Chapter Twenty-Three
“Hello, Audrey.” When the doorbell rang, Bart hadn’t expected to see his neighbour standing there with a smile on her face and a present in her hand.
“I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, and to see how Sarah and Toby were getting on.”
“They’re doing well, thank you. Would you like to come in?”
“Just for a minute. I can’t stay long, I’ve got to open the shop.”
He gestured for her to step inside. “I’m surprised you’re opening today.” Audrey owned Beedazzled on the high street, a quaint little shop selling gifts and knickknacks. He’d never known her to open on Christmas Eve before, but then again, Honeycombe Bay had always been dead at this time of year.
“I’ll be shutting around two o’clock,” she replied, “but I thought I’d take advantage of any last-minute shoppers here for the candlelit procession later. Will you be coming to that? Oh, hello, Sarah dear. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”
“Tickety-boo! So far, the buildup to Christmas has been wonderful!” Audrey cried, then, remembering that Sarah hadn’t had such a wonderful time, she sobered. “I’m sorry, dear. That was insensitive of me.” She thrust the wrapped present at her. “This is a little something for Toby.”
“How kind. You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll put it under the tree,” Sarah said, retreating into the lounge.
Bart said, “She’s right; it is kind of you.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything she needs?”
“Actually,” he said, “do you happen to have a fireguard I can borrow? I thought it might be cosy to light a fire today.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll just go fetch it.”
She was back in a trice, and after wishing him Merry Christmas again, she left to open her shop, leaving Bart to plan his day.
When Ross was little, Penny and Bart used to take him to Barnstaple to pick up a few bits and pieces and to soak up the atmosphere, but there would be atmosphere aplenty in Honeycombe itself, so maybe they could all pop to the village later to see the candlelit procession.
But first he’d wait for the food delivery which was due any minute. Then he wanted to go see Ross, Amy, and the grandchildren, and take them their presents since he wouldn’t be seeing them on Christmas Day.
Another ring of the doorbell was his supermarket delivery, and he was in the middle of putting everything away when Eloise appeared.
“Gosh, are you feeding the five thousand?”
“It looks like it, doesn’t it?” Bart stared at the laden worktops and had a feeling he’d over-ordered.
“Let me help. Where does this go?” She held up a box of biscuits.
“That would be great, thanks. It goes in the pantry.” That was where most of the nonperishables were kept.
The pantry had been one of the things that had endeared the house to Penny when they’d first viewed it.
“The sooner I can get this lot put away, the sooner I can pop over to see Ross. I’ll be back in time for lunch; then I thought we could all go into the village when it gets dark to see the candlelit procession. ”
“That sounds lovely.”
They shared a smile, and Bart was relieved everything was going so well.
When he’d received that phone call from Eloise asking to book a room at the guest house, he never would have believed he could face Christmas with joy in his heart again.
Yet here he was, actively looking forward to it.
He felt guilty about not spending it with his son, but if he had, he’d never have met Eloise, or Mitch.
And possibly not even Sarah. And he would still have been dreading Christmas.
Bart hoped his grandchildren were as pleased to see him as they were to see the gifts he’d brought with him.
“No prodding, poking, or peeking,” he admonished as he handed them to Amy to place under the tree. “That goes for you, too, Ross. And you, Amy.”
Him buying presents was a step up from last year, when all he’d felt able to do was to stuff some money inside a card.
Christmas present buying had always been Penny’s domain; she’d known better than him what to get.
He hoped he’d got it right, but these gifts were only small tokens to show he’d put some thought into it; he’d also slipped money into each card, so everyone could treat themselves to something nice.
“Can I tempt you with a slice of stollen and a glass of rum punch?” Amy offered. “We’ve made a bowl of it to take to the Amblesideses’ party this evening.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come, Dad?” Ross asked.
Bart replied to Amy first. “I’ll have a slice of stollen, but no punch. I’d better not since I’m driving. A cup of tea would be nice though.” He directed his next comment to Ross. “I can’t—I’ve got guests, remember?”
“It’s not right. You should be spending Christmas with your family. With us. Can’t they—”
Regretfully, Bart shook his head. “No, sorry. I will next year,” he promised. And he meant it. Whatever happened with the guest house, whether he’d sold it by then or not, he would definitely be with his family next year.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Ross told him.
His son pressed his lips together, pulling a face, and Bart knew that Ross felt Penny’s loss keenly. And here was Bart, refusing to spend Christmas with him, Amy, and the kids, in favour of staying in his own place with a bunch of strangers. No wonder Ross was resentful.
But they weren’t strangers anymore, were they? Eloise, Mitch, Sarah, and Toby felt like family, and he owed it to them to make this Christmas as special as he could.
Nevertheless, he continued to feel guilty and vowed he’d make it up to his son, especially when Ross said, “I miss Mum so much.” His eyes were overly bright.
“I know you do, son. I know you do,” Bart replied, his chest aching.
Ross was grieving too. Bart may have lost his wife, but Ross had lost his mother, and Bart needed to remember that.
“Are we supposed to carry real candles?” Eloise asked, wondering how they’d be able to prevent the tiny flames from being extinguished.
The candlelit procession was starting at the church at the top end of the high street, heading down to the seafront, and ending at the bandstand. It was a fine night, but even without the light breeze, she thought it would be a challenge to keep a candle lit.
“Can I have a cangle?” Toby asked.
“Candle,” Sarah corrected automatically. “I don’t think so. Candles are for grown-ups.”
The five of them were on their way down the hill, the cold nipping at their noses and their breath misting above their heads.
The nearer they got to the centre of the village, the busier it was becoming, and Eloise realised this was a popular event and a fitting and memorable end to Honeycombe Bay’s weeklong Christmas Extravaganza.
“I don’t believe there’ll be real candles,” Bart said, and he was proved right when Eloise spied people giving out battery-operated lanterns to the children. Mitch peeled away to procure one for Toby, who held it aloft, his little face glowing.
The Salvation Army band was playing traditional carols, and the familiar tune of “The Holly and the Ivy” filled the air as the milling crowd gradually coalesced into a column stretching from one side of the street to the other.
After a while, a hush descended as the band fell silent. Then a lone woman’s voice could be heard, sweet and high, as she sang the first line of “Away in a Manger.”
A second voice joined in, then another and another, until every person gathered was singing the poignant carol. The incredibly beautiful sound made the hairs on Eloise’s arms rise as she sang along, surprised to discover she knew all the words.
Mitch had hoisted Toby onto his shoulders, the little boy still clutching his lantern, and the procession slowly made its way down the street to spill out onto the promenade.
What followed next was a serene and uplifting succession of Christmas carols, sung with joy, reverence, and feeling, until the Salvation Army band once again took over, signalling the end.
Throughout it, Eloise had stood shoulder to shoulder with Bart, and as the crowd began to disperse, he held out his elbow for her to thread her arm through.
“So we don’t get separated,” he explained, and she melted at his thoughtfulness.
Or was she melting because the feel of her arm in his stirred something deep inside her?
And when he caught her eye, their gazes locked for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a second or two, and heat spread through her.
He was so handsome standing there, with his eyes alight and the glow from the many lanterns illuminating his face, that her heart somersaulted.
“Weez! Bart!” Toby’s cry jolted her out of whatever that was, and the moment was gone. If, indeed, there had actually been a moment, and she hadn’t imagined the frisson that had passed between them.
When she looked at Bart again, he appeared to be his usual self, so she concluded she must have imagined it.
The atmosphere of the evening had made her fanciful, and she tutted to herself crossly.
No wonder she’d avoided Christmas like the plague if it had this kind of effect on her.
Although when she looked at Toby’s wonderstruck little face, she was very glad she hadn’t been successful in avoiding this one.
Back at the guest house, Bart went into the kitchen to make a late supper for the adults, while Sarah put an overtired Toby to bed. It was past his bedtime and he’d begun to get cranky.
“I want Weez to read me a story!” he demanded belligerently, and Eloise could see that a temper tantrum was imminent if she didn’t comply.
So she said to Sarah, “Leave him to me. You can get on with wrapping the you-know-whats.”
Toby’s presents had been hidden under lock and key in one of the unoccupied bedrooms, where inquisitive little eyes wouldn’t spot them.
“What would you like me to read to you?” she asked him.
“That one.” He pointed to a board book with a colourful cover depicting Santa Claus and reindeer.
“That one it is,” she agreed, tucking him in before she settled down on the edge of the bed to read him the story.
She had hoped he would drop off to sleep before she finished it, but it took another two readings (he’d insisted on her rereading the same one) before his eyelids finally drifted shut.
Carefully, so as not to disturb him, she stood up and put the book back on the bedside table.
He looked so little lying there and so incredibly sweet, and Eloise studied his features, trying to consign them, and this moment, to memory, because she felt incredibly privileged to have been allowed to spend time with this adorable little boy who’d stolen her heart.
This Christmas was one she would remember for the rest of her life.