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She blew on her coffee, deciding she would try not to worry too much. Instead, she would focus on all the positive, fun, and beautiful things happening that weekend. Summer deserved the most magical and wonderful of Christmases, and Evelyn was going to make sure she got exactly that.
She smiled at the sound of feet bouncing down the stairs, rapidly followed by the patter of paws.
‘Merry Christmas, Mummy!’ Summer crashed through the door, followed by Tilly who skidded across the floor.
‘Merry Christmas, Summer.’ Evelyn gave her a warm hug before kneeling. ‘And Merry Christmas to you too, Tilly.’ The little dog ran in circles, barking excitedly. ‘Hush.’ Evelyn laughed. ‘You’ll wake Nanny.’
‘Too late.’ Summer flew out of the kitchen at the sound of Linda’s footsteps trudging down the stairs. ‘Happy Christmas, Nanny.’
‘Happy Christmas, my lovelies.’ Linda appeared at the door, Summer cuddled tightly against her side.
‘Can we open presents now?’ Getting into the spirit of the weekend, Linda had decided to put up her own tree and decorations – complete with gifts!
‘How about some breakfast first?’ Evelyn asked, not holding out much hope that she’d get Summer’s attention long enough for anything even resembling a healthy breakfast. Not that she blamed her. She was excited too. Not that many months ago, she’d spent Christmas morning in an isolation room, in a mask and gloves, praying as Summer fought to hang on for long enough for the antibiotics, corticosteroids, and everything else to work. The thought of seeing her tear through the gifts piled under the tree was exciting.
‘Tell you what’—Linda poured herself a coffee—‘I’ve got some breakfast pastries in the freezer. Why don’t we put those on and while we’re waiting for them to cook, you can see what Santa left. Sound good?’
‘Santa’s been?’ Summer’s eyes went so wide that her eyebrows disappeared into her fringe.
‘Of course he has.’ Linda answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, it is Christmas, isn’t it?’
‘Sort of.’ Summer pulled a face. ‘But Annie at school said it’s not really proper Christmas, because it’s not December.’
‘Well Annie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ Evelyn forced a smile to hide the scowl threatening to break out. ‘Does she, Mum?’
‘No, she does not.’ Linda pulled her head out from the freezer, clutching the pastries she’d promised. ‘But then, maybe her nanny hasn’t spoken personally to one of Santa’s elves to let him know about our special event.’
If it was possible, Summer’s eyes got even wider. ‘Did you really?’
‘You might say Mrs Clause is a friend of mine.’ She shot Evelyn a wink over Summer’s head.
‘Can we hurry up? I really, really want to see what Santa brought!’
‘OK, OK.’ Linda arranged the food carefully on a tray, and popped it into the oven.
Evelyn laughed as daughter and dog raced into the living room, squealing and barking with excitement. ‘Friends with Mrs Clause, huh?’
‘And why not?’ She poured herself a coffee and held her hand out for Evelyn’s cup. ‘I thought this might be one of the last Christmases, you know, while she’s young enough.’
Evelyn nodded in understanding, worrying how long it would be until someone like Annie stole the magic by bursting the Santa bubble.
‘Mum, Nanny! Come on!’ Evelyn smiled. The next Christmas didn’t matter. For now, Summer believed, and that was enough. And after everything the community had already done for them, she was starting to believe too.
Jake surveyed the trees and decorations lining the square with a satisfied grin. It was the final thing to check, and everything was either ready, or nearly ready for the weekend’s festivities and fundraising.
The vans and cars with all the stallholders were already trundling into the recreation ground to set up their wares and the festive fete. The Santa’s village, which would lead to the grotto in the newly decorated library, was set up and just awaiting the arrival of the village’s “elves”. And Mr and Mrs Clause, who would be accompanied by some deer, courtesy of a few calls made by the local vet.
The cricket pavilion and marquee were set up, and shimmering with lights and decorations, and the trees in the park had been strung with lights, turning the place into a strangely warm and sunny Christmas fairyland.
The main street, which the parade would be heading down in a few hours, was lined with lights, garlands and giant baubles. Puddles of coloured fabric was spaced out along the pavements, waiting for the fans to be turned on when they would pop up into brightly coloured Christmas characters that would wave and lead people towards the village school, where the playground was being turned into a snowy scene, straight from the front of a Christmas card, complete with an outdoor, all weather synthetic ice-rink, donated by a company who had a weekend with no bookings – as most of their work was in winter.
They’d also brought with them a firm who specialised in creating fake snow, and he couldn’t wait to see what the school would look like when they were finished. And, the pièce de résistance, a giant snow globe in which people would be able to walk, take photos, and meet the village’s very own talking badger – once their volunteer was in costume. It was going to be amazing.
‘It looks good,’ he murmured.
