December
It was at a
dinner party on St Andrews Day where the new Curate of St Agatha’s, 35-year-old
Derren Mcphail, had lost his heart.
It was in the
Pepperstock Green home of a local bigwig, author Chania Campbell, and he fell
for her almost the instant that she flashed him her glorious smile, and what a
smile it was, a smile that reached her dark, almost black eyes, sharp and
intelligent behind her gold rimmed spectacles as they sat perched on her
aquiline nose.
It was a smile
he had seen in his dreams many times since along with the image of the finely
chiseled features of her face.
That meeting in
her home was not their first that day, but the second, and the previous meeting
also made an impact on him, though in a different way.
It was at the
Church Wardens house when he went to use the downstairs bathroom and no sooner
had he gone inside and locked the door than he spotted Chania sitting on the
toilet, with her tights and underwear around her knees and her skirt hoisted up
her thighs, so not the most auspicious of meetings.
Despite that
awkward beginning there was a definite something between them and a few days
after the dinner party, she had invited him round so she could sign a copy of
her latest book for his niece Mia, and at the end of the evening they found
themselves beneath the mistletoe, and in order not to anger the Christmas Gods,
they kissed, but it was not a kiss of appeasement, nor the enactment of a silly
tradition, it was a gentle tender kiss that made his knees go weak.
After that he
was completely hooked but he did nothing about it after she drove him home in
the rain, he could do nothing about his attraction towards her because she said
“I’m off on my
travels again, but I should be back on St Lucy’s Day”
He didn’t know
where those travels were to or indeed their purpose, he didn’t know anything,
all he knew were her parting words
“Good night, I
hope to see you at the party”
Which he
subsequently found out was the St Lucy’s Night Party, held every year at The
Palladium Ballroom in Sharpington.
He was kept
very busy while Chania was away, first their was choir practice, almost every
evening, the second Sunday of Advent and of course St Lucy’s Day which was
completely new him.
It all began
once the darkness had fully descended with a celebration service and then after
the church service a parade of school children from local schools processed
along the promenade carrying their Lucy lights and then down to the beach where
they threw them onto the bonfire to light the Lucy fire, as it is believed that
St Lucy’s light can lengthen the days.
It was all very
pagan and a Swedish tradition originally, a mixture of the Christian and the
pagan really, something that was right up Alesha’s street, and he could
understand why she was keen to get back in time, though he hadn’t seen any sign
of her.
The St Lucy’s
day festival was always well attended as it’s such a unique event.
Christians from
churches far and wide attended the service at St Lucy’s Church and a healthy
crowd both church and secular turned out for the parade, even the odd humanist
had been known to turn up, but then most humanists were odd in his view.
But with such a
big crowd it was hardly surprising that he hadn’t seen her, if indeed she was
there.
Once the fire
was well ablaze and the singing began the crowds began to thin out as the
curiosity of the secular section soon waned at the first sniff of anything
religious.
When the
proceedings were brought to a close the children were all marched back to
school and the rest of the crowd dispersed.
A couple of
volunteers stayed on the beach to guard the fire and then Derren walked across
to Palladium Ballroom.
Once he was
inside he soon discovered where the crowds had dispersed and the party was
absolutely humming, and there were hundreds of people on the dance floor alone.
“This is
hopeless” he said to himself “I’ll never find her in here”
He turned
disconsolately and headed towards the door, but he only managed two paces
before he was halted in his tracks
“There you are”
she said, and he looked up to see the unmistakable smiling face of Chania
Campbell, a little less glamourous than the last time he’d seen her, in a
purple cloche hat, and a thick dark grey wool dress, which nonetheless showed
off her delicious shape rather well, and knee length leather boots
“Oh hello” he
said
“I’m glad
you’re here, I was beginning to think you hadn’t made it back in time”
“Oh, I’ve been
here for the whole thing” she said then she grabbed his hand “Come on let’s
dance”
And she dragged
him into the middle of the dance floor
“Did you say
you’ve been here for the whole thing?” he asked when they were face to face.
“Yes”
“I was looking
for you” he said
“I know, I saw
you”
“I don’t
understand” Derren said, “Why didn’t you come and say hello earlier?”
“Because I
wouldn’t have been able to resist doing this” she said and kissed him, and it
was an even more potent kiss than the one they shared beneath the mistletoe a
week earlier
“Do you think
it would have been appropriate to do that while you were performing the duties
of your curacy?”
“Highly
inappropriate I should have said” he replied
“I’m glad you
agree” she said, “so can we get back to the kissing now?”
“We could find
somewhere a little less crowded” he suggested
“Good shout”
she agreed
They made their
way off the dance floor and collected their coats from the cloak room and then
left the Palladium and Chania slipped her arm through his as they walked along
the promenade until they reached the first Victorian Seafront shelter.
As the wind was
blowing offshore, they moved to the side of the shelter facing the sea and sat
down on the bench.
“Now can you
remember where we got to?” he asked
“Oh, I
remember” she said and kissed him in the same gentle tender way that made his
knees go weak when they kissed beneath the mistletoe, and they would have done
the same that time had they not been sitting down.
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