Page 71 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
Estelle and Dylan go through to the sitting room, with Dylan still clearly bothered by Alvie. Estelle closes the door behind them.
‘It’s Boxing Day 1962,’ our Estelle explains. ‘Because most of my tenants are young, they are still with their families. It’s a pretty quiet house compared to what it’s like usually.’
‘Why do you worry so much about Christian?’ I ask as Estelle is about to go through the sitting-room door.
‘Don’t you know?’ Ben replies, raising his eyebrows at me.
‘No, should I?’
Ben looks at Estelle. She nods.
‘Unless I’m very much mistaken,’ Ben says. ‘Christian is gay.’
‘So?’
‘It was still illegal to be gay in this country until 1967,’ Estelle says. ‘Well, 1967, in England and Wales. It was as late as the 1980s before it became legal in Scotland and Northern Ireland.’
‘Gosh, I hadn’t realised.’
‘I worried about Christian because it was quite dangerous to be gay in London in 1962. If he’d stuck to the few coffee shops and pubs back then that were secretly known to welcome the gay community, then he’d probably have been fine … ’
‘What do you mean probably? What happened to him?’
‘Later,’ Estelle says. ‘We have other things to hear about first. Now, we need to walk through this door to find things have moved on a few hours. Do not worry, you’re ready to do this now. And don’t be afraid; you won’t feel a thing.’
We watch in amazement as Estelle walks straight through the closed door.
‘Go on,’ Angela says encouragingly. ‘It’s easy. Watch.’
And she does the same.
Ben shrugs. ‘When in Rome … ’ and he too follows the others through into the sitting room.
‘Argh!’ I exclaim, knowing I have to do the same. ‘Why does this seem so strange?’
‘It’s all right,’ Angela says, very disconcertingly popping only her head back through the closed door. ‘You’ll be fine – it won’t hurt.’
‘Really? Why haven’t we done it previously then?’
‘Haven’t needed to, have we? The door has always been open before.’
Annoyingly, she’s right. This is the first time we’ve encountered a closed door in all our stories.
‘What about when we went outside?’ I suddenly remember. ‘Estelle opened the door for us that time.’
‘That’s because it was an exterior door – they’re a lot thicker and harder to traverse. You and Ben are both ready for interior doors now – you’ll be just fine. Besides, Estelle can’t open this one for you, otherwise her younger self will see it open and close, and we can’t be having that.’
I think about this for a moment and it sort of makes sense, I suppose. But if this is all in our imaginations, as Angela and Estelle always suggested it was, then why did that make a difference? However, I don’t have time to think about it now, so I take a deep breath, close my eyes and step into the door. And just as I’ve been promised, I don’t feel anything. I open my eyes and I’m already in the sitting room with the others.
Estelle is already by the side of her younger self, who has nodded off to sleep in front of the television with a book on her lap while Dylan sleeps soundly in his basket by the fire.
The clock above the fireplace reads just before midnight, and the television is playing the National Anthem before it closes down for the night.
Alvie wriggles in Estelle’s arms and jumps to the floor, waking Dylan who growls.
‘Goodness, Dylan!’ Sixties Estelle says, woken by the noise. ‘Whatever is wrong?’
Alvie runs underneath the branches of the Christmas tree over to the window and Dylan follows him.
