Page 22 of Christmas All the Way

It was an apt description, although Keeley knew he was also one of Eliza’s biggest fans and could quote extracts from her books from memory. ‘I hope so,’ she said, sighing. ‘I don’t want anyone to feel they’re not wanted.’

‘I’ll make sure they don’t,’ Jenny reassured her. ‘They’ll rally round, don’t you worry. Especially when things are firmed up.’

Nodding, Keeley made a mental note to try to catch up with each volunteer in person as soon as she could. And as much as the idea rankled, perhaps an infusion of enthusiasm from Xander would help too. She should probably ask him to come down sooner rather than later. Impetuously, she squeezed Jenny’s arm. ‘What would I do without you?’

The other woman grinned. ‘Carry the chairs on your own, of course.’

‘True,’ Keeley conceded with a laugh. ‘Come on, let’s get the rest put away. It’s nearly time to open up and the last thing I need is another lecture from Brian about health and safety.’

The bank holiday weekend came and went in a blur. Several volunteers were away, meaning Keeley had to cover their shifts but she didn’t mind. It wasn’t as though she had plans and the additional time in the cottage allowed her to formulate a rough plan for the Christmas tour. She’d already decided to allow each guide to develop their own script, rather than provide them with a list of anecdotes and facts to cover. The tours would take place an hour apart, to avoid running into the other groups, starting in the hall with a glass of fizz or soft drink and ending at the gift shop. Xander had insisted upon keeping the groups small, to help maintain the illusion of exclusivity. ‘Logically, they’ll be aware there’s another group somewhere in the house, doing the same thing they are,’ he’d said, when Keeley called him to run her ideas past him, ‘but we want them to buy into the idea that they’re spying on Eliza’s secret world, so it’s important we make sure nothing breaks the spell.’

It made perfect sense, Keeley knew. If they got the experience right, they would be offering much more than a simple candlelit tour. They would be enabling those in attendance to travel through time.

His meeting with the volunteers, a few days after Keeley had first floated the plan for the Christmas tours, had been a virtual one, much to the disappointment of Elspeth. But the screen had done nothing to diminish his charm and he’d had them all eating out of his hand by the time he wrapped things up. Several of the younger volunteers had been recruited as social media champions, amplifying the content Xander was producing and responding to comments left under the posts. Even Brian had been won over, grudgingly offering to run the car park to ensure visitors were able to find a parking spot in the dark. Xander had promised him a hi-vis jacket and a clipboard, which Keeley was forced to concede had been a stroke of genius. She now had a list of those volunteers who were able to cover evening shifts in late November and throughout December, with assurances that she would do her best to honour parties and Christmas concerts and the myriad other commitments that might pop up as the season got into full swing.

There had also been a flurry of interest in the coveted position of tour guide and she’d received a number of applications, which was causing her more of a headache. Jenny’s supporting statement had been clear and concise, giving examples of the themes her tour would touch upon and showing an understanding of the whimsical atmosphere Xander wanted to evoke, and a surprise submission from quiet, fifty-something Marco hinted at an unexpected flair for the dramatic. Isobel’s statement had been rather more rigid, with overtones of a strict Victorian governess, and Elspeth had been altogether too focused on the more lurid details of what she termed ‘Eliza’s heartbreaking failure to find love’. Keeley calculated she needed three guides to deliver the tours alongside her and, as things stood, only two of the applicants were suitable. Elspeth and Isobel were both dependable volunteers – she did not want them to feel slighted but nor could she rely on them to meet the much higher standard required to deliver the tours. It was a problem that had given her more than one sleepless night and she was no closer to deciding how to resolve it.

With the arrival of September, Christmas began to loom larger among the residents of Freezy Tye. A village meeting was scheduled for the first Thursday after the bank holiday weekend, held as always in the village hall, with a view to co-ordinating efforts to retain the village’s Britain’s Most Christmassy Village award. As in previous years, the turnout was good; all the seats had been taken by the time Keeley arrived, a little before seven-thirty. She paused at the back of the hall, shaking raindrops from her umbrella and nodding to several of her neighbours who were chatting nearby.

‘Looks like summer’s over,’ Leila said, nodding at the leaden skies just visible through the open doors of the hall.

Keeley understood the reason for her pessimism; after a blissful long weekend, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and this was the third day of relentless rain. There was a decided chill in the air too, a reminder that autumn would soon be upon them. ‘My garden is grateful,’ she replied, easing out of her coat. ‘And I imagine the ducks are too. The pond on the green looked quite low before the weekend.’

‘I suppose so,’ the other woman said, although her expression did not lift much. ‘But I hope it doesn’t last too much longer. I’ve hardly had any customers this week. How’s it been at the cottage?’

Leila ran Eliza’s Pantry, the village cafe that overlooked the green, and it frequently seemed to Keeley that she walked an extremely narrow tightrope between harassed and despairing. As far as she could tell, Leila welcomed the business that came with an influx of tourists while simultaneously bemoaning the challenges they brought. She wanted the cafe to be busy, but often complained at being rushed off her feet. And when the village was quieter, she could often be heard cursing the rise of chain coffee shops in town centres. She was, Keeley observed, a glass half-empty sort of person, which she supposed was understandable when her livelihood was so precarious. ‘It’s been quiet at the cottage too,’ she admitted. ‘But that’s to be expected now that the schools are back. The weather’s due to pick up again next week.’

Leila sighed. ‘I hope you’re right. Everything feels better when the sun’s out, doesn’t it?’

Keeley was about to agree when a series of loud raps echoed from the front of the hall. She looked up to see Helen Peabody, chair of the village council, gazing expectantly round at the assembled crowd, a gavel in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. ‘If I could have your attention, ladies and gentlemen,’ she called, her voice ringing out over the rapidly diminishing chatter. ‘It’s time to call this meeting to order. Please take your seats.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Leila grumbled beside Keeley. ‘Why don’t they ever put out enough chairs?’

Keeley nodded to the corner, where Gavin, the landlord of the Golden Lion pub, was unfolding more chairs and handing them out. ‘Gav has everything under control,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s grab a couple before they’re all gone.’

She would have preferred to distance herself from Leila, who had a tendency to mutter under her breath as the business of the meeting progressed, but it seemed the cafe owner had decided Keeley was her best friend for the night. Edging her chair as far away as she dared, Keeley made a show of turning an attentive expression towards the front of the packed hall as Helen was joined by the other committee members, including Gavin and the local vicar, Father Jonathan. The buzz of conversation died away, to be replaced by an expectant hush.

Helen’s gaze was bright as she surveyed her audience. ‘Good evening everyone, and thank you for joining us tonight. As ever, I’m delighted to see so many people invested in the life of our village. The purpose of tonight’s meeting is to discuss plans for our winter decorations, as part of our bid to compete in Britain’s Most Christmassy Village once again.’

She turned to Gavin, who cleared his throat. ‘As you’ll no doubt recall, last year’s theme was Walking in a Winter Wonderland and the judges particularly praised the sense of community spirit they observed, both during their official visit and that of the secret judge. But the village of Great Dedham was highly commended, as well as Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire. If we want to win the title again, we’ll need to raise our game, and I hope as many of you as possible will do your bit to help.’

Helen took over the reins once more. ‘With that in mind, we’d like to open the floor to suggestions for this year’s theme. Needless to say, we’re looking for something fresh and exciting to wow the judges, especially since I’ve heard we’re going to have some serious local competition this year.’

Murmurs broke out among the audience. Leila leaned towards Keeley. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I expect we’re about to find out,’ Keeley replied, but a memory was stirring at the back of her mind. Hadn’t Ivy mentioned something about increased interest from the village near Santa’s Secret this year?

A few rows in front of her, a young woman called Francesca raised her hand. ‘What about a Disney theme? It would be a huge hit with families and would allow us to be really inclusive.’

Helen threw her an approving look. ‘An excellent suggestion. Anyone else?’

More arms went up. ‘Peter Pan,’ Albie called out. ‘We could build Captain Hook’s ship on the village green.’

‘Doesn’t exactly scream Christmas,’ Leila sniffed.

‘Narnia,’ someone else offered. ‘With a stall selling Turkish Delight and hot chocolate.’

The mere thought made Keeley’s mouth water, reminding her she’d been so caught up with work that she hadn’t had time to eat before heading to the meeting.