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“I’m sorry, Frances; I lost track of time. As you can see, the place is manic. Only seventy per cent of our Christmas stock has arrived, and what we have got is flying off the shelves faster than we can get it on.”
“That’s good to hear — not the lack of delivery, but the sales.” With the shop bringing in one-third of the Christmas revenue, Frances knew full well how important sales were in this part of the business. “If I can do anything to help, let me know. And keep me posted on those deliveries.”
Judith nodded. “I’ll be sure to. Thanks.”
On her way back to the office, Frances passed the hall’s inner courtyard to see if the panels for the ice rink had arrived. The centre of the main building created a romantic, secluded spot for skating, and it was only possible because she had opted for a synthetic rink. With the historic courtyard being the only available space, she couldn’t risk water spilling onto the paving and seeping into the foundations. The modular panels would click together quickly, creating a smooth skating surface without the need for noisy machinery.
It was the practical option this year, and if successful, she would consider a real rink with refrigerated ice somewhere else on-site for next Christmas. She didn't even want to think about the one following that. With the roof restoration underway by then, she wasn't sure to what extent Christmas would happen at Winterbourne Hall.
Negotiating her way around rolled carpets, boxes marked ‘Fragile’, tall arches of garlands, and rolls of string lighting, she finally reached the spiral staircase to her office. It was only day one of the holiday season, and she felt like a conductor, trying desperately to keep everything in time.
CHAPTER 4
Lucie arrived at the hall just after lunch on her first day. The estate was transformed since her interview. Large snow globes sat on the south lawn facing the house, which she guessed would either light up or provide shelter and seating for visitors to watch the light show. Strange shapes stood interspersed on the lawns; their identities would only become apparent when illuminated in the dark.
A cool wind whipped across the open landscape, making her grateful for her new coat. A successful shopping trip with Mandy earlier in the week had netted her a more suitable outer layer to contend with the English weather. She had also bought some thermals to wear as a base under whatever costume they supplied and some thick socks for the Doc Martens she hoped to wear. She was sure that if elves were real, they, too, would opt for Doc Martens for comfort.
With time on her hands before starting work, she’d also managed to sort through her bedroom. She’d packed up her childhood belongings into boxes for the attic, and the space was now on the empty side, much like she felt. With nothing to get up for and nothing to do for the past two weeks, she’d got into the habit of waking late. It was no bad thing, considering the hours she would be working, but it was a different life from the one she’d had in Botswana. She was always up early, working most days and late into the night.
After the pub closed at eleven, she helped her dad clear up and then watched a bit of television with him before bed. Although game shows weren’t her thing, it was a good opportunity to share a space without having to say anything. It was something they hadn’t done in a long time. She was happy to sit back and watch whatever he was watching. If she was going to get to know him all over again, it seemed a good place to start.
As she approached the steps to the front doors of the hall, the scene was even more hectic than it had been on her previous visit. Staff scurried outside like ants burdened with supplies. The same vibrant energy continued along the corridors inside, trees and fake snow receiving their final adjustments as she passed. A little flurry of goosebumps tingled along her arms at the sight of everything: Christmas was here.
Making her way to the staff room using the instructions her supervisor, Hannah, had emailed her, Lucie found herself in the basement, outside a door marked as the old pastry chef’s kitchen. The room was already full of people and excited voices. A woman who seemed close to her age approached with a clipboard.
“Name?” she said, brushing her fringe from her eyes.
“Oh, erm, Lucie Brown.”
The woman looked down at her clipboard, “Oh, good. You’re my final elf. I’m Hannah.”
“Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Here is your work rota for the next few weeks,” she said, thrusting a sheet of paper at Lucie along with a small piece of metal. “And your name badge.”
“Thanks,” Lucie replied, glancing around and noticing others attaching theirs to their clothing.
“Put it on now, please,” Hannah directed.
Lucie fumbled with the tag as she pinned it on.
“The day’s schedule will go on the notice board before each shift, so make sure you check it. Lockers are over there; help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Hannah wandered off, so Lucie found an empty locker and shoved her old Fjällräven Kånken university rucksack in it. It was strange to pack a water bottle and snacks into it for work instead of folders and a pencil case.
It really felt like the past ten years might not have happened, but they had; they were evident in the faint lines etched on her face. It wasn’t just age that had put them there, but the stories of suffering she had heard through her work in Africa.
She’d built a whole life there, and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Yet she knew she had improved lives, and she would hang onto that. Now she would be helping a different set of people who were no less worthy of finding pleasure in life.
“Elves, follow me for your tour,” Hannah called out.
A large group of women and a handful of men congregated behind her. Lucie waited until they had all left the room and joined the end of the group. With the opening happening in a few hours, there was a lot to get to grips with before the visitors arrived.
Hannah led them on an interesting tour through the hall, with plenty of glimpses behind-the-scenes. The staterooms were undeniably impressive, each transformed into a winter wonderland inspired by a different country, but it was the back staircases, the bland corridors, and the hidden routes between rooms that captured her attention.
Hannah told the group that four elves would cover the evening grotto shift on the light trail. In pairs, they would work two and a half hours with Father Christmas, looking after the queue of visitors waiting to have photographs taken with him on his giant sleigh. The rest of them were to mingle elsewhere, posing for photos, entertaining children, directing people, and answering questions.