Page 70 of A December to Remember
“That was intense,” said Star. “Good morning, Maggie.”
“No time!” she trilled.
Simone was sitting in an armchair with her laptop open, Artemis stretched lazily in the gap between her stomach and the computer. Cat and sister eyed her with the same torpor.
“You are manic. Have a chamomile tea and calm the fuck down. I’m working on a spreadsheet and timetable of things that need doing. I’m also mocking up a poster to advertise the decoration making, which I’ve set for the eighteenth, as the schools will have gone on break, and which hopefully can happen in the marquee if it’s getting delivered on the seventeenth. The flower association are already briefed and ready for garlands, as are the Cussing Crocheters; I met both Ellen and Anita in the queue for coffee at Betty’s this morning. Then on the nineteenth we’ve got tree decorating in the woods from six p.m. In between times we’ve got to organize the food. And the rest happens on the evening of the twenty-first.”
“We are going to be so busy.” Maggie rubbed her forehead. “The twenty-first is going to be a nightmare day. Where are we on the running order for that?” She looked at Star, who put down the loupe she’d been using to date a gold mourning ring—complete with a lock of the deceased’s hair visible beneath a cabochon crystal—and picked up her phone.
“Do you actually know what you’re doing with that thing?” Maggie asked, motioning to the loupe, which Star had taken to wearing permanently around her neck.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She touched the loupe, smiling. “It’s easy once you know how. Duncan is a very good teacher.”
“It’s not that easy at all,” Duncan interjected. “She’s being modest. I’ve never known anyone to pick it all up so quickly! I show her how to do something once and she’s got it.” His expression was one of a man well and truly smitten.
“Oh my god, these two.” Simone gave Maggie a pained look. “It’s like being in an episode ofThe Brady Bunch. They’reniceto each other all day long.”
“Maybe some of it will rub off on you.” Star poked her tongue out at her sister, who poked hers right back.
“Star’s a natural,” Duncan continued, clearly not finished gushing. “She has a great eye for antiques. I’m serious, Sotheby’s would snap her up.”
“Patience North would be proud,” said Simone. “Genuinely,” she added for clarification.
“Forget Patience—I’mproud,” added Maggie.
Star flushed a deep pink and concentrated on her phone. “Okay.” She cleared her throat and read from the screen. “Everyone to assemble in the garden at four p.m. for bonfire lighting. I think we need professionals for this; you know, safety and whatnot. Then over to the marquee at four thirtyish. Allow two to three hours for the banquet. Then the procession with some wassailing around the trees and a bit of a singsong, which ends up in the pubs and we all get pissed and go to bed.”
“Good call. Simone?”
“On it.” Simone tapped something into her spreadsheet. “On my way to get the posters printed I’ll drop in and ask Betty if she knows anyone who’s good with fire; there must be at least one qualified pyromaniac in the village.”
Maggie nodded. “If we’re going to have a proper bonfire to dance around, we really ought to start collecting things we can burn; otherwise we’ll be cavorting around a wastepaper bin.”
“I’ll add it to the spreadsheet.” Simone began tapping away at her keyboard again.
“So, I was thinking, how great would it be if we booked a folk band for the evening? Someone who knows all the old songs?” said Star.
“Oh my gosh, that would be perfect!” Maggie was beginning to picture how all this would look. A folk band with fiddles and tambourines would definitely fit with what she had in mind. “But I’m not sure we can afford to hire a band.”
“I used to date a guy in a traveling folk band,” said Star.
“Of course you did,” butted in Simone, but she was smiling.
Star didn’t skip a beat. “They were really good. I was thinking, if I could track him down, maybe we could ask the band to play at the festival.” At his desk, Duncan winced ever so slightly. “When I knew them, they pretty much played for food and drinks.”
“Now that wecando.” Maggie smiled. “We’ll be feeding the five thousand anyway; a few more mouths won’t make a dent.”
“Great, I’ll get right on it.” Star smiled and scribbled on a notepad.
“I don’t want to jinx it, but it’s starting to sound like we have a plan!” said Simone.
Maggie rubbed her head again and let out a puff of breath. “There’s still a hell of a lot to organize until the get-pissed-and-go-to-bed part.”
“It’ll be fine.” Star waved a flippant hand.
“Can I ask, what exactly is wassailing?” asked Duncan, looking up from the ledger. “It sounds like we’ll be doing a lot of it; I just what want to be clear on what I’m getting into. If wassail is like mulled cider, is wassailing just the act of glugging it back?”
“I’ll hand you over to our resident hippie,” Simone said, without making it sound at all like an insult.
