Page 21 of All We Want for Christmas
Despite every rational thought telling her that the chalice couldn’t have any influence on the event’s success, a splinter of superstition had lodged in her mind. What if there was a disaster, like a terrible accident or a lightning strike? It was unlikely, she decided, having checked the forecast. It said there would be stable high pressure hanging over the Lakes for a few days, which would bring cold, clear nights.
She was just stressed out and needed a break to centre herself. Even so, she’d allowed two cups of coffee to go cold in the staff room while answering calls from panicked staffand scrolling through messages she didn’t need to be copied in on.
‘Be calm. Take a breath.’ Jazz came up behind her as she tipped the second coffee down the sink. They’d managed to squeeze in a quick working lunch at the Castle Café the day before, but any more ambitious plans for a night out would have to wait for Jazz’s upcoming birthday.
‘I am calm,’ Lara said, then sighed. ‘How doyoulook so calm?’
‘I only have several thousand visitors to feed and not poison. I’m completely chilled.’
Lara laughed.
‘Right. Here are my orders. Firstly, let me finish making you a coffee that you will drink. Secondly, eat this.’ She presented her with a paper bag.
‘What is it?’
‘A cranberry-and-white-chocolate flapjack. Local bakery makes them by the thousands for us. They’re great, and, believe me, I taste-tested a lot of them.’
Lara tucked in while Jazz poured hot water on the coffee granules and added milk. She really did need the boost to her blood sugar. Breakfast had been a very rushed affair a long time ago.
‘Verdict?’ Jazz asked, handing over the mug.
‘Delicious. Thank you, I really needed this.’ Lara sipped her coffee.
‘Good.’ Jazz leaned against the countertop. ‘Now, as for worrying about tonight, it’s natural, but I’ve done a lot of these events and I promise you, it’ll work out OK. If youexpect the unexpected, you’ll get through it. The time to worry is if you haven’t done your preparation and you have absolutely prepared this to the last detail.’
Lara bit off a large chunk of flapjack, feeling a little calmer. ‘Thanks. I still think there’s more I could have done and stuff to be sorted. One of the toilet blocks is out of action, and two marshals are off sick. A big branch came down and damaged one of the statues, and I just heard that badgers ate through a cable to the grotto.’
‘All of those things can be handled by other people. That’s why we have catering and cleaning teams and maintenance and security managers. Flynn’s responsible for the technical side. Leave it to him.’
‘I’m sure he’ll do a good job. He just doesn’t know Ravendale that well.’
‘I think he’s learning fast. Are you going to make me stand over you while you finish that flapjack?’
Jazz left and Lara went back to work, reminding herself that she was as prepared as she could possibly be. Even so, never had a day gone by so fast. Morning turned to afternoon and, in what seemed like a heartbeat, the sun was sinking over the distant sea.
She zipped up her puffa coat. It would be a very chilly night but at least it wasn’t raining, which would have added an extra layer of challenges, like slippery paths, mud, and cafés packed with wet and cold punters.
Dusk was falling as she did one final walkthrough of the site, past kiosks where staff were stocking up with hot dogs and checking coffee machines and mulled-wine urns.
Carlos and the apprentices were mending the fence that had also been knocked down by badgers overnight while technicians fixed the cable. Flynn was deep in conversation with a contractor by the grotto. Lara left them to it and prayed they could fix it.
The golf buggies that whizzed about the estate seemed to be everywhere, along with people in hi-vis shouting. The constant beeping of trucks reversing came from the technical area along with the hum of the generators. There seemed to be an awful lot of scurrying and shouting and urgency with only two hours to go until the first visitors were allowed in at six.
Then, as the night deepened to velvet black, the pathways began to clear and the hubbub died down. The technical staff thinned out, retreating to the control hub, to be replaced by the stewards, who moved into their places along the route.
All around her, lights twinkled and shimmered in tree canopies, statues glowed, and the castle walls were painted in white light. Projections of stars washed over the walled garden and the orangery. Carols and Christmas favourites rang from the speakers. In the formal garden, the fountain danced with violet, red and green to classical music.
The aroma of cinnamon, hot chestnuts and frying onions filled Lara’s nose as the kiosks prepared for the onslaught of hungry, thirsty people eager to warm up on the cold night, all ready to tell themselves: Christmas has started!
And then, the first visitors walked in. Families and couples, babies in buggies, toddlers on shoulders, people withbig cameras, teenagers with mobiles, laughing, pointing, stopping, capturing it all or simply marvelling.
Lara felt a tear roll down her cheek, of relief and pride and hope.
It was here. It was happening. And that was thanks to everyone at the castle. They’d all pulled together to make her vision a reality – and Flynn had been instrumental in that. They worked well together and they had chemistry that she couldn’t deny, even if she was trying not to act on it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Since his lunch with Lara, Flynn’s feet had barely touched the ground as he prepared for this moment.
