hedging had been planted. It looks so naked.’
As I slip the top photo from beneath the ribbon, it’s strange to see the stone building without the mass of shrubs and trees that now add to its appeal, as well as lending some privacy from walkers using the towpath. In the photo everything looks sparse, whereas now it takes constant trimming to keep it all under control, with some of the bushes and trees seeming determined to take over. It’s an annual battle and another highlighted date on the community action calendar.
‘Well spotted, thank you. I’ll enjoy going through these. What do I owe you?’
Martin puts up his hand to stop me. ‘Call it an early Christmas present. You’ll still get a potted something, or other, come Christmas Eve,’ he adds. ‘Can’t break with tradition, or the staff will rebel.’ Martin laughs and I smile appreciatively.
‘Well, how about popping into The Bullrush and grabbing a bacon sandwich on me? Tell Sarah I sent you.’ He looks tempted but shakes his head.
‘I’d love to, but I must get back. There are three Saturday lads in helping out today. The second delivery of Christmas trees is due in midweek. We need to move things around in the yard to make sure there’s enough space. You did a good job of tidying up the two large greenhouses this week, Immi. It made all the difference when the potted plants arrived first thing. Anyway, I must go – enjoy the first trip of the season.’
‘Will do. And thanks, Martin, for the welcome splash of colour.’
He nods his head in acknowledgement.
‘Next year, just you wait and see what I’ve got planned! We’re gonna do Tollie proud.’ Martin gives me one of his mischievous looks.
My heart is bursting with happiness and it’s not simply because Gray is here, but the way everyone is gearing up to celebrate next year’s landmark achievement – I can’t believe it will be ten years since Tollie started the Santa Ahoy cruises. Over that period, year-on-year the money raised for local charities has continued to grow. It’s brought a community together in a way only a good cause can. Next year is going to include an extra-special celebration. We’re planning a series of coffee mornings and a few barn dances throughout the summer to fund a special dinner in Tollie’s honour. It’s going to be one Christmas none of us will ever forget and just thinking about it is giving me goosebumps. We’re all used to pulling out all the stops for the kids, because that’s what Christmas is all about. But this tribute to Tollie, and everyone involved, is about recognising the fact that when people join together, their efforts can make a real difference.