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‘That’s the sort of marriage I want too. Like Mum and Dad’s. But the man I marry will have to love Christmas, because it’s my favourite time of year.’
‘I love Christmas. Not that I’m suggesting…’ he shrugged.
‘No. Of course not. I understand.’
‘You love my brother. At least you think you do, so …’ he shrugged again.
‘Yes. Exactly.’
‘Erm. I hate to bring this up, Grace, but although Russell enjoys Christmas, it’s not his favourite time of year. He’s more of a summer guy.’
‘Really? Well it’s not a deal breaker. Christmas is about family and giving and sharing, so as long as the man I marry is into that, that’s fine. It’s not about expensive gifts or impressing people.’
‘Like having a big dance in the hall of your house, you mean?’
‘No! Not at all. I love the Mistletoe Dance. I think it embodies the very best of Christmas because it’s for everybody and not just the rich and the landed and… I’ll shut up.’
Griff smiled. ‘When Mum was alive our Christmases were far more enjoyable. Now they are about expensive gifts and impressing people.’
‘They don’t have to be.’
‘All the while Bianca is married to Dad, they do. I think we should change the subject.’
‘I think I should be going. I hadn’t realised the time and I promised Mum I’d be home before lunch. I’ve still got to get to the other shops.’
‘You do realise you used a similar excuse to leave me last night, don’t you?’
‘I didn’t!’
‘You did. But never mind.’
‘Well I’m not exactly leaving you. I’ll be coming to Betancourt this afternoon.’
‘You will? That’s good. I’ll walk you to your car.’
‘No need. But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, Grace. I am.
Eight
BackinBetancourtBay,and having had a successful morning shopping, Grace dropped the car at home and then popped in to Catkin Cottage, one of four cottages on Oak Street, the road that ran from the corner of Folkestone Road up towards Betancourt Bay Café and West Wood, and then dog-legged off to the left.
Hanna Shaw, an artist, lived in the cottage and Grace wanted to ask her to paint a backdrop for the Christmas trees in the Great Hall at Betancourt for the Mistletoe Dance.
Hanna had created such things for Eversley Events before and they had a good working relationship as well as a friendship, and although this would be a rush job. A very rushed job, in fact, Grace knew Hanna would be unlikely to turn the offer of work down.
Hanna was an exceptionally talented artist but had not had the benefit of classical training, and therefore many galleries gave her the cold shoulder despite her skills with a brush.
She sold her art at markets, online, and through word of mouth, but she also worked on commissions, like the one Grace was giving her.
‘Of course I’ll do it,’ she said when Grace told her what she had in mind. ‘It’ll be tight, but we can make the deadline if I start by say, tomorrow. I bet you’re excited aren’t you, to finally be organising the Mistletoe Dance? I know it’s been one of your dreams for as long as I’ve known you.’
‘I am. But then again, I’m not. We’re so busy right now and this is a big deal, obviously. Plus we’re decorating the house, inside and out.’
‘Blimey. That’s a challenge and a half. If you need a hand with anything else, just give me a shout.’
‘Well, now that you mention it,’ Grace said, smiling, ‘we are looking for people who would be willing to lend a hand in return for a decent hourly rate of course.’
