Loretta shook her head. ‘She knew the truth by then, don’t worry. She was always up so much later than you or Daisy. She ended up joining in that year. Don’t you remember the smaller footprints?’
‘You always told me those were made by the elves!’ said Daisy, registering the lie that had kept the magic alive.
‘You’ve got to be quick to thinkas a parent, especially when it comes to the all-important Father Christmas conversations.’
The girls launched into a discussion about their other rituals – the carrots they’d leave for the reindeer, the mince pies they’d set on a plate for Father Christmas next to the glass of milk because the girls had decided it would be terrible to encourage the big man in red to drink and drive.
‘Do youknow my favourite thing Dad ever did at Christmas?’ Daisy leaned her chin on her hands as they rested on the newel post. ‘One year, on Christmas morning, I ran to the back door to see if it had been snowing and there was a big silver sleigh bell lying in the frost on the step, glistening back at me. Dad told me it must have fallen off the sleigh. I went outside to get it and I kept it in the pocketof my dress all day, I kept it with me until I went to sleep. And I still have it. It’ll always be special.’
Loretta felt the skin on her arms beneath her jumper prickle in anticipation because she knew what was coming.
Fern looked at her youngest sister. ‘That wasn’t Dad, it was me.’
Daisy stood up straight, eyes glistening with emotion. ‘It was you? You did it for me?’
Fern shrugged. ‘Iwanted to make the magic last for you. It’s sad when it all stops.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
The timer pinged in the kitchen and it was all systems go for dinner.
‘I’ll set the table,’ Ginny announced as Daisy grabbed Busker by the collar before he could charge in front of the girls and trip one of them up.
Something between Fern and Daisy may well have shifted tonight. In that moment,acknowledging a gesture that had meant so much to Daisy and to Fern for different reasons, it was as though the memories of Christmas were bringing her daughters back together, slowly but surely.
Dinner was a delight. Ivor was in top form, chatting away with his granddaughters, making them laugh, pulling them together in conversations rather than dealing with them all separately – instead oftalking about Fern’s work, then Ginny’s travels, and Daisy’s life here in Butterbury, he talked about wider things. Complimenting the food led to his memories of when he was a boy. He’d been born during the Second World War, a teen when it finished, and he remembered rationing and the different way they’d approached mealtimes back then, how it was hard to eat too much when it all had to be sharedaround. All three girls were eager to know more, they always were when Ivor held court, they hung on his every word as much now as they had as kids.
They moved from the topic of food rationing to talk about fabric rationing and how fabric had been used in the war to make uniforms. Ivor told them all about the Make Do and Mend scheme, which was government backed and encouraged people to reviveand repair their worn-out clothes.
‘Talking of repairing,’ said Ginny, a look of mischief in her eyes, ‘Daisy did a repair in the shop today. A very special repair.’
Loretta wasn’t sure what they were getting at. She finished another mouthful of mashed potato coated in the delicious sauce. ‘She does repairs all the time.’
‘Yes, but it’s not every day she sees Joshua’s butt,’ Fern added, roaringwith laughter.
‘Tell me more!’ Although Loretta didn’t really care whether Joshua had come into the shop totally naked if it had this effect on her girls. They all looked so happy.
Ivor was thoroughly enjoying watching his granddaughters too and when they’d recovered from talking about Joshua’s butt and explaining the tear in his trousers that had gone through to his jockey shorts, Ivor toldthem how he’d mended clothes as a boy scout. ‘Never for a Father Christmas,’ he winked in Daisy’s direction, ‘but I mended plenty. Not many men do that nowadays, more’s the pity.’
‘I know Everett isn’t much good with a needle and thread,’ Fern agreed.
‘You send him to me, I’ll teach him a thing or two.’
They moved on to talking about the Victorian era of crazy quilts with haphazardly shapedpieces, sometimes silk, the lavish embroidery used. ‘They were never intended for everyday use,’ said Ivor, ‘they were much too decorative for that. Quilting has evolved a lot over the years and it’s stood the test of time. I’m glad to still see it in the shop.’
‘You’d have loved The National Quilt Museum in America, Grandad.’ Ginny put her cutlery together as she finished her dinner and pouredanother glass of water from the jug in the centre of the table, letting a slice of lemon plop into her glass.
‘You went?’ Loretta was surprised. She hadn’t heard Ginny talk much about her previous passion for sewing. Her pink sewing machine had been relegated to the loft and she’d got busy with her career and her life.
‘I did. And it was quite something. There were quilts dating back all theway to the 1600s, from all over the world, reflecting different traditions and methods used. Sometimes the origins of the quilt weren’t really known but other times you could read about the history of the person, what their life had been like, how quilting became a part of their life.’ She stopped as though she’d gone off on a tangent she hadn’t meant to follow. ‘Anyway, I’ve got plenty of photographs,if you’d like me to show you. They’re in albums back at my flat, I’ll bring them next time I visit.’
‘I’d like that.’ Ivor smiled. ‘You know I’ve always loved a good quilt.’
Loretta didn’t miss the look pass between the girls, the nudge from Ginny to Fern and vice versa.
After cups of tea, it wasn’t long before Ivor declared they’d better get back up to the lodge so Daisy could help Flo beforeshe turned in for the night.
With Daisy and Ivor gone, Loretta and Ginny left Fern alone to call Everett and they took Busker out for a quick evening walk, down to Lantern Square and back again.
