‘Why don’t I nip homenow, take him out for a brief walk, and he can curl up in his basket here for a while so he has the company. Then after closing I’ll drop him home and you and I can go up to the farm.’ Busker would just have to be understanding tonight.
Loretta put the empty box that held the pom-poms between seasons out at the back ready to take upstairs. She caught sight of the photograph of Busker on the wall,the shot Daisy had captured as he snuggled into his basket on top of a multi-coloured blanket Ivor had made especially for him when he became a part of the family. Her eyes fell onto the photograph next to that one, the picture of all three of her girls snuggled beneath a beautiful handmade quilt and their dad at the very end squeezed onto the sofa that had been plenty big enough when they weretiny but only fitted them then because Daisy was beneath Harry’s arm and leaning against him. Daisy must’ve been around eight years old, Ginny fourteen, Fern eighteen.
Loretta reached out to touch the glass as if she could somehow feel the softness of the quilt, the joins where the squares had been sewn together, some expertly, others clumsily. Quilting had never been Harry’s thing but he’d insistedhe help make this one because he’d been the one to suggest they have a special quilt just for movie night, Harry and his girls. Daisy was only three at the time, but she’d chosen some of the material as the project got underway and she’d always been there with them all, she even helped to arrange the pieces when it was time, although they’d had to watch her when sharp cutters, scissors andpins did the rounds. Ginny had been much more able to participate by then and so had Fern, both girls laughing at Harry’s cluelessness when it came to sewing. But it hadn’t been an activity in which participation was equal or mandatory, but rather a bonding experience that would stay with them. Daisy didn’t remember making the quilt at all, of course, she’d been too young, but this picture on thewall was forever a reminder along with those nights all together in front of the television. The quilt had been such a source of joy, until it became one of heartbreak.
‘What time is the tree farm open until?’ Daisy’s voice reminded Loretta she needed to get a move on.
‘It’s open for hours yet, we’re fine.’ She left Daisy at the helm, went home and collected Busker who was pleased to see heras always and even more so when she picked up his lead.
Out for their walk, Busker pulled in the direction of the fields but Loretta didn’t want to go that far and so he accepted a brief outing into the centre of Butterbury instead and all the way to the end of the high street.
Loretta noticed a man lurking near the haberdashery run by local woman Miriam who quite often sent customers Loretta’sway, and vice versa. ‘The shop’s closed, I’m afraid,’ she called out. ‘They’re away visiting family for a couple more weeks.’ When he sighed she asked him, ‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ She didn’t like to tout for business when he’d obviously come to see the competition, but if he was desperate, it was only fair. Perhaps he had a wife at home who was waiting anxiously for suppliesto carry on with a project and finish in time for Christmas, you never knew.
‘I needed to see the owner rather than anything she sells.’ The man smiled, a kind gesture that reached eyes behind thinly framed glasses. Perhaps he was used to dealing with Miriam and only she would do. Loretta understood, she had customers who said the same of her, particularly when they reached this man’s age, arounda decade older than she was if she were to hazard a guess.
‘Try again in a couple of weeks,’ Loretta suggested. ‘They’re open Monday through Saturday.’
He tipped his cap. ‘Will do.’ And he climbed slowly back into the car he’d parked right outside, moving with a bit more ease than her elderly father but not much more. He had a sadness about him and it made Loretta think, there was only so muchyou could pick up from appearances and snatched remarks. She wondered what his story was.
When they finally closed the shop for the day and Busker was safely ensconced at home, Loretta and Daisy made their way up to the tree farm on foot. The scent of mulled wine made straight for them from the cart next to the small gate they’d let themselves in beside the main one that allowed farm vehiclesand cars to pass back and forth. In wellington boots the mud didn’t matter, they squelched on their way over to the big barn where there were pre-cut trees, customers milling about, some loading trees onto roofracks, kids darting about glad to be outside after dark.
‘The smell is intoxicating.’ Daisy stood for a moment and closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh, wintry aroma of the land andthe trees.
‘There’s really nothing quite like it.’ But Loretta’s attention was already on Joshua as he spotted them and came over. She tried not to make it too obvious that she was watching her daughter too, the way her eyes twinkled at the sight of him even though she was doing her best to appear nonchalant.
‘What are you doing here?’ Daisy asked when he came to her side.
‘Delighted to seeyou too.’ He greeted Loretta. ‘I’m actually working here tonight.’
‘With trees?’ Daisy was curious. ‘I thought you were a fruit and vegetable guy.’
‘I have a lot of talent in another area.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked at Loretta before he left them to it.
‘What’s he up to?’ Daisy didn’t seem happy not to have got a straight answer.
‘Perhaps if you were nicer to him, he’d tellyou.’ She wasn’t going to let on that she knew why he was here. It was a frustration of hers that her daughter’s love life should’ve blossomed in her twenties and thirties but instead she seemed determined to push everyone away. Occasionally Loretta would talk to her about it, but not often. It came under the title ofnone of your businessand usually induced a reaction that couldn’t be classedas good.
‘Let’s head to the fields,’ said Daisy with only one glance in the direction Joshua had disappeared. ‘We’ll choose our tree and then tag it.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Loretta gave the nod but had to add, quickly, ‘Slow down.’ She’d never been a fast walker in wellies, especially with so much mud involved, and Daisy was already striding ahead. ‘They’ve got hundreds of trees,’ she calledafter her daughter as she zipped up along another row. ‘They’re not about to run out!’
But Daisy ignored her in the excitement. Loretta had thought Busker would be a problem in the great outdoors with all this freedom, but perhaps she should’ve been more worried about her youngest daughter.
The farm was lit up well with ample lighting along the rows far enough that they could see the trees andit wasn’t long before they found one they both deemed perfect. They tagged it and Daisy marched back to grab a helper to come cut it down and take it to the shed for them to make their payment and arrange delivery.
The lady at the till wearing a pair of fingerless gloves she’d bought from the Butterbury Sewing Box rang up the order while her assistant netted the tree. They were about to let herknow a time for delivery when a deep voice said, ‘I’ll take it to them.’
Daisy turned and laughed at the sight of Father Christmas, his bright red suit and big bulky belt with the gold buckle and a bushy beard down to his chest. ‘I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Father Christmas. You stick to delivering presents, I think we’ve got it from here.’ She turned back to the lady with the notepadawaiting further instruction.
And when Loretta let out a laugh Daisy turned around again, wrapped in a cloud of confusion until Father Christmas tugged down his beard and revealed a smile with a cheekiness that matched the twinkle in his deep brown eyes.
‘So what’s it to be?’ Joshua asked, his eyes fixed on Daisy. ‘Pay extra for delivery or have Father Christmas bring the tree to you later on,free of charge?’ He leaned closer to Daisy and Loretta didn’t miss the way her daughter looked down shyly when he whispered, ‘I promise not to try to squeeze it down the chimney.’
When it appeared Daisy was lost for words Joshua told them,‘I drove here in my truck anyway, it’s no big deal. I’m happy to do it.’ A smile played on his lips as Loretta informed the lady on the till that deliverywasn’t necessary, and then he picked up the netted tree to presumably fix it to the roof of his truck ready to go as soon as he finished his shift. Beard back in place he fell into his role of Father Christmas and let out a booming ‘Ho, ho, ho’ as he walked away.
‘Come on,’ suggested Loretta to Daisy, ‘I’ll buy you a mulled wine for the walk home.’
Polystyrene cups filled at the cart to catchcustomers at the gate before they left, they strolled home, arms linked, at a much more leisurely pace than they’d adopted around the tree farm.
