It had been
an amazing year, a life changing year, a year never to be forgotten, beginning
with love at first sight and ending with a miracle.
It all began
of course as all years do on New Year’s Day.
Now you
might think that very little occurs, let alone starts, on New Year’s Day as
everyone is either nursing a hangover or is just too tired to even contemplate
participation in anything very much at all. That may well be true for some but
not for everyone.
For me New
Year’s Day is no different to any other day of the year after all isn’t every
day the first day of another year? You might deduce from this that if I have
such disdain for the first day of the year that my feeling for the last day of
the old year might be like wise and you would be right. I am and always have
been a Christmas person and I love every aspect of the season but New Year's
Eve has always left me cold. In fact I dislike every thing about it, I hate the
crowded pubs, the noisy house parties, “Old Lang Syne”, first footing and of course
the bloody fireworks.
I always
spent the evening with likeminded people, namely my younger brother Greg,
eating Chinese takeaway and watching DVDs. We would prefer to go out to eat but
to go anywhere decent you have to book at Easter.
On the other
hand my friends Dave and his wife Emma loved New Year’s Eve but didn’t
celebrate it for quite different reasons. Dave worked shifts as a porter at the
local hospital. He’d been there since he left school, which was nearly fifteen
years, it didn’t pay well but he really loved it. As a family man, he always
managed to trade shifts so he had Christmas off but subsequently he always had
to work New Year's Eve.
Emma was a
housewife or homemaker or domestic goddess or whatever the pc speak is, she had
worked at the hospital as well until she fell pregnant with their first child.
Now they had three children all under five years old so she never had time off.
So with all
those in mind who do not participate in the Old years night rituals, either by
design as in my case or by circumstance as with Dave and Emma we set the scene
for the tale and so with all that said we get back to the beginning of the
story, the start of that amazing year.
It was New
Year’s Day and I was invited to spend the evening with my good friends the
Parkers for one of Emma’s wonderful dinners, a culinary experience for which I
would have gladly paid a king’s ransom but for which the only charge to me was
my attendance. Well as the saying goes, “there’s no such thing as a free lunch”
and that goes for dinner as well.
I was a
bachelor and happy to be so, I was comfortable in my own company, I liked my
life, I could do what I wanted when I wanted and I had a good job which paid
well and allowed me to indulge myself if I wanted to.
This for
Dave and Emma was an alien concept. They were a couple and were happy ergo I
was single and therefore must be unhappy.
So every
time they had a dinner party, a picnic or BBQ there was always some poor
unfortunate unattached female guest who was propelled towards me. Even at their
wedding they tried to pair me up with the matron of honor’s younger sister.
They were relentless and never gave up but it was always to no avail. It wasn’t
because they were horrible or unattractive young women in fact they were normally
very nice it was just that they were just not for me, we didn’t connect.
So the price
for a very excellent dinner was to be aimed at yet another single, unattached,
divorced woman. Still it was a price worth paying for a very exceptional meal
with good company.
I arrived
late afternoon so I could spend some time with the kids before they went off to
bed. It was sufficiently dark for the Christmas lights to be on and Dave did
like a good Christmas light. His house was in no way as gaudy as many were but
he did like his lights. I was greeted at the door by a very bleary eyed Dave
who had clearly just risen from his pit.
“Oh dear,” I
said, as I looked at his sleep filled eyes and the unmistakable bed head,
“Night shift?”
“Yeah,” he
replied then yawned.
I had known
Dave from infant school and we had been best friends for most of the years
since. I had been best man at his wedding and godfather to his first born. I
followed him into the kitchen were I was greeted by Emma, who standing on her
tip toes drew herself up to all of five feet four, hugged me and kissed my
cheek and I breathed in her scent, a mixture of heady musk and baby sick.
Noticing the
bemused look on my face she pointed to the milky stain on her top and laughed.
I hadn’t
known Emma as long as Dave, just over 10 years, but we became friends instantly
she was one of that rare breed of humans who are just impossible to dislike and
you feel instantly at ease with.
“Happy New
Year,” she said still chuckling.
“Ditto,” I
replied.
“You won’t
even say the words,” she said incredulously. “I can’t believe you dislike New
Year that much,” She left the room laughing.
While all
this was going on Dave had boiled the kettle and made drinks. He put a steaming
mug of instant coffee on the kitchen table and I sat down on the chair nearest
to it.
“What are
you doing here so early anyway?” Dave asked.
“I thought I
could help out by entertaining the ankle biters while you two got yourselves
ready.”
“That’s very
sweet of you Bernie,” Emma said as she came back into the kitchen and sat down
next to me.
”But Jake
and Kenny are at Karen’s until tomorrow and Molly is asleep.”
Jake was my
godson and was almost five, Kenny was three and Molly was barely six months.
“Your sister
Karen?”
Emma nodded.
“I thought
you didn’t get on with her.”
“I don’t,”
she replied. “But I made a New Year's resolution to get closer to her,” she said
without enthusiasm. ”She’s the only family I have so I thought I should make an
effort.”
I was going
to ask Dave if he had made a similar resolution but I thought better of it, I
knew there was too much bad blood there.
“Well as my
entertainment skills are not required I will ...”
I was about
to suggest that I would finish my coffee and come back later when Emma
interrupted me.
“I can use
you in other ways.”
“Oh,” I said
and raised my eyebrows slightly as I considered the eroticism of the image in
my mind of my best friend’s wife naked and smelling of baby sick “using me”
when she placed a potato peeler in front of me.
“Ah”
The next
three hours passed by in the same way that so many of the hours we had spent
together had. Good old fashioned fun. I could imagine nothing better than
spending time in their glorious company. As I said I liked my life. By seven
thirty everything was done that could be done, Dave and Emma had made
themselves presentable though in truth Emma scrubbed up better than Dave. So I
took my self off upstairs to change into a clean shirt which I swiped from
Dave’s wardrobe.
Just as I
was coming down stairs the doorbell rang. Dave headed for the door and I ducked
into the lounge. I didn’t want to be hovering in the hall when the desperate
single woman arrived in case I gave her the impression I was keen to meet her
although I confess I was curious to see what the latest offering in a long line
of potential life partners looked like, but not curious enough to hover in the
hallway.
As it turned
out the doorbell was rung by Colin who worked with Dave at the hospital and his
wife Clair, who was a nurse, I knew them very well and they were good company.
There were to be six for dinner Dave and Emma, Colin and Clair and myself and
the mystery woman.
The new
arrivals soon joined me in the lounge and the volume rose as the banter began
with barbed jibes mainly aimed at me. Colin went through a whole tirade of
remarks questioning my manhood and my sexuality.
“What’s the
matter Bernie couldn’t they scrape up a date for you this time?” Colin
inquired. “Perhaps you should try something in the inflatable line, the
conversations not up to much and they always have the same expression on their
face, but they never judge.”
Thankfully
the doorbell went again.
“Saved by
the bell,” Emma said as she went towards the door.
This didn’t
knock Colin off his stride for a second as he continued to elaborate on the
advantages of having an inflatable girlfriend which he continued to do until
Emma led a very attractive brunette into the room.
Colin
stopped mid-sentence with his mouth open which he only closed after Clair had
inserted her elbow into his rib cage. “Everybody this is Angela” Emma said.
“Dave you know already, the one with his mouth open is Colin and his long
suffering wife Clair” Then she turned to me, “And this is Bernie”
I would be
hard pressed to put a figure on the number of attractive young women Emma had
steered in my direction over the years. In many ways Angela was just another in
a very long line but there was something else to her which I couldn’t put my
finger on. Maybe it was the way she held herself and how she was un-phased by
the realization that she was making up the numbers.
Sometimes
when Emma has introduced me you see the shoulders slump in disappointment or
you see excitement on the faces of the keen ones that give them the look of
kittens on speed. Angela was poised and confident and…
“Hi” I said
and offered my hand which she took.
We obviously
held hands for longer than we should have and as soon as we realized we let go
and she laughed nervously and I felt myself blush.
“Where do
you know Emma from?” I asked trying to regain my composure while being
painfully aware that no one else in the room was speaking.
“We were at
school together,” She said
“And then
after university. I moved away and we lost touch.”
“And now?” I
asked suddenly aware the question made no sense; I was normally much more
coherent than this.
“And now
what?”
“I think he
means where are you living now,” Said Emma coming to my rescue.
“Oh I see,
yes, I moved back in November, I’m living with my parents at the moment until I
find somewhere I like.”
I became
aware of a low murmur in the background so I relaxed in the knowledge I was no
longer being watched. “And how did you two get back in touch?”
Emma laughed
and Angela said, “It was in Sainsbury’s and I inadvertently walked off with
Emma’s trolley when …”
“I was about
to draw it to her attention by throwing a tin of baked beans at her,”
Interrupted Emma.
“But I
turned round just in time.”
They were
both laughing now and soon Angela’s soft infectious giggle had circled the room
until we were all laughing. That kind of set the tone for the rest of the
evening as we enjoyed Emma’s wondrous culinary offerings, each course was
punctuated with a mixture of rehashed old anecdotes and previously unheard
tales regaled to us by Emma and Angela.
All through
the evening my eyes were drawn to Angela almost to the point of staring and
once or twice Emma noticed my interest and I quickly glanced away and then she
and Dave exchanged a knowing look.
It was when
we reached the liqueur stage of the evening when we were all slightly the worse
for drink and all guilty of over imbibing that I finally let myself down. As a
veteran guest of the Parkers it always fell to me to raise a toast which I
gladly did. “Please raise your glasses to the hostess with the mostest Emma and
yet another outstanding feast, Emma”
This was
greeted with a chorus of “Hear, Hear,” and much table tapping. “And to the man
who is mastery of the bottle opener second to none, Dave.” More cheers and more
table tapping. “And last but by no means least, old friends.”
And that is
where I should have left it but no. “And new friends” and raising my glass and
looking straight at her I said “Angel.” Everybody just cracked up Dave laughed
so much he fell off his chair which only managed to fuel the flames. I just
turned crimson and slumped into my chair.
Angel smiled
at me though the tears rolling down her cheeks, so I thought maybe I hadn’t
ruined my chances.
Colin stood
up and did a very credible impression of me saying, “We have an angel in our
midst,” which isn’t easy to say even when you’re sober.
Then Dave clambered
back into his chair and exclaimed, “It’s better than that I’ve just realized we
have two angels.”
“What are
you on about,” said Emma
I had a bad
feeling about what was coming next so I interceded, “Just ignore him he’s
pissed.”
But Dave was
not to be deterred. “We have the beautiful young angel Angela, and we have the
angel Gabriel.”
“What are
you talking about?” quizzed Emma.
He resorted
to pointing to get his meaning over; firstly he pointed at Angela and said
slowly, “Angel.” Then he pointed at me, “Gabriel.”
“What?” Emma
asked again with a very puzzled expression.
So he
pointed at me again and said, “GABRIEL Bernard Brophy.”
Finally the
penny dropped and everybody fell about. Except me I just leant forward and
started banging my head on the table. I sat up and looked at Dave. “Over Twenty
five years you’ve kept that secret and you chose tonight to give it up.”
“Its alright
you’re among friends,” Emma said and then broke down again.
“It won’t
stay among friends though, not now loose lips knows,” I said gesturing in
Colin’s direction. “It will be all round the hospital tomorrow.”
“Oh now
that’s not fair,” said Emma.
“No it is,”
said Colin.
“No, it
won’t be all over the hospital tomorrow,” added Dave reassuringly. “He’s off
until Thursday.”
The next day
was one of reflection and I was left with a feeling of what might have been had
I not dropped the ball.
How ironic
it was that after all the young women Dave and Emma had put in my path over the
years in the hope of finding me a wife, which I always managed to side step, I
finally met a woman whom I didn’t want to swerve to avoid and the fates
conspired against me.
I finally
met a girl who was attractive, funny, intelligent, well spoken, had a sense of
humour and good table manners (which was a definite plus) and who left me
tongue tied like a lovesick schoolboy. Someone who ticked all the boxes and
quite simply bowled me over, and I blew it in the most humiliating manner. It
seemed like we had a number of things in common, we were both Christians, we
both liked film and cinema, walking in the country to name but three, and I was
looking forward to finding out more about her and if there were any other boxes
I could tick.
I couldn’t
believe what a gibbering idiot I had been; I had been complimented in the past,
more than once for my eloquence at such occasions and I had never been tongue
tied before well not since I was fifteen, and why oh why did I call her Angel
and why did Dave have to blurt out my Christian name.
I didn’t
even bother asking her out or getting her number there didn’t seem much point.
I did feel though that we had made a connection and that my overtures, for want
of a better term, would not have been rejected out of hand. I could still have
gotten her number from Emma but how would I ever have been able to ask her out
after she knew that my name was Gabriel?
So I
resigned myself to the fact that due to some circumstances beyond my control
and my total inability to string even the simplest of semi coherent sentences
together she would be forever viewed as the one that got away. So I turned my
full attentions to work and started getting things ready for my return to
harness the next day.
As I was
ironing myself a shirt the phone rang, I ignored it; it was probably one of my
mates who having heard the revelation about my name were just phoning to take
the piss. It rang again, I ignored it again, I knew it wouldn’t take long for
Colin to spread the word. It rang a third time. “I suppose I’d better get it
over with” I said and headed towards the phone. It rang again before I got to
it and the answer phone kicked in. My first reaction was good now leave your
poisonous message and then I can delete it without even hearing it, but
curiosity got the better of me so I decided to listen to the message and braced
myself.
“Hi, Oh dear
I hope you don’t mind me ringing” Said a faltering voice “Uhrm, I got your
number from Emma” There was a pause then a nervous laugh. “It’s Angel”
I quickly
grabbed the phone and almost shouted “Hello.” If I had gone with my first
instinct and deleted the message unheard she would never have called again I
would still have thought of her as the one that got away and the remarkable
year would simply not have happened. Well thankfully I did and what a
remarkably good decision it was.
The
conversation began in a rather stumbling and embarrassed fashion, with lots of
nervous laughter and hesitation but ended in a date. It was decided that a meal
would be best where we could relax and find out more about each other.
But where
proved more difficult, we ruled out restaurants that used unusual eating
utensils which excluded most oriental places and any French establishments
serving escargot, the food had to be cooked which eliminated sushi, any food
which the eater might end up wearing i.e. spaghetti, ribs etc so we reached the
conclusion that beer and pizza was probably the safest option. The phone call
lasted more than an hour and I was reluctant to end it but my bladder had the
last word.
As it turned
out this one carefully selected date proved to be the last difficult decision
we had to make together. The first date led to another and then another and
another, we dined at all the establishments we excluded for our first date and
ate all the foods previously mentioned.
Between New
Year’s and Easter we were rarely apart and we did everything together, bowling,
swimming, walking, you name it we did it, and we could neither remember the
time before we met nor craved time to ourselves. We were obviously regular
guests at the Parkers where Emma would gloat shamelessly at her matchmaking
success.
In April I
had to go to the States on business unexpectedly for two weeks and Angela
wasn’t able to get any time off at such short notice so I went alone and
although we spoke on the phone and Emailed everyday I missed her terribly. When
I returned to home on the last day of April she was waiting for me as I came
through the gate and she ran to meet me and I took her in my arms,
“I missed
you so much” Angela said
“I never
want us to be apart again, Angel” I replied. Then I knelt in front of her and
proposed to her right there at the arrivals gate.
We were
married in June at St. Lucy’s Church in the village of Brookley, we had to get
a special license. We were lucky to find somewhere at such short notice but we
wanted to be married in church as we were both Christians we just weren’t
regular attendees though we became so at St. Lucy’s. Dave was my best man and
Emma was matron of honour and their boys Jake and Kenny were page boys. It was
a small affair just close friends and what family we had, my brother Greg and
Angela’s parents, mine were both gone years before. But it was a wonderful day,
one that we would never forget.
Then an
ambition fulfilled and a dream come true, when we honeymooned in Italy
traveling to Venice on the Orient Express. After the honeymoon we moved into my
flat, a short-term arrangement while we found a house, Angela never did find a
place of her own and had been living at her parents where most of her stuff
remained.
There was an
old run down farm with a derelict farm house that we often walked past on one
of our many country walks and we had often wondered what it would be like to
live there. It was beautifully situated in a nice plot of land far enough into
the country to be peaceful and close enough to the village to be part of a
community.
Then one day
I noticed it was up for sale, it was lucky really because I only drove past it
because a bus had broken down on my usual route to work so I went cross
country. I called the agent, it had been empty for about ten years, when the
owner an elderly widow moved into a home and with no next of kin to keep an eye
on the property it fell into disuse. Now upon the death of the old lady the
farm was to be sold to settle her estate. I arranged an appointment but I kept
it secret from Angela and I just told her we had a viewing.
“So where
are we going first?” Angel asked as we were about to leave.
“It’s over
Brookley way” I said vaguely.
She was sat
in the car flicking through a pile of A4 sheets containing estate agents blurb.
“Where are the details then?” She quizzed “I can’t find it.”
“I must have
left it at work, but don’t worry the agent will have a copy.”
We had quite
a few places to look at. Some Angela had chosen and some of mine but the old
farmhouse was first on the list. As we drove down the lane towards the farm
Angela asked. “Where are we going?”
“Its not far
now it’s just down here I think.” Then we turned the corner and the entrance
was on the left.
On the right
hand side of the entrance there was a half rotten five-bar gate leaning askew
against a crumbling brick wall held in place by a solitary well rusted hinge
and tied to the gate. While on the left hand side was a once sturdy sign post
leaning at a precarious angle adorned by a board bearing the name of the farm
but it could not be read from that angle. As I drove through the entrance into
the yard Angela said, “It’s our farmhouse” There was already a car in the yard
which was unnecessarily flashy and could only belong to an estate agent. The
door opened and a preening peacock of a man climbed out pausing briefly to brush
away an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve.
I opened my
door first to get out, but by the time I climbed out Angela was already out
fidgeting and transferring her weight from one foot to the other eager to get
on. The agent glanced briefly at the paper he was holding and inquired. “Mr.
Brophy?”
“Yes” I said
and proffered my hand. He inspected it briefly then shook it limply in his
clammy manicured hand. “And this is my wife.” I waved my hand in the direction
of were she had been standing but she had already bounded off like Tigger.
It took
about an hour to view everything, the farmhouse, out buildings and the couple
of acres of land. The agent didn’t fancy leaving the confines of the yard.
Presumably he didn’t want to get mud on his expensive Italian shoes. So we
explored the land by ourselves.
We had both
fallen instantly in love with the old ramshackle farm and by the time Angela
and I had wandered back to the yard we had decided to make an offer on the
place. We had good jobs, well paid jobs, and for a number of years earned more
than we could spend and as a result both had substantial savings. Plus Angela
had sold her house the previous year and I only had a tiny mortgage on my flat
so we worked out that we could easily afford to buy the farm, renovate the
farmhouse for ourselves and convert the out buildings into another property
which we could earn a little income on either as a summer let or as a normal
rental, provided of course we could get it for under the asking price.
It would be
a gamble and after years of playing safe and being sensible it was not an easy
one to make but because neither of us had seriously invested ourselves in a
long-term relationship before we went for it with gay abandon. So we made our
offer to the agent.
“That may
not be good enough there are other people interested” He said looking down his
nose. “In fact I have another viewing this afternoon”
“Well
actually that appointment is with me” Angela said sheepishly.
As we drove
out of the yard I stopped just inside the gate when something caught my eye.
“Look at that” I said pointing out the window. From that angle I could clearly
see the signboard that bore the name of the farm. It read “Angels Farm”
“Well now we
know it’s definitely meant to be.”
So our offer
was accepted, it had taken one day to find the house of our dreams but it was
to be several months before we could move in properly.
The first
thing we did after we sold the flat was to buy a second hand caravan that we
parked in the farmyard which would be our home until the house was finished as
we had decided we didn’t want to move in until absolutely everything was done,
although that would very much depend on the severity of the winter. All of our
furniture and worldly goods were put in the barn which we were using for
storage.
Now as an
accountant and a software engineer, Angela and I were of very little use in
regard to the major work that was required but as project managers we were
second to none. We were very lucky securing professional help we needed, so
many of them were between jobs or had another job that had fallen through and
were unexpectedly available.
We employed
a constant stream of them, builders, roofers, plumbers, plasterers,
electricians, telecoms engineers and tree surgeons, and apart from our talents
for project management, were excellent tea and coffee makers. On the practical
side we were gainfully employed with clearing rubbish and shrubbery from the
site and filling skips with anything and everything. To all intents and
purposes we dropped out of sight for the duration of the project and spent
every available minute we had working on the farm.
Although we
did make great use of baby brother Greg on several occasions, we were quite
selfish and single minded really, but we were even handed about it and we
ignored friends and family alike, and we did feel guilty about it but if we
could get every thing done by Christmas we would be able to see whoever we
liked whenever we liked.
Angela did
touch base briefly with her parents by phone and we spoke occasionally to Dave
and Emma but we didn’t see them after August.
Throughout
October, we made great progress whipping a large section of the acreage into
something resembling a garden and in November our hard work was rewarded when
the turf was laid. By the end of November we were able to get into the
farmhouse and start decorating while the professionals made progress on the
outbuilding conversion.
As we
completed each room the carpets were laid and then we moved the furniture in
room by room we worked our way through the house and we were counting the days
when we could abandon the caravan forever.
We had both
accrued quite a lot of holidays and lieu time over the last few years so we
decided to use them up for the final push which meant we only worked about five
days in December.
Then on the
twentieth of December with great ceremony (A recording of a fanfare and a
bottle of Cava) we took up residence in our dream home.
The next
morning when we awoke for the first time in our own bedroom it was with a
certain smug satisfaction after all we had achieved our target with four days
to spare and a few pounds left in the budget, It was going to be the best
Christmas ever.
“CHRISTMAS!”
Angela shouted and sat bolt upright.
“What?” I
said as she leapt out of bed
“CHRISTMAS,
CHRISTMAS!” she was shouting and running around like a headless chicken trying
to dress and run at the same time she fell over twice. I just looked on in
amusement as she flitted from bedroom to bathroom in various states of undress.
Then she
stood in the bathroom door and said, “We don’t have anything for Christmas, no
decorations, no tree, no cards, no food, no presents, no crackers, no drink we
have nothing for Christmas.” Then the penny dropped, we had been so focused on
getting in the house by Christmas we had forgotten about Christmas itself.
“OH GOD!” I
shouted and then joined in the headless chicken dance.
So for the
next three days we did battle at the mall amidst the throngs of Christmas
shoppers and took part in the supermarket trolley dash filling the trolleys
with enough food to feed a small army. Then we wrote endless cards, wrapped the
numerous presents, decked the halls and trimmed the tree. By the time darkness
fell on the third day everything was done and presents stood in neat piles
ready to be delivered the next day.
I opened a
bottle of wine and we sat on the sofa beside the glowing fireplace and I put my
arm around her and asked, “Can we be smug now?”
“Oh yes I
think we most certainly can,” she replied smiling then she turned her head and
kissed me.
On Christmas
Eve morning we woke up late, well late for us anyway, it was 9.30 am when we
stirred and it was so quiet. Angela snuggled up to me and I held her close.
“What time is it?” she asked sleepily
“Half past
nine.”
“Wow that’s
late we’d better get on.”
“It’s not
that late,” I said nuzzling her neck.
“Its too
late for that,” she said pushing me away. “Go and put the kettle on”
“Ok,” I said
and got out of bed.
Angela got
out the other side pulled on a T-shirt and went to the window.
I looked at
her and wished we had stayed in bed.
She drew
back the curtain. “Snow!” she exclaimed and then Tigger was back bouncing all
over the room squealing “Snow, “ every time she left the floor.
I walked to
the window and looked out on the scene, it had snowed heavily in the night and
snow was still falling though more softly and everything was coated in five or
six inches of snow.
“It just gets
better and better,” I mused.
“Ok,” I said
as I turned from the window, “what’s it to be, coffee in bed or play in the
snow?”
“Play in the
snow!” Angel shouted and bounded across the room and launched herself at me
wrapping her arms round my neck and knocking me backwards onto the bed.
She kissed
me passionately on the mouth and asked, “Is there a third choice?”
So after we
made love we got dressed in our play clothes and wrapped up against the cold
and went out to play in the freshly fallen snow.
It was like
being children again as we rushed around throwing snowballs and wrestling in
the snow. Where our newly turfed lawn used to be was a vast area of virgin
white and we took turns making snow angels and then we built a snowman in the
yard until we started to feel cold and wet and our bodies told us to act our
age.
So we went
inside and had hot showers and for lunch we had piping hot soup in front of a
roaring fire. After lunch Angela was puttering about in the kitchen washing up
and such and I dozed off in front of the fire. I started to dream and in the
dream I was woken by an icy blast of air from the patio door as it slid open
and then a figure stepped through the door it was white and translucent and its
outline was made of snow, it was one of the snow angels we had made on the
lawn. It walked towards me then stopped as it became aware of the heat from the
fire. Then it looked directly at me and spoke, “You must help them, they need
you.”
“Who? Who
must I help?”
“You must
help your friends.” Then the snow angel turned and left the way it came.
Then I woke
up. “Well that wasn’t weird at all,” I said out loud and gave a nervous laugh.
I stood up and walked towards the kitchen so I could tell Angela and then I
felt something beneath my feet, I looked down and there was a patch of melted
snow on the carpet. “That’s odd” I said to myself. It was odd as we hadn’t come
into that room with our snowy shoes and it was the exact spot were the snow
angel had been standing in my dream.
I moved
again and as I reached the kitchen door I could see Angela standing motionless
staring out of the window open mouthed. I entered the room and walked up behind
her and followed her gaze and on our snow covered lawn were a dozen snow angels
all pointing in the same direction. Then in an instant they were gone and
Angela turned around and buried her face in my chest.
“Tell me you
saw them as well; tell me I’m not going mad.”
“I saw them
too,” I said reassuringly. Then I proceeded to tell her about my dream.
But we
didn’t really understand what they were trying to tell us. Who were we supposed
to help? And what were the angels pointing at?
They seemed
to be pointing at what used to be the old out buildings which were now a house.
But why we couldn’t fathom. The only friends we had in common were Dave and
Emma so it had to be them. I phoned the landline and got the “out of service”
tone.
Angela
phoned Emma’s mobile - no answer so I phoned Dave’s and I got no answer as
well. “Well that settles it,” I said.
Angela
agreed and if it wasn’t them who needed our help it would be great to see them
anyway. But just in case we were both completely barking mad we loaded their
presents in the car.
As we drove
past the snowman in the yard I was sure it had moved it was now facing the opposite
way and its stick arm was pointing at the empty house.
I turned to
look at Emma she was looking at the snowman as well.
“It’s moved
hasn’t it? And look where it’s pointing,” she said.
As we drove
up the road to their house it was obvious something wasn’t quite right. To
begin with there were no Christmas lights, and then there was virtually no
light in the house just a dull kind of flickering glow. We parked the car
quickly and hurried up the path and knocked on the door. It took a while but then
the door opened a few inches and a gaunt pale face peered through the crack
with frightened tired eyes.
“Emma?” we
both said at once. Then the door swung open and Emma broke down and fell
against me.
I scooped
her up and carried her through to the lounge. Angela followed me in and quickly
shut the door to keep out the cold. Once in the lounge we realized it was
little warmer than the street. There was a paraffin heater in the middle of the
room and the only light came from candles.
I set Emma
down on the sofa and she wrapped herself in the duvet that was laying there,
two of the children were sitting on another sofa beneath another duvet reading
books the youngest was asleep next to Emma..
Emma was a
mere shadow of the confident self-assured woman I had last seen in August.
“What happened?” I asked and it all poured out of her.
She told us
that Dave lost his job in September when they started a phased closure of the
hospital and try as he might he couldn’t find anything else. “At first I got a
part time job, cash in hand you know, which helped a bit but then I fell off my
bike and broke my arm and I couldn’t work.”
“Why didn’t
you call us?” Angela asked.
“Dave
wouldn’t let me,” she sobbed.
“What about
Karen? Wouldn’t she help?” I added,
“We had
another falling out, we haven’t spoken since Easter” Karen was her sister, they
had never been close, but Emma had resolved to know her better.
“What about
when we phoned you? Why didn’t you tell us then?”
“Dave was so
ashamed that he couldn’t look after his family, he didn’t want anyone to know.”
Emma went on to say that after that the bills just kept mounting up and then
the phone was cut off, then the mobiles had to go and the electric was likely
to be next.
“You should
have called us then,” I said.
“When it got
so bad I didn’t know what to say.”
I looked at
Angela and I could tell we were sharing the same thought. We had been so
wrapped up in the farm we had forgotten our friends.
Emma
continued. “We owe three months rent, what will we do when the council evicts
us?”
“It won’t
come to that” I said and I looked again at Angela and she nodded agreement. In
that moment the meaning of the angel’s message had become clear.
“No it
won’t.” Angela agreed
“Where is
Dave now?” I asked
“He’s
upstairs in bed,” Emma sobbed heavily, “he’s very ill but he won’t let me call
a doctor, he hasn’t eaten for two days.”
“Well he’s
not going to get better if he stays here,” I said. “You can all come to stay
with us for Christmas; we’ve got plenty of room.” I suddenly thought I may have
overstepped the mark so I looked across at Angela.
And she
nodded her approval and smiled.
“Then after
the holidays when the other house is finished, you can move in there until
you’re all well and back on your feet,” Angela added.
It was my
turn to nod approval. That was what the angels meant I was sure of it.
Emma Leapt
off the sofa and hugged us both.
“We can sort
things out with the council after Christmas so don’t worry,” I assured her
“Now you go
and pack some clothes and toys for the children,” Angela ordered wiping away
her own tears.
The
logistics took a little thinking about it was obvious we couldn’t all get in our
car and I was going to need help with Dave so I phoned Greg, he was coming to
be with us for Christmas anyway, and between the two of us we transported
everyone plus baggage and Molly’s cot.
Back at
Angels Farm, Angela got everyone settled while Greg and I unloaded the cars. As
we took the last bags out of his boot I said, “You do realize I’ve given your
bed away to someone else?”
“No, you’ve
given it to someone who needs it more,” He replied
“I’ll be all
right I’ll sleep in the caravan.”
Once we were
all inside in the warm, Greg played with the children in front of the fire,
Angela prepared some hot food and I called a doctor for Dave.
After
everyone was settled in bed Angela and I were clearing up when we looked out
the window and noticed it was snowing again. I opened the kitchen door and
stepped down onto the patio. Angela stood on the step behind me and wrapped her
arms round my neck and kissed my cheek.
“It’s going
to be a white Christmas” she whispered in my ear.
Suddenly the
floodlight came on and illuminated the whole patio and standing at the edge of
the lawn was a Snow Angel with a gentle smile on its face.
“Did we do
the right thing?” I asked it
The Angel
nodded.
“And the
house is for people who need help?”
The Angel
nodded again.
“We will use
it well.” Angela added
And with
that the angel smiled again and then lay down upon the lawn and the light
flicked off.
The snow was
falling fast now. “All trace of them will be gone by morning,” I said.
“There will
always be angels at the farm,” Angela replied and kissed my cheek again.
Then we went
back inside.
And so for
Angela and me it had been an amazing year, a life changing year, a year never to
be forgotten, beginning with love at first sight and ending with a miracle.
At first we
chastened ourselves for being such poor friends, by being so self-absorbed in
our own priorities that we forgot what was important. But when we looked back
over that eventful year we realized that we were merely adhering to a greater
plan, throughout the year we were being guided and steered towards our destiny
by the angels. They steered us towards St. Lucy’s church in Brookley for our
wedding and it was no coincidence that the farm went on the market the very day
we began our search for a home. Nor was it happenstance that a breakdown led me
to take a diversion that took me past the farm so I would see the for sale sign
and all those workmen being available just at the time we needed them. Then
finally in an area of the country that had not seen a significant fall of
December snow for more than 50 years produces the snowfall on Christmas Eve in
which we made the snow angels.
Though some
might say we had been manipulated, we chose to think we had been chosen and
guided and we were happy to be so.
For the rest
of our lifetimes we never saw the snow angels again, but for all our days we
were the angels of Angel’s Farm.
