“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.

“People always say that, but if you like someone and they like you, what’s so complicated about it?”

“Billy, you are wise beyond your years.”

—

Aiden and Bill had set up a trestle table in the patio area and were ladling steaming mulled cider from two large vats into paper cups. The little pyres along the beach were lit, and the dark promenade was as busy as any sunny Saturday. John came in with a cup of hot cider.

“Come on,” he said. “Close the café for ten minutes and watch the procession. You too, Billy.”

Annie did as she was told.

The golden flecks of candles shimmered in the darkness like fireflies. The ghosts of Christmas swayed above the heads of the procession—lit with torches from below, by the puppeteers who held them—their robes rippling in the breeze, their huge faces ghastly in the cold light of the moon. The choir sang “Good King Wenceslas” as they processed, then “I Saw Three Ships,” “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and “Ave Maria.” As more people left the little fires on the beach to join the choir, they sang carols with more well-known lyrics like “Deck the Halls” and “We Three Kings.” When at last they reached the café, the ghosts were secured facing out to sea and the folk band picked up the music. Annie felt warm despite the cold. She saw Alfred a little way along the promenade and waved. He waved back.

“Come on, Annie!” shouted someone in the crowd. “What are you playing at, I’m starving!”

A roar of agreement went up.

“I guess that’s my cue!” Annie laughed. “Come on, Billy, let’s feed the hungry hordes.”

“We’ll give you a hand,” Peter called over; he and Alex had both had part-time jobs at the restaurant in their teens, so they knew the drill.

—