‘I am so sorry,’ said Vicky, now hanging on to Princess’s collar as the dog tried to snatch the cake boxes Norman was clutching protectively. ‘I’ll just tie her up outside,’ she added, but Princess didn’t look like she had plans to be parted from the cake boxes.
‘Here,’ said Blythe, passing her friend a bone-shaped dog biscuit. She had it in her coat pocket from the last dog walk she’d done for Vicky.
‘Lifesaver,’ mouthed Vicky, waving the biscuit under Princess’s nose and finally grabbing her attention.
After the dog had been encouraged outside and everyone had chosen a cake – custard tart or blueberry cheesecake slice – Leonora tapped her flip chart to bring everyone to order.
‘We are T minus thirty days,’ began Leonora, revealing her first flip sheet with a flourish.
‘Does T stand for turkey?’ asked Phyllis hopefully.
‘No, it’s the day when we kick off all the Christmas preparations,’ explained Leonora with a furrowed brow.
‘Should that be KO minus thirty days then?’ asked Vicky, to mutters of agreement.
‘T minus is a recognised project term; it stands for time remaining,’ explained Leonora, which was met with a cumulative round of ahhs from the committee members. ‘And it means we need to focus. This year it feels like we are all adrift.’ She scowled at Blythe. ‘Which is unfortunate given we have never had more riding on our display.’
‘Ooh, are we adding more reindeers?’ asked Phyllis, clapping her hands together. ‘I love the ones riding across the church roof. Not the real ones.’ Phyllis shuddered.
‘I loved rampaging Rudolph,’ said Vicky, but she seemed to be alone on that one.
‘No, it’s definitely not reindeer.’ Irritation evident in Leonora’s words and eye-rolls. ‘I have an announcement to make.’
‘You’re resigning,’ said Vicky with glee, before drastically changing her expression to overdramatic sad face. ‘Which would be soooo sad,’ she added, with a fake wobbly lip.
Faces around the table looked hopeful. ‘Of course I’m not resigning. I’d never abandon you all.’ Leonora seemed puzzled at the very thought. ‘Anyway, my big announcement is that I have entered us into a national competition to find the United Kingdom’s most perfect Christmas village.’ Leonora turned over the next sheet on her flip chart and revealed a multicoloured sheet that elaborately declared:Holly Cross IS the UK’s most perfect Christmas village. ‘It would mean publicity, newspaper coverage, perhaps even television…’ she looked off into the middle distance as she found her stride ‘…world recognition, accolades, royal honours, perhaps even a blue plaque.’
‘How exciting,’ said Phyllis.
‘There are quite a few places in the country who already unofficially claim that title,’ said Norman. ‘I expect there will be stiff competition.’
A few shoulders slumped. Not Leonora’s – hers now displayed a certain defiant rigidity. ‘But we literallyarethe most perfect Christmas village. We just need to prove it. Here’s how we’re going to win,’ she said, flipping over to the next sheet with a dramatic swish.
Everyone stared at the very long list that covered two columns. ‘It’s about doing what we do every year but doing more of it and better. If we’re going to win, we need everyone on board. And that includes Sam Ashton.’ Leonora stared at Blythe.
‘Fine.’ Blythe held up her hands in surrender. ‘I’ll speak to him again.’
‘Excuse me!’ called someone from the doorway. ‘There’s a dog here eating its way through a plant pot.’
‘I swear that dog is part goat!’ said Vicky, rushing from the hall.
*
Vicky and Princess caught up with Blythe following the meeting (after Vicky had apologised profusely for Princess eating the plant and chewing half the plastic pot it was in). ‘Have you heard any more from Owen?’ asked Vicky. She’d considered talking about the weather first to make it less obvious but she needed to know because it had been playing on her mind. Or more accurately she’d been unable to think of much else than Owen Hockley and the mess he could make of her and Eden’s happy little life. Every scenario she had imagined had ended in disaster. What if he was Eden’s father? Would he want shared custody? What would that mean to a five-year-old who’d never set eyes on the man? It was all too much to deal with.
‘Heard from him?’ queried Blythe.
‘Yes. Facebook friend request, phone call, carrier pigeon? Heard from him in any way, shape or form?’ asked Vicky with growing anxiety.
‘No. You watched me unfriend him. And anyway it’s just Owen. Easy-going slightly dozy Owen. He’s not turned into a mad axe murderer since he moved away. Well, at least he’s not added it to his profile.’ Blythe laughed but Vicky was stony-faced. ‘Are you okay? Because you’re acting weird.’
‘Me? I’m fine. What about you? Areyouokay?’ asked Vicky, overtaking Blythe as Princess pulled hard on her lead.
‘I’m just not looking forward to speaking to Samagain. He hates Christmas so it’s completely pointless. I’m wasting my time and it’s borderline begging when you ask someone the same thing more than three times.’
‘What about giving Sam an incentive?’ called back Vicky, who now found herself quite a way ahead of Blythe. ‘Come on, catch up!’ she yelled.
Blythe increased her pace. ‘What sort of incentive?’ Blythe was looking puzzled.
