Page 31 of The Merry Christmas Project

To the side of me, Jim coughed and tapped his watch. I nodded, understanding that I needed to speed it up.

‘I propose that we completely fill Wetherley market square with Christmas trees. From rough calculations I think we can squeeze fifty trees in. My plan is that we’ll invite community groups to put their name down for a tree and decorate it however they wish. From the Women’s Institute to the children’s playgroups, to the Rosebridge retirement complex to the yoga club, everyone is welcome to a tree. It will be a celebration of our town, of all the cultures and traditions and personalities that make Wetherley so special. The market square will not only be brimming with Christmas spirit, but community spirit too and I think Benny would love that. The climax of the festivities will be on Christmas Eve, as we all gather to mingle, view each other’s trees and we, the committee, will provide mulled wine and traditional Christmas snacks. Thank you.’

The applause was so enthusiastic that I just stood there, frozen like the proverbial rabbit.

‘Goodness !’ I swallowed. ‘Thank you. Again.’

I raised my hand in a little wave and was about to sit back down when Jim spoke up.

‘Thank you, Merry. Hold on there a minute, while we take questions from the floor.’

I swallowed. This was potentially even more nerve-wracking.

‘What if more than fifty people or groups want a tree ?’ asked Nigel, who while I was speaking had been perched on the edge of his seat, listening to every word.

‘We’ll have a list for people to sign up by the first of December. Which is of course also the day that the town’s Christmas lights are switched on. If there are only a touch over fifty, I’m sure we can squeeze them in. Failing that we draw straws.’

He nodded. ‘Fair enough. Good plan.’

‘Thank you, Nigel, I appreciate that.’ That was rather generous of him considering in theory we were in competition. Perhaps like me he didn’t want to win either. Although I had to admit, seeing all the smiles on people’s faces was giving me a real boost.

The young woman who owned the hairdressers in the main street put up her hand. ‘Can businesses like my salon have a tree ?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ I said with a shrug. ‘But we’d want to ensure there were still enough trees for the community, so maybe we say no more than ten trees for businesses. First come first served ?’

‘Good idea,’ called out the landlady of the Bristly Badger pub. ‘And you can put us down for supplying hot mulled wine on the night. No charge.’

‘That would be great !’ I’d been wondering about the logistics of that, not to mention the cost.

‘Excellent.’ Jim stood up. ‘If there’s no more questions, we can … Oh, I see a hand up.’

It was Tasha ; my heart sank. I hoped she hadn’t spotted something glaringly obviously wrong with my idea.

‘It’s a very sweet idea. But on the subject of cost,’ she said, with a wince. ‘Fifty Christmas trees, maybe more, will be very expensive. Can we afford it ?’

I felt a prickle of annoyance at being challenged by her, but luckily I had a good answer.

‘I’ve arranged a cut-price deal with a Christmas-tree farm and I got their number from Wetherley’s normal Christmas-tree seller. If we place a bulk order by the first of December, the farmer will deliver for free and collect again afterwards so that the trees can be recycled. The cost falls within the amount kindly bequeathed to us by Benny. But, if this was something we wanted to consider doing again, then we could always start a fund-raiser for it.’

Tasha gave a satisfied nod. I half expected her to say ‘no further questions, your honour’.

‘Thank you, a very thorough answer,’ she said, sitting down.

Next to her, Daniel looked impressed. I scurried back to my seat feeling quite pleased with myself. Nell started clapping really, really loudly until everyone else was forced to join in.

‘Thank you, Merry,’ said Jim briskly. ‘Next can I invite Tasha Sandean to present to us.’

Tasha strode to the front, tapping her folder against her other hand. She was immaculately dressed again, tonight in a caramel-coloured wool coat and high-heeled boots. I had to admit it, she did command the room well.

‘I believe that children are at the heart of Christmas,’ Tasha said. ‘And at the heart of the community. And we know community was at the heart of Mr Dunford.’

‘She copied that off you,’ Nell murmured. ‘She doesn’t know him from Adam.’

I shushed her, not really minding what happened next. I was just glad to have got my bit over with. Tasha could take over from here as far as I was concerned. I sat back and waited to be wowed by her ideas.

‘Santa’s grotto might not be a new idea, but to my knowledge it hasn’t been done in Wetherley for a while and it is a firm favourite with families. We can run daily sessions in the week running up to Christmas Eve, and due to Benny’s kind bequest, gifts for the children will be completely free, ensuring that no child need miss out because parents and carers are on a low income.’

I had a sudden flashback to one Christmas when my mum had taken me to a shopping mall. A snowy lodge had been built in front of McDonalds and there was a long queue of overexcited children waiting to see Santa. I asked Mum if we could join the line but she’d said we didn’t have time. I was too young to understand that an audience with Santa cost money that she didn’t have. But after dinner that night, she’d helped me to write my first letter to Santa and the next morning we posted it in the red letter box on the corner of the street. I’ll never forget the day I got a reply from the North Pole. I’d been so excited I hadn’t been able to sleep for days and it had been far more magical than a rushed conversation with a sweaty Santa wearing a nylon wig and beard.