“Liam said pretty much the same thing. I do feel fired up about what I could do here. I just need to—”
“Get over yourself?” Ryan cut in.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “That. I can’t believe I’m taking life advice from an elf.”
“Never underestimate the wisdom of Father Christmas’s little helpers.”
—
In the end,Aggie was diagnosed with one sprained wrist, and one badly bruised, and was issued a splint bandage for each. She was most aggrieved by her situation, and even Bella arriving home with Liam and a Chinese takeaway wasn’t enough to stop her angrily shouting “Bunkum!” at her splints every time she caught sight of them.
However, her mood was pepped immeasurably when Ryan returned after dinner, having swapped his elf attire for jeans and a hoody, bringing with him his parents, brothers, their partners and their children to help put up the decorations that had been scuppered by her accident. Onthat score, Benj had called in a favor from one of his mates who happened to be a plumber, and who was quickly taken to the bathroom to fix the cause of all the trouble.
Everyone brought snacks, and Liam and Bella had whipped up a few batches of mince pies, three trays of which now cooled on racks on the kitchen table. Aunt Cam stirred a warming Christmas punch in a cauldron on the stove, which Aunt Aggie tested frequently, suggesting additional ingredients—most of them alcoholic. Children raced around the house, trailing tinsel and depositing festive ornaments wherever they saw fit, while Rab and Ryan strung fairy lights over, around and between the trees in the front garden.
This kind of impromptu party was not a rare occurrence at Hallow House—the snack and punch recipes were easily adapted to suit the season. Fred had been reminded of them often when attending the contrived-but-made-to-look-effortless parties she used to attend with Tim. They were one of many aspects of life at home that she had missed desperately and tried with all her might not to, pushing them to the far corners of her mind or viewing them through a lens of forced derision; it had been exhausting. Now, as she plated up wonky mince pies, she allowed herself to sink into and soak up this simple coming together of friends without airs or egos. She had taken these kinds of easy gatherings for granted when she was a kid; now, with her new sagacity, she could appreciate the value in them. Not everybody had this—she hadn’t had this, for the longesttime—and she was only now beginning to realize how much she’d needed it.
“I’ve pushed out the dents in Father Christmas’s face as best I can,” said Diggory, coming into the kitchen with the metal namesake tucked under his arm. “But he’ll never fully recover from that kind of abuse.”
“You call it abuse; I call it showing the old man a good time,” Aunt Aggie retorted.
“How’s the grotto going?” asked Fred.
“Good,” Diggory replied. “We’ll just do weekends and evenings until the kiddies break up from school, and then we’ll do a final push. I’ll be roping in helpers by then. I reckon I’ve got an elf costume with your name on it.”
“Aha, I think my elf days are over.”
“You’re never too old to get involved—and it’s all for a good cause, you know.”
People donated presents for the grotto all through the year, although Fred knew for a fact that Martha and Diggory made up any shortfall out of their own pockets. Proceeds from the grotto were split between children’s charities and shelters for rough sleepers.
“You used to love being an elf,” said Aunt Cam.
“When I was sixteen and I could make being an elf look cute and sexy. Now I’d be an old, sad elf lady; my delicate ego can’t take that kind of humiliation.”
“Pftt, old indeed!” said Aggie. “I’ve got knickers older than you!”
“I did not need to know that, Aggie,” said Diggory,before turning back to Fred. “Sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked. “Ryan would love the company; it would be like old times.”
“Wild reindeer couldn’t get me into an elf costume,” Fred assured him.
“Fair enough,” he said, tipping an invisible cap in her direction.
Martha came in, bouncing one of her granddaughters on her hip. “Any news on the punch? The lads have got the lights up out the front, so the lawn scene is ready to set when you are.” Martha addressed the last bit to Aunt Aggie.
The Christmas decorations on the front lawn had always been a point of pride for Aunt Aggie. Apparently, Fred’s maternal grandfather—on one of his infrequent visits to his wife’s family home—had deemed it a “repugnant display of moral wickedness,” which had caused her aunts to make the display even bigger the following year. She couldn’t imagine a spirited personality like her mother growing up with a man like her grandfather; it probably explained a lot.
The party—wrapped up in hats and coats—moved outside. Ryan and Benj carried the cauldron of punch through and set it down on a picnic table. Aunt Cam followed them with a box of mugs and, behind her, Fred carried a tray full of hot chocolates for the children. With whistles whetted, they set to work under the supervision of Aunt Aggie, who, unable to point without wincing, had taken to shouting her instructions for where she’d like things to be placed.
“I’ll have the reindeers on the right side of the path butspace them naturally as though they’re grazing. Put Father Christmas next to the sleigh, that’s it, yes, on the other side in front of the biggest snowman…”
“Fred! Your expert eye is required,” Ryan called.
She turned from where she and Martha were finishing attaching a bauble garland over the front door. The eight-foot Christmas wood spirit that Liam had carved for them with a chain saw out of a single oak trunk, a few years back, was being carried out through the back gate by Bella, Rab, Benj and Ryan. “Where do you want it?” Ryan shouted.
Fred took herself down the drive a little way, past the rows of large candy canes and candle-shaped lights pressed into the grass on either side, and faced the house, which was so abundantly strewn with fairy lights that she wondered if they’d get complaints about light pollution. “I think on the left-hand side,” she called. “In front of the seven fiberglass swans a-swimming and the partridge in the pear tree, there’s a space before the mistletoe arbor.”
“You don’t think it’ll be too much, with the Nutcrackers on the opposite side?” Bella called back. “Too much wood, I mean?”
