Page 51 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘We thought what was going on in that house was crazy,’ Ben says, glancing over my shoulder. ‘But it’s starting to feel like what’s going on between us is a little crazy too.’
‘Crazy in a good way, though?’ I suggest.
Ben smiles. ‘Totally in a good way.’ He leans in to kiss me again, but a voice at the top of the stairs interrupts us.
‘Here the two of you are!’ Angela calls from the open doorway.
Tonight, Angela is gracing us with a very eighties-style electric-blue dress. It has big shoulder pads, and sleekly cut lines, and around her neck she wears a string of big, bold, blue beads. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back tonight? Dinner is ready. We need to get a move on or Estelle won’t be able to tell her next story this evening.’
Ben and I both look up at Angela, and I feel like a teenager who’s been caught kissing their boyfriend outside their house by their parent.
‘Well, what are you both waiting for?’ she says. ‘It’s freezing outside, come on in.’
After dinner, which as Angela predicted does feel a little rushed, we settle down as usual beside the fire with Angela handing out hot chocolates this time as our accompanying drink.
I see Ben look a little suspiciously at his mug as he’s handed it, and I know he’s wondering if these after-dinner beverages are how Estelle and Angela make their stories seem so real.
‘I won’t tonight, thanks, Angela,’ I say, politely refusing to take a mug. ‘I feel so full from your delicious dinner, I can’t manage another thing.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Angela looks a little put out.
‘Yes, maybe I’ll have one later before I go to bed if that’s all right?’
Angela shrugs, but doesn’t seem that fussed.
Maybe it’s not the drinks after all then. I look across at Ben, who acknowledges my choice with a tiny nod of his head, while we wait for the moon to appear and shine its light onto the latest decoration whose story we are about to witness.
Tonight, as the clock strikes eight, the moon’s rays pick out a decoration I remember hanging on the tree myself – it’s of the three kings carrying their gifts on their way to see the baby Jesus.
‘Tonight,’ Estelle says in her customary fashion. ‘We are returning to Christmas House in December 1936.’
Fifteen
MistletoeSquare,London
11 December 1936
We Three Kings …
As the room begins to change once more, we find ourselves having to leap up as the furniture swiftly begins to disappear and is replaced by its decade’s equal.
Sleek designs and smooth lines now fill the sitting room as some of Estelle’s more modern furniture disappears. But not as much changes as it has in past stories. For instance, Estelle’s drinks cabinet made of chrome and glass remains, simply looking a little newer and shinier. The wall between the two rooms that has always been in place, whether in 2018 or on our previous visits, slides away, and the sitting room becomes a large entertaining space with sitting and dining rooms combined.
The new armchairs that appear, look much more comfortable than their predecessors. They have large curvy armrests and white cotton covers laying over their head rests.Antimacassars!I think excitedly on remembering their name. Covers to prevent the Brylcreem all the men used on their hair from spoiling the seats. The fireplace becomes much squarer, and is now tiled in shades of cream and brown. Over the fireplace an angular mirror shaped like a fan hangs. Of course, in 1936 we’re at the end of the Art Deco period, aren’t we? Where before there would have been curves, now nearly everything is angular with square edges.
The sitting room’s walls are plain cream at the top, and a leafy green at the bottom, separated by a painted dado rail, and everywhere bright colours are dotted around, whether it be in the sunrise cushions that adorn the seats and sofa, or the bold patterns of some original Clarice Cliff vases I spot behind the glass doors of a wooden china cabinet.
‘This is amazing!’ I say, my head not able to turn fast enough to take everything in. ‘It’s so of its time.’
‘It’s so of its time if you had money,’ Estelle says. ‘Which we are lucky enough to have at this very moment, no thanks to my father.’
The Christmas tree has returned once more. This time it’s decorated with brightly coloured balls, long pieces of silver string, and some sparse-looking tinsel. For the first time there is also the addition of some small electric lights with colourful glass shades.
The same man we met in the last story walks through the door. He’s wearing evening dress – a black suit with wide, sharp lapels on the jacket, paired with a white shirt and black bow tie. Stephen looks much older than before and I do a quick bit of maths – he’s eighteen years older now. But it’s not just the added years and his slightly greying hair slicked back with oil that have aged him. Estelle’s father looks worn down by life, as if things haven’t been too easy for him over the last eighteen years.
He stands by the fire and lights a cigarette.
‘Those things kill him eventually,’ Estelle says matter-of-factly, without any tinge of sadness in her voice. ‘Which is why I never touched them.’
