‘So, are you just going to stare at them or will you try one?’ he asks, but just as I’m about to lift one I look around to see Marion strutting towards us, smiling to herself as she marches, but then she sees me and her face turns sour.
‘Maybe later,’ I say to Charlie and before he can question my decision, I make a quick exit over towards the Santa Grotto where a group of parents and children are waiting impatiently in a haphazard queue, all under the guidance of a very cool young elf who is taking none of their nonsense.
‘It’s not the real Santa,’ I hear one of the youngsters say to her mother, who glares at her to be quiet. ‘I can see his ginger hair under his hat, Mam! Since when was Santa ginger?’
She has a point.
Santa, who seems to be doing his very best at being a good listener, sits on a painted park bench with a post box beside him. The small area is surrounded by a white picket fence, a yellow brick path that leads to where he sits and various ornamental reindeer, owls, snowmen and a rather annoying oversized train set which is playing ‘Jingle Bells’ on repeat. It’s not the worst effort I’ve seen, and I have to say Santa looks rather jolly amidst the commotion.
To my surprise he gives me a wave. I wave back, slightly cautiously.
‘I hope you’re on my nice list, Rosebud!’
It’s Rusty. I shake my head and laugh out loud.
‘For a change,’ I say, feeling very proud of him and his important role.
I watch on for a few seconds, allowing myself to soak up the excitement of the awaiting children, and the enthusiasm of the helpers who have pulled this community fayre together. Women and men in hi-vis vests go around with charity buckets, and I notice that each stall has one placed for customers to donate some change in aid of a well-known homeless charity. Sweet wafts of sugary treats fill the air, a small group of carol singers entertain the masses, and an inflatable snowman provides a popular photo opportunity. All in all, it’s very heart-warming and festive.
I glance towards the mince pie stall where Marion is now engrossed, all giggles and eye flutters up at Charlie. She keeps touching his arm and laughing out loud, fondling her hair. She is also wearing a rather fetching shade of pink lipstick which is very unlike her.
I feel he is trying desperately to make his escape, but she has him well and truly in her clutches. From a distance it looks like he’s doing a great job at playing along, but I can’t imagine he’s in the mood deep down for any of this commotion.
Marion is on a roll though, introducing him to everyone who comes their way as if he’s a prize for the raffle, and everyone who comes their way looks like they would gladly buy a ticket.
Charlie from the cottage, I hear some locals whisper.Isn’t he a babe? He’s staying there for Christmas.
I feel eyes on me too and realise we are most definitely the talk of the town, but Marion is making it very clear that she found him first.
I’ve nothing against Marion whatsoever. In fact, in days gone by, she and I got on quite well until she and my dad tore each other apart over the cottage, but that’s not really my fault or business. Anyhow, I admire how involved she is in her community, but I think it’s fair to say that the feeling is no longer reciprocal. If looks were daggers, I’d be dead by now. And that’s putting it mildly.
‘She’s doing it to annoy me, I know she is,’ Rusty whispers when I bump into him later as I enjoy a paper cupful of hot chocolate, marshmallows and cream with a chocolate flake. It was served up by the most delightful crew of costumed local actors who told me all about their up-and-coming pantomime. Cinderella herself insisted on making me their ‘Snow Queen Special’ and I can guarantee it has enough excess calories togo right to my already voluptuous hips – but it’s Christmas and I’m practically spending it alone so I don’t care.
‘You really think that’s all for your benefit?’ I ask, even though I could already guess the answer. ‘I thought she was trying to makemejealous, but if so, she’s wasting her time.’
‘Nope, it’s all for me,’ says Rusty, smacking his lips together. ‘Oh, she knows how to do it in style. I was sweltering in that Santa suit, trying my best to be jolly for the kids when all I wanted to do was tell her to catch herself on. We’re not teenagers any more. There’s no need for silly mind games.’
I don’t like to say it, but I don’t think Rusty has anything to be concerned about. Marion is a very attractive lady, and a popular one too, but I doubt if she’s on Charlie’s radar. He has enough on his plate from what I overheard earlier, plus she is at least twenty years older than he is, I’d guess.
Nonetheless, it’s hurting Rusty and that’s what matters most.
‘Gosh, Rusty, are things really that bad with you two?’ I ask him. ‘I never thought I’d see the day. I remember you two being love’s young dream.’
‘Me too.’
Rusty watches his wife in the distance as she does her thing, busying around the stalls, checking if anyone needs extra cash or wants to empty their charity collection boxes, while Charlie is still stuck minding her stall. It’s no surprise that her mince pie sales are now flying. From what I can see from here, they’re mainly being bought by women who are taking the opportunity to ogle the handsome stranger whois serving them up with a delightful smile, and even posing for a few selfies.
‘She’s all over him like a rash,’ Rusty says, his sad eyes glistening. ‘Like, he’s young enough to be her son.’
‘Hmm, just about at a push, but he’d make a nice toy boy,’ I tell him. He raises his eyebrows to insinuate that I’m not helping matters.
‘Thanks for that vote of confidence. Mind you, if she sees me sitting here with you it will only add fuel to the fire,’ he continues, his eyes jumping around and his left knee shaking with nerves. ‘Ah, I’m finding the whole thing exhausting, Rose. She’s raging I let you stay in the cottage. Especially that I didn’t tell her the change of plan.’
I knew I’d come into this somehow.
‘Wait a minute. So, you didn’ttellher?’
He shakes his head.
