Annie smiled and went back to sprinkling edible glitter over a batch of warm orange-spiced snowflake cookies.
Annie had decided to stay open all day today, so when Gemma left for the school run, Annie had a couple of hours to manage by herself before Billy arrived after school for the evening shift. At half past three, Sam’s van pulled up with Pam and Raye, and they wrestled Charles Dickens’s giant papier-maché ghosts into the back garden. Annie hoped the sight of these leering effigies wouldn’t induce Alex and Peter to turn tail and run when they arrived.
“Oh, Annie, it looks wonderful in here!” cooed Sam.
“You don’t think it’s too much?” Annie, swept up in the festive spirit, had added to the already bounteous decorations by interlacing more fairy lights around the café, which had begun to resemble an alpine chalet crossed with a Santa’s grotto in Las Vegas.
“Too much!” blustered Pam. “It’s Christmas; there’s no such thing as too much at Christmas.”
“I agree,” said Raye. “It feels magical in here, with all the wood and the twinkling lights, and that view. You’ve created a winter wonderland.”
“And let’s face it, it’s bloody bleak outside!” added Sam. “I dare anyone to walk past on a day like today and not be drawn in. Honestly, Annie, it’s like an oasis of cozy.”
Annie felt warm inside.
Maeve marched in. “Hello! Crikey, that smells good, what time are we eating?”
“Not till six,” said Annie.
“Good God, I’ll have withered to nothing by then. Better make me a large mocha to keep me going, and I’ll take a slice of that ginger cake. And a couple of those biscuits. And a packet of crisps.”
The folk band set up beneath a hastily erected gazebo and pretty soon their rendition of “Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues was filling the café as they warmed up. Alex, Peter, and Greg arrived just before six o’clock.
“And what the fuck are they?” asked Peter, nodding to the papier-maché giants stood like a grotesque welcome party by the steps.
“They are the ghosts of past, present, and future,” said Annie, pulling each of them in turn into a bear hug. “So, you’d better watch yourselves!”
“Mum, this is amazing,” said Alex, after they had given Greg the world’s shortest tour around the flat. They were standing in the café now. It was the first time they had seen it other than in photographs.
“He’s not wrong, Mum,” said Peter. “I’m really proud of you. Is that weird for a child to say to a parent? Fuck it, who cares, I am really proud of you!”
“Me too,” agreed Alex.
“I concur,” added Greg. “When my parents split up, my mum kept posting pictures of herself drunk, dancing on pub tables, and draping herself across men half her age.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Annie.
Greg grimaced. “This is a much bigger up-yours to Max than photos of you poking your tongue in a Greek waiter’s ear,” he said.
Annie hummed, and Alex and Peter nodded, looking as though they were glad to have dodged that particular bullet.
John came in and introduced himself. “Good to meet you at last,” he said, shaking hands with each of them. “Your mum talks about you a lot. All good things, obviously.”
“Well, isn’t that a coincidence,” said Alex. “Because she talks a lot about you too!”
Peter sniggered.
“Okay, then!” said Annie quickly. “You’ve got hot drinks, now off you go outside, I’ve got customers to serve.”
“Does that include me?” asked John.
“You can stay if you don’t cause trouble.” Annie smiled. She was acutely aware of being watched by Alex and Peter. Greg was smirking.
“You’d better come with us, then,” said Peter. “Mum says you are a bit of a troublemaker.”
“Does she, now?” John’s eyes twinkled as he grinned at her.
Annie felt hot.
“Come on, then, lads,” said John, “let me introduce you to the locals.”
They all four headed outside. All this flirting with no actual action was doing nothing for Annie’s delicate hormones; one of these days she would spontaneously combust, and all that would be left in the ash would be her pixie boots and her contraceptive coil.
“Do you fancy him?” asked Billy with his usual guilelessness.
Annie snorted. “It’s complicated,” she replied.