Page 7 of Christmas All the Way

‘That’s Albert,’ Keeley said, matter-of-factly. ‘Usually, he’s on duty at Ruggles over the festive period but he did star in the ice grotto we built in the village bandstand a few years ago.’

Now that her initial surprise was subsiding, Grace could see the polar bear was exquisitely made. His fur rippled gently as he moved and the beady black eyes seemed to be watching her intently. ‘He’s brilliant,’ she said, reaching out to brush a white paw. ‘I bet the kids love him.’

Keeley smiled. ‘They did. He has a wife and a baby too, but I expect they’re hibernating.’

Grace could picture the scene. The bandstand stood at the heart of Freezy Tye’s village green and was a stout wooden construction open on all sides, but all it would take was a few sheets of MDF and some imagination to transform it into a frozen cave for the polar bears. ‘How did you power them?’ she asked, her thoughts moving inevitably to the logistics. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d had to rein in the wild enthusiasm of younger colleagues at the library around the Summer Reading Challenge and World Book Day. ‘Did you use a generator?’

‘We’re much greener than that,’ Keeley replied, sounding pleased with herself. ‘The village council paid for cabling to be laid under the grass, running all the way to the hall. We could light up the whole green if we needed to.’

Grace nodded, impressed at the forward-thinking skills of the village council. ‘Wow.’

‘But enough about that,’ Keeley said. ‘Don’t you want to dive headlong into Christmas heaven?’

Grace took a deep breath, noticing the crisp scent of pine for the first time. Nat King Cole had taken over from Michael and Shania, giving her a sudden yearning for roasted chestnuts. The tumult of décor stretched invitingly to the end of the corridor; she could only imagine what glittering treasures lay in the next aisle. ‘I do,’ she replied. ‘But first, I need to investigate those ribbons. That iridescent peacock pattern is calling me.’

Keeley gave her a knowing look. ‘Do you have a project in mind for it?’

‘No. Does that matter?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Keeley said. ‘I might get a roll of that silver and pink. Have you noticed the boxes of blue and green baubles underneath the table?’

Grace had not but she exclaimed in delight when she saw they matched the colours of the ribbon perfectly. ‘Why do I get the feeling this is going to cost me a fortune?’ she said, dropping them into the basket.

‘This is just for starters,’ Keeley replied. ‘Wait until we get to the main course.’

Grace understood what she meant as soon as they reached the Nutcracker-themed aisle, which was guarded by two of the wooden soldiers from the sumptuously Christmassy story, resplendent in red and gold, and taller even than Keeley. She half expected them to cross their spears in challenge as they passed through the leafy, fairy-lit arch they flanked. The decorations ranged on the tables beyond complemented their scarlet uniforms, golden garlands nestled among glittering red and yellow baubles, and puffs of snowy berries on wiry stalks, ready to be twisted into floral arrangements or swags. Halfway down the aisle, they met another pair of life-sized soldiers, their uniforms a deep, festive green bedecked with gold buttons that was matched by the decorations piled upon tables on either side. The final pair of guards were white and silver, and the colour-themed displays beyond them were dotted with pale pinks and lilacs and blues. Sugary baubles hung from the white faux tree branches that formed arches over their head, and adorable mice in frilly tutus danced on the air.

Grace also spotted several Sugar Plum Fairy figurines, some caught in a graceful ballerina leap and others spinning in an endless pirouette, their wings catching the light, while rows of dark-haired Clara dolls watched them twirl. The exuberance of silver-tinged pastels was beautiful, Grace thought, and the sheer amount of white evoked the impression of freshly fallen snow. But the crowning glory of the aisle was the eight-foot Christmas tree at the end, painstakingly decorated with hundreds of twinkling decorations to mimic the one that graced Clara’s home in the story, with a magnificent white rocking horse before it. The breath caught in Grace’s throat as she stopped to admire the scene. ‘That is incredible,’ she breathed, and hurried forwards to peer up at the frosted branches, laden with ribbons and baubles. ‘It must have taken hours.’

‘It did,’ a voice said, and a silver-haired woman of around sixty stepped out from behind the tree. She smoothed her calf-length, Liberty floral dress and sighed. ‘Six and a half hours, to be exact, and at least two of them were spent perched on a rickety stepladder.’

The need for a stepladder wasn’t a surprise, given the woman couldn’t be much more than five feet tall. Keeley came to a halt beside Grace. ‘Allow me to introduce the enchantress behind everything you see here,’ she said, smiling. ‘Grace, this is Ivy Caldwell, the owner of Santa’s Secret.’

Ivy nodded in greeting. ‘Nice to meet you, Grace. I wish I did have a magic wand to create all of this but unfortunately, we rely on plain old hard work.’

‘I can tell,’ Grace said, gazing in fresh wonderment at the perfectly spaced decorations. There was not so much as a strand of tinsel out of place.

‘The displays are constantly changing throughout the year,’ Keeley explained. ‘Last time I was here, this was a toymaker’s grotto.’

Grace blinked. ‘You’re open all year?’

‘Oh yes,’ Ivy said, as though it was obvious. ‘It’s Christmas all the way around these parts – event planners and keen festive decorators start the hunt for fresh items long before December.’ She waved a hand at the tables they had just passed. ‘What you see here is about a third of what we usually have in stock. It’s late in the season, you see.’

‘Ivy used to be the genius behind the window displays at Selfridge’s on Oxford Street,’ Keeley told Grace. ‘What she doesn’t know about creating the perfect Christmas tableau isn’t worth knowing.’

Grace felt her jaw drop slightly. The windows at the venerable Oxford Street department store were world-famous and their Christmas displays were an attraction in their own right, drawing in crowds so large they often blocked the pavement, much to the irritation of the Londoners who had to edge around them. Keeley hadn’t exaggerated when she’d used the word genius; they were in the presence of brilliance. ‘My mum used to take me to see those windows every December when I was a child. It was one of our Christmas traditions.’

Ivy looked gratified. ‘Oh, I’m glad. I do miss peeking out to see all the happy, wonder-filled faces of the people who stopped to stare, but tastes change and it was time to let someone else have a turn. And now I have a whole shop to arrange exactly as I please, with the added bonus of knowing our decorations are used in hundreds of displays that fill so many more people with Christmas spirit.’

‘Including us in Freezy Tye,’ Keeley put in. ‘Our planning committee is meeting in a few weeks to pull together our thoughts for the village display. We’ll need to up our game if we’re going to win Most Christmassy Village again.’

‘Ah yes,’ Ivy said, nodding. ‘I did hear that Flaxwood are going all out this year. Don’t leave it too late if you’re interested in outdoor lights or animated figures – I have a feeling the best ones will get snapped up early.’

Keeley looked intrigued. ‘Flaxwood – really? They’ve never shown much interest before.’

‘They’ve got some new blood on the committee,’ Ivy said, and lowered her voice. ‘The elder son of the family that owns Ruggles has moved back into the village and seems determined to put the place on the map.’

‘Has he, now?’ Keeley looked thoughtful. ‘Well, a bit of competition is a good thing. As long as you keep the best decorations for us, Ivy.’