When they finally got up to move, Maggie considered that it might have made more sense to do the wassailing before dinner. People groaned and stretched and pulled at waistbands. Verity and her friends were summoned down from the tree house to join in the procession.
Outside the protection of the woods, the weather had turned very cold, and even the bonfire did little to warm the air. Mugs were filled once again, and with the band in tow, the villagers of Rowan Thorp began the wassailing.
Fable Folk played ye olde Christmas songs and carols that everybody knew, or thought they knew, and everyone sang along regardless. They began by standing around the bonfire; some even danced a little. The cider probably helped with that. It also helped to keep the chill at bay as everyone wended their way back along the garden and out onto the high street, where the lights glowing in the windows and on the Christmas trees warmed the frosty scene with their happy colors.
Joe held Maggie’s hand for all to see. He beamed as though holding her hand was his every dream come true. Maggie felt as though her love for him was radiating from her. She didn’t have all the answers, she didn’t know what the future would bring—who did? But she had realized that it would be a waste of happiness not to welcome love when it came.
They wassailed along the high street calling out impromptu blessings on the businesses that they might prosper in the year to come. And they wassailed around Parminder and Gerry’s orchard, giving thanks for the cider—really heartfelt thanks for the cider—and welcoming in the good spirits so that next year’s wassail supply might be just as plentiful. They blessed the church and the pubs and the Rowan Thorp Twitchers and the Women’s Institute and the Cussing Crocheters and the Rowan Thorp Historical Society and the library and anything else they could think of.
The more the little crowd acknowledged the things that they were thankful for, the better they felt. Their gratitude filled them up even more than the banquet had done as they counted their blessings and found them to be bounteous: beloved friends, pets, gardens, stars, flowers, views, trees, food, warmth . . . Once they began, there seemed to be no end to the things that they were thankful for.
Eventually the procession led them back to the pubs, and the villagers parted like the red sea to enter either the Rowan Tree Inn or the Stag and Hound.
The North sisters and their significant others, along with Patrick and Verity, wandered into the Rowan Tree Inn. Joe and Patrick went to the bar and the others took a seat in one of the large curved banquettes. Verity was desperately tired, though she pretended not to be, and objected to all of Maggie’s suggestions that it might be time for them to go home.
“Please, Mama, can I stay up till the end?”
“This is the end, sweetheart, there’s nothing else after this.”
“Just let me have one blackcurrant squash.”
“One drink and then bed.”
“She’s going to be a party animal when she’s older.” Star smiled, pulling a fleece blanket off the back of the chair and draping it over her niece.
“No, she is not,” said Maggie. “She is going to work hard and then become prime minister.”
“No pressure, Verity,” Simone said, fondly stroking her hair.
“So, how do you feel about spending your first-ever Christmas together?” Evette asked the sisters.
Their smiles were enough of an answer.
“I never thought it would happen,” said Simone.
“I always hoped it would,” added Star. “But I don’t think I believed it ever could.”
“Our Christmases have always just been the three of us, just me and the kids. They’ve been lovely, but you know, sort of quiet, or as quiet as Verity ever is. She’s going to love having a big family Christmas. You’ll all come to ours, won’t you?”
Star and Simone nodded emphatically.
“I’ve been thinking that we all ought to chip in. I’ve no doubt you’d make a delicious Christmas dinner, Maggie, but why don’t we each make part of the dinner and bring it over to you, so that you’re not doing everything?” suggested Star.
“I agree. How about this: Maggie makes the starters and me, you, and Evette do all the rest?” Simone said. “Star and I will work it all out between us, that way you get to kick back a bit and enjoy Christmas Day too.”
“Are you sure?” Maggie asked hesitantly. She was torn between loving this idea and feeling guilty about not being the sole provider of Christmas for her family.
“Yes!” said Star exaggeratedly. “We’re all adults, let us help you.”
“Let us share the load,” said Evette kindly.
“In that case, oh my god yes please!” Maggie gushed. Christmas immediately ceased to be another monster she needed to slay and became something to look forward to. “But I’m still the big sister, right?”
“Always.” Simone leaned over and kissed her cheek.
* * *
Patrick came back to the table empty-handed.
“Joe’s still waiting to be served,” he said. “It’s like a rugby scrum at the bar.”
Maggie looked down at Verity, who—despite her protestations and the cacophony in the pub—had fallen asleep across her lap.
“Tell Joe not to worry about getting drinks for Verity and me. I think I’m going to get this little one home to bed.”
“Why don’t I take Verity home and you stay here and enjoy the rest of the night?” Patrick suggested. “You’ve worked so hard to make this evening happen; you deserve to have some fun.”
“That’s kind of you, love, but to be honest, I’m knackered myself. I’m probably not long from bed either. You stay and enjoy yourself.”
“If you’re sure,” he said.
She nodded, and Patrick disappeared back into the throng at the bar. A few moments later, just as Maggie was wiggling herself and a snoring Verity along the banquette, Joe appeared.
“Your packhorse awaits, my lady.” He grinned.
“You don’t have to leave just because I am,” she said, though she couldn’t deny she was pleased.
“As if.” He smiled warmly at her. “You know I’d rather be anywhere with you than here without. Hand Sleeping Beauty over and let’s go home.”
Joe picked up Verity, who flopped her arms around him and buried her head into the crook of his neck.
The music suddenly grew even louder, and a cheer went up around the pub.
Maggie called her good-byes and left them to their merriments. Simone had one arm slung around Evette’s shoulder as they rocked side to side singing “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day!” Star and Duncan were face-to-face, laughing as they sang loudly at each other. She noticed Louella slip between the punters at the bar and sidle up next to Patrick. She wouldn’t be expecting her eldest offspring home for a while yet.
Outside the pubs was just as busy, as patrons of each establishment mixed and mingled. The snow on Holy Trinity Green had almost gone, but as Maggie and Joe walked slowly along the high street, thick snowflakes began to flurry down around them. By the time they reached the flat, the snow had become a shower of feather-white lint, falling thick and silent, bright against the inky sky.