Chapter Six
Bright Lights
21 st December
The locals of Porthglen were packed like sardines in the small green space in the square, staring up at the town’s official tree, with the backdrop of the cliffs and ocean beyond.
In the dimming evening light, we could see the tree had been decorated with all colours of tinsel, paper baubles painted by the local school children, and glass baubles containing online wish-lists from those in need. Locals could take a bauble and buy them an anonymous gift from the list, making sure children in lower income families didn’t come without on Christmas Day. I made a mental note to come back and get one the next day.
Lou and Ross were cosied up on camping chairs side by side, a tartan blanket over their laps at they stared up at the tree.
I stood a few paces behind them, and Archie next to me.
“You know they’ve used the same star on the top for the past 51 years,” Archie told me. “The old lord of Porthglen Manor donated it. Real gold. It’s been stolen four times.”
I laughed, “Four times?! But they’ve gotten it back?”
“The thieves weren’t exactly geniuses,” he said. “I say that from experience.”
“ You stole the star? Of course, you did,” I scoffed.
“When I was a teenager,” he clarified. “And yes, very dumb. The police figured out who it was within a day. I was caught on three different CCTV cameras.”
“Wow, you really haven’t changed, ey?”
“I have,” he said indignantly. “I wouldn’t get caught now.”
I couldn’t help but smirk.
The crowd started to quiet as an older woman made her way across the green and with the help of a few people nearby, stood on a bench.
“Hello all and a Happy Christmas to you!” She shouted. The crowd shouted ‘Happy Christmas’ back in scattered bursts. “I am your mayor, if you didn’t already know that, Tilly Queston. We’re here today for the 57 th lighting of the town Christmas tree.”
Gentle applause made its way through the group.
“We are very excited to say that this year we also strings of lights across the town, which – if my tech geeks have set it up correctly as they assure me they have – will turn on when I press this big red button along with the lights on the tree. So, let’s have a countdown and see if it works, ey? No need to beat around the bush, we all want eggnog on a cold night like this I know. So… five! Four!”
The crowd continued the chant for her, “Three! Two! One!”
She pressed the button with all her might and the lights flickered into life.
First, the lights on the tree flashed on – green, red, yellow and blue lights first, then alternate rows of bright white snowflake shaped lights. The pulse spread to the string lights, moving down the square until each lamppost and pillar was twinkling.
The bright lights carried on into the darkness of the town along great swooping lines between each lamppost, down through the roads and along the coastal paths until finally they were out of site beyond the shops.
The crowd cheered and clapped, now illuminated in the glow.
“Better than Oxford Street?” Archie asked with a wry grin.
“Not quite,” I said, remembering the intensity of the famous angel and star displays. “But look at the local. It’s almost like the lights are reflecting onto the waves.”
I nodded to the sea below, which seemed to glitter and pulse as the lights did.
“Told you it was nicer here,” he said. “And feel the air.”
“Cold air,” I said.
“Clean. Bright.”
“All the trees,” I said. “Which you cut down.”
“That’s a bit of a misdescription of what I do,” he said, a little ruffled. “I’m a tree surgeon, not a tree murderer. I do have to chop them down sometimes, but mostly I trim them to keep them healthy. Like that one.”
He nodded to the town Christmas tree.
“You worked on it?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. “Best tree surgeon in town. They have been using the same tree for years now, they just put it back in the ground after each use. But this year it was it was a bit dry and sorry for itself.”
“So, you gave it a haircut?”
“Surgery,” he insisted.
“Let’s not argue about semantics,” I said. “That’s a nice thing that you did for the town.”
“It’s no skin off my nose,” he shrugged. “Uncle Ross always helps put up the lights, so I thought why not.”
“Did the mayor not remember your teenage thievery? I’m surprised she let you near the star again.”
“Tilly is a forgiving lady,” he said.
The mayor was making her way through the townsfolk talking to each person individually. The charms of a small town – no government official in London would have the time or inclination to do that.
As she reached Lou and Ross, they stood up to greet her.
“Not long until the wedding!” Tilly said to them. “I have a dress picked out. I am ready to dance the night away. I love the theme – Winter Wonderland! Let me know if you need any last-minute help planning it.”
“Thank you, Tilly. We’ve got some great helpers right here,” Ross said, gesturing behind them to us. “My nephew Archie and Lou’s niece Imogen, our best man and maid of honour.”
“Ah!” Tilly said. “Yes, I remember Archie.”
She wagged a finger at him with mock sternness.
“Hello, again Tilly,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you, young man. But Imogen – I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m not a Porthglen resident, you see.”
“Ah. Where do you come to us from?”
“London.”
“The Big Smoke, ey? How are you liking Porthglen? We could always use industrious young folk in our little town if you feel the need for a move out of the city, you know.”
“That’s good to know,” I smiled. “I like it here, though it’s a little different to what I’m used to.”
Beside me, Archie stifled a grunt of derision.
Only Tilly seemed to notice, raising her eyebrow at him with a surprisingly menacing undertone for such a wiry elderly lady.
He cleared his throat to cover up the noise.
“Well, I look forward to seeing you two dance at the wedding,” Tilly said salaciously.
“Uh…” I said, looking at Archie, who was just as horrified as I was.
Lou giggled into her sleeve.
“I don’t think we’ll be dancing,” Archie said quickly.
“Of course you will,” Tilly said. “It’s tradition for the best man and maid of honour to have a dance together!”
I looked at all of them wide-eyed, Lou and Ross enjoying the discomfort on our faces, and Tilly gleeful as we squirmed to deny her.
“I’m all left feet,” Archie said. “It wouldn’t be fair on this poor young lady.”
I involuntarily scrunched up my nose and Tilly grinned cheekily.
“I’m sure you’ll both manage it. You’ll be as pretty as a postcard. Perhaps you’ll even make the town’s newspaper.”
“What a thought…” I said with a toothy and very fake smile.
“A lovely thought, for your uncle and aunt,” Tilly said. “How much joy it will bring them.”
We were silent, fake smiles plastered on our lips.
“Well, I must move on,” Tilly said finally. “I will see you all on Christmas Eve for the party of the year!”
“See you, Tilly,” Lou said.
I could have sworn she gave me a wink as she walked away.