Tintagel had transformed overnight. When Lucy had walked back through the village at a little after ten p.m., it had been a hive of activity, with food and trinket stalls being set up all along the road from the Castle Hotel right up to the cricket ground nearly a mile away. What had then been indistinguishable wooden sheds had now taken on an identity with colourful signs outside, and strings of fairy lights hanging right the way along both sides of the street. Lucy saw signs advertising crepes, ice cream, fudge, pasties, German candies, Swedish meatballs, hotdogs, burgers, hot mulled wine, Black Forest gateau, as well as a dozen others selling homemade toys, gifts, and Christmas ornaments. Decorated fir trees in pots lined the road between each stall and the road itself had been closed t
