Page 29 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Nah, moment’s gone now.’ Angela shrugs. ‘You do it, Estelle. I’m happy just to sit here and listen.’
‘Right then. Now we just need to wait a few moments … ’ She looks towards the window as she calmly strokes Alvie who’s sitting on her lap as usual, and I know she’s waiting for the moon again. Ben, sitting to my right, looks at me with a mystified expression.
‘You’ll see in a minute,’ I whisper.
As the clock strikes eight again, the moon, just like last night, comes out from behind the clouds and shines down through the window. Tonight, it casts its glow over the decoration hanging on the Christmas tree of two entwined theatre masks.
‘Comedy and tragedy,’ Estelle says, watching the illuminated masks glisten in the moonlight. ‘For tonight’s story we will be visiting Victorian London. Christmas House is now owned by one Robin Snow, the great-grandson of Joseph and Celeste, whom we met in the first story, if you remember?’
How could I forget?
‘Joseph Christmas built both this house and the whole of Mistletoe Square in 1750,’ Estelle explains for Ben’s benefit. ‘Robin lives here with his young wife, Carola, and his two children, Timothy and Belle. We join the story in December 1842.’
Just like yesterday, as Estelle begins to talk, the room begins to change around us.
Some of Estelle’s lighter, more modern furniture disappears, and is replaced by darker, much larger pieces of furniture that match with a few of her other items. The wallpaper becomes a deep shade of green with bold gold leaves, and the mantelpiece in front of us fills with many ornaments and tiny knick-knacks. In fact, the whole room is now packed with what looks like junk to me – but I know is the height of Victorian style. The end result makes the room feel very oppressive, dark and heavy.
I glance at Ben. He looks just as shocked and surprised as I was last night.
I watch as our Christmas tree disappears with the rest of the furniture, but this time it is replaced by a tree decorated in colourful paper decorations and unlit candles.
‘What the hell is going on here?’ I hear Ben mutter. But as I turn to look at him the door to the sitting room swings open.
Nine
MistletoeSquare,London
20 December 1842
God Bless Us Every One
In the hall stands a woman buttoning a small boy into his coat.
‘Yes, you must wear your coat, Master Timothy,’ the woman says. ‘It’s very cold outside today. I think it might snow.’
‘Ooh, I hope it does, Nanny Avery,’ Timothy says, his dark eyes shining. ‘I love to play in the snow.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that – you might catch cold.’
‘Please, Nanny Avery!’ A younger girl jumps up and down. She has on a long navy cape over her full dress and laced brown boots. She wears a navy bonnet on her head, and her hands are inside a matching muff edged in white fur. ‘I love the snow.’
‘Let’s see if it actually does snow first, shall we, Miss Belle?’ Nanny Avery says firmly, as she finishes wrapping Timothy up with a red scarf and a tweed cap. Finally, she checks her own reflection in the hall mirror – in exactly the same place as Estelle has a mirror hanging today. Nanny Avery neatens the bow holding a thick grey cape over her long dress. She then pulls a matching grey bonnet over her neatly pinned-up hair, and ties the ribbon tightly under her chin. As she takes one last look at her appearance in the mirror, she jumps.
‘Goodness!’ she says, immediately turning and peering behind her into the sitting room where we all still sit. She shakes her head and looks suspiciously into the mirror again. ‘Trick of the mind,’ she says sharply to her reflection. ‘That is all.’ She shakes her head. ‘Goodness if we don’t already have enough nonsense in this house to contend with.’
‘What are you talking about, Nanny Avery?’ Timothy asks. ‘What nonsense?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about, Master Timothy.’ She glances in the mirror one last time, but this time seems happier with what she sees reflected back at her.
‘Is it the Christmas tree?’ Belle asks. ‘It does seem quite odd to have a real tree in our parlour. But it’s pretty. I like it.’
‘So do I,’ Timothy agrees. ‘At night it looks magical when all the candles are alight.’
Nanny Avery nods. ‘Yes, it is very pretty. It is a little odd too. But your mother likes it, and therefore so must we.’
‘Mother says it’s traditional in Germany,’ Belle says, peering back around the door to look at the Christmas tree. ‘And our royal family will have one every year at Windsor Castle now that the Queen has married Prince Albert.’ She also looks across at us a little suspiciously, like Nanny Avery did, but says nothing and returns back to the hall.
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Nanny Avery says with a small purse of her lips. ‘It is not for us to suppose what our queen does or does not do. I am sure the German people will have many Christmas traditions that we know not of here in England. Now we really must leave or we will miss the pantomime.’
