Uncanny Christmas Tales – (022) Christmas Bazaar

Brassington is a large sprawling village nestled in the wooded hills on the southern edge of the Dancingdean Forest in the south east corner of Downshire, and it was where Philippa Payne was the head teacher at St Basil’s School and beyond that she was a much respected figure in the village who had dedicated her life to educating the children of Brassington, but she had done it at some personal cost, namely the love of her life, Laurence Dyer.

Laurence was a successful fiction editor, considered by many to have the Midas touch and he was subsequently offered a job at a renowned New York Publishing House, but the offer came shortly after she was given the Headship at St Basil’s, he very much wanted her to go with him and he assured her that she could get a job in any school she chose, but she was scared, fearful of the unknown and the uncertainty, she was also insecure about the depth of his feelings and was unsure about her love for him, so he left and she stayed.

In the ten years that followed that momentous decision she realized that she loved him more than life itself, but that ship had sailed, and she refused to invest her love elsewhere, so she soldiered on as a loveless educator and stalwart of the village.

 

One of the high points of her year was the Christmas Bazaar which was a busy and exciting event that took a lot of organizing but brought a lot of joy, with all the usual seasonal attractions as well as Santa’s grotto, but on Saturday afternoon at the height of the event as she strolled amongst the throng of excited children and frazzled parents, she caught sight of an attraction she hadn’t expected to see, Laurence Dyer, and he beamed a smile in her direction the moment they made eye contact, and her legs instantly turned to jelly.

 

He hadn’t changed a bit in her eyes, although his hair was a little greyer and his waist a little thicker, but he was still the man she once loved, still loved.

“Pip!” he said “You haven’t changed a bit”

“Laurence?”

“You look great” he said

“What are you doing here?” she asked, although that wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, she wanted to know everything else, was he married? Was he back? Was he hers?

“I’ve transferred to the London office” he replied

“Are your family moving with you?” she asked

“No, only me” he replied “There is only me”

“So, when did you get back?” she asked encouraged by his previous answer

“Last night” he replied and she dared to hope, after all he had wasted no time in getting to Brassington, but before she could build on that glimmer of hope, she was called away from him to avert a crisis

“It’s good to see you” she said as she was led away.

 

The moment the problem had been resolved, she set off in search of Laurence to continue her interrogation of him, but after a thorough search and three circuits of the School there was no sign of him and very soon the visitors started to drift away and the doors were closed for another year and as the team of helpers began to pack away Philippa sought out a quiet corner in which to reflect on a missed opportunity and she took sanctuary in the grotto.

 

The grotto was decorated with red and gold velvet drapes, adorned with tinsel and coloured lights, with a huge throne in the furthest corner surrounded by Christmas parcels, and leading to the throne was a snow covered path and on one side of it was a festive tableau of snowmen and reindeer and on the other side Santa’s sleigh was parked.

She walked slowly down the snow covered path and sat on Santa’s throne and put her head in her hands and sighed and remained there for an indeterminate amount of time until she was brought back to the moment by a familiar voice.

“So, this is where you’re hiding” it said, and she looked up

“You’re still here” she exclaimed

“You sound disappointed” Laurence pointed out

“No, no I didn’t mean that” she corrected him a little too forcefully

“It’s just that when I couldn’t find you anywhere, I thought you must have gone”

“You were looking for me?” he asked

“Erm well yes, because we hadn’t finished catching up” she explained

“That’s good but I didn’t travel three and a half thousand miles just to catch up” he said

“Really? What did you come for then?” she asked

“I came here to pick up” Laurence said

“What?” she exclaimed

“From where we left off” he added and kissed her, and it was like they’d never been apart.

Snippets of Downshire Life – Feast of St Thomas

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and it was in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill where Illustrator, Kim Labuschagne, was attending a dinner party on St Andrew’s Day, at the home of local celebrity, children’s author, Alesha Khan.

In addition to the hostess Alesha, was St Lucy’s Church Warden, Henry Appleby, Russell Glavin, Curate of same, Alesha’s brother, artist Zach, Literary agents, Jayson and Kathryn Mercer, Actresses Kerry Freeborn and Sharon Blackburn and Tim Street who was a Local Historian, so it was an interesting bunch.

Kim had known Alesha since they were at school and apart from being best friends, Kim also illustrated her children’s books, and as a result she had become well known in her own right and her work had become well sort after, so life was good, but not quite perfect, yet.

Although the dinner guests were indeed interesting her interest was very much in one among them and that was Tim.

When the time came for them to take their seats Kim found that she was seated next to Zach Khan, but he was completely absorbed by Sharon who was opposite him, but Kim had no interest in him anyway because she saved all her attention for Tim Street who was sat opposite her.

Tim was a local historian who was the Curator of the Sharpington History Centre, and he was at the dinner party because Kim asked Alesha to invite him.

They met one rainy Friday afternoon in October, Kim entered the History and stood dripping on the doormat for several minutes before she ventured further.

“Can I help?” Tim asked the tall skinny girl as she dripped on his floor.

 “I do hope so” she replied brightly

“I’m looking for information about my family name”    

“Ok I’m sure we can help with that” She said, “What’s the name?”

“Labuschagne” she replied proudly

“Oh excellent” he replied as he brushed his sandy hair off his forehead “That’s a cracking good name”

“Thank you” she said with a laugh “I like it, and so far, as I know I’m the last one”

“Well come and take a seat and you can tell me what you know over a cup of tea” he suggested

“Oh yes a cup of tea would be lovely”

On that first meeting they spent more than an hour together while Kim related everything that she knew about the family, firstly the facts, names and dates and the anecdotal information which may or may not have been true.

Tim’s immediate interest in the skinny young woman was her name, he did a lot of research of the kind she was looking for, but unlike hers they were very common, such as Wilson, Brown, Andrews and Cooper of which there were very many in the county, so to be asked to undertake research on Labuschagne was refreshingly different.

But an interest in the name was soon surpassed by one in the young woman herself, and in particular her company, although she was unaware of the fact.

Kim had only gone to the History Centre in order to get some help and pointers, but the nice Sandy haired Historian was so helpful and friendly that when he offered to research her name with her she didn’t hesitate to accept.

So, over the following weeks she went to the LHC to meet with him almost every day and with each subsequent visit the importance of her original visit waned while her attraction to Tim grew exponentially.

However, she was not able to shake him from his primary interest in the research which was why she asked Alesha to include him on the party guest list.

But despite the fact that they were seated opposite each other during dinner and talked non-stop about a range of topics, and they both enjoyed the others company, they parted at the end of the evening without securing a date.

However, he did ask if she needed escorting home, but she had to say no as she had already told Alesha that she would help her clear away, she kicked herself for not foreseeing the possibility that he would ask, she was however encouraged that he had asked though.

With the arrival of December came more demands on her time so she wasn’t able to spend as much time with Tim at the LHC, but she looked forward to the times that she could spend with him and she enjoyed every minute she was there, but she made no progress on securing a date.

It was her birthday on the 21st so that was her target and failing that she wanted him on her arm by Christmas.

The problem was that as the days slipped, because Tim was as efficient as he was gorgeous he was likely to have completed his research before she had got her man.

And her worst fears were realised when he phoned her two days before her birthday and told her he was finished.

“Oh great” she said “And so soon”

“When can you pop in?” Tim asked, “Can you do tomorrow?”

“Oh yes I think so” she said unable to think of a reason not to

“Brilliant I’ll see you then” Tim said “Bye”

After she hung up she chastised herself for dithering, but in the end, she couldn’t make it as she was tied up all day with Alesha and her publisher discussing the illustrations for the new book, so she didn’t make it to the Local History Centre until the next day, which was her birthday.

“Hello” he said when he saw her, and she instantly smiled

“Hi Tim, sorry about yesterday” she said

“No problem let’s go and sit” he said “The kettle has just boiled”

“Lovely” she responded

They were sat down at the table with only the remnants of tea left in the mugs when Tim said

“I have a full record of The Downshire Labuschagne’s up to and including you, and as it’s your birthday I had it bound in Leather”

“Wow” Kim said, and as she studied it tears filled her eyes “It’s beautiful”

“I’m glad you like it”

“I love it” she said and stood up and hugged him “Thank you, in fact, let me buy you lunch as a proper thank you”

“Oh, I was going to take you to lunch for your birthday” he said

“Well how about this, I’ll take you for a thank you lunch and then you can take me for a birthday dinner tonight”

“Ok that’s a date” he said

“I do hope so” she said and took hold of his hand

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – St Thomas’ Day

On the west side of Downshire is Northchapel which has always been the Industrial powerhouse of the County and although it doesn’t physically occupy its center it is the beating heart of the County.

In recent generations its fortunes had suffered greatly but in the 70s it was still a major employer, and one of those employers was Pomery’s Perfume’s, which was an old family business established in 1879 by Jules Sebastian Pomery.

They had moved to that location in Northchapel in 1928, to the broad white building which was a prime example of the Art Deco style with its angles, curves and symmetry. 

Not that Thomas Evans had any appreciation of the stylish building, it was just where he worked.

He started there straight from school in 1969 and had been at Pomery’s for six years when the memorable Christmas Lunch occurred.

 

It was four days before Christmas 1975 and the staff had just returned to the factory after having had their Christmas lunch at the Long Ship pub.

Although in truth calling it “Christmas Lunch” was perhaps a bit of a stretch and makes it sound grander that it actually was, in the 1970s, even in Northchapel, pub grub was very unsophisticated fare and invariably consisted of Chicken in a Basket or a Ploughman’s.

The more up market establishments might well offer Scampi in a Basket and a selection of Ploughman’s including a variety of cheeses as alternatives to the norm.

The Long Ship however was not an up-market establishment in any way shape or form and offered Chicken in a Basket or cheddar cheese Ploughman’s, however in addition to that, as it was Christmas you got a Mince Pie as well.

 

So, after their “Christmas Lunch” they all arrived back at work with some of their number much the worse for drink.

Tom Evans himself had perhaps over indulged to a small degree with an unspecified number of Light and Bitters so as a consequence he was wearing beer goggles and even scabby Carole was looking passable, as was Wonky Wendy, so called because she had a wonky eye, in fact Wendy had one eye that looked at you, while the other one was looking for you. 

Not a politically correct name and “Wonky” wasn't even a very imaginative nickname but there you have it, that was the 70s and they were simple folk and easily amused, but regardless of the appropriateness of the name, Tom thought that viewed through beer goggles even she looked quite appetising.

Another of the girls he wouldn’t normally have looked at twice, had he been sober, was Patricia Clarke, although she had nice eyes and a pretty smile, other than that she was a plain looking girl about a year younger than he was.

Over the previous year Pat had made no secret of the fact that she fancied Tom, he on the other hand did not fancy her one iota and not because she was plain or because she was stick thin and featureless or because she was ginger, the truth was she just didn’t do it for him, but that was without the benefit of alcohol fuelled lust.

 

On returning to the factory they continued the party in the canteen, Tom’s tipple of choice from what was available was Light Ale while for Pat it was Port and Lemon and on that day they both necked a few and with every bottle of beer he drank Pat was getting prettier and prettier, and it reached a point that when she went off to the loo he followed a few minutes later and intercepted her as she returned and took her into the coat room.

It was a small room, about 20’ square, with frosted glass on two sides but with the lights off it was dark enough in the shadows for what he had in mind, and apparently it was what she had in mind too, because as soon as the door closed behind them Pat was all over him like a rash and her tongue was in his mouth like an Excocet missile, and her hands were all over him.

“Blimey you're keen” Tom thought to himself and thought he had better join in quick and yanked her blouse from the waist band of her skirt and partly unbuttoned it before going in search of her treasures and when he found them, such as they were, he made a startling discovery.

Not a Scaramanga third nipple kind of thing, what Tom found was something altogether different.

 

Tom Evans was just a callow youth and he wasn’t hugely experienced in the ways of the world, but he had unbuttoned enough blouses, and unhooked enough bra’s, and had sufficient experience of their contents to know that nipples shouldn’t be hairy, the last thing he expected to find surrounding her treasures were course two-inch-long curly ginger hairs, although the ginger part was an assumption as he didn’t actually get to see them.

At the time his brain was sufficiently fogged by Light Ale for him not to care that the contents of her bra were unconventional, so he just resumed his examination of her form and his hands headed south, where he got his hand up her skirt easy enough and was attempting to get his hand in the promised land when the door flew open.

“Aye, aye” Shaft said

Shaft was the Warehouse Foreman, his real name was Ted, but his nickname was Shaft, not because he was black, or was a fan of the TV show, but because he was shafting Beryl from picking, Tom did the gentlemanly thing and positioned himself between Ted and Pat, so she could redress herself.

“I’ve just come for my coat” Ted said with a chuckle as he took his coat off the peg

“Carry on” he said and closed the door.

Tom would have liked to carry on where he left off, but Pat wasn’t so keen in light of their discovery, so they went back to the party and that was that.

 

He never had another close encounter with Pat and in the light of his discovery, he had no desire to, as in the sober light of day he didn’t fancy her.

The day after their St Thomas’ Day fumble in the coat room, when the alcohol fog had lifted, like his namesake he had doubts about the encounter, Tom had always assumed that Pat was short for Patricia but after his discovery, he wasn’t so sure.

Obviously if Shaft hadn’t interrupted them when his hand was up her skirt and he had reached his goal he would have known for sure if his Christmas fumble was fish or fowl, but he didn’t so he remained a Doubting Thomas.

Snippets of Downshire Life – The Shortest Day

The village of Clarence is in the Finchbottom Vale, which was nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.

The Vale was once a great wetland that centuries earlier stretched from Mornington in the East to Childean in the west and from Shallowfield in the south to Purplemere in the north.

There were only three small bodies of water left in the Vale now one in Mornington, one in Childean and third of course was Purplemere, which is where Clarence is situated and where our story takes place.

 

It was the shortest day of the year and it was a cold and grey December morning and there was a biting wind that made Paul Knights skin tingle and take his breath away as he busied himself running errands around the village.
But after all the errands were complete he headed towards The Rose and Crown where he took refuge in the bar and made himself comfortable beside the fire.

Paul was preparing to get on the outside of a pint of Mornington Ale and a large Brandy when his eyes were drawn to the centre of the room where a striking blonde was sitting with her long slender legs crossed.

She had a pen in one hand and a large drink in the other and she was concentrating on something, that made her frown, a crossword clue or perhaps a Sudoku and her bottom lip pursed slightly downward almost like a wilting pink rose petal.
He noted that her eye, kind of crinkled up, and that combined with a slight inclination of her head, gave him the impression she was confused and he assumed her confusion was over whatever it was she was studying.

He took a sip of Ale and turned his attention to his newspaper and then he noticed that the room had got brighter and looked up to find a flash of golden light in the hair of the blonde as if her golden curls had ignited, but it was lit by a shaft of sunlight which had burst through the grey December skies.

He smiled at the sight of the sun, because it was the shortest day and to have that short day full of greyness and gloom was quite depressing and he would have been content with the sun’s appearance for that reason alone, but then Paul’s gaze fell upon the Blonde again and he realised the sun had made her squint and this in turn screwed up her nose and caused her to sneeze.
She sneezed quite indelicately and then again and again and this fit of sneezing had an added interest to him because apart from the obvious effects the shaft of sunlight brightening the room, or setting her blonde curls ablaze, it had also rendered her blouse quite transparent and she had little else on beneath it, and each sneeze caused the contents to rearrange themselves rather delightfully within her non-existent blouse and her sneezing fit had taken on a more sensual quality, he took a moment to look around the room and realised he was the only patron looking in her direction and was therefore enjoying a private show, but alas all too soon the sneezing stopped, but he was pleased to see that her breathing had not and he watched with lustful fascination as she took each subsequent breath, while she was blissfully unaware that her blouse had become translucent.

Of course, he should have done the gentlemanly thing and looked away or at the very least alerted her to her situation but in truth he was enjoying it too much.

Her sneezing fit had obviously rearranged her assets to such an extent that she needed to make some corrections to the dispossession of her assets.
But alas all good things must come to an end and thanks to a thoughtless cloud the shaft of sunlight was snuffed out and the show was over.
It had been a most pleasant respite and had warmed Paul up more than the fire and the Brandy, studying her most wondrous topography and he thought it was amazing how the little things in life, not that they were small by any measure, but little things can brighten up the dullest of winter days and it may have been an un-gentlemanly thing to do, ungallant he supposed not to have averted his gaze, but he preferred to think of it as a Christmas treat, or a gift from the pagan Gods on the Winter Solstice.