Christmas at the Island Hotel - Jenny Colgan Page 0,102
and winked. He stood up.
“May I speak? I wish to name the angel the Malcom Marsali Aoghas Fraser Bert William Effie Angel,” he announced grandly. “And I personally will pay for a plaque to commemorate the full name, to be placed at the base,” he added.
There was some silence over this. People started cheering and shouting, “Vote, vote, vote!”
Obviously Malcy did not want a vote he did not know he could win. There was some private conferring.
Eventually he returned.
“The provision is this: the statue will stay as long as Konstantin undertakes to keep it in good order and to return and tend to it. And make the plaque with all our names on it.”
Everybody cheered.
“Thank you,” said Konstantin gravely. “I realize you are an important man in this town.”
He turned to Isla delightedly.
“I’m not sure you can get rid of me that easily. It’s the law now.”
Chapter 74
The visiting Norwegians were well used to getting in extremely cold water and only had to be reminded, yet again, that here it was done with swimming trunks on, so they were all up for the Loony Dook.
The children were doing it because it was fun and naughty, and it meant their parents had to do it too so as not to look like wusses.
Candace decided to do it because she had a fabulous figure in a bikini, so any excuse. Also the light and the color of the water and the pale, pale white sand on the Endless Beach made it look like she was actually in the Bahamas, if the temperature hadn’t been 3 degrees Celsius, so she could take lots of excellent pictures for her Instagram. She was getting quite the following. She noticed Iona taking selfies in a particularly fetching spot and copied them exactly, to Iona’s stone-cold fury.
By eleven there was a piper burling up and down the beach and much laughing and bantering and remarks and swearing about how cold it was just to take your jumper off, but there was nobody there—apart from the older members of the community, who stood with warm towels and blankets and coats, and flasks full of hot coffee laced with whisky, and bacon sandwiches wrapped in silver foil—who wasn’t ready to get in.
At eleven sharp, the entire island lined up along the sand. There was a great horn blown—by Agot, naturally—and hand in hand, the entire long line ran down the Endless Beach screaming their heads off and into the freezing, churning water.
Several words were heard that would not have truly passed muster in front of the children, but it was only once a year. There was much shrieking, and most of the children ran in only up to their waists, figured that was enough, and immediately turned and charged back the other way, to be scooped up by adoring grannies and rubbed fresh pink.
The others, bolder, swam.
Konstantin loved the cold water and took Isla with him, deeper and deeper, and when he thought no one was looking, finally kissed her flushed face full-on, and laughed at her shock and joy as she wrapped herself around him.
Flora and Joel held hands, and Flora jumped up and down screaming while he endured the freezing water with complete and utter calmness, and she burst out laughing and said, “I am sure this is a metaphor for something about the two of us,” and he laughed too and grabbed her close, and they ran back out together, heading for Douglas, who was laughing and giggling in the blanketed lap of his doting grandfather, to swing him up between them.
Saif and Lorna swam out farther and farther and moved just close enough so their toes could entwine in the water, for it was not deep, and the sand that joins the world flowed over their numb toes. They couldn’t feel each other but they were still together: because sometimes even when we cannot feel each other we are still together.
And the town laughed as one and ran back in, glowing and jolly, feeling refreshed and cleansed and alive, under the watchful eye of the great Mure Angel, bright in the winter sun, lighting the way, keeping them safe.
لذلك سوف أميل دائما قلبي
أقرب إلى روحك
كما استطيع.
So I will always lean my heart
As close to your soul
As I can.
—Ḥāfeẓ, “The Woman I Love”
Eg stansa vel uviss, utan svar,
Som framfor eit ukjend land,
Om ikkje min kjærleik til deg var
For meg som ei lykt i mi hand.
I paused uncertainly without answer,
Finding myself set against an unknown land,
To see whether or not my love for you,
Was a lantern in my hand.
—Halldis Moren Vesaas, “Lyset”
Tha caoin-shlios mo leannain mar eal’ air a’ chuan,
Nas gile nan fhaoileann air aodann nan stuadh,
Mar shneachd air na beannaibh, mar chanach nam bruach,
‘S i furasta, suairc na giùlan.
My love is a swan on the ocean,
Brighter than gulls on the waves,
Like snow on the mountains, like wild cotton,
It is easy, and I shout aloud with joy.
—Dòmhnall MacLeòid, “An Cluinn Thu Leannain, An Cluinn Thu?”
Acknowledgments
Thanks: Kjersti Herland Jonson, my Norwegian publisher, who answered all my Norwegian questions so helpfully and kindly; Layla Al Ammar, Tom Holland, and M. Lynx Qualey for their help with Nizar Qabbani; Nicole Moore at Lynne Rienner Publishers, and Guri Vesaas.
Huge thanks to: Jo Unwin, Lucy Malagoni, Milly Reilly, Donna Greaves, Joanna Kramer, Charlie King, David Shelley, Stephanie Melrose, Gemma Shelley, and all at Little, Brown; Deborah Schneider, Rachel Kahan, Jennifer Hart, and all at William Morrow; Alexander Cochran, Jake Smith-Bosanquet, and Kate Burton.
About the Author
JENNY COLGAN is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous novels, including The Bookshop on the Corner, Little Beach Street Bakery, and Christmas at the Cupcake Café. Jenny, her husband, and their three children live in an actual castle in Scotland.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
Also by Jenny Colgan
500 Miles from You
The Bookshop on the Shore
The Endless Beach
Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
The Bookshop on the Corner
Summer at Little Beach Street Bakery
The Loveliest Chocolate Shop in Paris
Welcome to Rosie Hopkins’ Sweet Shop of Dreams
Meet Me at the Cupcake Café
The Good, the Bad, and the Dumped
Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend
Operation Sunshine
West End Girls
Where Have All the Boys Gone?
Do You Remember the First Time?
Working Wonders
Looking for Andrew McCarthy
My Very ’90s Romance
Amanda’s Wedding
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CHRISTMAS AT THE ISLAND HOTEL. Copyright © 2020 by Jenny Colgan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Cover design by Yeon Kim
Cover photographs © Lee Avison/Arcangel (building); © GMVozd/Getty Images (bells); © Elin Enger/Getty Images (wreaths); © Pakorn Kumruen/EyeEm/Getty Images (wreaths); © Westend61/Getty Images (ornaments)
Originally published as Christmas at the Island Hotel in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Sphere.
FIRST EDITION
Digital Edition OCTOBER 2020 ISBN: 978-0-06-291129-2
Version 08242020
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-291128-5
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-291140-7 (hardcover library edition)
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