When the doorbell rang, I was a wreck with nerves. I took a deep breath, double-checked my makeup, straightened my shoulders and…opened the door to two drenched people, in matching stripy green-and-red headbands with elf ears on, a bell wobbling away. “Don’t ask.” The girl shook her head, making the bell jingle even more. “We thought we owed it to Hol.”

The guy next to her was wearing a sweater that said, “Rolling with My Snowmies.” He looked…I couldn’t tell. Scared?

“Yup.” The girl looked me up and down. “You actually are a supermodel. I’m Ruby, by the way. Oh.” She dug her hand into her pocket. “And we got you these…” She held out a bag of potato chips…Walkers Pigs in Blankets. They looked like meat in…more meat?! Not like the ones back home at all. “Eat these, and you’re basically British.”

I liked her already. I said thanks and waited for Probably Fred to introduce himself. I flashed him a smile, a real big, cheesy one. But nothing. Guess it was on me.

“I’m Elle.” I put my hand out. He took it, shook it, and just said one thing.

“Yes.”

I guess this definitely was Fred, then. Holly had warned me. He then stared some more and said, “American.”

“Don’t mind him. He’s not good with mornings.” Ruby prodded him in the ribs. “Or afternoons. Want to grab your coat? I’ve got till…” She looked at her watch. “Two. Rehearsals are Hec-Tic.”

Despite the rain, we set off on a route around the village. As we walked, Fred confirmed he was indeed Fred, which was progress, but then started reeling off all these facts (“Queen Victoria once had a sandwich here,” “the plague decimated this street,” “there was a massacre in that field”), all while eating a “sausage roll,” which Fred had to explain through the flying crumbs. Not exactly the insider info I was after, but I tried to make all the right noises, as I did really appreciate them giving up their time.

Ruby got it though and helped me find all the best spots for photos and even lent me the hot spot on her phone to post them. Pics of the main street, a mailbox in front of a holly bush, a post office that had a knitted squirrel in the window wearing a Christmas hat, and a little bridge with lights all along. Fred couldn’t have looked less interested in the #FestiveFifteen challenge if he tried, but it was worth it, as the likes were coming in and I hit five hundred new followers.

“So…” By the time we’d visited Mom’s old house then got to the little church, I decided it had been long enough to ask the question I couldn’t quite figure out. “How do you think Holly will manage? At mine?”