‘That’s not strictly true,’ Patrick puts in. ‘My costume and beard are hanging in my wardrobe at home and the grotto stuff is in my store room at school.’
‘We’ve nothing to exhibit,’ I say again.
‘Not if you don’t get baking, and sharpish!’ says Sully.
‘Even baking around the clock it would take a fortnight to recreate Wheaton.’
‘School breaks up on Wednesday,’ notes Leo. ‘Can’t we be ready for the kids’ last day? And then the exhibit could run until Christmas Eve, like it usually does, or longer, only in our gymnasium?’
‘Wednesday?’ I repeat. ‘But… how can I be ready by then?’
I realise there are three sets of eyes on me, waiting for me to catch on.
‘I’m a baker,’ Sully coaxes. ‘With a great big bakery?’
‘You’ll help? But what about your grandad? He’d rather drown in golden syrup before he helped one of the Frost women ice a gingerbread house.’
‘It’s just as well we signed the paperwork this morning then, isn’t it? Making me an equal partner in the business. I think he’s relieved, actually. That was always the plan, and the reason I came back, only he was reluctant to go through with it at first. Maybe he thought I’d not stick around. But I promised him I was serious, and I’m not going anywhere.’
Another goofy smile passes between the young couple.
‘He’s practically retired as it is,’ Sully continues. ‘Besides, if I want to help out some friends with some extra ingredients and some manpower, why can’t I?’
‘But… but… what about Bobbie and their spandex punishment room?’ I say, scrabbling for impediments.
‘She means the boot camp thing,’ Patrick clarifies.
‘I got that,’ Leo says, another smile blooming. ‘Bobbie’s going to move their class into the art room. It’s a bit small, but I threw in access to the covered Astroturf at the back and they agreed instantly.’
‘Nothing like doing star jumps on plastic grass in the freezing cold to help you drop a dress size for Christmas,’ I say, my heart beginning to lift.
‘Well, quite,’ Leo says, and Sully grins at him.
‘So, that’s it? We’re back on?’ Patrick asks.
‘I’ll need the committee to teach me how it’s done, all the gingerbread building work and stuff,’ Sully insists. ‘We’ll need everyone joining in, a team effort.’
‘Well,’ I say, slumping into my seat. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
‘Believe it!’ Sully cries. ‘So, what do you say?’
I move to open the door, making the boys jump back.
Out under the dark Wheaton sky I hug Sully, then Leo, totally overwhelmed by all of this.
‘You’re right. We will need all hands on pins,’ I warn. ‘The school kiddies too.’
‘OK.’ Leo says it like it’s nothing.
‘OK?’ I echo.
‘We’re doing this?’ says Patrick, joining us on the pavement.
Then we all take turns saying it –We’re doing this. We are! We’re doing this!– through rising laughter and adrenalin and much jumping and clapping and hugging as it sinks in for all of us that we have four days to rebuild a whole world.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday 17 December: The Recipe
