Page 26 of The Merry Christmas Project

‘Ours was always fake,’ said Nell, pulling a face. ‘Hugely expensive, but fake. Mum didn’t want the mess of needles falling on her Persian carpets. I still loved it, especially because I always got to put the angel on the top every year.’

‘My family used to decorate ours with candles on Christmas Eve. The smell filled the house and the light was so beautiful.’ Astrid began to sing a couple of lines of ‘O Tannenbaum’, and Nell joined in in English.

I smiled, enjoying their stories. Mum and I had never had much money for decorations, but she had always made sure we had a tree, however tiny, and that I had something to open on Christmas morning. We’d have breakfast in the bed we shared and watch a Christmas film while I opened my present. They’d been the best Christmases. There were family traditions at the foster homes I’d been in but none as special as those early years. I did have some fond memories of decorating the Christmas tree at the one children’s home I’d spent the most time at. The staff had always done their best to make Christmas special, particularly for the children who wouldn’t be seeing their relatives over the festive period. Children like me. The tree had always been the centre of all the Christmas activities. Most people had trees of some description, didn’t they ? It was a sort of universal symbol of Christmas, something which united us all.

I felt an arm through mine and I dragged myself from my thoughts.

‘You look preoccupied,’ said Nell, full of concern. ‘Have we upset you talking about Christmas and family stuff ?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I promised, smiling at her. Something had just struck me about Christmas trees ; I was pretty sure I’d just had my big breakthrough for the Christmas Project.

Astrid narrowed her eyes. ‘I recognise that look. She’s had the same expression since she was a girl. It means she is thinking.’

‘Correct,’ I smiled, pleased that she could still read me so easily. ‘And I’ve just had a lightbulb moment, or should I say a fairy-light moment.’ I turned to Nell. ‘Will you be able to manage if I get off home now ?’

‘Sure.’ She kissed my cheek. ‘You’ve been brilliant.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I said, scooping up my handbag. ‘I’ve loved every moment.’

Nell caught me glancing over towards the bank and smirked. ‘Some moments more than others.’

I refused to take the bait and gave Astrid a quick hug goodbye. There was no time to lose ; I needed to get home and write my idea down while it was still fresh in my mind.

Chapter 8

Cole

2 NOVEMBER

A pile of post had built up behind the front door to the old bank. Cole had to force the door to get in. It was all junk mail. Anything important went straight to his accountant’s address. Until he was settled into a home of his own, his accountant had agreed to help him out. For a man who was a true homebird by nature, he’d felt like a nomad for the past three years.

He stacked up the letters and leaflets and takeaway menus into a neat pile to take out with him when he left and then wandered around the ground floor. The air was cold and smelled of damp and dust, and Cole was grateful that he’d kept his site coat on.

Cole was generally a man to stick to a plan and buying an old bank which had been abandoned midway through renovation had not been in it. There were risks involved, namely taking on more than he could handle, especially as Orchard Gardens was taking up so much of his time and money.

But at the beginning of the year, Fred had suggested he come and take a look at it. He’d heard from Benny Dunford who’d heard on the grapevine that the company that owned it was having financial problems and needed to get rid of it as soon as possible. Cole was already stretched and had resisted at first, until Fred persuaded him to look at the figures. He’d seen the potential immediately, both in terms of what the property could look like after renovation and the profit it might make. In short it had been too tempting to walk away.

To his surprise, Hester and Paul asked if they could invest in it with him as silent partners. They’d been looking at options since Fred had given them a lump sum from the sale of the family home and wanted to do something different with their money. This way, they explained, they could share the risk with Cole and, if his predictions were right, share the profit too.

‘On the understanding we don’t have to be hands-on,’ Paul had clarified. ‘We don’t want to tread on your toes.’

Hester had slipped an arm around her husband’s waist. ‘Absolutely. And besides, you two are both too stubborn to work together.’

‘You mean decisive.’ Cole and Paul’s voices collided and the three of them laughed.

‘You see,’ said Paul with a grin. ‘We’re already think along the same lines.’

‘So is it a deal ?’ Hester had asked.

‘It’s a deal,’ Cole had said, touched that they trusted him with their money.

They’d quickly set up a separate business called R&S Developments and within a remarkably short time, the sale had gone through and the deeds transferred. Since then, Cole had unravelled a plethora of time-consuming issues. Previously, work had been carried out without the correct permission. And since it was a listed building, the work had had to be undone, new permission applied for and lots of reassurances given to the powers that be, that from now on, all remedial work would be exemplary.

It had been relatively smooth since then ; just a couple of jobs to be done on the roof and then the scaffolding could come down. Once that was out of the way and the building was completely watertight, Cole would get cracking on the interior. His stomach lurched ; he was working flat out at Orchard Gardens and he needed to make sure he didn’t neglect this project as a result. There was no way he could live with himself if he let Paul and Hester down.

It was probably just as well he didn’t have anyone waiting at home for him, he thought, returning to his earlier conversation with Josh. At least this way he could spend the rest of the weekend here ; he made a decision to do that, getting the schedule of works up to date to make sure he stayed on top of things.

Downstairs wasn’t too bad. Despite being used as a bank for goodness knows how many years, structurally it had remained largely untouched and it had some lovely Tudor features, which the council was at great pains to preserve. Dark oak beams ran across the width of the ceiling, which he reckoned Josh’s head would probably only just about skim under unscathed ; the thick oak floorboards were pitted, uneven and creaky, but obviously original, so they’d be staying. Downstairs had been partitioned into two main sections : the front, where he now stood, would have been where the bank’s customers would have come in to do their banking, a counter service perhaps, a welcome desk, a place to fill in forms, etcetera. The stud walls had been ripped down, but apart from that nothing had been done.