Page 16 of A Festive Surprise

Chapter Seven

Farid

Farid grinned at Georgia’s little shop, The Boat Shack. Constructed like an upturned boat, it was both quirky and appealing. And so fitting with the sea backdrop. Inside, she and her friend, Autumn, had decked it out beautifully with handmade artisan products. Farid browsed their latest creations, lifting candles to his nostrils and inhaling the perfect blends. Sea breeze aromas mingled with something spicier and warmer.

He picked up a toffee coloured one in a jar labelled Gingerbread Hugs, then a dark navy one with glitter throughout named Starry Night. Finally, a rich brown one with a white top: Christmas Cake. Something about this one called to him.

‘What is in this?’ he said. ‘I love it.’

Both Georgia and Autumn looked around. Neither woman was tall, but both had smiles to light up dark places. Autumn tossed a mane of red hair over her shoulder. ‘It’s a bit of a trade secret, but it’s mainly citrus, mixed spice and almond, to give a hint of marzipan.’

‘Ya’ni, it smells beautiful. I would like to make a Christmas cake.’

‘They’re complicated.’ Georgia aligned a snow scene canvas on the wall. Real lights twinkled magically from it, like starlight through trees. ‘You have to leave them to stew for several weeks.’

‘Like a Christmas pudding.’ Autumn placed a candle on a glass shelf and stepped back. ‘But there’s still time. Just don’t leave it much later.’

‘I might need some help.’

‘I could try,’ said Georgia. ‘But I’m not great at baking and I’m really busy.’

‘I’ll ask my neighbour.’ Farid took another sniff of the candle.

‘Oh, my god, no.’ Georgia held up her hands. ‘I don’t think she’s speaking to me after the decorations. She hates Christmas.’

‘Ah, we’ll see.’ Farid tipped his head. ‘I’m working on her.’

Georgia’s eyebrows raised into the strands of the tousled bob covering her forehead. She cast a brief glance at Autumn.

‘What?’ Farid threw up his palms, pulling an innocent face.

‘I dread to think.’

‘Nothing to dread. All good.’

Georgia chuckled, returning to the shelves and adding some wintery prints to a box.

‘Can I see the grotto?’ Farid said. ‘I wonder always what a grotto is.’

‘Sure. Just go in. I’m not sure why it’s called that. It’s a place where kids can meet Santa and get a present.’

‘One of these traditions no one understands.’ The list was getting longer every second.

‘I guess. Christmas started two thousand years ago with the birth of Christ. But before that, there were pagan festivals, Yule, Saturnalia and midwinter. All these have been absorbed into Christmas over the centuries and other things keep being added on. Every family has their own traditions peculiar to them.’

‘It’s confusing when I haven’t grown up knowing them.’

‘You can make your own too,’ said Autumn. ‘My husband, Richard, is an atheist and doesn’t really care about Christmas, but I enjoy it, so we’ve decided to make our own traditions. We’ve drawn on Christmassy inspired ideas but we’re making them into what we want and what suits us.’

‘Exactly,’ said Georgia. ‘It’s like Australians and Kiwis who want the traditional Christmas lunch. They roast turkeys on the barbecue and have beach parties wearing swimming costumes and Santa hats.’

Farid clapped his hands and smirked. ‘Not sure you’ve made it easier to understand or worse. What a lot to remember. But thank you. I look at the grotto, then go. Your logs are out front.’

‘Thanks, Farid,’ said Georgia. ‘If you want to come back on Saturday, Santa will be here. You can sit on his knee and get a pencil set.’

He facepalmed. ‘How very strange.’

Georgia and Autumn chuckled.

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