Prologue
Little Newdale has often been described as one of the prettiest villages in the North of England.
With its eighteenth-century church, old coaching house pub and several thatched cottages, it’s not difficult to see why.
When it’s covered in fresh winter snow, it’s absolutely picture perfect – I just wish I felt some of that festive magic this year.
Red Robin Cottage was made for the noise and bustle of families though – it has been handed down through the generations.
My great-grandfather, once the village blacksmith, told stories of how a robin would visit the garden daily in the winter months, so he made a metal plaque in his forge depicting the daily visitor, which is displayed next to the front door to this day.
I used to fastidiously clean the plaque that looks a little weather-beaten these days, yet somehow it all adds to its rustic appeal.
A red robin still makes an appearance in the garden, but not every single day, which makes it even more special when one does decide to pay a visit.
I love walking past the pretty houses on our road to get to the village.
At this time of year, most of them are decked out with holly wreaths on their glossy red and black front doors.
But my own cottage really stands out from the rest, with its thatched roof and sage-green wooden front door, the garden surrounded by a white picket fence.
I have a huge fir tree in the front garden, currently strung with coloured fairy lights, and all it needs now is to be covered in a light dusting of snow to make it the perfect cover of a Christmas card.
The courtyard in the village – an old stable block that was bought by developers seven years ago – is covered in twinkling lights in the winter and looks so festive.
It boasts a café, flower shop and a dog-grooming parlour and has been a real addition to the community.
Especially the Hot Pot café, that serves the most incredible hot chocolate.
As its name suggests, it also serves up the most delicious hot pot with red cabbage and crusty bread, which is the best comfort food in the cold, winter months and I find it difficult to resist.
The red-brick house on the other side of Little Newdale, which is known around these parts as the Christmas House, never fails to bring a smile to my face throughout December.
A middle-aged couple started decorating their house ten years ago, slowly adding to the colourful creations over the years, with ever more elaborate decorations.
Eventually, when they retired, they set up a little charity box and invited parents to wander around the garden with their children to admire what had become a magical winter wonderland attracting visits from people far and wide.
They even serve hot chocolate and mulled wine from a stand at the front of the house, as Christmas songs play in the background.
I remember the first time I took Ellie there, and she wandered around in complete awe, giggling at the singing and dancing snowmen, her little eyes marvelling at the sight of all the moving figures and twinkling lights, barely able to take it all in.
I can’t remember the exact year she decided she was too old to visit, I think she was about thirteen, but I remember how much it saddened me.
My ex-husband and Ellie’s father, Robbie, laughed, saying he thought I enjoyed it more than she did.
That might have held a grain of truth, but it wasn’t exactly comforting.
Visiting the Christmas House always got me in the holiday mood, so, the year Ellie had said it was for little kids, I persuaded Robbie to come with me, but ended up feeling a bit daft wandering around watching families with young children, and it tugged at my heartstrings a little.
It was one of the times I regretted not having any more children, even with me and Robbie going through one of our rocky patches.
We had been told by the doctors that there was nothing medically wrong, when we investigated things, but I simply never got pregnant again, so I guess I’m lucky to have been blessed with even one child.
With Ellie grown up even more, and Robbie causing chaos elsewhere, I can’t help but wonder what Christmas this year is going to be like.