There was never a shortage of food at the big house at Christmas, even in the servants' hall. Mrs Patmore made sure that nobody was ever left wanting, and once the family were taken care of there was more than enough to go round.
Out of everything that was on offer – and most years there was everything that anyone could ever think of or want – Anna's favourite was something perhaps unexpected, or at least not the item that most people would choose.
She was always extremely happy when she could finish the day with a warming mug of cocoa. It was a treat that wasn't only reserved for Christmas, of course, but Mrs Patmore would make it more regularly in the run up, even with everything else she had to do, and Anna was grateful for it. They would sit round of an evening, talking and laughing with their hands wrapped around their mugs, and it was as though magic was being weaved in the air, through the existence of things so simple.
It's because you have a sweet tooth, John would say as the years went on, laughing fondly at her preference. She agreed, but it didn't feel as indulgent as say, a generous helping of Christmas pudding with custard or cream. It was an understated pleasure, but one that was nonetheless delightful.
Mrs Patmore would often give them the leftovers to take back to the cottage, or, sometimes, she would make more than she really needed to, especially for Anna; though she didn't say so explicitly, so as not to attract criticism from certain quarters who were not shown quite so much special regard.
There were years that she was especially glad of the comfort it provided, the fire going in front of them and the mug in her grasp, which would loosen gradually as she relaxed and felt a sense of calm coming upon her, her head and her eyes drooping while John was sat by her side.
Sometimes, the most simple things were the best, and the feelings they created were never to be taken for granted.
It had been quite a busy day, indeed. There had been a flurry of arrivals and departures at the hotel, at what seemed like all at once. It also just so happened to be the day that Anna had promised the children that they would do some baking. She was quite sure that they would have been understanding if she had chosen to delay to another day, but instead she pressed on, not keen on letting any of them down. The hopeful looks on their faces and shining in their eyes was simply too much to deny.
It took the whole of the afternoon, and the kitchen was in need of a good sweep afterwards to properly clear all of the flour and bits of pastry that were strewn about, but a proper clean could come the day after. Between the four of them they had made biscuits, gingerbread, fairy cakes and even a few mince pies. Most would be for the guests at the hotel, but it was perfectly acceptable to keep those that weren't quite up to scratch appearance-wise for themselves. The majority were to be saved for Christmas itself, yet there was no harm in having a little something now, at least after dinner had been eaten.
John put together a wonderful fire, and when it was roaring in the hearth both Emma and Charlotte begged their father for a story. He was quick to acquiesce, and while they got themselves comfortable and he searched for the right book to read from, Anna prepared something to go along with their sweet treats, having in mind that it was a very good opportunity for it.
All three were delighted when they were passed their mugs of cocoa, having inherited a love of sweetness from their mother. She warned them gently to wait for it to cool, lest they burnt their tongues. By the time they were all settled down – the children gathered around John on the settee as he read the chosen tale, and Anna watching and listening from the seat by the fire – it was the perfect time to partake.
Any other day and she might have worried that the biscuits combined with the cocoa could have been an unhelpful combination, but the sugar did not provide enough of a rush to keep them wide awake that evening, given all of their hard efforts throughout the day.
She would have been asleep herself, if she hadn't wanted to relish in the sight of John and their darling son and daughters snuggled up together on the settee.
As it was, she finished off the contents of her mug and smiled, wondering whether any dream she would have ever again could be as perfect as the life she was living.
She very much doubted it.