Page 27 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 19
The benefits of spending the day behind my laptop had been twofold. Firstly, I’d been able to start researching London storage and workshop facilities, even if the rents did seem to be outside my budget. And secondly, aside of my chat with Jason, I’d avoided all contact with, and therefore potential ridicule from, the locals.
Staring at a screen for hours, however, did have its downside. It had left me needing to clear my head.
It was already going dark when I decided to leave Frank at Number 3, Bluebell Row, and head to Wildeholt, a nearby market town and host to the Christmas market Jules had told me about. If I didn’t check it out, she’d only nag me until I did. The trip over was a win-win; it would help me get rid of the brain fuzz and keep my friend off my back.
It wasn’t that I wasbah humbug!I just didn’t go in for all the hullabaloo. I grew up in a house where Christmas was acknowledged more than celebrated. While mum bought gifts and made a Christmas lunch, she didn’t exactly go overboard with the festivities. She preferred a quieter affair. Of course, I knew that was down to circumstance more than choice, but her approach had rubbed off on me. Even when it came to my Christmas dinner, pushing the boat out for one felt both extravagant and unnecessary. Why go to the expense? Or the effort of chopping, peeling, dicing and slicing, when a ready meal had done all that on my behalf?
I scowled, as Jason’s earlier conversation about Barrowboy popped into my head. It had been uncomfortable listening, but I refused to accept I was anywhere as near as festively challenged as his brother. For one, I couldn’t imagine Barrowboy attending a Yuletide market under any circumstances. And two, when it came to Christmas, I at least put insomeeffort. I didn’t write the day off completely.
According to Jules, Wildeholt wasn’t a sprawling place; it was compact and pretty, with cobbled streets and an olde worlde feel. Narrow lanes, lined with leaning cottages and old stone town houses, led off the town square, which was home to various retailers catering for locals and visitors alike. Amenities such as a hairdresser, a grocer, a chemist and a post office, sat alongside cafés, a quaint little bookstore, and a fish and chip takeaway. There was also an outdoor adventure shop that sold everything a serious rambler or cyclist could possibly want. I chuckled as I parked up on Wildeholt’s main car park. No matter what Jules said about making the most of the great outdoors, the latter was not a retailer I planned to avail myself of.
I grabbed my bag off the passenger seat and climbed out of the van. Not sure which way to go, I glanced around. There were lots of families and couples about, all of whom were heading in the same direction. All I had to do was follow.
As I got to the end of the street and turned left, the town square and festive market opened up in front of me. A huge, brightly lit Christmas tree towered above the wooden chalets from which vendors sold their wares and each chalet was connected to the next via a spider’s web of fairy lights that went from roof to roof to roof. Christmas carols rang out from loudspeakers and as I began wandering through the market browsing all the goods on offer, the smell of gingerbread, roasted chestnuts, and spiced mulled wine floated on the air. From handcrafted jewellery and carved wooden toys to handmade soaps and candles, there was a range of products on offer, and all produced by local artisans.
The market’s atmosphere was a sponge of Yuletide cheer. Vendors and browsers alike, everyone seemed to be smiling. There was a real sense of community, as people greeted each other and stopped to chat and joke like old friends and I felt myself getting caught up in the festive mood.
I paused to peruse a range of ceramic Glühwein mugs, each hand-blown and delicately painted by the stallholder herself. I knew Jules and Harry would love them. Practical and pretty, they were the perfect gift, and I couldn’t resist buying them each one.
“Antonia!” a child’s voice called out.
Surprised to hear my name, I spun round to see little Seb charging towards me. Trussed up like a chicken thanks to his thick coat, woolly hat and mittens, he also wore a big smile, and my heart melted a little at the sight of him.
“Sorry about this,” Lizzie said, forced to catch up with her son. “As soon as he saw you, he just had to come and say hello.”
“I’ve had a hot dog and some candyfloss,” Seb said.
“Ooh, they sound good,” I replied.
“They were. I wanted a toffee apple too, but Mummy says if I eat any more rubbish I’ll be bouncing off the walls.”
I laughed. Going off the little boy’s excitement, he was one step ahead. It was clear the food additives had already kicked in.
“Do you want to come and watch me on the merry-go-round?” Seb asked.
“Seb,” Lizzie said, clearly embarrassed. She nodded to the gift-wrapped mugs I held. “Antonia might not have finished her shopping yet.”
“It’s okay,” I said to her, before turning my attention to Seb.
The little boy waited for my response, his eyes full of anticipation.
“I’d love to.”
Seb jumped up and down, before throwing his arms around my waist and giving me a squeeze. “Come on, everyone,” he said at last, letting go. I felt his little hand take mine.
“It’s this way.”
Lizzie shook her head as he began leading the both of us through the crowds, until at last, we reached the carousel.
I smiled and taking in the rotating platform and its row upon row of wooden horses, I felt like I’d been thrown back to my own childhood. I remembered thinking how beautiful their golden manes and pastel-painted saddles were and recalled how my tummy tickled with each rise and fall as the horses galloped. As a little girl, I’d imagine my horse breaking free of its mount, leaping off the carousel and carrying me into the distance to explore pastures new.
An unexpected pang washed over me, as I found myself wondering where that little adventurer had gone. When did she choose to keep going round and round without even a detour?
I shook myself out of it. I was being daft. Events of the last few days had had more of an impact than I’d realised and after everything that had happened, my emotions were bound to be all over the place.
“It’s stopping. It’s stopping!” Seb said, as the ride began to slow.
