The Last Christmas (Part Two of Two)

Part One at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/last-christmas-part-one-two

 

The Last Christmas - Part Two of Two

It had just turned midnight and the three men had left the pub to make their way to the taxi rank next to St Luke’s church. The journey involved a stroll down Abington Street. Fresh snow was falling, their steps making a scrunching noise and leaving footprints on the pavement.

“You seeing that girl again? Penny.” John felt merry, alcohol surging around his body. A beer buzz was about as good as things got. Mick and Kevin carried on walking, bustling down the pedestrianised concourse, rows of shops on either side.

“Dunno. Maybe. Probably not. It’s just the craic, y’know?” Mick sounded reflective.

They passed revellers, a trio of young girls were holding each other’s hands and swinging handbags in a circular motion, high in the air.

“So what’s the plan for Christmas Day then, boys?” Kevin was the quietest of the three. With his red hair and pale complexion, he found the whole chatting girls up thing awkward. He worked on the tills at Tesco so met plenty of people during his shifts. He tried his best to be sociable. It just didn’t come naturally to him.

There was a silence as they passed Tesco Metro. In a shop doorway, several people were sleeping in bags, a ragtag collection of blankets thrown over them. They attracted looks and comments as people passed by; not all were sympathetic.

“Shouldn’t they be in somewhere warm when it gets below a certain temperature? I thought the council had to do something when it gets too cold?” John’s voice was as assertive as it was concerned.

They continued bowling along, Kevin’s question about Christmas Day left hanging along with any further comment about the gaggle of unfortunates taking up space in shop doorways.

John turned to Mick. His inhibitions were low after all the drink they had consumed since meeting at 5.30pm. His hands were buried in trouser pockets to keep out the cold as he motioned with his chest.

“You should look after that wife and kid of yours. You are lucky to have a family like that.” They both knew the subtext of the point being made. Mick had felt uneasy the entire evening. He was feeling guilty about the latest disagreement with his wife and how it had spiralled out of control again. Hs heart hadn’t been in it when it came to the chase earlier with the three women. Sure he had charmed his way through another encounter and had a phone number to follow up on as well as the obligatory Yuletide snog but he knew that this wasn’t right really. He just couldn’t help himself.

“I know, John. I get it. I love ‘em both. I know I stink as a hubby. It’s just that she winds me up. We can work it out. We will work it out.” The last few words were hissed as though he was battling with an inner conflict. Kevin listened on the end as they all walked side by side. He said nothing.

They were approaching the middle of town and the last of the shops flanked to the left. Without warning, Mick changed direction and marched towards the shop doorway of Thompsons the travel agents. A man wearing a hoodie was sat cross-legged, his head down and his face obscured by shadows.

“What the f---“ exclaimed John as both he and Kevin wondered what Mick was up to.

Mick stood over the cowed individual and rustled his hand in his back pocket. Pulling out a ten pound note, he slipped it into the man’s hand. Muttering “Merry Christmas” Mick turned and re-joined his friends. The surprised recipient uttered a quiet thank you as he looked up to see who the donor was, his balaclava pulled tight around his face, his woollen gloves tattered and torn.

****

Tom’s Audi navigated its way through the streets of Watford, taking them to his house in a suburb on the edge of town. Having stopped off to drop off Diane’s suitcase, they were back in the car heading out into the country. Built up areas of asphalt and steel had been replaced with country lanes, trees and fields.

They had talked in hushed voices in the kitchen while Tim watched cartoons in the lounge. Tom had pointed out that they had had the same conversation before; yet here they were all over again. Diane’s brother really hadn’t got any time for Mick and she knew it all too well. He had been passive aggressive towards her fiancé at her wedding. She put it down to Tom being overly protective at the time. Now he had a case. She couldn’t defend Mick’s violent outbursts. This had been one time to many. But they all had to take into account Tiny Tim. It wasn’t fair on him. None of this was.

Tom had demanded to know whether Diane would be going home later. He knew what she was like. His sister had said that she wasn’t sure and could they discuss it later. The reply had been that it was fine to pick up again after their planned sojourn but if she intended to head back to Northampton it would have to be no later than 10pm. He didn’t want to get back too late.

“Will we see daddy later?” Tim yawned as the day caught up with him. The adrenaline rush of Christmas Eve was taking its toll.

“Let’s just think about seeing Santa for now. I am sure your dad is having a fine time without us.” Diane immediately regretted that last part of the statement. It sounded bitter and she wanted to be positive on this day of all days.

“Stay with us, little man. We are nearly there.” Tom changed gear as they rounded a bend, headlights on full beam as they hurtled down narrow country roads. Snow lay on fields giving some visibility for any onlookers that might be about.

He pushed down on the brake pedal, the car rolling to a stop in a dirt layby. Either side were oak trees that looked menacing in the dark with overhanging branches. Diane got out and scurried round to the near side where she pulled the door open and led Tim by the hand onto the impromptu parking space. Tim looked around in the darkness, searching for something that might remotely lead him to Santa.

“This way, Tim.” Diane clutched his hand tight in the cold and led the way to a wooden fence a few feet away. It had two rows of timber running parallel with wooden, perpendicular beams staked in the ground every twelve feet or so. They all stood at the boundary, beyond it an area of grassland with copses in the distance. Tom picked the boy up and sat him on the fence, hands on his shoulders and standing directly behind to stop the lad from falling.

“Look over there, Tim. Do you see?” Pushing his glasses up his nose, Tom stooped to speak in Tim’s ear, letting go of one shoulder to point ahead. Tom beamed his torch in the direction of the field just as clouds shifted to reveal a full moon.

A couple of hundred feet away, a herd of row-deer were grazing in the gloom. Their dappled markings on coats clearly defining them. Some had antlers marking the out as males.

“Are those reindeer, uncle Tom?” The small boy was incredulous, his eyes wide.

“Well, sort of. These are Santa’s reserves if anything happens to his first choice team.”

The adults exchanged a glance and a smile. It was nigh on impossible to find reindeer outside of wildlife parks and farms so these beautiful creatures would have to do for now. One day Diane would have the money to take her son to Lapland to see the real thing. One day.

“Look up, Tim. Look up at the sky.”

Tom was something of an astronomer enthusiast. He had looked to see when the next Geminids meteor shower was due and hoped it might be tonight as forecast.

They all tilted their heads upwards. High on the horizon, a streak of white shot across the Heavens.

“Whoa. Is that…is that Santa and his sleigh?” Tim was completely lost in the adventure, marvelling at the beauty of the blue-black panorama and the natural light show that was unfolding

“He’s working his way through the countries to our East, Tim. He will be here soon enough but you need to make sure that you are in bed otherwise he won’t visit.”

They stood for several minutes observing both the deer and more shooting stars that were appearing. The latter were explained away for what they were and that the first one to appear had been the man in the red suit on his travels blending in with the meteors which were, in fact, camouflage. Magic hung in the air, the like of which Diane had never experienced before.

“I wish daddy was here to see this.” Tim sounded sad that his father wasn’t there with them.

“I wish he didn’t hit you mummy.” Diane looked at her brother, shocked that her son knew what had been going on. Tim threw his arms around his mum’s neck and leaned forward to rest his head on her neck. His mother felt a tear roll down her face.

Picking his head back up again, Tim declared “I hope Santa finds that stash we have left out for him.” The boy had changed tack as quickly as a tricky subject had been flagged. Every year, the family performed the same ritual on Christmas Eve. A platter was left out for Santa and his reindeer including a glass of red wine, a mince pie, a bowl of water, a carrot and a handwritten letter of thanks to Santa for all their presents.

****

A key jiggled in the lock and the front door opened. Mick stumbled inside, popping the keys back in his pocket. Leah the pet Labrador scuffled in the doorway, excited at his return. Stroking the canine on the head, he slipped past into the kitchen and poured a pint of water. Hopefully, it would offset any hangover the following day.

He pushed down on a door handle and eased his way into the lounge. The room was in darkness except for the Christmas tree lights that were blinking intermittently. It felt like he had had an epiphany on the way home and come to understand how much he loved his family. He accepted he had made mistakes; so many mistakes but things would be different now. He slumped back on the settee. He picked up the tv remote that was sitting on the coffee table and turned the set on. Scrolling through the channels, he selected a re-run of a black and white “A Christmas Carol”. Alastair Sim was leaning out of a window asking if boy knew where the local butcher shop was.

Closing his eyes, his head resting on one of the back cushions, he remembered all the good times they had experienced as a family. Tim being born at Northampton General, their first Christmas together in their new house, getting the rescue Labrador from the RSPCA in Brixworth. Yes, things would be different starting right now. He was a latter-day Ebenezer Scrooge who had come to realise the error of their ways. Dickens had it bang to rights. Things like that could happen to normal people like him; couldn’t they?

He opened his eyes again and stared at the wrapped presents under the tree. On a side-table sat the usual offering to Father Christmas. She never forgets. Standing, he took a couple of steps towards the yuletide items and picked up the glass of wine. He took a few sips and it back down again, muttering to himself that he had had enough. He took the envelope addressed to Santa and ripped it open, sliding his finger under the gummed flap. This was the ritual every year. He would leave the missive along with a partially eaten mince pie with a gulp taken from the glass of wine. Mick read the letter.

“Mick, can’t do this anymore. Have left you. Tim with me. Please don’t come for us. I loved you. Diane.”

Fifty miles away, a little boy slept soundly waiting for Father Christmas to arrive. On the television, the closing credits were rolling for the movie.

 

Image free to use at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roe_deer#/media/File:Capreolus_capreolus_2_Jojo.jpg