Page 41 of Home This Christmas

THIRTY-SIX

The marketplace is already crowded when we arrive. Nathan’s arm is threaded through mine, as I make my way carefully along the cobbled street.

‘Gosh, this is just as I remember it!’ I say, taking in the rows of stalls facing each other along the square, the traders all dressed in Victorian costume.

The smell of chestnuts roasting nearby drifts towards my nostrils, as I stop and admire some handmade wooden toys on a stall. Spinning tops and wooden puppets painted in bright colours sit beside each other and a jewellery box with its lid open is playing a merry Christmas tune.

The stallholder with a handlebar moustache, and wearing a waistcoat and pocket watch, wishes us a good afternoon and doffs his top hat as we stop and peruse the things on his stall. He tells me he supplies the toy shop on the high street with some of his wooden toys.

‘I’ve admired those!’ I tell him. ‘They really are beautiful.’

‘Thank you. And I can take commissions, for that perfect gift,’ he says, handing me his business card.

I’m delighted to find Penny from the bakery at a stall selling gingerbread men, slices of Christmas cake and some Christmas cookies.

‘Ruby, hi!’ She beams when she has finished serving a customer. ‘I see you are still here, then.’

‘It seems I can’t manage to get home,’ I say. She says ‘hi’ to Nathan, who she knows, and we chat for a couple of minutes, before I buy three slices of Christmas cake, and some white chocolate cookies.

‘Who is the third slice of cake for?’ asks Nathan.

‘Your dad. Unless you are now going to tell me that you have baked a Christmas cake?’

‘No, they are a little time consuming… I might knock up some mince pies, though.’ He grins.

The sky above is dark grey. The day might be described as gloomy, were it not for several Victorian-style streetlamps along the street, and lit candles on stalls.

We stroll past stalls selling all manner of things that include food, hand-knitted gifts, and home-made Christmas tree baubles.

Lotions and potions give off a delightful aroma as we pass a stall, and I treat myself to a jasmine-scented soap, served to me by a lady wearing a long black dress and a Victorian bonnet.

The smell of pulled pork at a stall has my stomach rumbling, so Nathan buys us a filled roll along with some mulled wine.

A crowd is beginning to gather near the clock tower, ready to listen to the choir who have just arrived. We manage to find a bench to sit on, courtesy of a young couple who notice my injury, and offer me their seat and I thank them.

I take in the choir members as we finish our rolls and sip the delicious mulled wine. The gentlemen are wearing long heavy coats and top hats, the women dressed mainly in full red skirts, shawls and velvet-lined bonnets.

‘I feel as if I have stepped back in time.’ I sigh, as the melodious voices of the choir fills the square, giving me a warm cosy glow inside.

Nathan curls his hand around mine and right at this moment, there is nowhere I would rather be.

When the choir finishes to thunderous applause, we move around the market stalls once more. A fit guy walks past carrying a Christmas tree, and I can’t help but laugh.

‘Are you checking out the guy with the Christmas tree?’ asks Nathan, following my gaze.

‘No, it just reminds me of a scene in a Christmas movie,’ I explain. ‘There is always a guy carrying a tree, usually for some hapless woman’

‘Do you watch a lot of those movies?’ he asks as we walk.

‘Sometimes, although usually when I am ill,’ I tell him. ‘The TV ones can be really bad.’

‘I could find a good one on Netflix if you want to watch one later,’ he offers. ‘I will even let you choose.’

‘You would watch a Christmas romcom with me?’

‘I would sit watching paint dry, as long as you were next to me.’

‘Oh please.’ I roll my eyes. ‘That sounds like a line from one of those really bad films.’

‘Sorry, was that too much?’ He laughs.

‘Just a bit.’

The greyness of the day is suddenly replaced with a gentle glow, and when I look upwards, I spot tiny fragments of snow in the light of a Victorian lamp.

‘Look!’ I say to Nathan excitedly, pointing to the sky.

Within minutes, thick white snowflakes are swirling to the ground as people gasp in delight. Soon enough, it will look like a scene from a Christmas card.

I whip my phone from my bag and take some photos of the magical scene that I want to remember forever. London suddenly feels so far away.

I spot Will and Henry in the crowd, and wave as they make their way over.

‘I bet you’re pleased you didn’t miss this,’ says Will, glancing around at the heart-warming scene.

‘Indeed I am. Victorian markets seem much more authentic up here. Maybe it’s because of the snow.’

I glance around at some children who are scooping up snow in their hands and playfully throwing snowballs at each other.

‘Maybe we had better make a move soon, though,’ suggests Henry. ‘That snow is showing no signs of stopping.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Will replies. ‘Maybe see you at my New Year’s Eve party.’ He smiles.

‘I’m not sure what my plans are yet, but thanks again,’ I say warmly.

Before we leave, I head to the clothes shop on the high street, just as the owner is locking the front door.

‘Oh you’re closed!’ I say, disappointed. ‘I guess I should have come earlier.’

‘Hi again!’ says the shop owner. ‘I’ve been at the market, so I closed early today. I just nipped back for my hat, as it started snowing,’ she explains. ‘I can open for ten minutes if there is something you particularly need?’

‘If you’re sure, then thank you. I am just after some loungewear.’ I remember spotting a nice selection the last time I visited.

She ushers me inside, and less than ten minutes later, I’m armed with two lounge suits and a pair of cosy socks, and we are outside on the pavement.

‘Thank you so much!’ I tell her.

‘No, thank you,’ she says. ‘I never expected any more sales today. Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas to you too.’

Later back at the farm, Nathan invites his father for coffee that we enjoy with the Christmas cake. He had decided to stay home today as his knee was playing up, but insisted we went out.

‘That’s very good,’ he says appreciatively as he takes a slice of cake. ‘You can’t beat a good Christmas cake.’

I think back to Mum making her cake when I was young, and how Dad would sip the brandy as she did so.

I also think of our phone call, when she shared how bittersweet her memories are, even though I know that she loved Dad dearly.

I certainly remember lots of laughter in my childhood when I was growing up, so perhaps his problems only worsened in later life.

‘Anyway. It’s a good job I stayed around, as some visitors arrived a little earlier than planned. Ten minutes ago in fact.’

Right on cue, there is a tap on the door, and in walk two young men.

‘Dylan, Joe, what are you doing here?’ He stands and crushes his sons in an embrace.

There is no mistaking the fact they are twins, or that they take after their father. Their likeness to him almost takes my breath away, as I am catapulted back in time. It seems the male gene in the Woods family is particularly strong.

‘We decided to get an earlier train,’ explains Dylan. ‘Thought we would surprise you.’

‘Well, you have certainly done that.’ Nathan smiles, clearly thrilled to see his sons. ‘Oh and, boys, this is Ruby; she is renting the cottage over Christmas,’ he tells them.

Renting the cottage. He makes it sound so businesslike.

‘Hi.’ They both smile broadly. ‘Hope you enjoy your stay,’ says Dylan, who I get the impression is the more outgoing of the two.

‘Thanks,’ I say, glancing at Nathan, who doesn’t really make eye contact.

‘So what are your dinner plans?’ asks Joe. ’I’m starved.’

‘Nothing new there, then.’ Nathan smiles. ‘We can have a takeaway if you like, as you are rather earlier than expected. What do you fancy?’

‘Chinese?’ suggests Dylan and the others agree.

‘Would you mind taking the boys to the cottage?’ Nathan asks his dad. ‘I’ll be over in a minute.’

‘Sure,’ Ben replies as he stands. ‘And thank you for the cake.’

Nathan turns to me and says, ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ after they leave. ‘You could join us for the takeaway if you like, but I haven’t mentioned you to them yet. I will do, though,’ he assures me.

‘No, of course, don’t worry.’ I paint on a smile. ‘I’m shattered anyway – an early night is probably on the cards for me,’ I reply, thinking of how I will be watching that Christmas movie alone.

‘I’ll speak to you soon.’ He gives me a quick kiss, then heads off.

As I sit alone, I let his words sink in. He hasn’t mentioned me to the boys, and he has just introduced me as someone who is simply renting the cottage over Christmas. Is that all I am: a lodger who comes with benefits?

I give myself a talking-to then, realising I am just being silly, and that he is probably telling the boys about me as we speak. At least I hope so.