Alf made a non-committal noise. ‘Can you turn the lights on?’
‘Hang on! They’re not all up yet,’ Steve called from behind the tree.
Lola and Freya stepped forward to help. Lola made a beeline for Tristan and grabbing one end of the lights, began to work with him to untangle them, their bodies blown close by the breeze.
‘That was hard work,’ he said in a low voice so that Sue didn’t hear. ‘I didn’t think we’d get it done.’
‘But you have and it looks smashing,’ she said, glancing down at the lights. It appeared they had tied themselves in more knots. Lola held up her hands. ‘Oh dear, I think we better concentrate.’ She glanced over her shoulder where everyone was watching them. ‘I’m feeling the pressure!’
Once the structure was draped in lights and all the decorations were in place, Tristan said, ‘Shall we see if it works?’
Everyone stood back and waited with bated breath while Tristan turned the lights on. The tree sparkled into life and twinkled with all its rustic, seaside beauty. They all stared at it in awe, not quite believing they had managed to pull it off. Lola wiped a tear away; it was truly marvellous.
‘It’s beautiful!’ Sue gushed, giving them a little round of applause. ‘You’ve all done a fantastic job, it’s far exceeded my expectations. I was silly to doubt you.’
Freya slipped an arm around Angelo and gave him a congratulatory squeeze.
‘It’s wonderful,’ Lola said from where she stood next to Tristan. ‘I love it. Sue, your vision was perfect.’
‘It’s come out a treat,’ Alf said as he took a slow lap around the base, glancing up at the lights and layers. ‘I’m almost ninety but there’s always something in life left to surprise me. A lobster pot tree, hey,’ he chuckled, before grinding to a halt. ‘But it’s missing something!’ Six faces turned to him in bemusement. ‘It needs a fairy on the top. Or a star. There used to be one that we put on top of the Christmas tree every year, just some doll and people would take it in turns to sew her a new dress, but we always used to put the fairy on top of the tree before the official switch on.’
‘Do you know where she is?’ Lola asked.
‘No. Vanished years ago, like everything else round here,’ Alf said sadly. ‘Maybe a seagull made off with her or she ended up in the bin after being pecked one too many times. She had an eye missing, terrified the little ones.’
‘I’m sure we can find something,’ Sue placated. ‘You’re right, it does need something on the top.’
‘But something modern,’ Tristan said, ‘as a village we’re moving forwards, not back, so this should be a symbol, a beacon of hope for the future.’
Silence fell over the assembled group as they contemplated what to do. Angelo stepped forward and, hands on hips, stared up at the bare top of the tree. Everyone waited. Angelo had sworn off making art when he arrived in Polcarrow. He was adamant that he was here to make a new life with Freya at Bayview, not to start painting or sculpting. However, it didn’t take a genius to notice something had shifted in him, as if he was listening to a call no one else could hear. Lola glanced at Freya, who was looking at her boyfriend with nervous excitement.
‘You’re right, it does need something modern,’ he said before lapsing into silence for a few more moments, running his hand down the side of the tree. Angelo’s silence was broken only by the squawks of some curious gulls who came to give the tree their approval.
‘I could make something.’ Angelo seemed as surprised by his words as everyone else did. Sue and Alf’s faces lit up at the suggestion. ‘I am supposed to be on sabbatical . . . but .?.?. I don’t know . . . I feel it calling to me.’
Tristan turned to Angelo. ‘Are you sure? There’s no pressure but I do agree this tree needs to be finished with something a little extra special.’
Angelo simply gave a quick, tight nod in response. ‘Leave it with me.’
Chapter Nine
Monday, 4th (later on)
Dear Diary
Everything is so different here but in a way that I love. I feel like I could stretch my arms out and gather it all in. The sun, the sea air, the calmness fill me in a way I didn’t think anything could. I think Ida and Joan are a little bored now they’ve been for a swim, looked at everything in the shop and sampled the local cider in the pub. They’re talking about taking the bus to St Ives or Penzance but I’m perfectly content to stay here. At home it’s such a struggle to get up when my alarm goes off, but not here, it’s almost as if the sun creeping over the horizon is teasing me awake. This morning I threw on whatever clothes came to hand and, after grabbing an apple, I went down to the beach again to see the fishermen. I’d waded into the sea, almost in up to my knees before I heard a commotion behind me. I watched as the men came out, pushing their boat towards the sea. There were six of them, all sorts of ages, some wizened by the sun and sea, others young, not yet tainted by their work. My gaze was fixed on the one at the back, the same tall one from yesterday with the strong muscular forearms. When he looked at me I swear my heart skipped a beat. We kept looking at each other as he went out to sea. I wonder who he is. I’m determined to find out.
Lola reclined in post-work bliss. It had been a successful day what with her invitation for Christmas dinner having been gladly received and the lobster pot tree standing proud on the seafront waiting for the big switch on at the weekend. The added bonus had been that the Polcarrow residents had picked up gingerbread lattes on their way to inspect the tree.
Having indulged in a long soak in the bath, topped off with all her favourite lotions and potions, Lola was ensconced in her living room, the television flickering a nature programme in the background, sound turned down, a glass of Baileys on hand, whilst she concentrated on her next project: knitting Alf and Scruff’s Christmas jumpers. Knitting was another skill Ruby had taught her. Lola smiled to recall how wonky her first attempts at a scarf had been, a deep red one she’d knitted in secret for Ruby for Christmas – red being her favourite colour because it matched her namesake. It had been misshapen, there had been dropped stitches and even a couple of tiny holes. Lola smiled as she remembered Ruby wearing it proudly, telling everyone on the bus how talented her granddaughter was.
Reaching for her phone, Lola texted Tristan the latest update in the Ruby saga:
Ruby’s 100% got her eyes on a fisherman! She’s swooning in her diary.
The sunshine-filled pages had been a balm after the freezing day they’d spent on the harbour side
His reply was almost instant:
