Page 1 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
Prologue
London
18 December 2023
‘Now, let’s all give Elle a big round of applause.’
Miss Fitzpatrick encourages her class by beginning the clapping, and a sea of young faces sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of me lift their hands to join in. ‘I think you’ll agree her talk has been very entertaining indeed.’
It’s been an absolute pleasure as always, I think, as I smile back at them all.
My school visits don’t always go as swimmingly as this one has today. Sometimes it can take a while to engage the children in my subject, but they usually come around by the end. The majority of today’s class of Year Fives, however, were totally enthralled from the start.
‘Elle has also kindly agreed to sign some of her books for you,’ Miss Fitzpatrick announces. ‘If you can all line up in register order beside the Christmas tree, there are enough books for everyone to take one home today.’
Miss Fitzpatrick smiles gratefully at me as the children all clamber to their feet. And I know what she’s trying to say. Before I do any of my school visits, I always enquire how many children there might be that won’t be able to afford to purchase a book. I then ask my publishers to provide extra copies so every child can take one home. That way I hope no child will feel different or left out. They are all treated the same whatever their background. It’s something I feel very strongly about, and I won’t agree a visit to a school unless this particular request is met.
Sitting at Miss Fitzpatrick’s desk, I happily sign each child’s book for them as they queue up. Some of the children are incredibly shy and can’t wait to escape from the desk once I’ve signed their copy. Some ask me funny or insightful questions, like what colour pen I use to write with, what’s my favourite word to use, or what snack I like to eat while I’m writing.
‘Hello, and what’s your name?’ I ask a small dark-haired boy currently standing by my side.
‘Ben,’ he says confidently. ‘It’s short for Benjamin.’
‘Would you like Ben or Benjamin written in your book?’ I ask.
‘Definitely Ben. Benjamin is far too long. I don’t like it.’
‘I have a friend called Ben,’ I tell him as I write his name and my customary greeting, before signing my name underneath. ‘He doesn’t like his full name either.’
‘Don’t blame him,’ Ben says, shrugging. ‘It’s a stupid name. Can I ask you a question?’
‘Yes, of course,’ I say, closing my book and passing it to him. ‘What would you like to know?’
I prepare myself for another question about how I think up my stories, or how long I spend writing each book. But Ben has something different on his mind.
‘How do you make it so real?’ he asks, his dark brown eyes gazing intently at me.
‘Er … ’ I’m slightly thrown by his question. ‘I don’t know really. I think I’m just good at imagining what it might have been like to live in those particular decades in the past.’
‘My mum reads your books too,’ Ben continues. ‘She says you’re really good and despicable.’
Now it’s my turn to look questioningly at Ben.
‘Do you meandescriptive, Ben?’ Miss Fitzpatrick asks over my shoulder.
Ben shrugs.
‘I think he means descriptive.’ She nods. ‘I have to agree, Elle, your writing does make it seem like we’re actually there with you in the past. The detail is incredible.’
‘Thank you,’ I tell her, feeling slightly uncomfortable at this praise. ‘That means a lot.’
‘Can I take my book now?’ Ben says impatiently.
‘Of course. I hope both you and your mum enjoy it.’
As I sign the last few children’s books, the bell sounds for home time.
‘Those of you that have your signed books already may go!’ Miss Fitzpatrick calls over the hubbub of chairs scraping across the floor. ‘Yes, Lucy? What do you mean Dina has your coat? Excuse me a moment,’ she says apologetically. ‘I’ll be right back.’
