Page 22 of All We Want for Christmas
Even though he’d helped run sound and light events before – and bigger ones than this – he’d found himself stressing about this one more than usual. That was partly because he was so new to the venue, but also because he had such a personal stake in the game. He wanted it to go well, not to keep his job or to get a pat on the back, but for Lara.
The event was her baby: one she’d conceived and nurtured. It had to be a triumph. Flynn had beads of perspiration on his back from running around, making sure every aspect was working, answering the slightest query, and constantly checking in with the contractors that there were no glitches.
He’d been so busy that he’d only had one glimpse of Lara at a distance, talking to Fiona by the fountains. Thank goodness she hadn’t known that the fountains weren’t working five minutes before the gates opened or that the power to the Castle Café had briefly been cut off. Flynn had liaised with Jazz the catering manager and his own team to restore it before Lara had even realised or had a chance to worry.
It was now seven-thirty, and the place was heaving withwhat felt like every human for miles around. How did such a remote location have so many people?
Flynn had to slow his pace as he made his way from the contractors’ control room towards the grotto, drinking a can of Red Bull.
‘Oh, hello.’
His way around the corner of the Ice House was blocked by a very young woman with red streaks in her hair pushing a buggy. She was familiar and he racked his maxed-out brain for a name. Melanie? Milly? No,Molly.
‘Hello,’ she said again.
Flynn didn’t have time for chit-chat but he also wanted to be polite and friendly.
‘Hi,’ he said, with a smile for Molly but mostly for the baby in the buggy, who was wearing a pink-eared hat and staring wide-eyed at the lights. ‘Enjoying the illuminations?’ he asked, wondering if the baby was Molly’s or not. She did seem pretty young to be a mum – probably still in her late teens or very early twenties at the most.
‘Yeah. It’s amazing. Esme loves it too.’
‘Molly! Here I am!’ An older woman with a cardboard carrier of coffees bustled up, her breath misting the air. ‘Sorry, the queues at the kiosk are so long. Bet you thought I’d been kidnapped.’
‘No, Nan,’ Molly said wearily. ‘Who would kidnap you?’
‘Cheeky! You’d be surprised,’ the woman said, bringing a smile to Flynn’s face despite his haste to be gone.
His radio crackled with a message. ‘Glad you’re having a good time. Don’t miss the Great Oak and the children’splay area, though the baby’s probably too young to appreciate it.’
‘A bit,’ said Molly, but smiled at Esme and held her hand. ‘But she loves the lights, don’t you, Esme? Your eyes have been like an owl’s all evening.’
So, the child was Molly’s, Flynn thought, giving her a wave before he hurried away. He didn’t think he’d see his own bed before midnight.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lara was en route to the grotto when she spotted Flynn striding off as she delivered some water and a mince pie to Santa.
She’d recognised a number of people from the village around the grounds and also recognised one of the women queuing as Molly, the waitress from the Waterwheel Café. She had a baby in a buggy and was chatting to an older woman with cropped grey hair who, Lara presumed, was probably a grandmother, auntie or older friend.
Santa’s Chief Elf – normally one of the office admins – asked the visitors near the front to wait a short while in the small entrance tent, which was decorated with LED figures of elves and woodland creatures.
After checking that Santa was surviving, she headed out of the tent via a side flap and through a gap between the walls and a line of Christmas trees that was out of bounds to the public.
It was possibly the only place on site where she could remain unseen while she sipped her own bottle of water and had a few minutes’ breather.
The evening was going better than she could have imagined and the reactions from visitors had brought happy tears to her eyes more than a few times. The superstitious worriesthat had nagged at her could be safely put down to lack of sleep and stress. While she sipped her water and thought about how much she’d like to hide in her nook for the rest of the evening, she heard Molly and her companion talking as they waited to be admitted to the grotto.
‘Do you know that tall man you were talking to, Molly?’ the older woman asked. ‘He’s one of the workers, isn’t he?’
‘Must be,’ Molly said. ‘He came in the café the other day.’
‘He’s handsome.’
‘He’s old.’
‘Old?’ Nan spluttered. ‘What? He can’t be forty yet. Probably nearer thirty-five.’
‘Like I said, he’s old,’ Molly replied, then added mischievously. ‘Still too young for you, Nan.’
