I have a picture of you
Which
speaks to me,
Speaks in
sugary tones
And syrupy
words
Of things
I liked to hear
When we
were both young
But my
tastes have changed
A sweet
tooth no longer
My palate
more mature
More
sophisticated
A little
less exciting maybe
But you
can’t be sixteen forever
But I will
always keep
That
picture of you
Which
speaks to me
In sugary
tones
And syrupy
words
Just to
remind me of the time
When I had
a sweet tooth
Time is a great healer
That’s
what they said
That’s
what they told me
After you
were dead
Banal
words of wisdom
And
benevolent attitudes
Empty
words and gestures
And
worthless platitudes
Only one
thing
Can ever
take the pain away
And you’re
not coming back
No matter
how hard I pray
I just
wish with all my heart
We could
have gone together
And I
would not feel so lonely
I first met Olwen Carmichael on a grey murky day in October when I had been into
the village of Upper Oakham to buy some essentials, milk and bread etc.
It had been sunny and bright
when I left Honeysuckle Cottage that morning so I decided to walk the two miles
into the village and took one of the many paths through the woods.
However by the time I was
leaving the village store with my essential purchases it was raining, and it
was that fine drizzly rain that soaked you in an instant and from a distance it
gave the illusion of being a mist.
In fact due to its inherent
ability to obscure landmarks it was to all intents and purposes a mist.
My name is John Gallen and I’m a writer although no one in the Oakham’s would have
heard of me, but under my nom de plume of Neil K Fitzgerald you would be hard
pressed to find anyone who hadn’t.
For under that name I had
written a series of successful thrillers, six in all and a seventh was now well
over due.
I was recently divorced, though
not my choice but my darling wife had cheated on me, with my best friend to
boot so it couldn’t be avoided.
But since the divorce I had
struggled with the latest book in the series, it didn’t even have a title yet
and I was fast approaching a crucial deadline.
I decided the best thing to
do was to get away, right away where no one knew me and where there were no
distractions.
So I rented a house in the
country, a holiday cottage in fact almost two miles from the nearest neighbour.
As it was out of season I managed
to book it from October to March though I only planned to stay until I completed
the book which I thought I would manage in a month, away from all the everyday
distractions of a town.
So that was why I found
myself living in the nauseatingly named Honeysuckle Cottage.
Which was as the name might
suggest a pretty little cottage.
It would have originally have
been a two up two down but it now had a single story extension which housed the
kitchen
Upstairs was a small bedroom
and the bathroom which was equipped with a good old fashioned man sized bath. While
downstairs in addition to the kitchen there was a sitting room and another
bedroom.
Well I had been walking back
towards the cottage with my head down to protect my face from the slanting rain
and making slow progress on the woodland path in my unsuitable shoes.
When I eventually lifted my
head up I didn’t recognise a single tree and was completely disorientated and
as I wasn’t that familiar with the woods
I didn’t recognise anything.
As the rain continued to fall
I was starting to panic when a voice behind me said
“Are you alright?”
I turned around and saw a
little creature of indeterminate age in a parka with a fur trimmed hood.
“I am embarrassed to say it
but I appear to be lost” I said
The figure stepped forward
and pushed the hood back from her face to reveal a young woman in her
mid-twenties no more than five foot tall.
“You’re lost?” she asked in
disbelief and smiled broadly
“Yes” I said even more
embarrassed
“Where were you going?” She
asked
“Honeysuckle Cottage” I
replied
“Oh you’re the writer” she
said
“Yes” I said “John Gallen”
“I’m Olwen Carmichael, and
we’re neighbours”
“Are we?” I asked
“Yes” She replied “I live in Cherry
Tree House, just along the lane from you”
“Well I am pleased to meet
you Olwen” I said
“Come on I’m going your way”
She said and she walked with me all the way to the cottage, she wasn’t the
chattiest person I had ever met but I rather liked her.
“Here you are, safe home” she
said smiling.
“Thank you for rescuing me
and for walking me home” I said “come in for a coffee”
“I can’t I have to be
somewhere” she replied
“Another time perhaps” I
suggested
“Yes” she replied and hurried
off.
A few days later I had to
drive into Northchapel to do a more substantial shop to stock the cupboards.
I had exhausted the meagre
supplies I brought with me when I moved in plus I need some more appropriate
footwear for the country.
Instead of going in the
direction of Upper Oakham I drove the opposite way down the lane which would
take me to Lower Oakham and I drove past Cherry Tree House where my nearest
neighbour lived.
It was roughly two miles from
my cottage and despite being called a house it was also a cottage though it was
much bigger than mine.
I drove slowly as I passed it
and I was surprised to find myself disappointed that there was no sign of life.
Beyond that were another
three houses before the lane reached the Northchapel road, one of which was the
home of my landlady, or at least the woman I was renting the Cottage from, Sandra Brown, who right on cue came out of her front door and waved.
I slowed down and waved back and
I was about to drive on when she flagged me down.
“How are you settling in?” Sandra
said
“Fine” I replied “I’m just
going into Northchapel to stock up on groceries”
“I won’t keep you then, but
Pop in for tea on the way back” she said
With a boot full of Tesco’s
finest tinned and dried goods I returned to Upper Oakham and didn’t really feel
like stopping for tea with Mrs Brown but she had invited me and I thought it
would have been rude not to, so I pulled up outside The Villa.
As we sat in her lounge
drinking from her best China I related the story of my getting lost in the
woods and being rescued by a young woman called Olwen.
“Oh she’s my niece” Sandra
said with a mixture of pride and a little sadness “I worry about her”
“She seemed very sound when I
met her” I said
“Oh she is but the poor girl
is an insomniac, she hasn’t
slept properly for four years or so” she said “She only ever cat naps”
“Why is that?” I asked
She was thoughtful for a
moment and then she said
“More tea?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to
pry” I said
“It’s ok Mr Gallen” she said
“It just makes me sad”
“I understand but please call
me John”
She nodded and went all
thoughtful again before she said
“Olwen always had a small
problem with sleeping after her grandmother died in her sleep when she was 12,
but she seemed to grow out of that in time” She paused to take a sip of her
tea.
“Then when she was at university
her best friend Gina suffered an embolism and died one night.
Olwen was absolutely
devastated but I think she would have come out the other side had it not been
for the Kirby’s”
“The Kirby’s?” I asked
“Yes they were a family from
the village who died in a house fire.
It happened in the early
hours as they slept, five of them, it was so tragic.
Olwen knew the family very
well and she had even baby sat the children.
It was the final straw for
her and ever since that night Olwen has had a morbid fear of sleeping”
As I arrived home, or at
least my temporary home I reflected on how candid Sandra had been, after all
she could just have said she suffered from insomnia and left it at that.
I suppose not being honest
might have failed to explain her irregular hours and her habit of walking the
woods at all hours of the day and night.
I could relate to that in
some ways as I was prone to keeping irregular hours myself.
But I was pleased Sandra had
told me everything as a writer I was naturally nosy but there was something
about Olwen that struck a chord with me.
I continued to see Olwen
walking the lane or one of the many woodland paths though she never stopped to
talk but she did occasionally wave.
I did wonder what on earth
she did with herself.
There must be more to her
life than walking the woods.
One day towards the end of
October I was in the Upper village on a milk and bread run when I bumped into Sandra
again.
“John” she said “how’s the
book?”
“Hello Sandra, slowly I’m
afraid”
“Well I won’t keep you from
it then” she said and laughed
“Don’t worry I need to rest
my brain for a bit” I replied “in fact why don’t you pop in later and I will
return your hospitality, I have cake”
“Well in that case I would
love to”
On the way back to the
cottage I wasn’t sure if I had given Sandra the wrong impression and my invite
might have been misconstrued.
She was an attractive woman
some ten years my senior but nonetheless attractive. And a ten year age gap
wasn’t unheard of after all.
There was a knock at the door
about 3 o’clock that afternoon and when I opened the door I saw it was Sandra
in a grubby Berber jacket, dirty wellies and mud spattered jeans which put my
mind at rest.
She was hardly in the mode of
dress for a woman who thought she had been invited for a tryst.
“Is it alright if I leave the
dog in the porch?” she asked as she slipped off her wellies.
“Bring him in” I said
“Are you sure?” she asked
“there is nothing worse than the smell of wet dog”
“Nonsense bring him in” I
said
“Come on Skipper” she called
Skipper was an American
Cocker Spaniel, very wet, very muddy and very friendly.
He paused briefly for a
stroke and then went straight to the hearth.
I made the tea and took it
into the sitting room.
“No china cups I’m afraid” I
said
“That’s good I prefer a mug”
she responded
I gave her a look because she
had served tea to me on her best china.
“I know” she replied to my
unasked question “I blame my mother”
We both laughed, my mother
was like that as well.
As we drank our tea I found
myself quizzing her about Olwen again.
The nosy writer again I
supposed,
“I see her in the woods or on
the Lane a lot” I said
“Yes she has a lot of time on
her hands” Sandra replied
“She can’t hold down a job
because she doesn’t sleep regularly but she is prone to nodding off from time
to time”
It seemed that financially
she was set, her house was hers out right and she had an annuity from her
parent’s estate which was enough for her to live on,
She led a very modest existence.
“So what does she do to fill
her days?” I asked
“She’s an avid reader” she
replied “She’s reading all of yours at the moment”
“Really?” I said
“Olwen is also a bit of a
movie buff especially classics” Sandra said “and of course she likes to walk”
I nodded
“It’s silly isn’t it that she
feels safer walking the woods in the middle of the night that she does in her
bed”
“It is” I agreed
“She doesn’t eat properly
either” she added with a lump in her throat and I thought how wonderful it was
to have someone care about you that much.
It was Halloween and that
time of the day when in my home town there would be a constant stream of
expectant children knocking on the door.
Due to the remoteness of the
cottage and the foulest weather I had seen for many a day, so I wasn’t
expecting even one.
So imagine my surprise when
there was indeed a knock at my door.
I opened the door and the
sight that greeted me was as fearful a sight as you could imagine on any
Halloween night.
It was a drowned rat, caked
in mud, and looking very sorry for itself.
“Hello Olwen” I said “what on
earth are you doing out in this?”
“It wasn’t this bad when I
started” she replied
She looked like she had been
on manoeuvres with the SAS.
“Come in, come in” I said “what
happened?”
“Don’t laugh” she said “but I
fell in a ditch”
“My God you are actually
squelching” I said “get your coat and boots off”
I left her and went to get a
towel when I came back she was walking towards the warmth of the fire and she
was still squelching.
She stood in front of the
fire in her squelchy socks and shivered.
I went upstairs and started
the bath running and put fresh towels on the rail and went downstairs again.
“Right you need to get out of
those wet things” I said in a fatherly tone
“I’ll be fine I just need to
warm up a bit” she said
“Well you won’t warm up if
you’re wearing wet clothes” I said “so do as you’re told, the bath is running”
Olwen tried to protest but I
wouldn’t let her
“Throw your wet things on to
the landing and I’ll put a change of clothes in the spare room for you”
“Ok Mr Gallen” she said like
she was addressing a teacher.
I went downstairs again and
turned my attention to my dinner.
I tended to only cook from
scratch once a week but I always made more than I needed and the extra would be
frozen and ready to use whenever.
On that particular day I was
cooking lamb stew.
I gave it a stir and went to
the airing cupboard in the spare room and looked for something that would be
suitable for Olwen.
It wasn’t easy choosing from
a selection of clothes made for a six foot tall fifteen stone man and find
something that would do for a tiny girl barely 5 foot tall and less than seven
stone soaking wet.
The only thing I could find
was a rugby shirt that was a bit long even on me so it would be like a dress on
her and a pair of football sock that would reach her thighs.
I lay them on the bed and
picked up the pile of wet clothes and carried them down stairs with me.
Once downstairs I set up the
clothes drier in front of the fire and draped her things over it and almost
immediately steam started to emanate from her socks.
Her boots were already on the
hearth and her coat was draped over the back of a chair.
About half an hour later
Olwen appeared in her oversized Harlequins Rugby shirt and black football socks
fiddling with her tousled damp hair.
“Do you feel better now?” I
asked
“Much better thank you” she
replied
“I’m sorry about the
wardrobe” I added “it was the best I could do”
“Its fine at least I won’t
get cold” she said and laughed
“Well sit yourself down and
I’ll get you some food”
“No don’t worry I’m really
not hungry” she said
I gave her a look
“Ok I’ll have a little bit”
she said
“A wise decision” I said and
went out to the kitchen.
I returned a few minutes
later with a steaming bowl on a tray.
“Lamb stew” I said
I thought back to the
conversation I had with Sandra about Olwen not eating properly and Olwen’s own
statement not half an hour previously when she said
“I’m really not hungry”
Well for someone who wasn’t
really hungry she did extremely well to polish off three bowls of Lamb stew.
While we ate we watched an
old Cary Grant movie called “Holiday” and when it was finished she said
“Well thank you for looking
after me and entertaining me but I’d better Change my clothes and get home”
Said Olwen
I got up and went to the
front door and when I opened it the rain was still coming down like stair rods.
“Just put your coat and boots
on and I’ll run you home” I said
“No you’ve been too kind
already” she replied
“I’m not having you getting
soaked to the skin again” I insisted
“You’re very bossy” she said
with a smile
“I know” I said “That’s
probably why I’m divorced”
I drove her the two miles up
the lane to her cottage and she thanked me again and got out but before she
closed the door she said
“Don’t get lost on your way
home”
Then she laughed like it was
the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life.
It was a day later when Olwen
“popped in” for the first time and for the first of many times over the coming
weeks we shared a conversation and a drink of coffee across the kitchen table.
The “pop ins” happened at any
time of the day or night partly because of her insomnia and in part because I
was a writer and kept irregular hours myself.
Sometimes when the muse was
with me I would just carry on writing until I couldn’t see straight, so I had
no set time to go to bed or to get up in the morning.
According to my ex-wife it
was one of the things that contributed to the breakup of our marriage.
As we moved slowly through
November the “pop ins” increased exponentially as we raced headlong towards
December and I was disappointed on the days when I didn’t see her.
Once we got into December I
was no longer disappointed as I saw her every day.
It began on the 1st
of the month when she helped me to put up the Christmas decorations and as we
were hanging the last of the garlands she said
“I love Christmas
decorations”
“Me too” I said “I’ll help
you put yours up when we’re done here”
“No thanks” Olwen replied
“Why not?” I asked
“I never put decorations up
at home” she said
“Why not?”
“I don’t know really” she
mused “it makes me sad I suppose, it reminds me of a happier time and I suppose
that makes me sad”
“But you love decorations?” I
said
“Yes”
“You love these decorations?”
I asked
“Yes”
“Do they make you sad? I
asked
“No”
“Why not?”
“Because I wasn’t a child in
this cottage” she replied
“That’s nuts” I said
“I know” Olwen said “what can
I say”
Anyway Olwen came to the
cottage every day to enjoy the decorations, watch classic Christmas movies and
eat my stew.
But we had kept most of her
visits during normal hours until Christmas Eve.
I was burning the midnight
oil because I was stuck on a tricky chapter the first of three chapters which
needed to be submitted to my publishers by New Year’s Day.
It was partly Olwen’s fault I
had gotten behind but she was such a pleasant distraction.
But to be perfectly honest
she had become more of a distraction when she wasn’t there.
So it was just after eleven
o’clock on Christmas Eve and rewriting the same section for the umpteenth time
when Olwen knocked on the door.
I could tell it was her
before I opened the door by her unique knock.
“Hey” I said
“Do you mind me popping in on
Christmas Eve, I don’t want to upset your artistic flow” she said
“No flow to interrupt at the
moment I’m afraid, this chapter is giving me a lot of trouble” I replied
“What is it, writers block?”
Olwen asked
“No I’m not blocked, I’m writing
ok, it’s just not very good” I said and laughed
“I could use a break” I lied
We sat on the sofa watching
an old movie on cable, we chose it because of the title, “the Dream of Olwen”.
About half an hour into it
she yawned and rested her head on my shoulder
I assumed it must me one of
her infamous cat naps.
Half an hour later she was
still sleeping.
I could tell by her breathing,
even though I couldn’t see her, that she was properly asleep.
So I placed a cushion on my lap
and gently lowered her head onto it.
Her legs were already on the
sofa as she had been sitting in that side saddle fashion that girls have.
So I dragged the edge of the
throw from the back of the sofa and draped it over her slender body.
I watched the end of the
movie and then switched off the TV.
Olwen was still sleeping so I
reached for the A4 note pad I kept on the end table and resting it on the arm
of the sofa I began writing and the words flowed from my pen like an
inexhaustible stream and after three hours of furious writing I had put the
troublesome chapter to bed.
I looked firstly at the
sleeping girl with her head on my lap and saw she was still sleeping soundly
and then up at the clock which told me it was 6.45am,
Not that the time was
relevant but I desperately needed to pee.
I slowly extricated myself,
being careful not to wake Olwen and settle her onto the sofa and then tucked
the throw around her.
As soon as I was up I
realised the temperature had dropped so before I went to the loo I revived the
fire in the grate and put some more wood on.
I then partly closed the
door, I didn’t want her to wake up in a strange place and panic.
After having a much needed
pee I went into the kitchen to make a drink
Which was when there was a
knock at the door
I couldn’t imagine who would
be knocking on the door at 7 am on Christmas morning.
I opened the door to find Olwen’s
aunt, Sandra standing there.
“Happy Christmas Sandra” I
said
“Happy Christmas John” Sandra
said but without any real conviction.
“Have you seen Olwen?” she
asked “I saw her coming this way last night when I was walking the dog”
“I went to the cottage to
wish her happy Christmas and there’s no sign of her and her bed hasn’t been
disturbed” she continued pacing the small hall way.
“All the lights are still on
but there’s no sign of her and I’m really worried”
“Shhh” I said putting a
finger to my lips “Come here Sandra, she’s asleep in the lounge”
She crept to the door and had
a glance through gap into the sitting room.
“How long?” she asked
“Over six hours” I replied
“She obviously feels safe
with you” Sandra said
“I won’t
wake her” I said
“I’m
sorry you have been disturbed like this” she added
“Nonsense,
I enjoy having a beautiful girl for company at Christmas”
“You
think she’s beautiful?” she asked
“Of
course, doesn’t everybody?” I asked
Sandra
smiled at me and kissed my cheek “happy Christmas John” she said
“Christmas
Dinner is at 3 o’clock”
After Sandra had left I
finished my drink and the lack of sleep suddenly caught up with me and I knew I
had to sleep.
I didn’t want to leave Olwen
to wake up on her own but I was too tired to sleep in an armchair.
I thought for a moment and
then went into the bedroom and got out the spare duvet before returning to the
lounge.
I carefully drew back the
throw from around her small frail frame and then picked her up.
“Hmmm” she murmured as I held
her, then I carefully carried the beautiful featherweight little creature into
the bedroom.
I laid her on top of the
duvet and covered her with the spare.
I then went out and turned
off the lights and locked the front door before returning to the bedroom and
gently slipping between the duvets to lay down beside Olwen.
“Hmmm” she murmured as she
snuggled in against me, so I put my arm around her and drifted off into a
contented sleep.
It was remarkable how life
can surprise you, when I rented Honeysuckle Cottage it was only ever intended
as a short let.
But I knew when I woke up in
bed next to a smiling Olwen on Christmas morning I knew I would never leave the
village.
The book was well under way
now and I could easily have moved back to civilization.
But while I had struggled
with a particularly troublesome chapter she had become my muse and my love.
And for Olwen who had for so
long held the world at arm’s length and avoided forming emotional attachments of
any kind for fear they might lead to her heart being broken again.
Never imagined the course
events would take after she rescued the panicky man lost in the woods.
She certainly never imagined
she would wake up in his bed three months later or that she would have fallen
in love with him.
When we woke up we just lay beneath
the cosy comforting warmth of the duvet and talked for an hour, all the unsaid
things we had wanted to say in the weeks preceding Christmas when we had lost
our hearts.
Before we reluctantly agreed
that we needed to move as we couldn’t disappoint Aunt Sandra.
I got up first and showered
shaved and dressed then Olwen showered while I warmed up the car.
When she had redressed I
drove her to her house where she finished getting ready and I waited in the
house.
It was the first time I had
been in there and it had an almost museum feel to it, no wonder she was always
wandering.
Then we left the car outside
Olwen’s house and prepared to walk the hundred yards or so to Aunt Sandra’s when
it began to snow.
“This is the best Christmas
ever” she said and took hold of my hand
“It’s a perfect Christmas” I
concurred and kissed her
The moment we walked in through
the front door of the Villa I realised the wisdom of leaving the car at Olwen’s
because I would not be using it anymore that day as Uncle Norman thrust a
cocktail of gargantuan proportions and indeterminate strength into my hand and
I had no reason to suppose it wasn’t to be the first of many.
Oh I almost forgot I finally decided
on the title for the latest book.
“The Girl Who Never Slept”
I hide me
From the world
Protect myself
Within an amniotic sac
Like a babe in the womb
My heart in a cocoon
Free from harm
Wrapped in cotton wool
Safe, secure,
Out of sight, out of mind
I hide me
The best of me
Protected from
Deceitful hearts
And transient desires
The Schemers, dreamers,
And false redeemers
The superficial and the shallow
The morally hollow
Those that would hurt me
Use me and abuse me
All these and more
I hide me
The essential me
Keep me hidden
From the bitterness and bile
Of the vindictive and the vile
Free from recrimination
And spiteful retribution
Heart locked safely away
Never to see the light of day
You said you had to go away,
Just a day or two
A business trip
Something you had to do
But I knew better
I knew that you were leaving
I found out
About the cheating and deceiving
I wait for the truth to come
But you just keep lying
You’re leaving me
And inside I’m dying
But you won’t see me cry
I just smile instead
I won’t let you see me
I will do that in my empty bed
You kiss me on the cheek
And look me in the eye
And with that Judas kiss
You turn and say goodbye
On that beautiful day in June
The bells peeled out
their tune
And at that joyful
sound he knew
He would soon hear her
say “I do”
Then before him a
beautiful sight
As she appeared in
bridal white
The hue of the pure
white dove
Dressed to symbolise
her love
When they stood before
the altar
He spoke clear without
a falter
With a heart so strong
and true
He said aloud to the
world “I do”
Holly walked
around the lounge talking to the customers as was her usual habit.
She had a
less graceful gait than she used to but Steve still felt a great sense of pride
that he was her husband and Holly was pregnant, very
pregnant.
It was two
years since they had met and she had changed the course of his life entirely.
It was
Christmas again and Steve Berry had always had a dislike for it, despite all
the jollity.
Unlike many
of his Christmas mad friends he’d had no happy Christmas memories to
anesthetise him against the season.
His
childhood Christmases were memories he would rather have forgotten.
So he never
trusted Christmas, he believed that shit lurked beneath the coloured lights and
paper chains.
That was
until Holly Davis opened his eyes to new possibilities and he realised that Christmas
could also magnify joy and Steve had been cured of his
Christmas phobia.
Due to Holly, Steve had
found himself working behind the bar in her Uncle Phil’s pub, the Pig and
Whistle.
He was still, even to that
day uncertain quite how she managed to affect that, but affect it she did and
during the ten days working for her she had turned his life upside down and it
culminated in him wishing her a Merry Christmas and kissing her at closing
time.
He had thought the kiss on
Christmas Eve might be the start of something.
Judging by the way Holly
responded to it but it didn’t lead
anywhere immediately.
Holly had responded to his
advance and in fact had been hopeful of it but she knew it was far too soon to
throw caution to the wind.
The effects of the kiss
proved to be a slow burner which didn’t burst into flames until the early hours
of New Year’s Day
The two years since had
been very eventful, they became partners in January, engaged at Easter and
Married in September.
However it wasn’t only
Steve and Holly’s fortunes that had changed over the preceding two years since
they had met but so had those of the Pig and Whistle.
It had gone from a rundown dive
to a thriving pub with a growing reputation as a gastro pub.
The restaurant had always
been busy right from the outset but when Steve and Stephanos were in the
kitchen it was good pub grub and no more because they didn’t have the
repertoire to take it to the next level.
However since Steve and
Holly had returned from their New Forest honeymoon the previous year with Chef
Simon Clarke the restaurant had really taken off.
Simon had been working at
the same country house hotel that the Berry’s were staying at as a sous chef
for an arrogant sadistic bully.
Now he was a Chef in his
own right and Steve and Stephanos had grown as cooks under him.
So this contributed to the
general business that night.
It was Christmas Eve and
Holly, despite being told to rest by Steve and everybody else was doing her
usual walkabout as hostess and as Steve looked at her he sighed because he was
so in love with that girl in the maternity dress.
Just like Christmas Eve two
years before it was snowing, not as hard, but enough not to want to make any
unnecessary journeys.
She had had a twinge or two
which she just laughed it off, she said the baby had been really active all
day.
“She’s dancing to the
Christmas songs” she said to Steve “she really likes the Puppini Sisters”
But by 9 o’clock in the
evening it was obvious the twinges were more than Christmas Dancing and she was
having contractions.
Luckily Clare Andrews was
dining in the restaurant with friends
“Get Doc Andrews” he said
to Petra
“Ok” she replied and ran
off while Steve and one of the regulars helped Holly in the private room at the
back of the bar.
“Where is she?” The doctor
asked
“In here” Steve called
Dr Andrews threw her car
keys to Petra
“Can you get my bag from
the car please?”
“Yes doc” she replied
“Ooooooh” Holly exclaimed
through gritted teeth “that was a big one”
After Dr Andrews examined
her she said
“She’s definitely in
labour”
“I’ll call an ambulance”
Steve suggested
“No she’s too far along”
Clare said “the baby is going to be born here, and soon”
“I’d be happier if we got
her to hospital” Steve said
“So would I” Dr Andrews
replied
“But she’ll never make it
to the hospital”
“She’s really too close?”
Steve asked
“Yes” Clare replied “so
under the circumstance, here is going to have to do”
“Upstairs it is then” Steve said “but the
first sign of an angel and three wise men and were calling an ambulance”
This was certainly different
to previous Christmases’ he thought to himself as Steve looked out the door as
he said goodnight to the last customers it was still snowing but still not hard.
He locked the doors and
went back to where the staff were sitting, no one wanted to go to bed until the
baby had been born.
So they sat around a table
in the bar until half past one when Noelle Clare Berry was born.
Trust Holly Berry to have
the baby on Christmas Day.
