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‘Christmas Tree World?! What did he want?’

‘No idea. He thought Scarlett was the owner. Asked how she was getting on for the opening. Scarlett said we were all busy, so she showed him round and gave him an idea of what to expect on Sunday. Said he seemed very impressed.’

I shake my head, baffled.

‘See you tomorrow, both,’ Luke says, and he and Will wave to one another.

‘Goodnight,’ I say distractedly as he closes the door.

I turn back to stir the pot, but I’m feeling unsettled all over again. Why on earth is the Christmas Tree World owner suddenly taking an interest in our plans?

Chapter 30

‘Unbelievable!’ I say to Tegan, who happens to be beside me. This is not how I expected today, opening day, December first, to start.

She watches intently as I throw the phone down, hard, into the sofa cushions after a tense conversation with our former Father Christmas.

‘. . . As if it’s not enough for them to have real reindeer and fake falling snow, now Christmas Tree World has stolen our starlet dancers, our drummers and our Santa!’

‘Lara’s here!’ exclaims Will, jumping up and running out to meet her.

I hold my hands over my face, trying to stop myself from crying. All that work and effort – wasted. Will already knows the bad news, but it’s going to be awful telling everyone else.

I hear Lara come into the kitchen.

‘Is it true? What Will says? They’re not coming?!’

I shake my head.

She comes closer, touches my arm. ‘What on earth’s happened? Can I ring them? Try to persuade them?’ she offers gently.

‘They’ve gone somewhere else,’ I say. ‘Better pay.’ I give a small laugh. ‘Better than working for a Christmas tree of their choice and all the hot chocolate they can drink. They’re already there.’

‘Where?’ she asks.

‘With our neighbours on the main road. Christmas Tree World! Even Sam is going. They contacted the college and offered them a daily fee for performing. A professional performing gig to go on their CVs . . . Honestly, I can’t say I blame them at all.’

‘And,’ she says, taking it in, ‘Father Christmas too?’

‘One of the starlet dancers is his granddaughter, so he’s gone with them.’

I slump into a chair. Without performers or an ‘experience’ to offer, we don’t have much of anything. We just can’t compete with what Christmas Tree World is doing.

Will clambers onto the sofa, and Tegan jumps up next to him. He strokes her reassuringly, just as he used to when he first came here. He seems to be taking all of this well, but I can’t be sure he isn’t just keeping a lid on strong feelings. I know I’ve got to try and keep myself steady, for his sake.

‘Ho, ho, ho!’ Luke’s voice precedes him as he opens the farmhouse door. He’s wearing a red Santa hat with a bell on the end and a pair of elf slippers that jingle as he walks. He looks terrific, I think miserably.

‘All set up for the big man, FC himself, in the barn. His throne awaits! Blinged up an old wooden rocking chair I found out there. It’s turned out brilliant, if I say so myself. Starting to think I have some practical skills after all!’ He beams at us, full of positive energy. ‘Put some wrapped-up boxes round it in some old feed sacks. And I’ve strung up sheets in the studio upstairs to make the private changing room for the drummers and starlet dancers. Lara just needs to add her touches, a bit of greenery and some fairy lights. It’ll look banging . . .’

There’s a beat as he registers the absence of a delighted reaction. Slowly, his face changes. ‘Is it too much? Oh . . . Scarlett’s always having a go at me for not doing enough . . . I just thought it was worth the effort—’

I can’t bear it. ‘It is, Luke. It was amazing out there already. And now, with the extra bling, I bet it’s wonderful. And the puppy pen, too!’

His smile recovers a little. ‘. . . I thought we could do a photo booth with Delilah and the puppies, for people to do selfies. Got some little hats for them to wear.’

All the work and effort they’ve put in; it’s just been phenomenal. And all for nothing. I look up at him, trying to work out how to tell him.

It’s Lara who says it. ‘They’re not coming, Luke. Santa’s not coming.’