Chapter Thirty-Eight
The snow came out of nowhere.
The forecast for the day of the fair had been for cold, clear skies. Ice in the morning, melting away by midday. Perfect conditions for a Christmas fair, a bright, sunny winter’s day.
But the skies clouded over, hunkering low and heavy and dark, and a bitter wind began to whip through the bare branches of the trees. By the time the children were coming out of school, snow was falling fast, and the parents huddled at the gate, tucking their chins into their scarves.
Jen made a beeline for Ted, who stood smiling bravely at the parents and children as they scurried home as quickly as the weather allowed.
‘See you all tomorrow,’ he called, raising a hand and casting a desperate look at Jen. ‘Right?’ he muttered. ‘All still on?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’m on it.’
He sighed and nodded, clasping her shoulder through the thick material of Julia’s padded coat that she’d borrowed.
Her own, now collected from the restaurant, wasn’t warm enough for this weather.
‘I can’t tell you what this means to me, Jen, with everything I’ve got going on, it’s – you’re a life-saver. ’
Jen blinked snowflakes out of her eyes, trying to smile. By her side, Amy and Lottie patted their hands together in a clapping game, which was somewhat muted by the thick mittens they wore. They didn’t appear to mind.
Ted looked at Jen, carefully taking in her expression. ‘But you know, if it’s too much for you, that’s OK,’ he said. ‘It’s a lot of responsibility, and I know you’re not used to it. Just – if it’s not going to come off, just please let me know now, because I’ll have to tell everyone.’
He took a breath, waited, his eyes on hers, and she could feel him preparing himself for disappointment, planning how to react calmly to yet another Jen-related catastrophe. She’d had enough of him looking at her with this anticipated disappointment.
She smiled brightly. Confidently. She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Trust me. It’s all under control, you don’t need to worry about a thing.’
He smiled, but there was a flash of doubt in his eyes.
And in her pocket her phone buzzed continuously. No doubt with more messages from people she’d booked for the fair, cancelling because of the weather.
They dropped Lottie off first. Michelle answered the door looking tired, bouncing a miserable Max on her hip.
‘Oh, thank you so much,’ she said, ushering Lottie in. ‘He’s just full of this cold, poor kid.’
‘No problem, you don’t want to be bringing him out in this.’ Jen flinched as a particularly arctic blast of wind flung ice-cold snow into her face.
‘No, I know. And on that note . . .’ Michelle’s face took on a slightly anguished expression, and Jen’s stomach tightened; she had a good idea of what was coming.
‘Yes?’ she asked.
‘I’m so sorry, but Harry’s just called and—’
‘He can’t make tomorrow.’
Michelle shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I – he lives a little way away and the roads are all cut off, and he just can’t . . .’
Jen supposed she shouldn’t swear in front of the children. Instead, she smiled. ‘No problem,’ she trilled. ‘I’ll sort something out.’
She had no idea what.
‘I’m sorry, Jen. Would you like to come in for a cuppa?’
Jen shook her head, eliciting a caterwauling of protests from the girls, but she stood firm. Her phone was running hot with notifications in her pocket. She needed to get home and somehow try to salvage something for the fair the next day.
Despite the freezing conditions and the apparently insurmountable task ahead of her, Jen couldn’t help but feel charmed by Babblebrook’s festive cosiness as they walked back to Railway Cottages.
Snow lay thick and fresh over the street and rooftops of the houses, smoke rose from chimneys and lights twinkled on hedges, doors and through windows.
On the green, the tree stood tall, gleaming with decorations and lights.
At her side, Amy skipped and jumped, leaving cute little prints in the snow.
Jen wished she’d been there for the tree decorating.
Practically everyone in the village had gathered, singing along to the festive songs Reverend Pauline played on her karaoke machine and eating the bacon butties that The Barretts, who lived in the nearest house to where the tree was situated, provided.
She hadn’t been there, but she knew now what the atmosphere would have been like; everyone coming together, welcoming all those who wanted to be included, from the youngest baby to the oldest person in the village.
Next year, she would make sure she was there.
When they got back to the house, Julia had the kettle on. Jen and Amy stamped the snow off their boots, shook it from their coats, and gratefully wrapped their hands around a warm drink. Full of trepidation, Jen took out her phone.
Missed call after missed call. Message after message. None of it good news.
The decorations were stranded miles away, and realistically there was no way they would get to Babblebrook the next day.
The caterers had suffered a burst pipe, thanks to the freezing weather, and were out of action.
The farm park had to reluctantly pull out; a below-zero blizzard wasn’t the kind of weather they could expose the donkey to.
Morosely, Jen munched her way through a bacon, brie and cranberry roll, racking her brain for any way to salvage something resembling a fair for the children, and for Ted.
‘Mmm,’ she muttered, waving what remained of her roll at Julia. ‘Nice.’
‘Marnie,’ Julia said. ‘Of course.’
Jen stared at her.
Marnie. Of course.