Chapter 3

"His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!"

- A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

Christmas was one of the busiest times of the year. In his 'old life' he could not have conceived of anywhere matching or indeed topping Downton Abbey, that grand residence, when it came to hustle and bustle and a stupendous whirlwind of preparations as the festive season approached.

That was, of course, until three years previous. The Swallow Bank Inn was not as opulent or vast as the stately seat belonging to the Granthams but it gave just as much occupation to its owners – if not more than their former place of employment. There were few weeks in the whole year when their residency was not at least three quarters full, and both Anna and John were incredibly grateful for it, sometimes finding it hard to fathom the degree to which fortune leaned so heavily in their favour. But neither questioned it too extensively.

Perhaps it was the clean break that did it, though they were barely two miles out of Downton, and popped back for visits whenever their schedules would allow.

It was also the case that the sun had shone upon them relentlessly – even in the coldest depths of winter – ever since New Year's Eve 1925. Since that most momentous and memorable day which had changed their lives forever they had been blessed with three more children, all of whom they cherished and adored as much their first-born. In so many ways they thought of each of them as their lucky charms, bringing incredible amounts of love into their lives and teaching them so much too. It most certainly could not be denied that they were the luckiest people on earth to have such an abundance of joy that persisted throughout the year.

The first Christmas they had spent as proprietors had been a rather surprising affair, being caught off-guard and not quite used to the rhythms and routines of the place. Since then John in particular had paid mind to the calendar and set the wheels in motion for the festivities as far in advance as the beginning of the autumn. His efforts had paid off to great effect last year and they were shaping up to do the same this season, which was a great relief. All of the food had been delivered and was in the processes of being prepared, entertainment had been arranged for the next day. Barring any unexpected illness from their small number of staff, all was on track and could not have gone smoother.

The hard work that had been carried out over the last few weeks meant that now, on Christmas Eve, he was more than entitled to a just reward, knowing that all was well taken care of.

A rush of warmth greeted him on the moment he stepped over the threshold of the adjoining cottage, a wreath on the door and candles glowing in the window denoting the time of year. Yet it was only when inside could any visitor truly feel the joy and excitement which heralded the close arrival of Christmas in this particular household.

He shrugged off his coat, hooking it along with his hat and scarf in the hallway. The wonderful scents drifted through from the kitchen to meet him, causing his stomach to grumble in anticipation; he would have to resist temptation and save himself for the feast that would later be in store, but surely a freshly-baked biscuit or two would not do too much to harm his appetite.

Sound was in fierce competition with smell for claiming the prize of dominant sense. The squeals of two very excitable little girls could be heard throughout the house, along with the most heartwarming giggles of a baby who was growing at an alarming speed with each day that passed.

A wide grin already occupied his face before he even made it through the doorframe leading into the kitchen, so often the hub of activity in their home and no different this early evening.

Anna was pottering about, apron around her waist and her hair hung in a loose braid, little Robbie planted to her hip. The twins were sitting at the table, which was strewn in loops of paper in all sorts of bright colours. They were so absorbed in their task that they were almost oblivious to his arrival; that was until he had been greeted by a shimmering smile from Anna, who announced a cheery "look who's home" to them.

Not five seconds later both girls had climbed down from their seats and had ambushed him, running around his legs and almost knocking his cane to the floor in their giddiness.

"Look what we've been doing, Daddy," Emma held out one of the paper chains in both of her hands, the length of that particular one so much that it sagged onto the floor, almost too much for her to hold.

Charlotte had instead elected to model the chain she had in her possession in a makeshift crown sitting on top of her head.

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the sight, never failing to be overwhelmed by love for their beautiful daughters.

"Mummy said there are enough for next year too."

Anna glanced over from the corner of the room, her smile furnishing her cheeks as their youngest child wriggled in her arms.

"Certainly so. We'll have to keep them for every year, we can't let such fine handiwork go unnoticed."

"They get that from you," Anna remarked whilst Robbie jostled for her attention, his pudgy hand attracted to the end of her braid.

The comment caused John to smile yet wider; he always considered her talents in that area to be far superior to his own.

Both girls hopped upon the floor, Emma now having followed the lead from her sister and wearing her chain like a necklace.

"They are the most marvellous decorations I have ever seen," he exclaimed with authority, eliciting happy grins from his daughters. "And I am sure that all of the guests will say the same when they see them pinned up in the dining room. We'll bring them over tonight."

The girls cheered in victory, Charlotte beginning to skip around the table trailing her chain behind her.

"But, Daddy," Emma said suddenly, a startled expression clouding her glee, "we have to make snowflakes too, and we haven't done that yet!"

"We were waiting for you to get home, Daddy," Charlotte added, clambering back onto the chair she had been sitting on, blonde head just about peeking over the top of the table.

Like their mother and their eldest brother, the twins were enchanted by anything to do with snow, and making snowflakes proved to be their favourite out of all the decorations they could possibly dream up.

"Of course," John replied, with not a hint of weariness in his voice even though he had been up since not much past half five that morning, "what would a Christmas be without snowflakes? You girls make a start on folding and I won't be a second."

"And make sure you tell Daddy when you want to use the scissors," Anna warned, any sternness apparent in her tone softened considerably by the love that was also held there.

"Yes, Mummy," the girls chorused in unison.

With both of them seated once more at the table, happily plucking up sheets of white paper, and with Robbie bundled in Anna's arms now that she had finished seeing to all the baking, there was just the one noticeable absentee from the family scene.

"Where's Will?" John asked, draping his jacket over the back of one of the empty chairs.

Anna rose her eyes to the ceiling, with baby Robbie lifting his head to follow suit.

"Practising," she answered, a smile in her eyes.

Bracing an arm against the counter, John shook his head. Theirs was very much a family business – the main reason for taking on a hotel formulated years before their children came along in an unusually quiet servants' hall – and the guests were very frequently delighted by the presence of the little ones in the dining room or 'sweeping up' in the corridors. He did not have the intention of involving them in the Christmas celebrations – which were still so new that they could hardly be called tradition as yet – until they were much older, save for them making decorations and greeting the gathered crowd with waves and smiles.

He recalled being rather taken aback when William had knocked on the door of his office in the hotel, looking perfectly serious as he asked whether he might sing a carol especially at the Christmas Eve dinner. The very notion of a host of people watching him whilst he raised his voice in song was his idea of a living nightmare. However it seemed that his eldest child had not taken after him in that respect, and he supposed that he should have been glad of the fact that Will was imbued with a greater confidence at such a young age.

As the days went by he wondered if he ought to say something, reassure his son that there was not the slightest need for him to go through with the performance – that, indeed, on this one occasion it really was quite alright to break a promise. But every time he thought of it Will looked towards him entirely instinctively with calm and quiet determination in his blue eyes, and dare John say it, rather a lot of excitement too.

William Bates was a child who could not be easily dissuaded.

Still, John Bates wanted to make his own feelings known.

"He's been doing that every single evening since I agreed that he could sing. I don't think it's good for him to be going through it all when there's only a few hours to go."

He knew that there was a frown marking his face, though he was trying his hardest not to let it show.

As was usual, Anna provided the counterbalance to his natural pessimism.

"He wants to get it just right," she said. "I'm afraid that we have made a child who is quite the perfectionist."

John sighed, the trait one which was painfully familiar to him and that he was sorry Will had appeared to have inherited.

His eyes lifted from a unspecific spot on the floor which he was worrying over to his wife's warm and comforting gaze, her hand touching him softly just below his elbow.

"I just don't want him to feel like he has to, for our sake, not if he has changed his mind." He knew he was a terrible brooder, and that it hardly fit with the carefree cheer of the season, but he was afraid that it was something that could never be helped. "He's at a formative age. You remember things that happen to you. Especially at Christmas."

Her hand moved from his arm to trace the curve of his cheek.

"It'll all be fine," she assured him, and he found that he believed the words far more when she said them as opposed to when they flitted through his mind briefly as one possible outcome of many. "The worst that'll happen is that he'll go blank, and nobody will mind. They'll all join in to help out." She gave a slightly impish smile as her eyes continued to look into his. "Even you will."

John rolled his eyes, reluctantly smiling. Of course he would do anything for his boy, and any of their children, but he would still not prefer to sing in public if he had the choice.

Robbie started to babble and shout as he wriggled again in Anna's arms, quite distracting John from his fretting.

"Don't tell me you're going to give a solo as well, my little lad."

"I think we might not have a say in that," Anna laughed, lifting the baby into the air for a moment until he was passed over into his father's arms for a cuddle. "We may well have our very own performing troop."

John smiled wryly, making silly expressions at their youngest as he cooed contentedly.

"I suppose that it's another option if the business ever dries up."

"Bad harvest," Anna muttered almost under her breath, a superstition that caused him to smile to this day. "I'd better get him bathed and changed soon, as well as get all of these treats boxed up. Honestly, it feels like it was only morning five minutes ago."

"I can take care of something," he said, bouncing Robbie up in his arms, the boy much his mirror image. "Everything is so in hand over there that I've felt a bit like a spare part today."

"It's not a bad thing to be organised."

"No," he smiled at his wife's verdict, "it certainly isn't. Okay, little monkey, what's say we make you up a bath?"

Not that Robbie could answer in the affirmative, but before he made another sound Charlotte piped up from the table.

"Daddy, the snowflakes!"

John shook his head, as if in sudden amazement.

"Of course. I don't know how I could forget about the snowflakes."

Anna nudged her elbow against his arm, taking Robbie back into her arms.

"You're even more in demand than usual, Daddy Bates."

He threw a smile over his shoulder, watching as they both disappeared from the room, before focusing his attention back on the very important task at hand.

"Well, girls, it looks like we have enough here for an entire blizzard."

Every table in the dining room was occupied, the tall tree glittering in the corner and decorated with the paper chains and snowflakes that the girls had crafted. The Christmas Eve dinner had been served up in three courses and all of their guests were suitably full, several different hums of conversation circulating.

The chatter was briefly interrupted by Emma and Charlotte, wearing matching red velveteen dresses, who took a small bag of sugar and cinnamon biscuits cut into star shapes to each one of the tables, both doing a little curtsey as they handed the homemade gifts over. In return they were presented with warm and sincere smiles, the female guests taking time to coo and comment upon how festive they looked.

Anna looked on at the girls' progress, her heart light with joy and offering encouraging smiles whenever they went back to retrieve more bags. Their daughters had inherited her love for the season, already filled with giddiness that could barely be contained on knowing that it wouldn't be long until Father Christmas paid their little inn a visit.

"All finished, Mummy!"

"Well done, girls. You did that so beautifully."

Two shining faces beamed up at her, very happy with their efforts.

"Mummy, can we leave the leftovers out for Father Christmas?"

"That's silly, Emma," Charlotte chided her sister, "Father Christmas doesn't eat biscuits. He only eats mince pies."

"I'm sure that he can take them back for Mrs Christmas," Anna offered gently, aiming to placate both girls.

She turned to her husband who was standing by her side, dressed so smartly in his newest three-piece-suit. A flutter spun around her stomach as she looked up to his full height; tiny flecks of grey had started to show through in his hair and his reading glasses were hanging from the breast pocket of his jacket, and she found him to be ever so distinguished and more handsome than ever.

He gave her a small smile, momentarily distracted from the piece of paper that was hidden in his palm.

"I suppose that now is as good a time as any."

"Hang on a minute."

She transferred Robbie and the stuffed robin toy he was clutching into the arms of Evie, their receptionist, and used her fingers to pick almost unidentifiable bits of fluff from the lapels of the suit jacket John wore.

"Once a spider monkey..." she heard him mutter under his breath, and she gave a little laugh.

"You're all good to go."

He gave her hand a small squeeze to show his affection, and then he was standing at the head of the room, ready to address the crowd.

Anna took in a breath, the fluttering that was in her stomach rising up to her chest. Years ago she never thought that such a thing would be possible, even if she never had the least bit of doubt about his abilities to charm an audience. It was just the case that he was ever so modest and always shunned the least bit of spotlight, preferring for someone else to take his place.

"First of all, myself and my wife would like to extend our warmest gratitude to all of you for choosing to spend at least some of your Christmases with us here, if not in every case all of them. We are humbled and honoured, and consider ourselves very lucky that the Swallow Bank has continued to be so successful."

A keen sense of pride came over her as she listened to John speak so eloquently, placing her hand upon Will's shoulder as he stood firm by her side.

"My wife will tell you all that I am a man of few words, and I'm not sure that there's much new to be said in these circumstances, so I will simply say that our family wish the merriest of Christmases to all of you and thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for getting to know us all and for enjoying your stays enough to come back, in many instances."

He raised the glass of spiced tea that was in his hand.

"Here's to a peaceful and prosperous New Year, and we hope to see many of you again as it endures. Thank you."

A round of applause flowed throughout the room, Anna clapping her hands the loudest.

He smiled in gratitude, stepping to the side slightly. "And now as another treat, our eldest child William would like to sing you all a Christmas song. I'm sure that you'll all know the words so please, do join in after the first verse."

Anna bent down to Will's height, giving him a final dusting off and smoothing his hair into place before he went forward.

"The very best of luck, sweet pea," she whispered to him, her stomach tightening.

She started to feel some of John's concerns as she watched their son stand where her husband had previously been. He looked so small – but ever so smart – and she wanted nothing more to rush up and wrap her arms about him, taking him away from the gathering and instead tuck him into bed where he would wait patiently for the magic of the morning.

Samuel, their deputy, played the first notes at the piano and Will's blue eyes widened as he looked about, perhaps not quite expecting to have such an audience.

Oh, please, she thought, let him be alright.

In the next second, his voice sounded out, so clear and bringing tears immediately springing to her eyes.

O come, all ye faithful

Joyful and triumphant

O come ye, o come ye

To Bethlehem

Come and behold Him

Born the King of Angels

Memories came flooding back in a rush; she could never hear this carol without thinking of that Christmas when she had felt near her lowest, ready to surrender the smallest bits of hope that she had clung desperately onto. And then, just in time, she had received the most wonderful surprise that she could possibly wish for.

Her heart filled up with the same warmth on hearing their boy sing the song, word perfect and impeccably in tune. She was the proudest mother that there could be, her cheeks glowing nearly as much as the Christmas tree as she stood, feeling ten feet tall.

With gentle voices, not wishing to intrude the boy's starring moment, the guests began to accompany him with their own singing.

O come, let us adore Him

O come, let us adore Him

O come, let us adore Him

Christ the Lord

The song continued with Will finishing the verse he had so diligently rehearsed and he took a bow with a smile on his rosy cheeks before scurrying off to his parents, sisters and brother, still held by Evie, while their guests continued with the rest.

"Did I do it well?" he asked, the most earnest of expressions on his face.

"Oh, Will," Anna crouched down to him again, holding her arms out and pulling him into a tight hug, stroking her hands at either side of his head, "you were wonderful."

The joyful smile he wore disappeared for a moment as he stood back on his heels to observe her.

"But you're crying."

"People don't only cry when they're sad, son," John said, his voice sounding somewhat distant to her from her current position. "They can cry when they're happy too, and you made Mummy very happy and proud. As I am too."

Emma and Charlotte ran in either side of William to cheer and hug him too, and while the girls made a circle around their brother, John helped Anna back to her feet, a comforting smile written upon his face.

"Memories?" he asked gently.

She nodded her head, unable to speak for a moment or two.

"I know," he said in reply, his hand held at the small of her back, "we're lucky we've made so many new ones since then."

She broke into a smile as his other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing and printing circles upon her skin.

"It's too early to say it yet."

Anna shook her head, the day not yet begun having started long ago since within her heart.

"Merry Christmas, John."

His eyes burned their deep amber as crinkles embedded themselves at their corners.

"Merry Christmas, my darling."

As happiness filled the room, stoked by the family who had worked together to create such a wonderful evening, a new song's harmony lifted in the air, high in spirit and hopeful in peace – a combination that was always sought at this time of year.

Hark the herald angels sing

'Glory to the newborn King!

Peace on earth and mercy mild

God and sinners reconciled'

Joyful, all ye nations rise

Join the triumph of the skies

With the angelic host proclaim:

'Christ is born in Bethlehem'

Hark! The herald angels sing

'Glory to the newborn King!'

A/N: Hope you enjoyed those three little Christmas instalments of past, present and future!

I have in my mind that this Christmas Future is in 1931...although perhaps I have made the children seem a little too old for their years, whoops. And hopefully I haven't given you a sugar overdose before Christmas arrives!

Thanks so much for all the kind reviews across the year, and Merry Christmas! :)