Page 47 of A Merry Little Christmas

They walked to the door together, both trying to open it for the other. Hilary won.

‘Just remember to ask for help occasionally,’ Hilary said gently. ‘People aren’t mind readers.’

Merry walked back into the lounge pondering Hilary’s advice. She could admit to struggling now and again, she supposed.. It was time to start trusting the people who loved her, the people who in turn would trust her to help them out when they needed it. After all, how did the saying go … it takes a village to raise a child? Merry shuddered. The very thought of having an entire herd of people getting involved was enough to give her sleepless nights; it was effectively how she had been raised in the care system. Nope, this baby was going to be raised by its mother; the opinions of the rest of the village would not be required, thank you very much.

Chapter 17

Merry

Merry was in her element. She was enjoying being back at Merry and Bright for the Wetherley Festive Shopping event so much that she hardly noticed the dull ache in her back or that her shoes pinched her swollen feet.

The entire event had organised by the festive committee to bring business into the town centre in the run-up to Christmas between the official lights switch-on and the annual Christmas Eve gathering. Most of the shops around the market square were taking part.

‘It’s great to see you smile, Merry, you look like your old self,’ Fred boomed to make himself heard over the Christmas music. He sipped his second mulled wine. ‘I was a bit worried about you when Astrid and I popped round the other day.’

‘I am happy tonight,’ she replied. ‘When I’m at work, I feel like my old self too. This is my turf, Fred, I know what I’m doing when I’m here. It’s everywhere else I feel out of my depth at the moment.’

It was now six-thirty, half an hour past the shop’s usual closing time and the till hadn’t stopped ringing. Max and Harley were manning the counter between them; meanwhile, Woody’s gift-wrapping service was doing a roaring trade. Nell was taking the time to greet each customer and serving small paper cups of mulled wine or hot ginger and lemon tea. Merry and Fred were in the studio giving demonstrations on how to blend essential oils to create the perfect fragrance, in between making their Rose and Frankincense candles, which smelled amazing.

The shop looked, smelled and felt like Christmas. This was Merry’s happy place, which was why she found it so difficult to commit to a period of maternity leave. Maybe she’d feel different when they were in the new house and she’d have chance to put down proper roots for the first time. But, for now, the business was her priority, and this was where she felt compelled to devote her energies.

‘That doesn’t sound like you?’ Fred put down his cup, primed to concentrate on what she was about to tell him.

‘I just mean with becoming a mum, you know, and the house move and everything,’ she said vaguely. No need to go into detail with her father-in-law about her worries about Ray. He hadn’t got out of bed since Emily had left he’d lost his appetite and had been very confused and distressed yesterday when she’d popped in. She missed Emily dreadfully and wished she was still here to share the visiting with her.

Fred’s wiry eyebrows knitted tighter momentarily. ‘Not doing too much, are you? I hope that son of mine is making himself useful.’

‘He is.’ She’d taken Hilary’s advice about accepting help, or at least delegating the jobs she didn’t mind not doing. ‘He’s now in charge of the cooking and he’s forging ahead with the house renovation.’

The electricians were making good progress, which gave her renewed hope that the Robinsons weren’t too far away from moving in. She had been a bit alarmed when she’d heard her husband having a heated discussion with the kitchen fitters on the phone earlier this evening but didn’t get involved. She couldn’t risk getting into an argument moments before leaving to come to the shop. Not when he’d been worried about her working tonight.

‘Glad to hear it.’ Fred turned to greet a customer who was hovering near the door to the studio. ‘Hello, dear, would you like to see some candles being poured?’

‘Christmas Time’ by The Darkness came belting through the speaker. Merry tweaked the volume up; she loved this one.

She was singing along to the chorus so enthusiastically that it took her a moment to notice that Nell was standing beside her, hands on hips. Her cheeks were pink, and tendrils of her auburn hair had escaped from her bun. She’d looked too pale recently, perhaps things were starting to improve. Now the news had settled, Nell would feel able to tell her more about the fertility stuff. Merry wanted to ask, but Nell had closed down so completely last time she’d tried to discuss it that Merry was wary of upsetting her. Now she examined Nell’s expression properly, Merry wondered if the colour in her complexion might be down to being cross about something.

‘Everything OK?’ she asked warily.

‘I’m sorry, Merry, but this music just isn’t conducive to shopping,’ she whispered in her ear so as not to alert the woman who was examining the wax melter with Fred. ‘Two men just walked in and walked straight out again.’

‘They obviously have no taste.’ Merry wiggled in her chair to the music. ‘This is a great song. They aren’t our target customer anyway.’

‘Everyone’s our target customer when it comes to buying gifts for others.’ Nell pinched her lips together crossly, looking so un-Nell like that Merry was quite taken aback. ‘People are out tonight with Christmas presents on their mind. If they don’t buy from us, they’ll buy elsewhere. It’s as simple as that.’

‘Yes, I do know how Christmas shopping works,’ Merry replied. ‘I was enjoying the music, that’s all; I didn’t realise it was impinging on business.’ Merry took the top off a bottle of essential oil and inhaled before passing it to a woman who was hovering nearby. ‘Smell this. Bergamot is in our Mistletoe Kiss candle; gives it a citrusy kick. It took me ages to get the aroma just right.’

‘Pardon?’ The woman strained to hear over the music and Merry had to repeat her words.

‘See what I mean?’ Nell squeezed past Merry to the speaker in the corner and turned the volume down a touch.

‘That’s better,’ the woman said, relieved. She sniffed the bergamot oil. ‘Mmm, I’ll take one of those candles for the babysitter.’

Merry directed her to the display of Mistletoe Kisses and returned to Nell. ‘You see, another satisfied customer.’

‘This music would be perfect for a party, but—’

‘That’s because I did make it for a party.’ Merry’s eyes twinkled at the memory. ‘A party you came to and complimented me on the music. But this year, this is as close to dancing at a party as I’m going to get. Thanks to the baby, plus the lack of amniotic fluid we now have between us, all I’m allowed to do is shuffle about from chair to chair. In my head, I’m leaping about like a loon.’