(Part 01)
Thirty Five year old Ross Clarke lives in the village of Mornington-By-Mere, which is a small country village lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
But Mornington-By-Mere is not just a quaint chocolate box English Village it is the beating heart of the Finchbottom Vale and there were a number of cottages and small houses on the Purplemere road and Dulcets Lane which form the part of Mornington Village known as Manorside where Ross lived in a small two bedroom cottage in the row of West Gate Cottages on the banks of the River Brooke and he lived there with his grandfather.
Ross Clarke loved Christmas and it really irritated him when he heard people whining about what a crap Christmas they had because their mother in law over did it on the sherry and told everyone what she really thought about them or when their wife's uncle Stan spent Christmas afternoon asleep on the sofa breaking wind with monotonous regularity.
Or their brothers new girlfriend who kept hitting on her sister in law or the Gran who said
"Just a small dinner for me, I don't have much of an appetite" then spent the afternoon eating all the chocolate Brazils.
It really made him angry because their bitching and moaning always brought him down at his favourite time of year.
It also wound him up when he thought about those who through no fault of their own had truly awful Christmas’s, like his Grandfather who was one of the half a million or so men of the allied forces, who along with six hundred thousand Germans who spent Christmas 1944 outside in the snow of the Ardennes forest during the battle of the bulge.
Men who sheltered in foxholes, scratched out of the frozen earth with no hot food or drink.
Unable to light fires for fear of giving their position away to the enemy and regularly coming under enemy fire or being shelled.
And sometimes once they had hewn out a decent sized foxhole and settled down into it out of the icy wind, an order would come down the line to move out and they would move a hundred yards or sometimes less and dig another hole.
He wanted to tell all the whiners to go and bitch and moan to one of those old soldiers and see how they would laugh at their petty gripes, they certainly wouldn’t get any sympathy.
He had spent a of time with his grandfather since his teens but for the last three years that time was spent at the Briarbank Hospice and they spent that time talking at length.
But for the last three months the conversations had been very one sided.
But there had been another reason for his visits other than seeing his grandfather, and that reason was Linda Perch, a thirty four year old palliative care nurse.
(Part 02)
It was 9 o’clock on Christmas Eve when he arrived at the hospice and his spirits lifted when he saw Linda was on duty and when she saw him she smiled.
“Did you draw the short straw?” he asked
“Worse than that I volunteered” she retorted
Because she had no family she was working all over Christmas to allow the nurses who did have families to spend it at home with them she was doing the same thing over New Years as well.
“So are you on tomorrow as well?” he asked
“Yes I’m on until Boxing Day”
“That’s tough” he said and she told him that she would survive and then they parted company with a smile.
They knew they would have plenty of opportunities to talk during the night and he wished her happy Christmas at 1.45am.
He managed to see quite a lot of Linda during Christmas Day as he had decided not to go home at all and managed to catch a few zzzz’s in the arm chair beside his grandads bed, but he managed to be awake and alert when she was around and he found that his feeling for her were deepening and he hoped that when she smiled at him it wasn’t just her professional demeanour.
But she went off duty at two am on Boxing Day which was when he decided it was time to go home to his bed.
He returned to the hospice on Boxing Day evening and was pleased to see Linda’s car was in the carpark, he didn’t think she would be back in until the next day, but when he went inside instead of being greeted by her normal friendly smile, he found her wearing a grave expression.
“Hello Ross I was just about to call you” she said
“I’m a bit concerned about Harry, his breathing is very laboured”
“Damn I shouldn’t have gone home” he said
“Nonsense” she chastised “it would have made no difference”
Then she gave him a warm smile and added
“I’ve phoned Dr Lutchford, so go and sit with him and I’ll be in shortly”
“Ok” he complied but what she hadn’t confided was that she thought the end was close.
The Doctor arrived about half an hour later and Linda accompanied Ross to the relative’s room and squeezed his hand before she joined the doctor.
Fifteen minutes later she and the Doctor joined him and Claire Lutchford sympathetically said
“I’m afraid he has pneumonia”
“Does that signal the end” he asked knowing that it did but wanted confirmation,
“I’m afraid so” Dr Lutchford confirmed
“How long?” he asked flatly
“Not long” she replied
“Don’t worry” Linda said putting her hand on his “I will stay with him till the end”
Although she wasn’t officially on duty that night she stayed with Harry and Ross.
The following day Linda split her time between attending to Harry and keeping Ross company and they spent a weary night and Harry Clarke died just after seven o’clock the next morning with the winter sun invading the room and bathing his deathbed in sunlight.
Linda was patient and considerate and waited with Ross, who was quiet and showed no emotion as they finally left the room
(Part 03)
Ross spent the morning in the relative’s room while Linda made all the necessary phone calls.
Sgt Pierce, the village policeman paid a visit to rule out foul play and stayed until Dr Lutchford arrived to sign the death certificate.
And an hour later William Hemmings and Sons arrived to collect the deceased, although it was Melanie Hemmings who offered their condolences.
Ross was looking out of the window as the Hemmings vehicle drove away and Linda walked up behind him and lightly stroked the back of his arm.
“Are you ok?” she asked
“Not really” he replied and the tears he had been holding back immediately welled up in his eyes as he turned towards her, so she took him in her arms and he dissolved completely into tears.
“Its ok honey” she whispered, “let it all go”
And as he sobbed uncontrollably onto her shoulder, Linda kissed his cheek.
She held him close and stroked his back as he sobbed until he lifted his head and said
“I’m getting you uniform wet”
“I don’t care” she replied and he broke down again.
It dawned on her at that moment as he sobbed his heart out that now his grandfather was gone he would have no reason to go to the hospice and so she wouldn’t see him again, and that was what she was thinking as she consoled him with her empty words.
Shameful selfish thoughts of her never seeing him again as she held him in her arms instead of thinking of him and his loss.
They were both excruciatingly tired because it had been a very long night sitting up with Harry, however she had had a lot of time to think as his life ebbed away.
And almost all of those thoughts had been about Ross and the reason, they got on really well and whenever he was there the two of them flirted, but at first she never thought it was anything other than flirting, but she would always look forward to seeing him and hoped that it might be.
But everything came into sharp focus now that she was faced with the prospect of never seeing him again.
And now she had him in her arms she was not of a mind to let him go.
But let him go she must, because now was not the time for her to claim him, but it wasn’t going to be for long she hoped.
Had Ross known the disposition of her heart when she comforted him in the relatives room he would not have carried an emptiness inside him when he left the hospice.
In the days that followed his grandfather’s death he had to contend with the double loss of his grandfather’s death and his heart’s desire.
But then on New Year’s Eve he received a fillip when he took a phone call from Briarbank Hospice.
It was a gloriously sunny day in Mornington as he stared out of the window of his cottage, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Linda approaching with Harry’s personal possessions, as the winter sun set her red mane ablaze.
And he pledged to himself that once she crossed his threshold he wouldn’t let her leave again until he had told her of his feelings.
The promise would have given him less anxiety had he known that she had made a similar pledge and after she crossed the threshold pledges were kept and declarations were made and so Linda didn’t re-cross it until again until New Year’s Day.
Thursday, 8 June 2017
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (96) Christmas in the Attic
Christmas was just around the corner for the inhabitants of Highfinch which nestled on the edge of the Pepperstock Hills where the Lily Green Hollows Golf Club separated the village from the Hamlet of Lily Green, which made up the parish of St Martins Church and between Lily Green and the sleepy hamlet of Kingfisherbridge was where Alex Trafford lived and since it was only a few weeks before Christmas, his divorcee sister Kate and his niece India were staying with him, which was how it had been for the previous eight years, ever since her divorce, and he saw no reason to deviate from the norm that year.
Northerly winds shrieked through the trees, carrying winter on its coat tails, as they wrapped themselves around the house and tried to shake it from its foundations with all their spiteful might as the freezing rain and snow they carried streaked down the double glazing, creating eerie shadows on the walls which were at odds with the glow from the hearth.
It was cozy and safe inside the house as he watched the fury of the storm outside until he shivered, so he pulled the curtains together and shut out the stormy vision.
His sister Kate and her daughter India were in the kitchen making Christmas cookies, mince pies, Christmas cake and pastries and the smell of cinnamon, spices and ginger was mouth-watering but he knew from experience that they wouldn’t let him have one, Amy would have done, she always did.
But Amy was gone now, gone forever and he missed her so much, but it was the first Christmas since her death and he didn’t know what to do without her, he didn’t know where he fitted in.
When Amy was alive she steered the ship and he was her first mate, but now he was cut adrift and rudderless.
He sat down in his chair by the fire and looked at the Christmas Tree and winced, trimming the tree was Amy’s forte and what he had done was a pale imitation which was when he decided mainly for want of something to do, to get up and go in search of more decorations.
He opened the hatch and pulled down the ladder and climbed the steps to the loft and sought out the decorations that he hoped would improve the appearance of the tree.
It was a large house and subsequently it had a large loft and after more than twenty years living there the loft was an absolute treasure trove.
He switched on the light and he muttered to himself as the dim light from the LED bulb did little better than a candle like glow which created weird and wonderful, if weak and feeble, shapes all over the loft.
He was of his time and much preferred light bulbs that came on to maximum brightness the moment you flicked the switch.
He knew it would brighten eventually he would just have preferred it to be immediate.
There were huge trunks and boxes full of old clothes and shoes, old books of his fathers and toys from his childhood and so many other memories were stored in the loft.
The winds took on new life up in the roof space, howling like a banshee as granular snow and hailstones beat its staccato rhythm on the roof and the unearthly soundtrack put him in an eerie frame of mind.
He momentarily forgot the reason for his trip to the attic, as he started to ponder what treasures he might rediscover.
Then he remembered why he was there and opened a box but only found some of his sister Kates old dolls.
Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure which made him jump but when he looked closer it was just an old dress maker’s dummy.
But he felt himself drawn to that corner of the loft and in particular a large oak chest.
He knelt down in front of it and unbuckled the leather strap and lifted the lid and instantly new what it contained even if he could see inside the plastic cover, it was his wife’s wedding dress, he hadn’t seen it since their wedding day or touched the silk folds and felt their softness against his skin since that wonderful day.
She had packed it lovingly away because she dreamed that one day her daughter would wear it on her wedding day, a common enough dream for a mother.
Sadly they were never blessed with a little girl, not a boy for that matter, it wasn’t to be for them, and it was his one regret, that he was unable to give her a child.
Suddenly he felt compelled to touch the soft cool silk, so he carefully unzipped the bag and tentatively reached for the silk and in the instant his fingers touched the fabric, the dress makers dummy seemed to come to life and he looked up and found himself staring mesmerized at what appeared to be his darling wife Amy as she was on that wonderful day in June all those years ago when they were married at St Martins Church, and he sighed to see her sweet smiling face with sparkling blue eyes.
The tone of the wind seemed to change at that point and it seemed to have been replaced by church bells and wedding music, he knew it wasn’t possible but he couldn’t move and didn’t want to for that matter.
“I miss you so much” he said to the apparition and he felt soft kisses on his neck and he sighed again
Just at that moment he was brought back to the moment by a call from the landing
“Uncle Alex! Lunch is ready”
“Ok I’ll be right down” he said and the blissful moment had gone.
He zipped the garment bag up again, closed the lid of the trunk and re-buckled the strap, then he walked back to the ladder but looked back as he descended and she was there again smiling at him and softly said
“I will be with you always”
“Thank you” he responded and as he continued his descent she added
“And the tree looks fine darling”
Northerly winds shrieked through the trees, carrying winter on its coat tails, as they wrapped themselves around the house and tried to shake it from its foundations with all their spiteful might as the freezing rain and snow they carried streaked down the double glazing, creating eerie shadows on the walls which were at odds with the glow from the hearth.
It was cozy and safe inside the house as he watched the fury of the storm outside until he shivered, so he pulled the curtains together and shut out the stormy vision.
His sister Kate and her daughter India were in the kitchen making Christmas cookies, mince pies, Christmas cake and pastries and the smell of cinnamon, spices and ginger was mouth-watering but he knew from experience that they wouldn’t let him have one, Amy would have done, she always did.
But Amy was gone now, gone forever and he missed her so much, but it was the first Christmas since her death and he didn’t know what to do without her, he didn’t know where he fitted in.
When Amy was alive she steered the ship and he was her first mate, but now he was cut adrift and rudderless.
He sat down in his chair by the fire and looked at the Christmas Tree and winced, trimming the tree was Amy’s forte and what he had done was a pale imitation which was when he decided mainly for want of something to do, to get up and go in search of more decorations.
He opened the hatch and pulled down the ladder and climbed the steps to the loft and sought out the decorations that he hoped would improve the appearance of the tree.
It was a large house and subsequently it had a large loft and after more than twenty years living there the loft was an absolute treasure trove.
He switched on the light and he muttered to himself as the dim light from the LED bulb did little better than a candle like glow which created weird and wonderful, if weak and feeble, shapes all over the loft.
He was of his time and much preferred light bulbs that came on to maximum brightness the moment you flicked the switch.
He knew it would brighten eventually he would just have preferred it to be immediate.
There were huge trunks and boxes full of old clothes and shoes, old books of his fathers and toys from his childhood and so many other memories were stored in the loft.
The winds took on new life up in the roof space, howling like a banshee as granular snow and hailstones beat its staccato rhythm on the roof and the unearthly soundtrack put him in an eerie frame of mind.
He momentarily forgot the reason for his trip to the attic, as he started to ponder what treasures he might rediscover.
Then he remembered why he was there and opened a box but only found some of his sister Kates old dolls.
Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure which made him jump but when he looked closer it was just an old dress maker’s dummy.
But he felt himself drawn to that corner of the loft and in particular a large oak chest.
He knelt down in front of it and unbuckled the leather strap and lifted the lid and instantly new what it contained even if he could see inside the plastic cover, it was his wife’s wedding dress, he hadn’t seen it since their wedding day or touched the silk folds and felt their softness against his skin since that wonderful day.
She had packed it lovingly away because she dreamed that one day her daughter would wear it on her wedding day, a common enough dream for a mother.
Sadly they were never blessed with a little girl, not a boy for that matter, it wasn’t to be for them, and it was his one regret, that he was unable to give her a child.
Suddenly he felt compelled to touch the soft cool silk, so he carefully unzipped the bag and tentatively reached for the silk and in the instant his fingers touched the fabric, the dress makers dummy seemed to come to life and he looked up and found himself staring mesmerized at what appeared to be his darling wife Amy as she was on that wonderful day in June all those years ago when they were married at St Martins Church, and he sighed to see her sweet smiling face with sparkling blue eyes.
The tone of the wind seemed to change at that point and it seemed to have been replaced by church bells and wedding music, he knew it wasn’t possible but he couldn’t move and didn’t want to for that matter.
“I miss you so much” he said to the apparition and he felt soft kisses on his neck and he sighed again
Just at that moment he was brought back to the moment by a call from the landing
“Uncle Alex! Lunch is ready”
“Ok I’ll be right down” he said and the blissful moment had gone.
He zipped the garment bag up again, closed the lid of the trunk and re-buckled the strap, then he walked back to the ladder but looked back as he descended and she was there again smiling at him and softly said
“I will be with you always”
“Thank you” he responded and as he continued his descent she added
“And the tree looks fine darling”
Wednesday, 7 June 2017
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (96) Crazy in Love
Shallowfield sat on the southern edge of the Finchbottom Vale and was bordered on the other side by the Dancingdean forest and the town’s fortunes had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away from the area and it only just survived and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s however things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism as a result of an increase in leisure time.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the previously derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a Hotel.
From then on Shallowfield went from strength to strength which was echoed by the fortunes of the Claremont Hotel.
It was once the home of a wealthy Downshire family but like so many similar great houses in the county it fell into disuse as the fortunes of the owners suffered after the Great War.
It had had many reincarnations since then, particularly in the years between the wars and had been used for many things over the post war years but it wasn’t until the 60s that it became the Claremont Hotel.
However things had got tough in the Hotel trade with the success of Travelodge, Premier Inn and Holiday Inn Express and so places like the Claremont needed to offer something extra to attract the guests which was why Clara Davits was in Shallowfield, because she was an events manager and in December there was an awful lot of scope for such things and Clara was good at her job.
She was also exceptionally hard working, and that December she was working even harder than ever although that was due in no small measure to the fact that she needed distracting.
That was because her husband Owen was a sergeant in the Downshire Light Infantry and was currently on exercises with the regiment firstly in Brunei for jungle operational training and from there to Canada for battle training on the prairies of Alberta.
It was a three month absence which was passing agonizingly slowly for her.
She was able to skype him occasionally and he messaged her when he could but it wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.
However the two back to back deployments meant she wouldn’t see him until the New Year and as that would have been their first Christmas together she had been very down, which is why she threw herself into her work.
Despite that however she was prone to bouts of daydreaming as she unpacked the Christmas table decoration.
She knew she should get busy on the rest of them to meet her target but she was overcome with tiredness so she decided to have a mug of coffee instead to try and wake herself up, so she sat down on one of the sofa’s to drink it and promptly fell asleep instead and had a long luxurious nap.
When she awoke it was two am and the place was in darkness, obviously someone had come along and thought the room was empty and turned out the lights.
She was still feeling tired so she decided to go outside for some fresh air so she donned her coat, hat, scarf and gloves and went outside.
The snow that had fallen on and off all day had petered out and when she looked up at the night sky she could see breaks in the cloud and the multitude of twinkling stars beyond.
Clara looked back at the hotel where her Christmas lights were visible and then up to the stars again and she addressed them curtly
“Yes I know you’re beautiful, but you’re just showing off”
She walked around the grounds for about half an hour through the fresh fallen snow and when she was done she made her way back towards the hotel when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Even if she had been able to retrieve it from her pocket with her gloved hand she wouldn’t have been able to operate it so she waited until she had tromped back across the terrace to the warmth of the hotel before she removed her glove and checked her phone.
The source of the vibrating was a text message so with her un-gloved finger she selected “unread messages” and her heart skipped a beat when she realised it was from Owen.
The message seemed to take an eternity to open but when it did she couldn’t believe her eyes as she read,
“Just landed in London, exercise cut short, unexpected ten day leave, see you in 36 hours, counting the minutes”
“Me too” she said and hugged the phone before she ran back outside and she began to laugh out loud as she ran around like a child experiencing its first sight of snow culminating in her falling backwards into a virgin bank of snow.
Despite the lateness of the hour she was seen by one of the guests on the second floor.
“Look at that crazy woman, making snow angels at this time of night” he said to his wife who agreed wholeheartedly that she was crazy.
And Clara would not have disagreed, she was crazy, crazy in love, and her love was coming home for Christmas.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away from the area and it only just survived and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s however things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism as a result of an increase in leisure time.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the previously derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a Hotel.
From then on Shallowfield went from strength to strength which was echoed by the fortunes of the Claremont Hotel.
It was once the home of a wealthy Downshire family but like so many similar great houses in the county it fell into disuse as the fortunes of the owners suffered after the Great War.
It had had many reincarnations since then, particularly in the years between the wars and had been used for many things over the post war years but it wasn’t until the 60s that it became the Claremont Hotel.
However things had got tough in the Hotel trade with the success of Travelodge, Premier Inn and Holiday Inn Express and so places like the Claremont needed to offer something extra to attract the guests which was why Clara Davits was in Shallowfield, because she was an events manager and in December there was an awful lot of scope for such things and Clara was good at her job.
She was also exceptionally hard working, and that December she was working even harder than ever although that was due in no small measure to the fact that she needed distracting.
That was because her husband Owen was a sergeant in the Downshire Light Infantry and was currently on exercises with the regiment firstly in Brunei for jungle operational training and from there to Canada for battle training on the prairies of Alberta.
It was a three month absence which was passing agonizingly slowly for her.
She was able to skype him occasionally and he messaged her when he could but it wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.
However the two back to back deployments meant she wouldn’t see him until the New Year and as that would have been their first Christmas together she had been very down, which is why she threw herself into her work.
Despite that however she was prone to bouts of daydreaming as she unpacked the Christmas table decoration.
She knew she should get busy on the rest of them to meet her target but she was overcome with tiredness so she decided to have a mug of coffee instead to try and wake herself up, so she sat down on one of the sofa’s to drink it and promptly fell asleep instead and had a long luxurious nap.
When she awoke it was two am and the place was in darkness, obviously someone had come along and thought the room was empty and turned out the lights.
She was still feeling tired so she decided to go outside for some fresh air so she donned her coat, hat, scarf and gloves and went outside.
The snow that had fallen on and off all day had petered out and when she looked up at the night sky she could see breaks in the cloud and the multitude of twinkling stars beyond.
Clara looked back at the hotel where her Christmas lights were visible and then up to the stars again and she addressed them curtly
“Yes I know you’re beautiful, but you’re just showing off”
She walked around the grounds for about half an hour through the fresh fallen snow and when she was done she made her way back towards the hotel when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Even if she had been able to retrieve it from her pocket with her gloved hand she wouldn’t have been able to operate it so she waited until she had tromped back across the terrace to the warmth of the hotel before she removed her glove and checked her phone.
The source of the vibrating was a text message so with her un-gloved finger she selected “unread messages” and her heart skipped a beat when she realised it was from Owen.
The message seemed to take an eternity to open but when it did she couldn’t believe her eyes as she read,
“Just landed in London, exercise cut short, unexpected ten day leave, see you in 36 hours, counting the minutes”
“Me too” she said and hugged the phone before she ran back outside and she began to laugh out loud as she ran around like a child experiencing its first sight of snow culminating in her falling backwards into a virgin bank of snow.
Despite the lateness of the hour she was seen by one of the guests on the second floor.
“Look at that crazy woman, making snow angels at this time of night” he said to his wife who agreed wholeheartedly that she was crazy.
And Clara would not have disagreed, she was crazy, crazy in love, and her love was coming home for Christmas.
Mornington-By-Mere – (95) The Unexpected Gift
When the Mornington Estate exercised its option to purchase Mornington Field from the MOD it also acquired all the buildings and infrastructure on the airfield itself as well as 29 houses in the village formally used as quarters for military personnel.
The buildings on the airfield itself were converted into commercial premise while the former married quarters were made available to rent and the Vineyard family moved into number 17 Military Row on the 18th of December 2014 but Donna Vineyard was the only one still there five Christmas’ later but she shared the house with her boyfriend David Smith.
They were both hard working 30 years old’s, Donna at the Digitize Image Lab up at Mornington Field and David farmed up at Smithfield’s Farm with his family.
That year it was Donna and David’s turn to play hosts to the parents for Christmas dinner, which Donna achieved with great aplomb.
But after dinner, when the table was cleared away and the dishwasher was loaded, it was time for present giving, and this Donna didn’t take in her stride, and that was because she didn’t really like receiving unknown Christmas Presents.
Donna preferred to either get money or have already selected the gift and instructed the giver, or preferably she would actually buy it herself and then give it to the presenter for them to wrap.
That way she avoided having to employ one of the stock phrases for responding to the Christmas present she would rather not have received.
Her comment’s included,
“Thanks a lot”,
“My word! What a gift”,
“You shouldn't have”
And “Wow”
Or “Well, well, well”
She would have liked to have been facetious but she loved Christmas too much to say something like
“If I had put on 4 stones it would have fitted me perfectly”,
“It's lovely, but I'm worried about the jealousy it may create”,
“Just my luck to get this, on the Christmas I promised to give all my gifts to charity”
Or “Unfortunately, I am about to enter MI5's Witness Protection programme”
So imagine her dismay when her boyfriend of five years presented her with an unexpected gift in front of all the assembled family.
“Oh I’ll open that later” she said “let someone else go next “
But they all insisted she open it and inside she was seething, but externally she had to adopt a calmer stance and David knew precisely what was going on behind the façade and smiled at her discomfiture as he put the gift box in her hand as she sat down on the chair.
It was a box about the size of a bag of sugar and painfully aware that all eyes were on her she pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal a smaller similarly wrapped package which she removed and smiled with gritted teeth.
David knew that parcels within parcels were another one of Donna’s pet hates, which is why he did it.
So she again pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal another smaller similarly wrapped package.
This was repeated twice more before she held a small bundle wrapped in tissue which, urged on by the spectators, she began to unwrap, and the only audible sound was that of Donnas teeth grinding.
But finally the last layer had been conquered and everyone expected one of her stock response’s but instead there was just silence, even the grinding of teeth had desisted because her mouth was open as she stared at the item at the centre of the unfolded tissue paper, which was a platinum set solitaire diamond engagement ring.
No one else in the room could see it so they weren’t entirely sure what was going on until David asked
“So Donna Vineyard, will you marry me?”
The buildings on the airfield itself were converted into commercial premise while the former married quarters were made available to rent and the Vineyard family moved into number 17 Military Row on the 18th of December 2014 but Donna Vineyard was the only one still there five Christmas’ later but she shared the house with her boyfriend David Smith.
They were both hard working 30 years old’s, Donna at the Digitize Image Lab up at Mornington Field and David farmed up at Smithfield’s Farm with his family.
That year it was Donna and David’s turn to play hosts to the parents for Christmas dinner, which Donna achieved with great aplomb.
But after dinner, when the table was cleared away and the dishwasher was loaded, it was time for present giving, and this Donna didn’t take in her stride, and that was because she didn’t really like receiving unknown Christmas Presents.
Donna preferred to either get money or have already selected the gift and instructed the giver, or preferably she would actually buy it herself and then give it to the presenter for them to wrap.
That way she avoided having to employ one of the stock phrases for responding to the Christmas present she would rather not have received.
Her comment’s included,
“Thanks a lot”,
“My word! What a gift”,
“You shouldn't have”
And “Wow”
Or “Well, well, well”
She would have liked to have been facetious but she loved Christmas too much to say something like
“If I had put on 4 stones it would have fitted me perfectly”,
“It's lovely, but I'm worried about the jealousy it may create”,
“Just my luck to get this, on the Christmas I promised to give all my gifts to charity”
Or “Unfortunately, I am about to enter MI5's Witness Protection programme”
So imagine her dismay when her boyfriend of five years presented her with an unexpected gift in front of all the assembled family.
“Oh I’ll open that later” she said “let someone else go next “
But they all insisted she open it and inside she was seething, but externally she had to adopt a calmer stance and David knew precisely what was going on behind the façade and smiled at her discomfiture as he put the gift box in her hand as she sat down on the chair.
It was a box about the size of a bag of sugar and painfully aware that all eyes were on her she pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal a smaller similarly wrapped package which she removed and smiled with gritted teeth.
David knew that parcels within parcels were another one of Donna’s pet hates, which is why he did it.
So she again pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal another smaller similarly wrapped package.
This was repeated twice more before she held a small bundle wrapped in tissue which, urged on by the spectators, she began to unwrap, and the only audible sound was that of Donnas teeth grinding.
But finally the last layer had been conquered and everyone expected one of her stock response’s but instead there was just silence, even the grinding of teeth had desisted because her mouth was open as she stared at the item at the centre of the unfolded tissue paper, which was a platinum set solitaire diamond engagement ring.
No one else in the room could see it so they weren’t entirely sure what was going on until David asked
“So Donna Vineyard, will you marry me?”
Tuesday, 6 June 2017
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (95) The Christmas Surprise
In this noisy city he made his way through the darkness as the people rushed by at a frantic pace as a quiet hush fell with a fall of snowflakes and the holiday rush seemed to slow down if only briefly.
It was Christmas Eve, and he had been summoned, and as he had no other place to be, he went along.
Bay View House was a large detached Victorian House sitting on a two acre plot so he walked up the gravel drive.
He turned the key he had been given in the lock and stepped into the house of a man he didn't know.
The house was lit with an abundance of Christmas lights that twinkled against the red brickwork.
The door was stained cedar red and sported a fresh wreath bearing a banner that said “Ho, Ho, Ho”
The lights were on inside the house but it appeared there was no one home but it was warm and cozy and as he had walked the icy streets through heavy snow for twenty minutes to get to the house he welcomed it.
But he didn’t know what to do next, the letter he received at the hotel with the door key, simply told him to go to the house and let himself in.
He stood in the entrance liberally decorated with evergreens, and he drank in the nostalgia inducing atmosphere, but after a few minutes he slipped off his coat and walked towards the drawing room, as per the instructions he received, and pushed open the door and stepped inside and when he looked ahead of him he did a double take because standing at the end of the room by the Christmas tree was Angie, his wife.
“Angie?” he asked and she squealed and launched herself at him.
The reason that he was surprised to see her was that she was supposed to be in Alaska and she wasn’t expected home until Christmas Eve, which was four days away.
She was a geologist working for Transglobal Oil and Gas Exploration and she was supposed to conducting a survey and the trip was supposed to be for a month.
His contact with her had been sketchy, they skyped occasionally, more so when she was in Canada, not so much in Alaska due to the remoteness of the region she was working in.
They also exchanged email, which was also problematic, but she would record little video messages on her phone and she would send them to him whenever she could get a signal.
He really looked forward to getting them and the first thing he did when he got up in the morning was to check his phone.
But there had been nothing for two days, and he had been missing her terribly and he had been counting the days until she was home, which should have been in four days.
Which was when they were to spend ten days together, including Christmas at the Abbottsford Regents Hotel, before she would be off again for another month.
But there she was in his arms kissing him and although he didn’t care why, he asked anyway.
“Why are you home early? And whose house is this?”
“The house belongs to my boss, he’s been brilliant and his wife set up the surprise, the enigmatic message and the key” She explained “They’re in New York until Christmas Eve, and we can stay here before we go on to the Regents as planned” she explained
“Yes but why are you back early? Not that I’m complaining” he said and kissed her again
“Because I have a special Christmas present for you which had to be delivered as soon as possible” she replied enigmatically
“Ok” he mused looking around for a gift
“Following an in depth scan we made a seismic discovery which was so earth shatteringly important I had to share it with you face to face, and it couldn’t wait another four days” she continued “because the news will be in the public domain by then and you have to be the first person I tell”
“God it sounds really important” he said worriedly “So what did you discover?”
Angie looked at his worried expression and smiled, and after a pause she said
“I’m pregnant”
It was Christmas Eve, and he had been summoned, and as he had no other place to be, he went along.
Bay View House was a large detached Victorian House sitting on a two acre plot so he walked up the gravel drive.
He turned the key he had been given in the lock and stepped into the house of a man he didn't know.
The house was lit with an abundance of Christmas lights that twinkled against the red brickwork.
The door was stained cedar red and sported a fresh wreath bearing a banner that said “Ho, Ho, Ho”
The lights were on inside the house but it appeared there was no one home but it was warm and cozy and as he had walked the icy streets through heavy snow for twenty minutes to get to the house he welcomed it.
But he didn’t know what to do next, the letter he received at the hotel with the door key, simply told him to go to the house and let himself in.
He stood in the entrance liberally decorated with evergreens, and he drank in the nostalgia inducing atmosphere, but after a few minutes he slipped off his coat and walked towards the drawing room, as per the instructions he received, and pushed open the door and stepped inside and when he looked ahead of him he did a double take because standing at the end of the room by the Christmas tree was Angie, his wife.
“Angie?” he asked and she squealed and launched herself at him.
The reason that he was surprised to see her was that she was supposed to be in Alaska and she wasn’t expected home until Christmas Eve, which was four days away.
She was a geologist working for Transglobal Oil and Gas Exploration and she was supposed to conducting a survey and the trip was supposed to be for a month.
His contact with her had been sketchy, they skyped occasionally, more so when she was in Canada, not so much in Alaska due to the remoteness of the region she was working in.
They also exchanged email, which was also problematic, but she would record little video messages on her phone and she would send them to him whenever she could get a signal.
He really looked forward to getting them and the first thing he did when he got up in the morning was to check his phone.
But there had been nothing for two days, and he had been missing her terribly and he had been counting the days until she was home, which should have been in four days.
Which was when they were to spend ten days together, including Christmas at the Abbottsford Regents Hotel, before she would be off again for another month.
But there she was in his arms kissing him and although he didn’t care why, he asked anyway.
“Why are you home early? And whose house is this?”
“The house belongs to my boss, he’s been brilliant and his wife set up the surprise, the enigmatic message and the key” She explained “They’re in New York until Christmas Eve, and we can stay here before we go on to the Regents as planned” she explained
“Yes but why are you back early? Not that I’m complaining” he said and kissed her again
“Because I have a special Christmas present for you which had to be delivered as soon as possible” she replied enigmatically
“Ok” he mused looking around for a gift
“Following an in depth scan we made a seismic discovery which was so earth shatteringly important I had to share it with you face to face, and it couldn’t wait another four days” she continued “because the news will be in the public domain by then and you have to be the first person I tell”
“God it sounds really important” he said worriedly “So what did you discover?”
Angie looked at his worried expression and smiled, and after a pause she said
“I’m pregnant”
Monday, 5 June 2017
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (95) The Ice Breaker
(Part 01)
The fortunes of Shallowfield had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away, to Abbottsford, Abbeyvale and beyond and it only barely survived, and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t been were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism and an increase in leisure time.
More importantly these people had money in their pockets.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a hotel.
Its completion formerly marked the rebirth of Teardrop Lake and the revival of the busy village of Shallowfield went hand in hand.
One of those houses that was just hanging on was Chapel House which was the family home of the Walker family and although only the older members of the Walker clan lived in the large rambling pile year round it was were the family gathered in numbers for special occasions and of course Christmas.
Among those drawn back to Teardrop Lake each year were the four Walker girls, sister’s Jane, Kathy, Margaret and the baby of the family, Liz.
And over the years the numbers grew with the addition of boyfriends, husbands and then for the older two girls, children.
And it was on the whole a very loving family and among their number were Paul Biggerstaff and Liz Bradshaw but they felt love of a very different kind.
The problem was they were not a couple, they were married however, just not to each other, and they were in fact brother and sister in law.
Paul had been married to Liz’s sister Margaret for over four years and they had been in love with each other for all of those and their mutual attraction was obvious to them both from the first moment they were introduced, but they knew instinctively that they could never act on it.
And for over four years they kept their feelings in check, at least until Christmas in 1970.
They managed to avoid each other most of the previous year, apart from the summer holiday and Christmas.
Because they kept each other at arm’s length they appeared standoffish to the rest of the family but appearances can be deceptive and beneath the surface they were in turmoil.
Because of what appeared to be an intense dislike of each other the rest of the family took great delight in pushing them together just to watch them squirm.
One afternoon after Liz had helped clear away the dinner dishes she had just exited the kitchen into the hall when she met Paul coming the opposite way, they paused not knowing which way to go when Aunty Vi pointed out quite loudly
“You’re under the mistletoe”
“You have to kiss” Aunt Edith added “its and bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” Aunty Vi chipped in
“What law?” Liz asked
“Christmas law obviously” Aunty Vi replied
“Rubbish” Paul said
“Tosh” Liz agreed but by now the rest of the family and gathered and they spontaneously started chanting
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss”
Delighting in their discomfiture without understanding its nature.
Eventually with no escape Paul and Liz agreed to kiss, just to shut everyone up, and no one understood why they made such a palaver about one simple peck beneath the mistletoe, which was hoped might break the ice between them.
Once the crowd had dispersed, Paul and Liz went their separate ways and independently decided to assuage their embarrassment by over indulging in mulled wine, amongst other things.
(Part 02)
Later that afternoon when those members of the family who had not decided on an afternoon constitutional, were asleep beside the roaring log fire, Liz drained her glass and tottered to the loo and when she emerged she met Paul walking towards her also slightly the worse for drink.
They paused in the middle of the hall and looked at each other
“Look!” she slurred pointing above her head “Mistletoe”
“Yes it is” he agreed
“We’re under the mistletoe” she slurred again “And you know what that means”
“We have to kiss” he responded “it would be bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” She added superciliously
“Well if its Christmas law and its Christmas then we must” he concurred
So she stood on tip toe to face him and puckered up and gave him a Christmas kiss and as her lips touched his it was evident that it was so much more than a Christmas kiss or even a drunken expression of their lust.
The kiss lasted for a full ten minutes and might easily have gone on for another ten had they not heard the family return from their walk.
Fortunately they were loud and boisterous which gave the kissing couple time to go their separate ways unnoticed.
When they reflected on it later the nature of the kiss had surprised them both, once they started they didn’t want to stop, but stop they did, it was not just a perfect Christmas kiss, it was perfect on every level, and having broken the ice with a kiss, they wanted to repeat it.
But the next morning in the cold, sober, light of day, they felt guilty, really, really guilty, but not just for weakening, the guilt came because the kiss revealed that they were not just attracted by naked lust, after the kiss they realised it was love, so they avoided each other for the rest of the week.
They had both decided they would not get drunk in case they let their guard down on New Year’s Eve and kissed again.
But about half an hour before midnight they met again in the hall and there was a nervous tension accompanying them because it was the sight of their perfect kiss, a kiss which could easily have led to something else, and would certainly have gone on had they not been interrupted.
“Here we are again at the scene of the crime” he said trying to make light
“Do you mean the kiss?” she asked and he nodded
“I do”
“It was some kiss” she added wistfully
“Yes it was” he agreed and then they both stood looking around awkwardly, lost in remembrance of the kiss seven days before.
“It was only a drunken snog though” she said
“Do you think it was just the mulled wine then?” he asked
“Probably” Liz replied indifferently
“It might be nice to know for sure” Paul said after a moment’s thought
“Like an experiment?”
“Yes, just so” he agreed
“Well I suppose in the interest of science I suppose we could”
She replied and like she had done the week before she stood on tip toe and touched her lips to his and the experimental kiss began.
It was a long kiss, a hot kiss, a passionate kiss and overall a perfect kiss, even more perfect than the previous one, a kiss against which every kiss that followed would be compared to.
After five minutes they heard a door open but this time neither of them were in any mood to stop so they just relocated to the boot room and kissed again.
That New Year’s Eve experiment proved two things conclusively, firstly that the drunken snog was not made perfect by the alcohol but by the participants and secondly that they were hopelessly in love.
The fortunes of Shallowfield had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away, to Abbottsford, Abbeyvale and beyond and it only barely survived, and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t been were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism and an increase in leisure time.
More importantly these people had money in their pockets.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a hotel.
Its completion formerly marked the rebirth of Teardrop Lake and the revival of the busy village of Shallowfield went hand in hand.
One of those houses that was just hanging on was Chapel House which was the family home of the Walker family and although only the older members of the Walker clan lived in the large rambling pile year round it was were the family gathered in numbers for special occasions and of course Christmas.
Among those drawn back to Teardrop Lake each year were the four Walker girls, sister’s Jane, Kathy, Margaret and the baby of the family, Liz.
And over the years the numbers grew with the addition of boyfriends, husbands and then for the older two girls, children.
And it was on the whole a very loving family and among their number were Paul Biggerstaff and Liz Bradshaw but they felt love of a very different kind.
The problem was they were not a couple, they were married however, just not to each other, and they were in fact brother and sister in law.
Paul had been married to Liz’s sister Margaret for over four years and they had been in love with each other for all of those and their mutual attraction was obvious to them both from the first moment they were introduced, but they knew instinctively that they could never act on it.
And for over four years they kept their feelings in check, at least until Christmas in 1970.
They managed to avoid each other most of the previous year, apart from the summer holiday and Christmas.
Because they kept each other at arm’s length they appeared standoffish to the rest of the family but appearances can be deceptive and beneath the surface they were in turmoil.
Because of what appeared to be an intense dislike of each other the rest of the family took great delight in pushing them together just to watch them squirm.
One afternoon after Liz had helped clear away the dinner dishes she had just exited the kitchen into the hall when she met Paul coming the opposite way, they paused not knowing which way to go when Aunty Vi pointed out quite loudly
“You’re under the mistletoe”
“You have to kiss” Aunt Edith added “its and bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” Aunty Vi chipped in
“What law?” Liz asked
“Christmas law obviously” Aunty Vi replied
“Rubbish” Paul said
“Tosh” Liz agreed but by now the rest of the family and gathered and they spontaneously started chanting
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss”
Delighting in their discomfiture without understanding its nature.
Eventually with no escape Paul and Liz agreed to kiss, just to shut everyone up, and no one understood why they made such a palaver about one simple peck beneath the mistletoe, which was hoped might break the ice between them.
Once the crowd had dispersed, Paul and Liz went their separate ways and independently decided to assuage their embarrassment by over indulging in mulled wine, amongst other things.
(Part 02)
Later that afternoon when those members of the family who had not decided on an afternoon constitutional, were asleep beside the roaring log fire, Liz drained her glass and tottered to the loo and when she emerged she met Paul walking towards her also slightly the worse for drink.
They paused in the middle of the hall and looked at each other
“Look!” she slurred pointing above her head “Mistletoe”
“Yes it is” he agreed
“We’re under the mistletoe” she slurred again “And you know what that means”
“We have to kiss” he responded “it would be bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” She added superciliously
“Well if its Christmas law and its Christmas then we must” he concurred
So she stood on tip toe to face him and puckered up and gave him a Christmas kiss and as her lips touched his it was evident that it was so much more than a Christmas kiss or even a drunken expression of their lust.
The kiss lasted for a full ten minutes and might easily have gone on for another ten had they not heard the family return from their walk.
Fortunately they were loud and boisterous which gave the kissing couple time to go their separate ways unnoticed.
When they reflected on it later the nature of the kiss had surprised them both, once they started they didn’t want to stop, but stop they did, it was not just a perfect Christmas kiss, it was perfect on every level, and having broken the ice with a kiss, they wanted to repeat it.
But the next morning in the cold, sober, light of day, they felt guilty, really, really guilty, but not just for weakening, the guilt came because the kiss revealed that they were not just attracted by naked lust, after the kiss they realised it was love, so they avoided each other for the rest of the week.
They had both decided they would not get drunk in case they let their guard down on New Year’s Eve and kissed again.
But about half an hour before midnight they met again in the hall and there was a nervous tension accompanying them because it was the sight of their perfect kiss, a kiss which could easily have led to something else, and would certainly have gone on had they not been interrupted.
“Here we are again at the scene of the crime” he said trying to make light
“Do you mean the kiss?” she asked and he nodded
“I do”
“It was some kiss” she added wistfully
“Yes it was” he agreed and then they both stood looking around awkwardly, lost in remembrance of the kiss seven days before.
“It was only a drunken snog though” she said
“Do you think it was just the mulled wine then?” he asked
“Probably” Liz replied indifferently
“It might be nice to know for sure” Paul said after a moment’s thought
“Like an experiment?”
“Yes, just so” he agreed
“Well I suppose in the interest of science I suppose we could”
She replied and like she had done the week before she stood on tip toe and touched her lips to his and the experimental kiss began.
It was a long kiss, a hot kiss, a passionate kiss and overall a perfect kiss, even more perfect than the previous one, a kiss against which every kiss that followed would be compared to.
After five minutes they heard a door open but this time neither of them were in any mood to stop so they just relocated to the boot room and kissed again.
That New Year’s Eve experiment proved two things conclusively, firstly that the drunken snog was not made perfect by the alcohol but by the participants and secondly that they were hopelessly in love.
Sunday, 4 June 2017
Downshire Diary – (94) Christmas in 1962
(Part 01)
Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story takes place in the southern town off Abbottsford which was the biggest in Downshire, its administrative capital and the seat of the Downshire government.
It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University, a Cathedral City and was home to Abbottsford Town football club.
It was a cold and bitter winter in 1962, and one of the hardest Downshire winters in living memory and eighteen year old Luke Osbourne found himself far from home in Abbottsford that Christmas, a trainee in the restaurant at the Regents Hotel, and he was penniless and alone.
He had spent most of his money on presents for his family in Northchapel and the remainder on postage to have them delivered in time for Christmas.
But on the day before Christmas Eve, he got paid and the restaurant manager, Stefanos Calavittis, told him
“Take the rest of the evening off, we are booked solid tomorrow and Christmas Day and we are very busy so there will be no time off for the next two day”
He was a very strict manager but his bark was worse than his bite and he treated all the staff firmly yet fairly.
“So go home and get some rest” He added.
Luke trudged home through the winding streets of the town towards his digs, where he had a room on the top floor of a Victorian terraced house in Castleview Road, but he decided to spend an hour at the Castle Pub.
It was run by Bob Dalimore, ex Abbottsford Town center forward, and he would regularly regale die-hard fans like Luke with stories of his glory days in the black and white quarters, he also overlooked the fact he was under age.
The Castle soon became his local as it was on his way home and the stocky, bald former football hero always made him and fellow Knights fans welcome.
After nursing his pint for an hour he wandered through the deserted winding back streets of the Castle district, slipping and slithering on the icy pavements and his breath rose in dense clouds in the sub-zero temperatures.
But suddenly two menacing figures appeared out of the darkness and he was knocked violently to the floor and after a sustained beating they left him bruised, bloody, cold and wet, minus his watch, his signet ring and his pay packet.
After an indeterminate period of time he struggled to his feet, brushing melted snow from his sodden clothes and groggily set off to complete his journey home.
He could have gone back to the pub where everyone would have rallied round but he was too ashamed.
His head ached from the beating and his hands had lost all sensation but he rubbed them vigorously together to restore circulation regardless.
As he stumbled along he peered through the frosted dimly lit windows and saw families, gaily preparing for the upcoming celebrations and he found himself wondering how things were at home.
He had received a letter from his mother only that morning and though it was intended to cheer him up it had the opposite effect because in truth it held sadness between every line.
“We will miss you, on your first Christmas away from home” she wrote and he missed home even more.
(Part 02)
Luke ached from the cold and huddled deeper into his duffel coat as a black cab sped by, full of drunken revelers, its windows steamed up.
The Christmas lights twinkled from the windows in Castle View Road, and he looked up to his own darkened window of his tiny attic apartment high above.
“Not far to go now” he said to himself as number 85 Castle View Road was in view.
He struggled up the narrow staircases up to his tiny attic apartment on the fourth floor of the old Victorian building.
Once he got into his room he spread his soaked clothing on the lukewarm radiator and crawled into bed as outside the snow began to fall heavily and little drops of moisture trickled down the frozen windowpane.
When he arrived downstairs for breakfast the next morning, his landlady, Mrs. Oliver, took one look at him and ordered him back to bed.
Fortunately he was not the only member of the Regents Hotel staff to have rooms at Mrs. Oliver’s, so they were able to let Mr. Calavittis what had happened to Luke and to testify that he wasn’t malingering.
He spent much of the day in his room under the covers until he suddenly heard a chorus of voices as they wafted up on the crisp afternoon air.
So he crawled out of his bed and wrenched the dormer window open and he saw far below in their back garden his next door neighbours children running around and having fun in the snow, his first reaction to the view of the Cooper family enjoying the weather was one of sadness, but he quickly shook off those feelings and leant far out and scooped up handfuls of snow from the slates and the Cooper children shrieked and ran for cover as his snowballs found their mark.
“Merry Christmas Luke” Sally Cooper called up to him and smiled “Come down and join us”
He liked Sally, she was a few months younger than him and he had a crush on her.
“Yes please come” her younger siblings chorused
Luke donned his duffel coat and woolen hat and went downstairs and via the back garden of 85 and joined the Coopers and was greeted by a volley of snowballs.
But when Sally saw the cuts and abrasions on his face she was shocked by their severity and called off her siblings attack.
“My goodness” she said “Mrs. O said you were robbed, but I didn’t know they hurt you so badly”
And then to her brother John she said
“Go and get mum”
When Mrs. Cooper appeared and saw his injuries she went all mother hen over him
“You poor boy, look what they did to you, you’re spending Christmas with us” she announced “and I want no argument”
“I’m working all day tomorrow” he said meekly
“Well you’re not working tonight” Mrs. Cooper said “so you’re staying for dinner, George has made Punch and we are having roast Goose tonight”
“He’d love to” Sally said “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes very much, thank you” he said and Sally took his arm
“Come into the warm then” Mrs. Cooper said “it’s getting chilly”
“We don’t just have Punch and Goose this evening” Sally said as they followed the other inside
“What else could there be?” he asked
“Mistletoe” Sally replied and smiled so despite everything it turned out to be a wonderful Christmas in 1962 after all.
Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story takes place in the southern town off Abbottsford which was the biggest in Downshire, its administrative capital and the seat of the Downshire government.
It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University, a Cathedral City and was home to Abbottsford Town football club.
It was a cold and bitter winter in 1962, and one of the hardest Downshire winters in living memory and eighteen year old Luke Osbourne found himself far from home in Abbottsford that Christmas, a trainee in the restaurant at the Regents Hotel, and he was penniless and alone.
He had spent most of his money on presents for his family in Northchapel and the remainder on postage to have them delivered in time for Christmas.
But on the day before Christmas Eve, he got paid and the restaurant manager, Stefanos Calavittis, told him
“Take the rest of the evening off, we are booked solid tomorrow and Christmas Day and we are very busy so there will be no time off for the next two day”
He was a very strict manager but his bark was worse than his bite and he treated all the staff firmly yet fairly.
“So go home and get some rest” He added.
Luke trudged home through the winding streets of the town towards his digs, where he had a room on the top floor of a Victorian terraced house in Castleview Road, but he decided to spend an hour at the Castle Pub.
It was run by Bob Dalimore, ex Abbottsford Town center forward, and he would regularly regale die-hard fans like Luke with stories of his glory days in the black and white quarters, he also overlooked the fact he was under age.
The Castle soon became his local as it was on his way home and the stocky, bald former football hero always made him and fellow Knights fans welcome.
After nursing his pint for an hour he wandered through the deserted winding back streets of the Castle district, slipping and slithering on the icy pavements and his breath rose in dense clouds in the sub-zero temperatures.
But suddenly two menacing figures appeared out of the darkness and he was knocked violently to the floor and after a sustained beating they left him bruised, bloody, cold and wet, minus his watch, his signet ring and his pay packet.
After an indeterminate period of time he struggled to his feet, brushing melted snow from his sodden clothes and groggily set off to complete his journey home.
He could have gone back to the pub where everyone would have rallied round but he was too ashamed.
His head ached from the beating and his hands had lost all sensation but he rubbed them vigorously together to restore circulation regardless.
As he stumbled along he peered through the frosted dimly lit windows and saw families, gaily preparing for the upcoming celebrations and he found himself wondering how things were at home.
He had received a letter from his mother only that morning and though it was intended to cheer him up it had the opposite effect because in truth it held sadness between every line.
“We will miss you, on your first Christmas away from home” she wrote and he missed home even more.
(Part 02)
Luke ached from the cold and huddled deeper into his duffel coat as a black cab sped by, full of drunken revelers, its windows steamed up.
The Christmas lights twinkled from the windows in Castle View Road, and he looked up to his own darkened window of his tiny attic apartment high above.
“Not far to go now” he said to himself as number 85 Castle View Road was in view.
He struggled up the narrow staircases up to his tiny attic apartment on the fourth floor of the old Victorian building.
Once he got into his room he spread his soaked clothing on the lukewarm radiator and crawled into bed as outside the snow began to fall heavily and little drops of moisture trickled down the frozen windowpane.
When he arrived downstairs for breakfast the next morning, his landlady, Mrs. Oliver, took one look at him and ordered him back to bed.
Fortunately he was not the only member of the Regents Hotel staff to have rooms at Mrs. Oliver’s, so they were able to let Mr. Calavittis what had happened to Luke and to testify that he wasn’t malingering.
He spent much of the day in his room under the covers until he suddenly heard a chorus of voices as they wafted up on the crisp afternoon air.
So he crawled out of his bed and wrenched the dormer window open and he saw far below in their back garden his next door neighbours children running around and having fun in the snow, his first reaction to the view of the Cooper family enjoying the weather was one of sadness, but he quickly shook off those feelings and leant far out and scooped up handfuls of snow from the slates and the Cooper children shrieked and ran for cover as his snowballs found their mark.
“Merry Christmas Luke” Sally Cooper called up to him and smiled “Come down and join us”
He liked Sally, she was a few months younger than him and he had a crush on her.
“Yes please come” her younger siblings chorused
Luke donned his duffel coat and woolen hat and went downstairs and via the back garden of 85 and joined the Coopers and was greeted by a volley of snowballs.
But when Sally saw the cuts and abrasions on his face she was shocked by their severity and called off her siblings attack.
“My goodness” she said “Mrs. O said you were robbed, but I didn’t know they hurt you so badly”
And then to her brother John she said
“Go and get mum”
When Mrs. Cooper appeared and saw his injuries she went all mother hen over him
“You poor boy, look what they did to you, you’re spending Christmas with us” she announced “and I want no argument”
“I’m working all day tomorrow” he said meekly
“Well you’re not working tonight” Mrs. Cooper said “so you’re staying for dinner, George has made Punch and we are having roast Goose tonight”
“He’d love to” Sally said “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes very much, thank you” he said and Sally took his arm
“Come into the warm then” Mrs. Cooper said “it’s getting chilly”
“We don’t just have Punch and Goose this evening” Sally said as they followed the other inside
“What else could there be?” he asked
“Mistletoe” Sally replied and smiled so despite everything it turned out to be a wonderful Christmas in 1962 after all.
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