Transporting each giant saucepan of onion and cider soup to the clearing was a two-person job. The waiting trestle table groaned as it received the weight of the pans, but the fragrant pottage was quickly spooned into bowls and passed eagerly along the tables to be scooped up with roughly torn chunks of crusty bread slathered in cold butter. The band took a brief break from serenading the diners to tuck into the warming soup, and when they took up their instruments again and began to sing “Good King Wenceslas” it was with a renewed vigor.
“I feel like I’ve traveled back to medieval times,” said Simone, slurping a translucent tendril of onion off her spoon.
The first course had been served and the sisters were perched at the end of one table, hurriedly enjoying mugs of soup before the next round of fetching and carrying. The sweet choral voices of Fable Folk drifted around the woods and below that was the gentle hum of contented conversation, like midsummer honeybees in the hedgerows.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we evoked the spirit of King Wenceslas himself,” Star joined in.
“I’d rather not have our woods haunted, even by a member of ancient bohemian royalty,” Maggie added, tearing off a piece of bread and plunging it into the thick soup.
* * *
A cheer went up when platters piled high with roast pork and chicken landed on the tables. These were followed by the nut roasts and the vegetable dishes. Artemis, weaving between the legs of the guests, gratefully received the morsels they dropped in her direction.
The tables were groaning with food, and the patio heaters and wassail were doing their job to keep the banquet and the guests warm. When every mug was refilled, the North sisters raised their own for a toast.
51
Maggie took a deep breath and felt the comforting presence of Simone and Star on either side of her.
“When Vanessa first read out Dad’s wishes, I think my sisters and I unanimously thought, ‘This is going to be an absolute ball ache!’？” This got cackles of laughter from around the tables. “And in fairness, it has been.” More snickering. “It has been challenging. At times, both my sisters have wanted to throttle me, and I them. But it has also been the most amazing experience. I have lived in Rowan Thorp on and off for much of my life, and yet I had somehow forgotten what a remarkable joy a close community can be, the bone-deep comfort of belonging somewhere. Thank you all for reminding me. Dad’s caveats have made me appreciate where I live and the people around me, and I am deeply grateful to some very powerful women who have made it possible for me to continue living here. Tonight is a joint effort, and we thank you all for everything you have done to help make this winter solstice event happen. This experience has taught us a lot, and though I don’t think any of us would profess to be suddenly overflowing with wisdom, we are wiser people than we were a month ago for sure. Our dad was one of a kind . . .”
Quips of “That’s an understatement,” “Hear! Hear!,” “You’re not wrong there!,” and lively guffaws ran around the tables.
“He was by no means perfect. But by forcing us to work together, he made sure that me and my sisters found each other again; without this, I’m not sure we ever would have. So”—Maggie and her sisters raised their mugs, and everyone else stood to join them and raised their own—“cheers to all of you! Cheers to my sisters! And cheers to Augustus Balthazar North! You were a strange old bugger, but it turns out you knew us better than we knew ourselves!”
A unanimous “Cheers!” went up.
“Happy winter solstice!”
This too was parroted by the guests. The sisters sat down, and Vanessa stood and cleared her throat.
“Now that we’re all gathered here, I have one final letter from Augustus, which, as he left in his instructions, was to be read out at the solstice feast.”
“How unlike our father to have the last word,” Simone quipped, and the guests around the tables tittered.
Vanessa opened a stiff envelope, just like the ones that had landed on the sisters’ doormats three short weeks back, and pulled out a sheet of pale cream paper. Artemis jumped up onto a table and sat beside Vanessa like a sentry.
“Somehow I thought you’d make an appearance for this,” she said to the cat. Vanessa cleared her throat and began to read.
My darling babes of the woods, if you are listening to these words, it means you have succeeded in reinstating the winter solstice festival. But, my girls, you have done so much more than that. You have found your way back not only to the community of Rowan Thorp but also to one another. Well done! Keep this sense of togetherness in your hearts as you move forward.
The winter solstice marks the longest night of the year and the promise that soon the sun will be back again. But winter is not merely a trial to be got through while we wait for warmer times. You must embrace the cold days and long dark nights and learn to find the joy in them, for there is much joy to be found. Hunker down and revel in the warmth of soft blankets when the weather is howling outside. Make the time to take time, not just for others but for yourselves. Read books, light candles, take long baths, watch the flames flickering in the fireplace or the rain dribbling down the windowpanes. Open your eyes to the beauty in the winter landscape and count your blessings every single day. Slow down. There will be time enough for buzzing around with the bees when the sun comes back. For now, let the moments stretch long and lazy. Recuperate, rejuvenate, reflect, and let winter soothe you. Let this winter solstice be the first of many times this winter that you come together to give thanks and appreciate the people in your life. Gratitude is everything. It is infinite, and even in death I know that the warmth of my gratitude for all of you lives on in the spirit of this season. My heartfelt thanks to the people of Rowan Thorp, whom I know will have helped my girls so much.
Marguerite, Simone, Heavenly-Stargazer Rosehip, I was not always with you in person, but my love for you was always and forever will be transcendental. I am watching you from the stars and I am shining with pride. Always yours, Dad.
A moment of peaceful reflection drifted over the little gathering in the rowan tree woods, as all around the tables thoughts turned to loved ones who were no longer here with them, and those who were gathered counted their blessings for the ones who remained. For Maggie, Simone, and Star, they had finally got the acknowledgment that they had hankered after from their father and each had the sense that they could lay at least some of their old ghosts to rest. They had found one another despite the obstacles between them and they vowed silently never to lose sight of one another again.
Through this quiet contemplation, the woods made themselves heard. Boughs creaked. Snow, dislodged from laden branches by the feet of small creatures, swished and pitter-pattered down onto the woodland floor. The bonfire outside crackled and hissed while the songbirds in the clearing sang their last melody of the day. And on a table, surrounded by the detritus of a very merry banquet, a large black cat with two white circles around her eyes purred contentedly.
52
Despite everyone proclaiming they couldn’t eat another bite of dinner, they somehow found room for the Women’s Institute’s chocolate yule log and the much-whispered-about Rowan Thorp gateau, which turned out to be a spiced chocolate and damson cake, layered with whipped cream and rowan berry jam and topped with a thick layer of dark chocolate ganache.