They started chattering about who they would like to find on the other end of the phone, and I took my opportunity to study Lando. He seemed still to be in good spirits, but tired if that mud-like coffee was anything to go by. He might not have welcomed ‘her’ phone call, but it looked like it had kept him up, one way or another. I pushed aside the encroaching questions and broke into their chatter.
‘I’d particularly like a chat with Father Christmas, I think. I’d ask him for a ride on his sleigh. Talking of which…’
Four little eyes popped with the excitement that a mention of FC always brings.
‘I heard that there is a Winter Wonderland not far from here? Somewhere you can go and see his workshop, and the elves, and even a reindeer or two. Is that right?’
To my surprise, their faces fell.
‘We really wanted to go, Penny, but Mummy said it’s impossible to get tickets if you didn’t buy them at Easter. You didn’t, did you?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I saw an advert in a magazine yesterday and thought it looked like fun.’
The mood had dipped considerably, and I felt terrible. Then Lando spoke.
‘That’s not the one being held at Marshingham Grange, is it?’
‘Yes, that’s right. About twenty minutes from here.’
‘Right, don’t any of you go anywhere.’
With these enigmatic words, Lando darted from the room, only to return a few minutes later clutching his phone and wearing a big smile.
‘Erm, anyone here still interested in a Winter Wonderland today…?’
The twins and I answered resoundingly: yes, yes, yes!
‘Good, because it just so happens that the owner of Marshingham Grange is a friend of mine, who would love to invite us for morning coffee – as long as we go through an enchanted forest, sweet factory and Santa’s workshop first, that is.’
The ensuing squealing was ear-splitting, but it was a joy to see the twins’ happy faces. They rushed off to find their coats and shoes, and as we proceeded towards the hallway at a more stately pace, I said to Lando, ‘Thank you, they’re so thrilled. And they’ll love that you’re coming too.’
As will I.
‘Well, George is a very old friend and I’ve got a few favours to call in. Not that he minds, he adores children – he’s got five of his own – and arranges for this wonderland thing to be held in his grounds every year. As for me coming, it does make things very tight for time. I was wondering…’
‘Yes?’
‘It would help me relax a bit if you’d agree to pose again tonight.’
I remembered the last evening I had spent in his cosy, calm studio and didn’t need to think about my answer.
‘Of course I will. I just need to fit the timings in with Bunny and the children.’
He nodded and we turned our attention back to the twins, doing up zips and searching for a lost mitten.
The drive to Marshingham Grange wasn’t long, but was well signposted, and Phina and Caspy grew louder with every notice they saw. When we swept past the main entrance, they shouted with that panicky disappointment that afflicts children so readily. Lando spoke up.
‘Don’t worry, calm down. My friend George told me to go around to a different entrance because we don’t have tickets. We’ll park up near the house, then walk down.’
I could feel the twins’ anxious tension as we drove around the long walls before turning right up a short drive that led to tall gates adorned with wrought iron oak leaves and rearing stags. Lando hopped out and tapped a few buttons on a keypad next to the gates, which started to swing open slowly. We drove along a winding road, through paddocks then woodland, before emerging at a huge, honey-coloured stone house. A short, portly man appeared through a door at the top of some central steps, then came trotting down towards us. As we got out, he greeted us with great enthusiasm, hugging Lando and slapping him on the back, pumping my hand up and down and jostling the children’s shoulders warmly.
‘Hello, hello! Welcome to Marshingham. And Merry Christmas, of course! Sorry to make you use the service entrance. Lando, you look very well, good to see. Yes, well done. And absolutelysuperto meetyou, Penny.’
He beamed at me, and I beamed back. It’s so infectious when someone is so obviously glad to meet you, although I wasn’t entirely sure why.
‘Now then, I know you two’ – he gestured to the children – ‘won’t want to wait a second longer to get to that magical forest, but promise me you’ll come back up to the house later? I believe there is some fresh gingerbread for the taking…’
Phina and Caspy nodded vigorously.
