CHRISTMAS LINDA PART 1 - BRIEF ENCOUNTER

 

Snow spattered, unseen, against the steamy glass

As the train rattled out of the station

It was a fairly crowded train, but not full

With weary shoppers, shopping bags bursting

And commuting workers the weeks work done

Journeying homeward at the dark days end

A cheerful crowd though

Pleased with themselves bright faced and hearty

Full of seasonal cheer anticipating the holiday

Seemingly oblivious to the drafty carriage

I sat alone and felt lifted by the quiet jolliness

Contemplating the collective countenance

Of the self satisfied passengers

Then she appeared and I was lifted higher

There she was larger than life vivacious and self assured

Covered with snowflakes and laughing to herself

My snow angel, with snow covering her like sugar on a doughnut

Wrapped up against the cold in a woolen hat and coat

And a long knitted scarf draped about her neck

She shook her head and her light brown hair danced about her shoulders

And the snowflakes melted away from her soft curls

There was a rosy redness on her cheeks

Almost matching the hue of her coat

Either from the cold winter evening or a liberal taste of Christmas spirit

A little of both probably

She made her way down the train between the seats

Leaving wet snowflakes in her wake

Full length coat swishing side to side

She moved almost gracelessly, which suited her well

As she tottered a little in her high boots

Perhaps due to the lurching motion of the train

Or the Christmas punch and eggnog

She was still laughing softly to herself which also suited so well

And then she saw me, and her eyes lit up like beacons

Those wonderful sparking laughing eyes

She stopped and stood momentarily open mouthed

Then her smile illuminated the carriage

My heart soared at the sight of her

I returned her smile and she flushed a little deeper red

It had been almost a year since I last saw her

My lovely lost love, Linda

I had locked all my feelings away but now they were back

Like a door had opened in my heart and they all rushed out

And I missed her so much I didn’t know just how much till that moment

We were never lovers, only ever friends

But very special friends very close friends though no more

We laughed a lot together, shared confidences

Best friends but no more than that,

Though I wanted more, so much more

But I didn’t want to lose what we had so I said nothing

I loved her so much, but she was not free for me to love

And Linda was not free to love me even if she wanted

So I contented myself with our special friendship

My unrequited love remained so

If that was all then better that than nothing

I was happy to love her unconditionally

Then circumstances changed, my father died

I had to move away and I didn’t see her again, until now

Now she was in front of me, my angel, larger than life

Smiling, blushing, laughing and so lovely

I stood up and smiled at her again

She threw herself at me and she hugged me so tight

I smelled her hair as I held her and was intoxicated by her scent

All the old feelings flooded back over whelming me

I had often dreamt of being reunited with her

But never in my wildest dreams had I expect such a reaction

Could it be my love was not unrequited?

We sat down on the lumpy seats in the rattling carriage

And were completely alone

We sat looking at each other not wanting to lose sight of one another

In case the spell were broken

She removed a glove and put her hand on mine

As if testing it was not a dream then she slipped her hand into mine

Her delicate fingers so small in my grasp

For the remainder of the journey we reveled in each other’s company

We caught up with the lost months filling in the gaps

Still oblivious to our companions

It was as if we had never been apart

Then the train shook to a halt as all too soon we had arrived

Our fellow travelers rushed off to their Christmases

Reluctantly we left our seats and disembarked arm in arm

Then hand in hand we walked slowly along the platform

Still talking and laughing and then out onto the street

Where the shops were now closing and the town was relatively quiet

From one pub Noddy Holder screamed “it’s Christmas” to the world

Only the pubs and restaurants seemed to hold any attraction to most

But we joined a small group gathered round the Salvation Army band

And joined in with the carol singing in the town square

Before strolling towards the taxi stand

As the snow again fell onto Linda’s soft curls

We took our place in the queue of travelers eager to be home

I was eager to be nowhere else but with her

I shuffled along for the last few steps like a sulky schoolboy

Smiling, Linda turned to face me and kissed me gently on the lips

Such a warm sensitive and tender kiss

When our lips parted she smiled at me coyly

And flushed a deep shade of pink

Then I kissed a snowflake off her nose

Cupping her flushed cheek in my palm I slid my fingers beneath her hair

Caressing the soft downy hair on her nape

And pulled her sweet lips to mine and returned her kiss

Her arms enveloped me holding me so close, so tightly

Not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose what we had found

Not wanting to lose me again

We stood locked in our embrace as the snow fell softly on the scene

She pulled away for a moment then buried her face in my neck

And spoke “I’ve missed you so much, I’ve missed your love for me”

I had waited so long for this moment waited so long to here those words

To hear my love returned and then we kissed again

Cabs arrived and departed through the slush

The queue around us just kept moving as if unaware of our love

After a while we moved from the queue sat on a bench and talked

My love was not unrequited after all she felt the same for me

She had always done so yet still she was not free

She was torn between the two of us

Torn between the comfortable familiarity for a good man

A loyal and dependable man, safety

And the passion she felt for a soul mate

It wasn’t fair on him he hadn’t done anything wrong

I had been on the receiving end of that kind of pain

And I found myself unable to inflict it onto another 

So our love had to be a forbidden one

Best friends no more, I wanted more, so much more

And could not content myself with a special friendship

Now I knew my love was not unrequited

There was no going back, now Pandora’s Box had been opened

But at least now I knew she loved me

With the same depth as I loved her

We walked back to the taxi rank and kissed again in the snow

All too soon she got into a taxi

And through the winter wonderland departed taking my love with her

With her palm pressed against the glass she craned her neck to keep sight of me

Through the snow spattered window until the very last moment

Till the cab had gone out of sight

She was gone from my arms, gone from my view, gone from my life

But a Christmas happening had changed my life forever

A brief encounter, fleeting, here and then gone

Her scent still in my nostrils, the taste of joy on my lips

My soul mate gone forever, yet forever in my memory, forever in my heart

I would never see her again and moved away in the New Year

Making a life elsewhere but I never forgot her

And when on a winter’s night I hear the “Sally army” play

Or when the snow falls during Christmas time

Or I feel a snowflake on my skin

I feel her small hand in mine and then she is once again in my arms

And I smell her soft brown hair and the taste of her is on my lips

I hear her say “I love you” and she is mine forever

FIRST CHRISTMAS

 

It was just twelve months ago

Since my special wish was made

A wish you thought so simple

For which a fortune I'd have paid

And now it's our first Christmas

In our first little house

But I hope the first of many

With my beautiful new spouse

This year my wish is simpler still

On this Christmas day with you

May our hearts be always filled with love

And the stockings be filled with you

YOUNG LOVERS CUDDLE

 

Young lovers cuddle

Listening to carols sung

While the Yule log burns

Snippets of Downshire Life – St Andrew’s Day

 

The Pepperstock Hills National Park stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.

It is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.

The quarry hill side of the park to the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.

To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivalled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest.

One of the parks many villages was Springwater which was where Graham Reynolds had lived for all 63 years of his life, in fact he’d lived his entire life in the same house, and it had never once occurred to him that he should live anywhere else.

 

He was born in the late fifties and had few recollections of that austere decade, almost all his earliest memories were from the brasher, brighter and less restrained sixties.

But the earliest memories he did have were about Christmas and in the Reynolds household Christmas began on St Andrew’s Day, November 30^th.

As a result of his awareness of the time, coming on the cusp of the decades, his earliest memories of Christmas were of a bright and sparkly time when paper chains and the watery coloured paper stars, bells and balls were being replaced by dazzling foil and tinsel.

Which included the Silver Tinsel Christmas Tree, when he looked back it was a quite unspectacular specimen of a tree compared to what’s on offer in the 21^st century, but he loved it.

It stood less than 5 feet tall with its fold down tinsel covered wire branches, tipped with red beads to symbolize berries.

However, by the time his Dad had worked his not inconsiderable Christmas magic and covered it with every size, shape and shade of bauble, glass birds with feathered tails, lantern lights, strands of brightly coloured tinsel, foil covered chocolate treats and tiny crackers lain on the branches, it was transformed and was absolutely stunning.

It was the only tree he’d ever known until his teenage years came to an end, when in the mid-seventies he suggested that they have a real tree just for a change.

He would never have suggested it if he had realized for a second that it would signal the death knell of the Silver Tinsel Tree.

Because the following year it was replaced by a green plastic tree much more akin to those of today.

 

After his Dad died a few years later the task of decorating the tree fell to him and he instantly realized, sadly, that he hadn’t inherited his father’s tree dressing skill and was never able to equal him.

He came very close one year, in 1983 it was, but he concluded in the end that he merely flattered to deceive.

 

The task of tree dresser fell to his wife Evelyn which she performed admirably for 36 years, and she made a far better fist of it than Graham ever could.

However, whether she possessed the necessary skill to transform a Silver Tinsel Tree into something stunning he would never know, as she passed away in October.

“What I would give to watch you dress the tree again my darling” he said as he stared at the naked branches “and then hold you in my arms beside it”

Snippets of Downshire Life – Feast of St Andrew

 

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 local Children’s Writer, Alesha Khan, was hosting a dinner party, and among the guests were Kerry Freeborn and Sharon Blackburn, a pair of visiting thespians.

 

The hostess had first met Kerry after they both took part in the World Book Day events at Sharpington Library and they became friends, but that evening was the first time Sharon and Alesha had met.

 

There was a period of reacquaintance with the guest that she knew and formal introductions to those she didn’t but then after a brief chat with her guests Alesha had to excuse herself to check on the food, so it was upto the guests to amuse themselves.

In addition to the hostess Alesha, were a skinny young woman of a similar age, Kim Labuschagne, an illustrator, who was an old school friend, who also assisted in the kitchen, then there was Alesha’s brother Zach, an artist, Russell Glavin, the new curate of St Lucy’s, Henry Appleby, Church Warden of same, Literary agents, Jayson and Kathryn Mercer, and Tim Street who was a Local Historian, so it was an interesting bunch.

 

Kerry and Sharon got to know each other when they both worked on a very popular TV soap and during their time on the show they became very good friends, and over the years, in addition to the soap they had also worked in the theatre and even in pantomime, which was why they were both in Sharpington, at the Bluebird Theatre, doing panto, playing the ugly sisters in Cinderella, which was intended to be ironic given the way they looked.

At 30 years old, Kerry was stunningly attractive, slim with shoulder length brunette hair and hazel eyes but even Sharon, who was three years older, put her friend in the shade with her looks.

Sharon was slightly taller and a little curvier than Kerry with a shock of flame red hair, so it wasn’t their looks that kept them single.

Their problem was that in their profession it was difficult to meet men, well the right kind of men at any rate, and had over the years grown weary of being hit on by all the usual suspects.

Men who wanted to either be seen with a famous actress on their arm or wanted the glamour lifestyle they imagined went along with being a successful actor or on the baser level just wanted to have sex with a celebrity.

There was another obvious alternative to those types of men, and that was to date someone from their own world, someone on a par with them, but in their experience most actors tended to have huge egos and small personalities.

So, despite their professional success they were no different to any other human being, looking for love or companionship or a family.

What they needed was someone who would like them or love them for who they were rather than thinking of them as a backstage pass to a celebrity life.

But neither of them were actively looking for anyone so it came as a complete surprise to meet a serious candidate at dinner party in a small seaside town.

But not only had Sharon met someone, she was instantly smitten, and that was even before she knew who he was.

The man in question was Zach Khan, older brother of the hostess, and a renowned artist, and from the first minute she saw him she was besotted and she hung on his every word, not that there were a lot of them, as he was rather shy, unlike his sister, who was outgoing and bubbly, he was reflective and guarded.

But Sharon wasn’t going to let that derail her, after all she could talk enough for the two of them, and when the time came for them to take their seats she found that she was seated opposite him and she gave him her full and undivided attention.

 

“I went to your exhibition in Abbottsford last year” she said “at the Beumont Gallery”

“Really?” he said doubtfully

“Yes I was in a play at the Empire and I passed the gallery every day on my way to the theatre, so I went in every day” she confessed

“Everyday?” he said with a smile “Even I wasn’t there every day”

“I must confess that the first time was more about having time to kill, than art, but it was art that took me back again and again”

“Well thank you for that”

“I would have gone more often but it wasn’t on long enough” she said “I was horrified one Monday morning to find you had been replaced by some ill conceived art installation”

“You are clearly a woman of taste” he said and raised his glass to her and she returned his toast

“So what was you favorite piece” he asked, expecting her to say something glib in return such as

“I liked them all”

He hoped he was wrong because he liked her.

“That’s really difficult” she replied “you’ve put me on the spot now”

“Oh dear” he thought

“There are actually three”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t pin it down to one, so I have three pieces that I particularly liked” she said

“Tell me more” he instructed her desperate now to hear

“Two of them are paintings, “Umbrella Girl” and “The Defiant Harlot”“ she said “and the other was a sculpture “Spirit of Ecstacy Aflame”.

“Wow, I’m impressed that you remembered the names” he said “Most people say, “I liked the fairy with flames instead of wings”“ he said in a Monty Python voice and she laughed and then he went thoughtful and said

“Wait a minute, you were at the Empire Theatre while the exhibition was on”

“Yes” she admitted

“In Blue Blooded Murder?” he asked, impressed that he knew the name of the rather indifferent play

“Yes that’s right” she replied and then he studied her closely and put his hands up the frame her face, they way a film director would do

“Aha” he exclaimed “You were the murderer”

“Yes I was” she giggled

“You didnt have your lovelly red mane on show though” he said and she blushed at the compliment

“No it was under a black wig” she admitted, and then she whispered “it wasn’t a very good play”

“Well I liked it” he said “I actually went twice”

 

The remainder of the evening passed in the same easy manner until it was time to leave and they were suddenly thanking Alesha, who was at the front door saying goodbye to her guests in turn, and then they were outside.

Sharon was in a bit of a quandry because she was getting on so well with Zach that she didn’t really want the evening to end, and she would really have rather gone somewhere for a quiet drink than go back to the hotel.

But she was also mindful of the fact that she had gone there with Kelly and she didn’t want to ditch her.

So she and Zach, just hung around and waited to see what Kelly was going to do, he had noticed that she was getting on really well with Jayson, and just when she was about to accept the inevitable and walk back to the hotel with her friend she heard Jayson ask

“Are you staying at the Seaview?”

“Yes, we both are” Kelly replied

“Well why don’t I walk you there” he suggested “I’m sure Zach will be happy to escort Sharon” 

“Yes indeed” he said, and Sharon nodded vigorously

“We’ll be right behind you”

 

“Are you in a hurry to get back?” Zack asked as the ambled down the road to Sharpington Promenade from the heights of Granite Hill, with the gap between them and Jayson and Kelly lengthening with every step.

“No, not really, why?”

“Well there’s a little club just off the promenade called the Tainted Angel” he said “We could have a nightcap”

“The Tainted Angel?”

“Yes, though it’s not as seedy as the name suggests” he replied with a chuckle

“Oh well that’s ok then” she said “I’m in your hands”

“I like the sound of that” he said and put his arm through hers.

 

The Tainted Angel was located in a side street very close to the Hotel and when she first saw it her first impression was that the façade certainly didn’t hint at any seediness and Sharon was also pleasantly surprised with the interior, which was quite classy with its plush seating and moody lighting.

It was ostensibly a jazz club as hinted at by the artwork on the walls and in one corner was a small stage, which suggested there was live music at times, though not then, but there were jazz tunes emanating from the speakers. 

After getting their drinks from the bar they chose a quiet corner table from where they could see everything that was going on.

“This is nice” she said

“I like it” he agreed

“The music is good too” she said

“You like listening to Jazz?” Zach asked

“I do” she replied “But I like to play it as well”

“You do not!” he said incredulously “You’re a musician? What do you play?”

“Clarinet” she replied and smiled broadly “All the best Jazz is played on the Clarinet”

“That’s a bold statement, what about the Trumpet, Armstrong is sublime” he protested

“Yes, I know, and Kenny Baker’s Sax, Bix Beiderbecke’s Cornet and Oscar Petersen’s on Piano” she said passionately “But I will just say this, Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman and Acker Bilk, and then I will rest my case”

“Wow” he said “you’re irrepressible”

“I know it’s the red hair” she retorted and laughed

“So, when do you play?”

“As and when” she replied “There is a bunch of fellow Thesps who play wherever and whenever we can, Kelly plays piano”

“You should play here while you’re in Sharpington” he suggested “The owner would be thrilled”

“You know the owner then?”

“Kind off” he replied “I am the owner”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, I also own the Jazz Shack in Abbeyvale and I co-own Beiderbecke’s in Finchbottom” he said as he got up “Another drink?”

“Please”

 

The drinks kept coming as they sat and talked and they covered a lot of ground but as the time wore on what Sharon really wanted to talk about was him, the personal stuff, she knew he was an Artist who liked Jazz and the Theatre, but there was one vital area they hadn’t covered, so as the hour reached 2am and the drink had taken effect on her she asked.

“What about you?”

“What?” he replied

“What about you?” she repeated this time with more than a hint of a slur “are you spoken for?”

And she then reran the question in her head and was alarmed by the realization of what she had actually said

“What I meant to say is… um… err… are you… erm…”

And he smiled as he watched her struggle and get more and more flustered but decided to put her out of her misery.

“I’m single”

“Oh” she responded trying to appear indifferent “still not met the right girl?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly” he replied but didn’t elaborate.

“What about you?” he asked

“Oh, still footloose and fancy free” Sharon replied

“That’s good to know” he said and then checked his watch and added “I’d better get you home Cinders”

“I’m not Cinders” she corrected him “I’m an ugly sister, can you believe that, bloody cheek”

 

It was only a short walk from the Club to the Hotel and she held on to him very tightly, not so much out of necessity than of lust. 

“I hope you didn’t mind me asking if you were… you know” she said “But I know what you Bohemian Arty types are like”

“Oh, and what are we like?” he asked

“A muse in every Garret” she retorted and dissolved into laughter, and she laughed so much that she had tears in her eyes, but when she looked up at him through tear filled eyes he kissed her, and what a kiss, it was the sort of kiss lovers longed for, and dreamt of

“So, what does this mean?” she asked when their lips parted

“What would you like it to mean?” he asked

“That you’re my bohemian and I’m you muse” she replied

“That’s precisely what it means” he said, and they kissed again.

Downshire Diary – (99) The Tomboy Chorister

 

Danny was going to a Christmas Concert at Abbottsford Cathedral which was well attended as usual and when he when inside he saw the wonder of a manger scene, it looked so very life like and real, and there was a good reason for that, because it was.
In fact it was a wonderful scene and captured the mood perfectly as “Ave Maria” played softly in the background.

Part of the wonder of the stable of Bethlehem were the live animals, who seemed perfectly at peace away from his Uncle Jacks farm

Then he saw his younger brother dressed as Joseph, and his sister as the Virgin Mary, not exactly type casting he thought to himself rather uncharitably.

There were also three of his cousins playing shepherds, two Uncles and a maiden Aunt representing the Magi and his father was the angel Gabriel.

In fact the only one of the tableaux that was not a living member of the family was the Christ child which was actually one of those robotic dolls that pregnant women, with more money than sense get to practice motherhood on, supplied by one such woman, Aunty Evelyn.
His mother would also have been in it but for the fact that she was the Vicar and was part of the clergy taking the service. 

Whereas his contribution to proceedings was as soloist in the choir in which he was performing “o holy night”.

He waved to his many kith and kin as he walked towards the vestry and as he did so his mind was preoccupied with two things, the first was a wish, to give a faultless performance in front of such a large congregation and the second was his hope of getting Heather Jones under the mistletoe at the party afterwards.

 

Heather was two years younger than him and was new to the choir and he was besotted with her, and had been from the first moment he saw her.

She was a bit of a tomboy but he quite liked that she wasn’t a girlie girl and didn’t present with all the girly paraphernalia.

Such as the fact that she never carried a hand bag, instead she had a back pack with her at all times, she also wasn’t fashion conscious, which was another plus for him, she always wore a loose fitting black dress, black tights and coloured baseball shoes and wore her long Brunette hair in plaits.

He really liked everything about Heather, her prominent chin which she thrust out proudly, her green thoughtful eyes behind thick framed specs and her broad smile that made her nose wrinkle.

In short he thought she was perfect, he just needed to work up the courage to ask her out, which is where he hoped the mistletoe would come to his aid.

 

So after the service the clergy, verger, altar boys and choir members all made their way at some point to the vestry to change into their street clothes, he made sure he stayed close to Heather as he still held out a hope that he might suddenly grow a back bone and ask her out.

 

He kept her in view at all times while he spoke with various members of his family, who were congratulating him on his solo performance, until most of the people who had gone in the vestry had come out when Heather looked over to where he was standing and went into the vestry herself, so he followed and as he went inside, the Verger went out leaving just him and Heather who was just hanging her surplice in the cupboard.

“Hello” he said nervously

“Hi Danny” she retorted as she slipped off her shoes and replaced them with her baseball shoes “great solo”

“Thanks” he said and started to panic as he couldn’t think of anything else to say, because as he watched her change her footwear his mind went blank, until he caught sight of the Christmas lights through the vestry window and he asked.

“Are you looking forward to the party?”

“I was” she replied

“Why aren’t you now?”

“Because I’m not going” Heather replied and he sat down heavily on a chair as his heart sank and she smiled when she saw his reaction then she said

“My mums ill”

“Oh I’m sorry” he said sympathetically and bent down to tie his shoe lace and when he sat up again Heather was holding a sprig of mistletoe above his head.

“I was going to use this at the party” she said and leant forward and kissed him, but not just a peck, it was a proper kiss, his first proper kiss, and it was everything he’d hoped it would be and more.

“Wow that’s good mistletoe” she said

“Definitely” he agreed and then added

“I’ve got some mistletoe for the party as well”

“That’s good to know” Heather said as she slipped her coat on

“So I think we should check if it’s as good as yours” he asked

“Fab idea” she grinned and they kissed again.

 

Downshire Diary – (98) Snowstorm in Springwater

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story begins further south at the most southerly fringe of the Pepperstock Hills National Park.

The Park stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.

It is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.

The quarry hill side of the park to the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.

To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivalled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest.

 

Cheryl Vermeulen lived in the village of Springwater in the home she had once shared with her ex-husband Bijs and at the age of 29 she was facing her first Christmas on her own for 8 years and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

She wasn’t lonely per se, she had friends aplenty, and she even had a romantic interest or at least she had someone she was interested in romantically she just needed to close the deal, which was proving to be more difficult than she had hoped.

 

Cheryl woke early in the depths of winters to find it was snowing lightly but it was 4am, so she went to the bathroom and then went back to bed.

She awoke for the second time at six o’clock but after looking at the clock she went back to sleep again.

The next time she woke to the sound of machinery, a repetitive whining sound, and when she realized it was not part of her dream, she jumped from her bed and rushed to the window.

Across the cul-de-sac and through the naked black branches of the trees, she could see one of her neighbour's driveways and his son's car stuck in the snow.

Then she glanced to the bedside table and the clock radio which screamed in her face its “eight o'clock!!!”

“You’re kidding me” she snapped “Where did the time go?”

Well, what happened was she kept going back to sleep and at some point she had even switched the alarm off and then made the fatal error of wanting to stay cosy for a few more minutes, but those few more minutes turned into an hour.

As a result she was in a panic, so she threw on anything that would keep her warm and ran wild-eyed down the stairs.

Her first stop was to the coat cupboard where she searched out her wellington boot's, then she turned them upside down and banged them against each other to wake up any sleeping insects and encourage them to vacate the premises, as their cosy abode was about to be invaded by wool clad size three feet.

Once she had her boots on, her coat was next followed by a hat and scarf and finally she put on her thickest gloves.

It took her several attempts to open the door with her thick gloves on and she had to take one off to open the garage door and it seemed that everything was conspiring to frustrate her just when she was in such a hurry.

 

She wriggled her way to the back of the garage in search of the snow shovel, she knew they had one, her ex-husband Bijs had bought one when they first moved to the village but they had never used it, he drove a 4x4 and he drove her to work when there was snow on the ground, and it never lay for long anyway so there was never any need for it.

Once she had the shovel she wriggled back to the door again this time with the shovel above her head.

Shovel in hand she stood on the threshold and looked down the drive at the task ahead.

The small granular flakes were falling fast, and the wind was blowing it in drifts across her drive.

After a few moments she looked beyond her drive and wondered why she was the only one outside when the men of the neighbourhood were normally out flexing their muscles but then she remembered, it was still only 8.15 on Sunday morning, and they were not expected at the church by 9:30 for a preservice choir practise ahead of a full program of church events on the third Sunday of advent.

As she looked from the garage door out to the street, along the 40 foot length drive covered by a foot of virgin snow, Cheryl sighed and asked herself
“Where on earth do I begin?”

In the end she went straight to the middle and began to shovel a narrow path to the street and she initially moved along at a fairly steady pace, but when she had reached the road she stopped and looked at her watch and felt deflated.

She realised she had a choice to make she could either shovel like a mad woman and go to church unkempt and un-showered and dressed like a bag lady or she could make a phone call.

Cheryl went back to the house and picked up her phone and dialled a number

“Hello?” a voice said
“Hello Kay, sorry for calling so early, is Owen there? I can’t get the car out” Cheryl said “I’m never going to make it to church on time”
Owen and Kay were in the choir as well and also lived in Springwater and before she could continue Kay interrupted her and said

“Don't worry Cheryl we’ll pick you up on the way”

“Oh bless you Kay” she said “I’ll be ready”

Owen and Kay came along right on cue and Cheryl made her way through the snow to the car.

It was still snowing as they approached St Bartholomew’s Church when Owen said

“I hope the rest of the choir can make it”

“I just hope there will be someone there to listen” Kay added

“Even if it’s just the three of us and no congregation we can still sing for God” Cheryl said
“Yes we can” they agreed

 

Only three choir members failed to make the rehearsal but they all arrived in time for the performances and despite the weather there were plenty of congregants there to listen.

Once they finished the rehearsal Cheryl used the time before the first service to enjoy a cup of coffee at the church Café, Bart’s, where she spent 20 minutes laughing and chatting with fellow choristers, and among them was Dave Torrison, who was on her romantic radar.

 

The church was full by 10.30 and the choir was well warmed up for their rendition of “Carol of the Bells” and Cheryl was in particularly good voice and nailed all of solos.

The second service was equally well received judging by the emotion filled faces of those who had just been blessed by the music.

After the service was complete, they shared the peace and the congregation had dispersed, some of the choristers went for a late lunch.

One of them was Dave Torrison and after Owen and Kay related the tale about her not being able to get her car out of the garage Dave said

“Well I don’t mind coming round to help”

“Really?” she asked

“Absolutely” Dave said

“Well in that case I’ll make us dinner” Cheryl said

“Great” he said “But I’ll need to go home first and change”

 

Owen and Kay dropped her off in front of her house.

“Have fun” Kay said and winked

As she walked up the little path she’d cleared earlier that morning it already had two inches of fresh snow on it and she looked across at her neighbour’s drives in the failing light and could see that all the men had been out and cleared their driveways and were safely tucked up warm inside.

Cheryl’s first act was to rush inside and change into something that would make the best of what she had and then when she was perfumed and made up she put on her snow shovelling gear on top of her outfit and waited for him.

 

When he arrived, Dave thought she looked rather cute in her wellies, puffer jacket, woolly hat, scarf and gloves, but as the snow shovel stood two foot taller than she did, he suggested she leave the drive to him.

Cheryl didn’t argue because it meant she could make a start on dinner and perfect her appearance.

“I hope this is ok” she said as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

She needn’t have worried, after all he thought she was cute in a puffer jacket and wellies he would be putty in her hands when he saw her in a figure hugging wool dress.

Suffice is to say she did make an impression and they both had a great Christmas.