Page 13 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘I daren’t!’ Angela grimaces. ‘I’d never hear the end of it!’
‘While we unpack the rest of the decorations, why don’t you start hanging them on the tree, Elle?’ Estelle suggests. ‘You’re a little taller than Angela, you won’t need the stepladder as soon.’
I look over at the tree and see a small wooden stepladder has been placed at the bottom of it.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Angela grumbles. ‘I’ll break my neck on that thing one day. Why we have to have such a big tree, I don’t know.’
Estelle sighs like she’s heard this complaint a few too many times before. ‘It’s tradition,’ she explains patiently, I feel as much for my benefit as Angela’s. ‘There’s always been a real Christmas tree at Five Mistletoe Square, and I’m not going to be the one to break that tradition.’
Over the next hour, Angela and I, under Estelle’s watchful gaze and many directions, carefully decorate the tree. I am a bit wary of the ancient-looking lights we twist first from the top to the bottom of the tree. But Estelle assures me they are perfectly safe, and they use them every year along with everything else in the box.
We then move on to all the decorations that are unwrapped one-by-one from the wooden box. Among the many ornaments we hang are china cherubs, a baby in a manger, a snowflake, and the three wise men, or in this case they look more like three kings.
As I tried to hide from Estelle, decorating a tree has never been high on a list of things I enjoy, along with most things to do with the festive season. My parents never made much of a fuss at Christmas, so I never really experienced as a child the simple joy of decorating the family Christmas tree. But this time is different. As we gradually adorn the full green branches with the trinkets and memories of past festive seasons, the smell of the pine needles and the ever-growing look of delight on Estelle’s face makes it so much more enjoyable than the few times I tried to join in with similar activities before.
While we take a short break so Estelle can visit the bathroom, Angela and I stand back to admire our work.
‘Only the angel and the star to go,’ Angela says, hurrying back over to the table to pick up a cheerful-looking angel with pale pink wings, a white dress and a gold halo over the top of her head. Angela glances quickly at an ornate gold star edged with sparkling crystals, but leaves it on the table.
‘Can you reach?’ I ask her as she climbs up the wooden ladder.
‘Just about.’ Angela wobbles a little as she attempts to stretch up to the top of the tree.
‘Shall I do it?’ I offer. Angela looks precariously balanced on top of the ladder with the angel at the very end of her fingertips. ‘I’m a bit taller; it might help.’
‘I think you might have to.’ Angela says, sighing with frustration as she climbs back down the steps of the ladder. ‘But be quick,’ she says, looking towards the door to see if Estelle is on her way back yet.
I wonder why she’s so concerned, but as I take the angel from her and climb the ladder, I find out why.
‘Angela!’ Estelle bellows, as she pauses with her walking stick in the doorway. ‘You know the rule. The star always goes at the top of the tree. Not the angel.’
I pause awkwardly at the top of the ladder, not knowing what to do.
‘Never the angel, is it?’ Angela grumbles as she begrudgingly collects the star from the table and heads back over to me. ‘Always the bloody star that shines the brightest in your eyes. Here you go,’ she says, exchanging the angel for the star. ‘Best do what she says.’
While Estelle shuffles across the floor back over to her chair, I place the star on the top of the tree, my arms just long enough to reach. Then Angela passes me the angel, and I hang it as close to the top of the tree as I can.
‘There now,’ Estelle says, looking proudly up at the tree from her chair. ‘We’re nearly ready – only the lights to go. Would you like to do the honours this year, Elle?’
‘Me?’ I ask in surprise as I climb down from the ladder. ‘Wouldn’t you like to do it, Estelle? It’s your tree.’
‘This year the tree belongs to all of us,’ Estelle says, smiling. ‘Unfortunately I can’t get down there to switch the lights on.’ She gestures with her stick to the switch at the bottom of the wall where the set of lights are plugged in. ‘And Angela is too busy sulking.’
‘I’m not sulking,’ Angela says petulantly. ‘I just don’t know why the angel can’t be on top sometimes, that’s all. You do it, Elle. I’m not bothered.’
‘As I said –sulking.’ Estelle tuts, shaking her head. ‘Please, Elle, you do it. It’s just about dark enough now for them to show up.’
I glance out of the window and sure enough it’s just starting to get dark outside. The gas lamps I noticed yesterday around the outside of the square are now lit, making it look quite festive and cheerful in its own right.
‘Okay then,’ I say, heading over to the plug. I kneel down next to the switch. ‘Are you ready?’ I look up at Estelle and Angela.
They both nod.
‘Right then. Three. Two. One!’ I announce, pulling the old black switch down. But the pretty show of lights I expected to see doesn’t appear.
‘Wait, I’ll try again,’ I say, lifting the switch up and down a couple of times.
‘No,’ I hear Estelle call, as I jiggle the switch. ‘Don’t do that, Elle!’
