Page 14 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

Lucy was humming away with the radio on in the background as she measured out the flour, salt, yeast and water. She’d invested in an industrial-sized mixer, which had to be kept in the spare room when not in use, as it took up so much space in her little kitchen. Soon she was kneading, then rolling up the large dough balls ready to prove, using the same recipe that Papa had shown her all those years ago when she was a little girl. Papa – which actually meant ‘father’, not ‘grandfather’, but had stuck nonetheless – had passed away several years ago now, bless, but she still smiled as she thought of him. Lucy loved her scrummy childhood pizza suppers, sat around her grandparents’ old wooden table with brother Olly, munching on the tastiest pizza slices ever. Aw, how she wished Papa could have seen her take this new direction, striving for her dream inspired by his love of good food, good ingredients and his family. That strong sense of love that always came through in his cooking.

As Lucy rolled and kneaded yet more dough balls, her thoughts turned to Nonna and all those years she’d had to spend alone since, left on her own. How she must have missed him. They’d had such a happy marriage. Yes, they had bickered, but it was always good-humoured; Nonna flicking her tea-towel at Papa when his teasing got too much. They were a team; even to little girl Lucy that much was obvious.

But you never knew where life would take you, the twists and turns of the road ahead, each one of our journeys different. When you found that special someone, you couldn’t let them go … not unless they were taken from you, like Papa, like Jack’s brother, Daniel. Her mind stayed firm. She wouldn’t give up on Jack, whatever Becky might think. No-one said it would be easy, falling … being in love, and she really didn’t know how their particular journey as a couple might yet pan out – they were only just starting out, after all. But what she did know was that it was absolutely worth fighting for.

Saturday morning, 6 a.m., and Lucy’s phone alarm sprang to life. It was still dark outside, but she leaped out of bed, ready to head down and make all those last preparations – chopping her topping ingredients, packing up the cool bags, the kiln-fired logs, and loading the horsebox.

Three hours seemed to fly by, and with trusted assistant Abby by her side, she set off along the country lanes with All Fired Up in tow, winding down the coast to the village of Warkton.

‘Ready to “dough” this, boss?’ Abby asked.

‘Ooh, it’s too early for such “punny” jokes, Abs, but yes, absolutely!’

A sense of expectation and animation filled Lucy as the row of old stone cottages and the shops of the quaint main street appeared before them, leading down to the harbour and sea. Bunting flags in yellow and red – the colours of the Northumberland flag – criss-crossed above them as they drove down the cobbled street, and fluttered in the late autumn breeze.

Turning up past the little harbour, Lucy could see several stalls were already setting up. They pulled into the grassy field that had been designated as the main festival location. It was a hive of activity, with catering vans and trailers of all kinds, from farm shops with sausages and pies, to coffee stands, puddings, ice creams and cheeses from the local dairy, a bakery, and even a delightful-looking chocolate stall (scrummy!). And there she was: the gleaming deep red of VW Ruby. The two girls smiled as Jack gave them a welcoming wave.

As they pulled into a space towards the top of the field, indicated by a marshal in high-viz, the view out across the harbour and bay was stunning. It was a cloudy day, but that only made the mix of slatey-sea greys, greens and blues stand out more. The harbour down below them was small and rectangular, with just a few fishing boats bobbing within the shelter of its ancient walls.

This had been a thriving fishing community in the past, with Warkton-by-the-Sea becoming known as one of the kipper capitals of England. Over a hundred years ago, the North Sea was teeming with herring. At certain times of the year, the little village would welcome the Scottish fishwives, and twenty or more boats would go out daily to fetch their catch. The seas could be perilous at times. Today, beyond the harbour’s stone boundary, the waters merely rocked and rolled in fluid peaks and troughs. The odd seabird bobbing up and down, happily riding the swell.

Today it wasn’t quite kippers, but at least pizzas were on the menu. Cooking them in the wood-fired oven was an art and with, hopefully, many orders coming in at once, time-consuming. With big functions and festivals like this one, Lucy didn’t get much chance to chat with her customers whilst she cooked, as taking an eye off the ball often meant a burnt pizza, but having Abby was a godsend. The teenager was very much finding her feet with All Fired Up after just a couple of months of helping out. She was good with the chitchat and taking orders, as well as creating the tasty toppings with just the right amount of tomato sauce and cheese. The two of them worked well together.

Lucy proceeded to light the oven and, leaving Abby to keep an eye on things at the horsebox, went off in search of a couple of coffees to keep them going, intending also to take the opportunity of saying a quick hello to Jack before things became more hectic. Wandering past the various stalls, although it was only late October, there was already a Christmassy feel to the festival. Strands of red, silver and gold tinsel wafted in the sea breeze at one stall, catching the light. And the craft stands were very much in festive mode, with gifts galore on display, cute wooden toys, baubles and cards, and gorgeous appliquéd Christmas stockings.

Lucy decided she’d better give All Fired Up a touch of festive magic too, and bought a few strands of silver tinsel to drape around the serving hatch. After all, with the shift of the seasons and the darkening autumn skies, she figured everyone needed a little sparkle, cosiness and fun to look forward to.

And there, stood in front of his bulb-lit halo of campervan light was sandy-haired Jack, giving her a warm smile from behind the chrome countertop of Ruby as he set out his glasses, spirits, and cocktail shakers. Oh yes, she was looking forward to some cosy nights in with this gorgeous man over the coming weeks. How would Christmas feel being back in a relationship this year, she mused?

Crikey, the last couple of Christmases spent with ex Liam had been rather dire affairs. Both pretending that everything was fine. That the perfume and presents made up for a lack of closeness. The cracks, had she been looking, were already so apparent. The engagement ring she was wearing, and the house they still shared, the only glue that was left.

And Christmases past, years ago back when Mum and Dad were still together. That fizzy excitement of childhood. The anticipation of the Advent calendar. School plays and party days. The ripping open of gifts on Christmas morning. All that festive magic.

But then, of course, Mum had ended up on her own. Gosh, that must be over seventeen years now, and well … everything changed. Life rolled on and moved in waves, like the sea. A constant flow, sometimes up, often down, sometimes choppy. You couldn’t always stay on the crest of a wave. But, while things were going well, right here, right now, she was determined to enjoy them.

‘Hey.’ Jack beamed, his slate-blue eyes sparkling at her.

‘Hi. It’s looking good here,’ Lucy commented. And it wasn’t just the gleaming VW Ruby that was all set up beautifully. Jack was looking rather dapper in a crisp white shirt, tweed waistcoat and dark jeans, teamed with his black Cocktail Campervan logo apron.

‘Cheers. Yeah, I went for a “smart with a touch of festive” feel.’ There was indeed a bunch of classy coffee-and-cream-coloured baubles sat at each end of the counter top, placed artfully alongside a sprig of real holly and pine. ‘Ready for a busy day?’

‘Yeah, hoping so.’

‘Well, the food festival was really well attended here last year. It must be getting quite a name for itself by now, so I’m sure it’ll be a great day.’

‘Fingers crossed.’ Whilst business was doing pretty well, Lucy still had her start-up loans to pay off and Abby’s wages to find, as well as funding all her own living expenses. Finances had been tight for a while, and she had the cottage and its mortgage to keep up. ‘Well, I’d better finish getting set up. Catch you later.’

‘Yeah, me too. Looking forward to that catch-up,’ Jack said, and he gave a cheeky wink.

Lucy couldn’t help but grin. They hadn’t seen each other for a few days now, and her body was already missing his touch.

As she headed over to the coffee van, Lucy spotted a fabulous stall piled high with cocoa delights; little foil boxes and bags sealed with curls of colourful string, filled with truffles and fudge. Oh, yes, it was The Chocolate Shop by the Sea’s stall. She recognised the wonderful handmade chocolates that Jack had bought her back in the summer. Lucy couldn’t resist going over to take a look.

‘Hello, there,’ said the auburn-haired lady behind the trestle-table, giving a warm smile. ‘Was it your pizza horsebox I spotted coming in earlier? It looks gorgeous – love the grey paintwork. Is it vintage? Oh, I’m Emma, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, have I?’

‘Hi, Emma. I’m Lucy. And no, I’m actually pretty new to all this. Just started the pizza business back in May.’

‘Ah, I see, fresh on the scene!’