‘What display?’ asked Hugh.
‘This.’ Greg waved with his free arm. ‘The Holly Cross Christmas extravaganza. The Grinch was all her idea.’
Hugh glanced around as if he hadn’t noticed he was standing in the middle of a myriad of flashing Christmas lights. ‘Oh, right. They pay you for this do they?’
‘No, she volunteers all her time,’ said Greg, proudly.
Hugh winced and shook his head. ‘You missed an opportunity there, Blythe.’
*
Vicky wasn’t sure how she found herself making multiple mugs of hot chocolate while Eden, Phyllis, Sam and, of all people Owen Hockley, were in her front room putting up a Christmas tree. She threw the marshmallows on the top of the cream and took the tray through. The tree was a beauty, but it seemed to have grown between the village green and her house. It looked twice the height it had done and, now out of its protective mesh, considerably bushier too. They had to move her frog ornaments off the mantelpiece and windowsill and there was no way she’d be able to draw the curtains properly again until after twelfth night. Sam was holding the tree near the top. Owen was lying underneath it, fiddling with the base. Phyllis was sitting on the sofa giving them contradicting instructions, whilst Eden danced about excitedly.
‘Left a bit. No, more to the right. No, your right. Sorry, no, it was my left,’ said Phyllis, tipping her head to the side as if checking it was the tree tilting and not her.
‘Ooh, hot chocolate,’ said Eden, dashing over and almost bumping her nose on the tray in her keenness to be first to be served.
‘Sit down and be careful,’ said Vicky, waiting for Eden to wriggle into position on the sofa next to Phyllis before handing her a mug. Owen scrambled out from under the tree and plonked himself in the armchair. Clearly he’d assumed the instructions were aimed at him.
Phyllis took the proffered mug. ‘This looks scrumptious. Thank you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Owen, taking his.
‘Can I let go now?’ asked Sam.
‘Is it secure?’ asked Vicky, having images of the thing keeling over and taking her telly with it.
‘I’ve screwed it in tight,’ said Owen, coming up from his hot chocolate with a cream moustache, which made Vicky smile despite his very presence putting her on edge.
Sam let go and gingerly crept away. The tree leaned to the right but didn’t topple. Vicky relaxed and let out a breath she’d been holding in. She and Sam both mirrored the tree and leaned to one side.
‘It’s not straight,’ said Vicky.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll fix it,’ said Owen.
‘Hmm.’ She wasn’t convinced the skill set for that was in the room. Vicky handed Sam a hot chocolate.
‘Thanks. I can’t remember the last time I had a hot chocolate,’ said Sam.
‘Does your mummy not know how to make it?’ asked Eden.
Sam had a melancholy look about him. ‘No, she never made me hot chocolate.’
Eden stroked his arm. ‘That’s sad.’
He took a sip and his dejected demeanour disappeared. ‘It’s really good. Maybe I’ll get a hot chocolate the next time I’m at the coffee shop in town.’
‘Is the Bean Machine still there?’ asked Owen.
‘Yep, it’s changed hands umpteen times since you left,’ said Vicky, ‘but they still do the best milkshakes.’
‘Aww, Crunchie milkshake,’ said Owen. ‘My mouth’s watering at the thought of it.’
‘Is that any good?’ asked Sam.
‘Ye-ah,’ said Owen. And the others all nodded their agreement.
Vicky thought back to their school days and could picture the two of them sitting in the little coffee shop after school on a Friday having saved some of their dinner money to be able to afford the weekly treat. They used to sit opposite each other to drink their milkshakes. Slurping, chatting and laughing. They’d elaughed all the time back then. Owen looked her way and grinned. That same cheeky grin she knew so well. They had been happy once and he didn’t seem to have any agenda for showing up other than genuinely wanting to reconnect with old friends. She realised she’d fabricated most of the concerns she had. Yes, their relationship had ended badly but that was a long while ago. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in pushing him away.
