Page 48 of Christmas Is All Around
In the time it took Charlotte and Graham to order a full English and a veggie breakfast, Nadine had been sucked into a discussion with her companions, and Charlotte briefly experienced a moment of hope that she had escaped further conversation. She had not accounted, however, for the fact that chattiness seemed to be a common trait among amateur touring Christmas carolers, because the man sitting at the table to their right leaned toward them now.
“What brings you to town, if it isn’t to see us perform?” he asked curiously.
“Do you have many groupies?” Charlotte asked, the notion that she and Graham would have traveled to a tiny hamlet in Buckinghamshire specifically to see a troupe of carol singers frankly astonishing to her.
“A fair few,” said the woman next to him proudly; she, like her companion, was middle-aged, and was wearing a bright red dressthat had enough boning in the bodice to make Charlotte wince in sympathy. “There was a lady last season who becameobsessedwith Rajesh,” she said, nodding at her breakfast companion. “She came tothree separate villagesin a row, she did, and was always chatting with him after the performances—I finally had to put my foot down, tell her that we’d been married forfifteen yearsand if she thought that just because it was Christmas, he’d be susceptible to her vixen charms, well, she had another thing coming.”
Graham’s eyebrows were somewhere in the vicinity of his hairline by this point, while Charlotte was suddenly feeling that this breakfast situation had taken a turn for the better.
“Do you find that men are particularly susceptible to vixen charms at Christmastime?” she asked earnestly, leaning across Graham to address the woman directly.
The woman nodded solemnly. “Why do you think they make all those romances set at Christmas?” she asked. “It’s the most lustful time of year.”
Graham coughed on his tea, and Charlotte thumped him on the back.
“Anjali and I met at Christmas!” Rajesh added, smiling fondly at his wife. “I took one look at her, glowing in the lights of the skating rink at the Natural History Museum—”
“May she rest in peace,” Anjali added sadly.
“The skating rink,” Graham clarified, seeing Charlotte’s confused look, having evidently cleared all the tea out of his windpipe. “They stopped doing it for environmental reasons.”
“The very notion!” Anjali said, indignant now. “As if we should be thinking about global warming atChristmas, of all things!”
“It’s true,” Rajesh said seriously. “There’s a time and a place for everything, you know.”
“I… see,” Charlotte said, before mercifully being rescued bythe sight of her breakfast materializing. She and Graham occupied themselves for some time by shoveling massive quantities of toast and beans and eggs and mushrooms and tomatoes and—god, she got tired even trying to list them all; this country did not joke around with their fried breakfasts—anyway, the point was, by the time they were capable of speech, the carolers had already finished their own breakfasts and were preparing to depart for their first caroling stop.
“We pick several locations, you see,” Nadine confided as she tied her bonnet more securely beneath her chin. “Wouldn’t want anyone in the village to miss out!”
“How thoughtful,” Charlotte managed, and waved them off while sipping her coffee. As soon as the room was empty, she turned to Graham.
“Fifty pounds says they are outside this fucking cottage I need to draw.”
“Not taking that bet,” he said, polishing off his final piece of toast.
Sure enough, an hour later, once they’d checked out of the inn, moved the car to a different parking spot, and set off on foot, they found themselves being…
Well, serenaded.
“Didn’t think we’d see you two again so soon!” Anjali said cheerfully once she saw Graham and Charlotte materialize, just as the troupe was finishing a stirring rendition of “God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.” They were assembled on the high street, a short walk down the road from the inn and the assortment of shops, directly outside the cottage that was Charlotte and Graham’s destination; the cottage in question was predictably adorable, with a thatched roof and an ivy-covered trellis and a garden that, in the summer, was probablyoverflowing with roses. Despite its position directly on the main road, the village was so small that it had the feel of a peaceful retreat, with a view of lush green fields rising behind it. There was a fully dressed Christmas tree in the front yard, too, a feature that Charlotte understood was key to the cottage’s appeal in the film. With a resigned sigh, she pulled her sketchbook from her bag, noting with amusement the small sign that had been affixed to the front gate, which read,PRIVATE RESIDENCE—TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED!As she retrieved her supplies, she entertained herself with the soothing thought of megafans ofThe Christmas Cottagebeing hauled away in handcuffs after attempting to sneak onto the property.
“Lucy’s an artist,” Graham said, with a nod in her direction. “She loves Christmas so much that she’s determined to do watercolors for every iconic English Christmas film spot, as we catch her up on all the classics.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, freezing in the act of rummaging for her pouch of drawing pencils.
“You know,” he said, smiling innocently at her as he slung an arm around her shoulders, “I’ve been trying to tell you that this might be too much—surely you can’t bethat passionateabout Christmas films, of all things—but you’ve been undeterred.”
“Isn’t that lovely!” said Anjali, misty-eyed.
“Which Christmas film is your favorite?” Nadine asked eagerly. “I personallylovethe one about the girl who inherits that mansion in Sloane Square! Just imagine!”
“Christmas, Trulyis my favorite,” Rajesh confided. “The best bit is when the sweethearts from secondary school who had been separated by the war spend their last Christmas together in the same nursing home!” He blinked back tears.
“I will murder you in your sleep,” Charlotte informed Graham.
“Back to London tonight!” he said easily, dropping his arm andtaking a few steps back as a precautionary measure. “Won’t have much opportunity!”
“I know where you live,” she reminded him. “And Ava knows how to pick locks.”
