Page 50 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

‘All we need are our first customers of the day and then the rest will follow,’ Lucy said with a tight smile, but sounding a little stressed.

‘Absolutely,’ said Abby, who was busy swirling their special tomato sauce onto a production line of bases, and looking on the bright side.

In the meantime, across the way, Jack was already on a roll, shaking and serving his cocktails, chatting away as he worked, and pouring out glass mugs of spice-scented mulled wine. Tinkling laughter rang out from a group of smartly dressed thirty-something women, which made customerless Lucy feel even worse. He was so damned charming, and made it all look so easy, strutting his stuff over there at his bar. And in her present state of unease, that irked her. Oh yes, he was all charm and chat at the bar, but when it came to real relationships, love, any hint of real commitment, well, he just seemed to duck and dive. Lucy longed to know where she actually stood.

At last, a young couple came up to the pizza counter, saying how pretty the horsebox looked, and ordered a slice of the Christmas Special, plus a Ham and Mushroom. What a welcome diversion that was.

Soon enough it all changed and they were suddenly full throttle, with pizza slices going out by the dozen.

Customers were eager to try her Turkey and Trimmings Pizza: tasty turkey meat with mini circles of pigs-in-blankets, and bite-sized nibbles of sage and onion stuffing sprinkled over. To Lucy’s delight, there were many positive comments, though one small boy did pull a face, telling his mum there was no way he’d be having turkey dinner on his pizza, and certainly not with sprouts on it! Lucy had to laugh at that.

The castle was soon buzzing, the Christmas fayre in full swing, with visitors drifting in and out, tasting the goodies at the various food stalls, including All Fired Up and The Cocktail Campervan, whose mulled wine was warming the happy shoppers, whilst they hunted down the perfect Christmas gifts. Smells of cinnamon and spice, of pine trees and winter woods, wafted by on the chilly air.

‘Ho, ho, ho!’

Around an hour later, Lucy looked up from her pizza cooking station to see Santa Claus, traditionally dressed in his red-and-white suit with a huge swag bag of presents slung over his back, on … yes, a quad bike, brumming noisily down the driveway. A host of children and parents had gathered at the top of the castle steps, accompanied by Ellie, Malcolm and a short middle-aged woman with a rather severe bowl-like haircut. ‘Wave to Father Christmas, boys and girls,’ she called out.

The children did as they were told, though they hardly needed encouraging; waving wildly and shouting out their ‘hellos’ excitedly.

Ah yes, Lucy had seen on social media that there was to be a Santa’s Grotto here, as well as traditional carols in the courtyard, and pony-and-trap rides organised throughout the afternoon. Oh, she wished she’d mentioned it to her brother now; little Freddie would have loved all this.

She watched. Santa Claus was tall, elderly and on the slim side, even though he had a fake belly under his red jacket that on closer inspection seemed to be drifting sideways. ‘Right then, you lot, who’s been good this year?’ he called out rather gruffly, as he pulled up at the bottom of the steps. ‘If so, follow me.’

He was certainly a rather quirky Father Christmas, but the kids didn’t seem to mind. A crowd of them trooped after him into the main castle like he was the Pied Piper. The hessian swag bag filled with gifts was no doubt luring them in.

Once the lunchtime queue had eased, Lucy took the opportunity to go exploring, leaving Abby in charge for a short while. She felt a ripple of excitement as she ventured up the steps and in through the heavy wooden gate of the castle entrance.

A cobbled stone courtyard greeted her, like something out of medieval times, where several stalls were set out, with colourful tarpaulin tops. Lucy browsed the cute wooden plaques and toys, handmade cushions, and gorgeously scented candles and crafts. The smell of chestnuts from the little cart warmed the air as she wandered by.

Up another flight of stone steps now, the handrails of which had been garlanded with swathes of fir and ivy, and she gave a small gasp as she stepped into the grand hall of the castle. With glowing fires, carols playing, candles lit, and festive food and craft stalls galore, it felt like a December dream. A huge Christmas tree twinkled with coloured lights in one corner, and oh look, the cutest Santa’s Grotto was waiting to be discovered at the far end, with quad bike Santa in situ on a great big chair, a huddle of excited children gathered around his feet. Their expectant smiles seemed to be catching as Lucy found herself with a big grin in her face.

She spotted Emma, who she’d met at the seaside festival at Warkton-by-the-Sea, surrounded by a stall of gorgeous hand-crafted chocolates, looking like something from a festive Willy Wonka film. Her trestle table was piled high with cocoa delights in foil boxes and pretty cellophane bags tied with Christmas twirling ribbons. Now here were some great gifts for her mum, Nonna and her friends.

She manoeuvred there through the crowds. ‘Hey, hi Emma.’

‘Hey, good to see you. How have you been? Are you working? Did you manage to get a spot?’ Emma’s smile lit her friendly face.

‘Yeah, I’m fine thanks. And yes, the pizza horsebox is out the front. Thanks so much for the tip.’

‘That’s great, I’m glad you got in, it’s a brilliant event.’

‘Beautiful here, and it’s so busy, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, makes you feel festive yourself, even when you’re working.’

‘Definitely. Oh, and I met Ellie before, she seems lovely.’

Ellie had popped out to the horsebox earlier to see how they were getting on.

‘Yeah, she is, and oh, just two tables along, be sure to say hi to Rachel, tell her I sent you over … that you’re new on the scene. Oh and treat yourself to a sticky toffee pudding while you’re at it – you will thank me, I tell you. They are divine.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ Lucy beamed. It was such a close-knit community, the catering crowd, and it was lovely to find herself welcomed into it. ‘Thanks, and it’s Rachel, you say?’

‘Yeah, and her mum’s called Jill. They have the Pudding Pantry over at Primrose Farm.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve heard good things. Been meaning to take my mum across one day.’

‘You should. It’s gorgeous there.’