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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

By the time the launch was tied up at the Firholme jetty, patches of blue had broken up the clouds and the top of Skiddaw was visible.

On the journey from the Island House, Arlo had explained that Firholme was a country house and estate whose grounds stretched from the lakeshore to the fells behind. Not only was the grand nineteenth-century house used for weddings and events, but the estate had a Christmas tree plantation and its outbuildings and café and courtyard often hosted seasonal fairs, such as today’s Christmas bonanza.

Katie didn’t admit that, owing to her obsessive writer’s mind, she had already extensively googled it, although Arlo dropped in several nuggets of info that would never have made it on to the website. His friend was acting as a temporary events manager, he revealed, because the usual manager, Lottie, was taking parental leave after the birth of a baby boy.

As soon as they’d reached land, Arlo went on ahead to speak to his friend and Jess revealed that she’d arranged a personal Beatrix Potter-themed tour of the house and grounds after lunch.

‘Because we know you’d love to hear about another writer’s inspiration. Call it part of your Christmas present,’ Jess said, adding that she and Wanda had arranged it together.

‘That’s – so lovely of you,’ Katie said, swallowing down tears.

‘You deserve it,’ Wanda said and squeezed Katie’s hand. It was a reminder of the exact reason she’d wanted to gather them all together for Christmas.

Despite the tension of the past few days, Katie bubbled with excitement that Christmas Eve always brought, aware how precious that feeling was after missing out the previous year. Although the hospital had discharged her late on Christmas Eve, she’d mostly spent Christmas Day in a drug-fuelled haze in the spare room at her parents’ house, with Ned reading her stories and helping her open her presents.

Ned. Her stomach clenched sharply. How much she owed him.

Athene pulled her attention back to the moment. ‘This is gorgeous,’ she said, agog at the house and its impressive chimneys, visible among the trees. The sound of carols drifted down from the courtyard above along with an array of tempting smells. Wanda and Jess were a few metres ahead, keen to get to the stalls for last-minute shopping opportunities.

‘You can see why Beatrix Potter wrote and set some of her stories here,’ Katie said, and then put her hand on Athene’s arm to slow her down. ‘Are you OK?’

She grimaced. ‘I’ve been better, but it is Christmas Eve and I am determined to enjoy the festivities. Besides, this beautiful place is a balm for the soul.’ She sniffed the air. ‘Are those hot dogs I smell?’

‘You don’t eat hot dogs,’ Katie said.

‘Well, I’ve decided to break the habit of a lifetime.’

‘Oh, this is so … Christmassy!’ Jess declared when they caught her and Wanda up at the entrance to the courtyard.

Katie agreed. Anticipation permeated the air like an invisible sparkly mist that clung to them.

Families thronged the craft and food stalls making last-minute purchases or sat outside the café enjoying festive treats. Dogs strained at their leashes, sniffing the air and desperate to get to the stalls selling Cumbrian sausages and turkey baps.

They spotted Arlo striding back towards them from the estate office. ‘Thank God I left Pongo at home,’ he said. ‘He’d have probably launched himself at the sausage stall.’

‘I’d have liked to see that,’ Katie said, amused at the small children darting around and dragging their parents towards the vintage carousel that was playing carols. Her nieces would be like that in a few years’ time …

Even some of the older teenagers were off their phones and smiling as they queued to take the estate’s resident alpacas for a walk. She was determined to try to live in the moment and embrace the scene with all of her senses.

After lunch, the Firholme guide gave them the tour of the wood-panelled rooms with their incredible views over the lake and mountains. The house was dressed for Christmas with a tree and Edwardian-style decorations and swags of greenery above the fires burning in the hearths.

‘It’s where Beatrix Potter wrote Squirrel Nutkin and Mrs Tiggy-Winkle,’ the guide explained, and Katie could see exactly why the place had inspired Beatrix to create her wonderful stories.

‘And it was when Beatrix was correcting the proofs for Mrs Tiggy-Winkle that Norman Warne proposed in a letter. Beatrix accepted the same day, though of course, the marriage never took place.’

Her parents vehemently opposed the marriage and persuaded her to wait for the summer but tragically, Norman became ill with leukaemia and died.

Although Katie knew the story, she still had tears in her eyes when seeing the actual place where Beatrix must surely have fallen in love with Norman.

Wanda blew her nose noisily. ‘Oh, how awful. Poor Norman and Beatrix.’

‘If she’d known how ill he was, I wonder if she’d have married him immediately,’ Jess mused.

The irony of life changing in an instant wasn’t lost on her. Ned must have thought that many times.

‘I expect she would but she couldn’t have foreseen it,’ Athene said. ‘This is all very sad for Christmas.’