Page 93 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘That, I can’t quite reveal just yet,’ Estelle maddeningly replies. ‘Not until we’re finished here in 1984.’
‘So what’s next then? Did my parents come back here to live again with me?’
‘They did for a short while. But then they decided to go and stay with Tanzy’s mother up in Scotland, so she could help with you. I think Luke got a job up there working for a charity, so they stayed up in Scotland for a while. It wasn’t until you were old enough that they started moving around a lot with all the various charities they ended up volunteering and often working for.’
‘They kept in touch with us for a while,’ Angela says, ‘But you know how things are, people drift apart as the years go by. They always sent a Christmas card, though, didn’t they, Estelle?’
Estelle nods. ‘They never forgot us.’
‘Couldn’t, could they really?’ Angela says, smiling. ‘Their only child was named after you.’
I stare at Estelle.
‘I was named after you?’ I ask, aghast. ‘But I thought my name was Noelle?’
‘It is. I was touched that Tanzy and Luke wanted to call you Estelle, but I insisted it was something else. So they went with Noelle instead for obvious reasons as your official name, and chose to call you Elle.’
‘I’d have much preferred Estelle,’ I tell her.
‘You will always be Elle to us.’ Estelle smiles at me. ‘It’s been wonderful getting to know you after all this time, Elle, it really has. You’ve grown up into a wonderful young woman.’
‘Hardly young,’ I quip, feeling more than a tad embarrassed by Estelle’s kind words.
‘Compared to Angela and myself you’re but a spring chicken. Your parents must be very proud of you.’
Suddenly I feel very guilty. I’d neglected my parents of late. I’d spent too many years blaming them for things that clearly didn’t happen in the way I chose to remember them. They were good people both now and in the past, and they didn’t deserve my judgement on what I thought a perfect Christmas should be.
‘They are,’ I say quietly. ‘Very proud. As I am of them. And as soon as we get back, I’m going to call them and tell them exactly how I feel about them.’
‘Good,’ Estelle says approvingly. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’
‘I’ll say hi from you if you like? In fact, why don’t you both speak to them when I phone. I’m sure they would love to hear from you again. They’ll be so amazed that I’m here in this house with you again.’
Estelle and Angela both look quite sad as they glance at each other.
‘Perhaps,’ Estelle resolutely says. ‘Let’s see how things go.’
What a strange answer! Especially after what they’ve just shown me.
‘Is it time to return to 2018 now?’ Ben asks, breaking into my thoughts. ‘This has been an incredible story finding out Elle was born in this house and you both knew her parents. But it is Christmas Eve, and I want us to enjoy our first one together.’ He grips my hand a bit too tightly and I wonder why. ‘Your beautiful tree and that roaring fire. It’s like the perfect Christmas scene just waiting for us to cosy up and enjoy. I think we should go back now.’
Why is Ben in such a rush?
‘You two will have plenty of Christmas Eves together in the future,’ Estelle says. ‘Of that I’m certain. But we haven’t quite finished here in 1984 just yet. You may have noticed I haven’t put any gifts under our tree back in 2018? That is because I have one final gift to give you both. But first we must witness Ben’s first Christmas.’
Ah, that’s why? Now it’s his turn, he’s panicking. I squeeze his hand reassuringly just like he’s been doing to mine all night.
‘Don’t tell me I was born in this house too?’ Ben asks, grinning manically. ‘Because that I really won’t believe!’
He is shaking now, too, and it’s not from the cold. He looks genuinely frightened.
‘No, Ben,’ Estelle continues calmly, ‘You were not born here. But we are about to meet both you … and your mother.’
Twenty-Three
‘What?’ Ben asks suddenly, looking as pale as I was a short while ago when I saw my own parents. ‘No, I want to stop this now.’ He waves his arms up towards the house behind us and then out towards the square. ‘This house, this square. This … this time-travelling. Storytelling, whatever this witchcraft is. I don’t want to go on with it any more.’
‘Ben,’ I tell him, gently taking his hand again. ‘It’s fine. Really it is. I was scared when it was my parents we were going to see. But, honestly, it feels really lovely to see them as they once were. Not frightening or weird at all.’
