51-year-old Paul
Hartley found himself stranded in a strange town with less than a week to go
before Christmas.
Although to be
fair an unfamiliar town would have been a more accurate description, but
nonetheless he was stranded almost a hundred miles from home in Abbeyvale, with
a seriously sick car in the garage and a distinct lack of will to contemplate
traveling home to the north by train.
In truth he was in
no hurry to return home to the empty soulless house that he was once happy to
call home, which now held no comfort for him.
Paul’s wife of
twenty-five years, Elaine, had died earlier that year, finally losing her
battle with cancer.
Their three
children were all grown up now with homes and families of their own so there
was only him in a house full of reminders.
The house would be
full at Christmas, full of noise and hustle and bustle, and the usual mix of
love, laughter and tears, but for now it was cold and empty.
So he booked
himself into the Abbeyvale Court Hotel for the
weekend and he would drive home on Monday once the car had been resurrected.
Finding himself in
a strange (unfamiliar) town just a handful of days before Christmas and with
more than a little time to kill he decided he could fill part of his day by
doing some last-minute Christmas shopping.
So after breakfast
on Saturday morning he left the Hotel and as Paul stepped outside he shivered,
the day was cold, grey and damp and clouds scudded across the December sky, it
was the kind of day that chilled you to the bone.
He made his way
towards the high street, which was only a five-minute walk, the receptionist
had assured him with a smile, as she jotted down some brief directions.
In an effort to
warm himself up he walked briskly following her directions down the narrow
almost Dickensian lanes and alleyways, passing picturesque Victorian and Tudor
buildings, well mock Tudor at least, as he went.
It was indeed five
minutes when he emerged onto the busy cobbled pedestrianized high street which
was a curious mixture of the ancient and the modern.
At one end of the
street a Norman Church was visible and at the other was what appeared to be a
municipal building with rather pretentious Georgian columns.
There was still
evidence of a row of Edwardian shop fronts but much of the street was modern
with a little too much sixties influence to be easy on the eye in Paul’s
opinion.
The street was
crisscrossed along its full length with festive lights and decorations which
did their best to brighten the scene.
Paul decided to
familiarize himself with what the town had to offer in the way of shops, so he
turned left and joined the throng of shoppers, with gloomy faces to match the
weather, and headed towards the Georgian pillared building which turned out to
be the public library.
As he dodged
between the Christmas Lemmings Paul made a mental note of the shops that
interested him, which he would return to.
His progress was
hampered by erratic shoppers who appeared to move independently to any logic.
Some seemed to
zigzag everywhere and very few possessed the ability to walk in a straight line
for more than a few paces and others would take a few steps and then stop for
no apparent reason, then after a few moments pause carry on, normally in the
same direction.
The sound of
cheery Christmas songs and carols could be heard from every shop he passed
though the cheeriness of the music was clearly not reflected on the faces of
the shoppers going in and out of them.
As he passed one
shop Noddy Holder screamed “it’s Christmas” to the outside world, just in case
any of the reluctant shoppers were in any doubt.
When Paul reached
the other end of the high street where the Norman Church stood there was a
little square, which he wasn’t able to see before, in the center of which was
the war memorial, and to its left was a magnificent Christmas tree, festooned
with a myriad of assorted baubles, ornaments, tinsel, lights and surmounted by
a beautiful angel.
Assembled around
the tree was the Salvation Army band and Paul took a few moments to admire the
tree and listen to the band and while he listened he was taken back to a
distant time and place where he and the love of his life had held hands as they
sang along.
The clock chimed,
and he was brought back to the present and he took a few more moments while he
decided on his first port of call, not realizing at the time just how important
a decision it would prove to be.
Paul decided on
Woolworths, always a favorite of his at Christmas, but on this occasion, it
also happened to be the closest, so he walked briskly towards the store and
pushed open the door.
As he prepared to
enter he paused to hold the door open for a woman coming the other way and he
waited patiently as she put her purse away into a huge handbag and he wondered
what response he would get for his trouble.
Paul had found
that the older he got the less women appreciated courtesy, the simple act of
holding open a door could provoke a wide range of responses, a smile, a thank
you, a nod, a sneer, a tut, an accusation of male chauvinism or a colorful
mouth full of abuse, and he couldn’t always tell who was going to do what.
When the woman had
finished fiddling and securing her bag she moved to step through the open door
and as she passed Paul she looked up and said
“Thank you”
followed by a broad smile, and then she stopped in her tracks as Paul returned
her smile and then he too just stood there.
Both of them stood
motionless on the threshold as slowly the recognition set in and they were both
dumbstruck, not believing their eyes.
Neither of them
were sure how long they stood looking at one another for, but long enough for a
queue to form behind each of them.
When they realized
what they had done they both blushed and excused themselves and stepped out
onto the street away from the door apologizing profusely.
When they were
clear of the crowd neither of them knew what to say, and still couldn’t believe
their eyes, but Paul knew in his heart without a doubt that he was looking at
Linda Parsons, who he had last seen 30 years before being driven off in a taxi,
disappearing off through the snow, with her palm pressed against the glass as
she craned her neck to keep sight of him through the snow spattered window
until the very last moment, until the cab had gone from his sight.
But here she stood
before him as beautiful as ever she was in his eyes, the soft curls of her
light brown hair, which hung beneath her hat, still danced about her shoulders,
it just had fine strands of silver threaded through it.
Her smile was
still able to melt his heart, even after all those years and her smiling eyes
still had the same sparkle and he thought the years had been kind to her and
less so to him.
As he studied her
he was fumbling for the right words to express his joy at seeing her when she
reached up and hugged his neck, kissing his cheek at the same time, and spoke
softly in his ear.
“Paul, is it
really you?”
He simply said
“yes” and they stood in a long comfortable embrace, and he didn’t know how long
they stood there, not wanting to let go before she relaxed her grip and he
kissed her forehead
“It’s so good to
see you” he said feebly, and she put her head on his chest, squeezed him and
sighed.
Linda released her
grip and pulled away slightly and put her hand up to his cheek and caressed his
grey beard.
“Do you have time
for coffee?” She asked almost pleadingly
“Of course,” Paul
said, and she put her arm through his and led him across the high street,
asking quick fire questions as they went.
Paul explained
about his car breaking down and that he was staying at the Abbeyvale Court
Hotel as he was in no rush to return home
She responded with
“oh really” and “oh dear” internally delighting in his misfortune as they
walked into the nearest coffee shop, Café Société, and sat on a large
comfortable sofa and over coffee they told the tales of their lives spent
apart.
And throughout
Paul looked at her with adoring eyes, periodically pinching himself, expecting
to awake from a dream, as he had done so very many times before.
He told her about
his wife and children and she told him of her marriage to Daniel and the
subsequent divorce.
The good man that
Paul gave Linda up for turned out to have feet of clay and degenerated into a
violent drunk, they had no children, which although unsaid was clearly a regret
for her.
With the aid of
several cups of coffee they managed to talk away the entire morning and Paul
suggested they might spend the rest of the day together and have dinner
together at the hotel.
Linda readily
accepted the invitation to dinner with a delightful smile but then she looked
at her watch and suddenly jumped up in alarm
“Look at the time,
I have to go” she flustered then she said she had a prior commitment
“Lunch with mum”
she added rather unconvincingly, saying it was something she couldn’t get out
of as he helped her back into her coat, the smell of her hair evoking memories
of their past embraces.
She fished out her
mobile phone as they left the coffee shop, from her huge handbag and they
exchanged phone numbers, and firmed up the details for the evening, then with a
hug and a kiss she was off.
Paul stood and
watched her walk away, her coat tails swishing behind her, she stopped briefly
and turned to give him a smile and a wave, then with the phone to her ear she
hurried off again talking animatedly and he stood watching until she
disappeared from sight before he went back to his Christmas shopping and
treated himself to a new shirt for the evening.
Paul bought all
the gifts he was looking for, plus paper, tags, cards etc. and with all his
shopping complete he returned to the hotel for a late lunch.
After that the
rest of the day seemed intolerably long, and in an effort to kill some time he
went for a swim, used the gym, and then went for a walk.
He got a haircut,
even though he didn’t need one, he even wrapped the Christmas presents he had
bought that morning, but the time passed so interminably slowly.
