Snippets of Downshire Life – St Thomas’ Day

 

On the west side of Downshire is Northchapel which has always been the Industrial powerhouse of the County and although it doesn’t physically occupy its center it is the beating heart of the County.

In recent generations its fortunes had suffered greatly but in the 70s it was still a major employer, and one of those employers was Pomery’s Perfume’s, which was an old family business established in 1879 by Jules Sebastian Pomery.

They had moved to that location in Northchapel in 1928, to the broad white building which was a prime example of the Art Deco style with its angles, curves and symmetry. 

Not that Thomas Evans had any appreciation of the stylish building, it was just where he worked.

He started there straight from school in 1969 and had been at Pomery’s for six years when the memorable Christmas Lunch occurred.

 

It was four days before Christmas 1975 and the staff had just returned to the factory after having had their Christmas lunch at the Long Ship pub.

Although in truth calling it “Christmas Lunch” was perhaps a bit of a stretch and makes it sound grander that it actually was, in the 1970s, even in Northchapel, pub grub was very unsophisticated fare and invariably consisted of Chicken in a Basket or a Ploughman’s.

The more up market establishments might well offer Scampi in a Basket and a selection of Ploughman’s including a variety of cheeses as alternatives to the norm.

The Long Ship however was not an up-market establishment in any way shape or form and offered Chicken in a Basket or cheddar cheese Ploughman’s, however in addition to that, as it was Christmas you got a Mince Pie as well.

 

So, after their “Christmas Lunch” they all arrived back at work with some of their number much the worse for drink.

Tom Evans himself had perhaps over indulged to a small degree with an unspecified number of Light and Bitters so as a consequence he was wearing beer goggles and even scabby Carole was looking passable, as was Wonky Wendy, so called because she had a wonky eye, in fact Wendy had one eye that looked at you, while the other one was looking for you. 

Not a politically correct name and “Wonky” wasn't even a very imaginative nickname but there you have it, that was the 70s and they were simple folk and easily amused, but regardless of the appropriateness of the name, Tom thought that viewed through beer goggles even she looked quite appetising.

Another of the girls he wouldn’t normally have looked at twice, had he been sober, was Patricia Clarke, although she had nice eyes and a pretty smile, other than that she was a plain looking girl about a year younger than he was.

Over the previous year Pat had made no secret of the fact that she fancied Tom, he on the other hand did not fancy her one iota and not because she was plain or because she was stick thin and featureless or because she was ginger, the truth was she just didn’t do it for him, but that was without the benefit of alcohol fuelled lust.

 

On returning to the factory they continued the party in the canteen, Tom’s tipple of choice from what was available was Light Ale while for Pat it was Port and Lemon and on that day they both necked a few and with every bottle of beer he drank Pat was getting prettier and prettier, and it reached a point that when she went off to the loo he followed a few minutes later and intercepted her as she returned and took her into the coat room.

It was a small room, about 20’ square, with frosted glass on two sides but with the lights off it was dark enough in the shadows for what he had in mind, and apparently it was what she had in mind too, because as soon as the door closed behind them Pat was all over him like a rash and her tongue was in his mouth like an Excocet missile, and her hands were all over him.

“Blimey you're keen” Tom thought to himself and thought he had better join in quick and yanked her blouse from the waist band of her skirt and partly unbuttoned it before going in search of her treasures and when he found them, such as they were, he made a startling discovery.

Not a Scaramanga third nipple kind of thing, what Tom found was something altogether different.

 

Tom Evans was just a callow youth and he wasn’t hugely experienced in the ways of the world, but he had unbuttoned enough blouses, and unhooked enough bra’s, and had sufficient experience of their contents to know that nipples shouldn’t be hairy, the last thing he expected to find surrounding her treasures were course two-inch-long curly ginger hairs, although the ginger part was an assumption as he didn’t actually get to see them.

At the time his brain was sufficiently fogged by Light Ale for him not to care that the contents of her bra were unconventional, so he just resumed his examination of her form and his hands headed south, where he got his hand up her skirt easy enough and was attempting to get his hand in the promised land when the door flew open.

“Aye, aye” Shaft said

Shaft was the Warehouse Foreman, his real name was Ted, but his nickname was Shaft, not because he was black, or was a fan of the TV show, but because he was shafting Beryl from picking, Tom did the gentlemanly thing and positioned himself between Ted and Pat, so she could redress herself.

“I’ve just come for my coat” Ted said with a chuckle as he took his coat off the peg

“Carry on” he said and closed the door.

Tom would have liked to carry on where he left off, but Pat wasn’t so keen in light of their discovery, so they went back to the party and that was that.

 

He never had another close encounter with Pat and in the light of his discovery, he had no desire to, as in the sober light of day he didn’t fancy her.

The day after their St Thomas’ Day fumble in the coat room, when the alcohol fog had lifted, like his namesake he had doubts about the encounter, Tom had always assumed that Pat was short for Patricia but after his discovery, he wasn’t so sure.

Obviously if Shaft hadn’t interrupted them when his hand was up her skirt and he had reached his goal he would have known for sure if his Christmas fumble was fish or fowl, but he didn’t so he remained a Doubting Thomas.

THE WARM GLOW

 

In the warm glow

Of the log fire blazing

The fresh trimmed tree

Just looks amazing

 

As we sit together

In the quiet glow

I yearn to say

How much I love you so

 

The depth of my love

Is truly amazing

And just one coy glance

Sets my passions blazing

 

So on Christmas Eve

In the quiet glow

I think its time

For you to know

Just how much

I love you so

CHRISTMAS IS A SPECIAL TIME

Christmas is a special time

When wishes can come true

But if you find they don’t

You can still make believe

That she is in love with you

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (99) Christmas in Sharpington – Jenny’s Tale

 

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 55 year old  triplets, Alex, James and Jenny Wardle live together in the huge house they grew up in, in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill.

“So it’s Christmas time again” Alex said as he looked out the window.

“As if anyone could fail to notice” James added as he and Jenny joined him at the drawing room window.

Even without leaving the house they could see more than half a dozen houses decorated to the hilt.
Every coloured light imaginable, Santa's on the roof or climbing a ladder, sleighs, elves, snowmen, bells, stars, baubles and last but by no means least standing almost four feet high that perennial favourite Winnie the Pooh.
Alex was taken aback, what the hell did Pooh have to do with Christmas? And later as he and his siblings walked down to the seafront he noticed that every other house seemed to have one, there was even one on the pier so he guessed there must be something in it.
He didn't recall mention of him in the bible and in all of the many nativity plays he had seen over the years Winnie the Pooh was conspicuous by his absence and although there is a donkey in the story it wasn’t Eeyore.
The stable did not house Piglet and the wise men did not travel from the east with Tigger bearing gifts of Huney.
Nor in any of the Christmas traditions around the world is there a single reference to Pooh as one of Santa's helpers, there was Black Peter, and the Jolly Elf, there was even the devil figure Krampus, but no Pooh, but it appeared to him, that the people of Sharpington were giving him pride of place on their lawns that Christmas.
As they turned left onto the promenade the early winter sun broke through the mackerel skies exposing patches of the bluest sky and if he had had any remaining doubts that Christmas was coming to Sharpington they were soon dispelled as the promenade was decked in its Christmas garb.

Inflatable Santa’s climb the walls of the Fun Park and the pier was draped in LED icicles.

Then when they passed the Seaview Hotel they saw what looked like a cheery red-suited burglar hanging from one of the balconies and they all laughed before they went their separate ways.

 

Jenny had never married and had spent all her adult life in the halls of academe at the University of Downshire teaching medieval history, but when she turned 55 the academic fire went out in her so she retired.

She also decided it was time for her to try different things, things she had never done before or indeed had never had any regret at not having done it, so it wasn’t a bucket list.

Nor was it really a list, she didn’t write down what she might try and then tick it off afterwards, it was more a case of stumbling across something she had never done before and diving right in.

The new experience that week was ice skating, which she had never done, nor roller skating for that matter, she had a terrible sense of balance so the thought never entered her head at any time in her life that she should give it ago until she moved back to Sharpington.

 

The new experience that week for Jenny was ice skating, which she had never done, nor roller skating for that matter, she had a terrible sense of balance so the thought never entered her head at any time in her life that she should give it ago until she moved back to Sharpington.

 

In the 18^th and early 19^th Century the pond up in Jubilee Park regularly froze in winter and the well healed of the town would don their skates and take to the ice, but it rarely froze after that, the hard winter of 1962 was the last occasion.

During the industrial revolution the enterprising folk of commerce used ice from the fish processing factory to make an artificial rink and charged people to skate on it but that ceased when the fish factory closed.

But in the 21^st century the technology existed to produce and maintain an artificial outdoor rink at a relatively low cost, so Sharpington had one on the promenade by the pier every December and it proved very popular.

And that was where Jenny was headed after she separated from her brothers.  

On that bright sunny morning the flashing skates of hundreds of brightly clad figures made zigzag patterns on the frozen blueish white surface of the ice.

She actually felt quite excited as she approached but as she got nearer and it appeared that all the other skaters on the ice were clearly not novices she started to have doubts.

But then she caught sight of a tall angular man of similar maturity to herself who was struggling with grace, style and gravity and she felt heartened so she went and hired some skates.

Once she had donned her skates she made her first tentative steps on the ice and her courage began to desert her again so she stuck close to the rail and inched her way forward.

Before she got going she looked across the ice and admired the skill and confidence of the other skaters but when she joined them she had to focus all her attention on what she was doing, which was why she didn’t see the tall angular man until he bowled noisily past her and ended up in a crumpled heap on the ice in front of her.

“My goodness, you’re worse than me” she said laughingly “and I’m rubbish”

“Then you are a good judge” he said and laughed

“Let me help you up” she suggested after getting a firm grip of the rail, and after few comic near misses, that almost had them both on the ice, they managed to get him upright again where he too grasped the comforting rail.

“Thank you” he said “I’m Paul”

“Jenny” she responded

“Is this your first time?”

“The first time for many years” he replied “What about you?”

“No this is my first time ever” she retorted and laughed

“Then you’re doing extremely well” he said and then he nearly fell again.

“How about we do it together” she suggested and offered her arm and they moved off rather ungracefully together.

As they circumnavigated the rink they chatted almost oblivious to their surroundings and they found they had a shared love of history.

 

Paul Morfett was not a native of the town but had lived in Sharpington for ten years since the death of his wife, they had lived in Abbottsford all their lives up until her passing, and after it everything in the place was a hurtful memory of her so he moved somewhere neither of them had been and so held no such memories.

As he was a writer by profession his location did not hamper his career and it had actually aided it, and he had written an additional four novels in his “Cross of Kings” series while he was there.

His historic books used material from a number of text books which gave his stories an authentic feel and he considered the academic authors as allies and although he didn’t know it at the moment she helped him to his feet she had been an ally in his writing because he had referenced the books of Professor J W Wardle on many occasions but by the time they stepped off the ice he hadn’t made the connection that his Professor and his companion were one and the same person.   

 

They curtailed their ice skating duet about half an hour after the clouds began to gather and when they finally relented it was only because the expected rain arrived.

But by the time they had reclaimed their footwear the rain had turned to snow and the snow fell thick and fast as smoke from the red-hot coals of the barbeque filled the air with mouthwatering smells as fat dripped onto the charcoal.

“That smells good” she said

“Are you hungry?” he asked

“Starving” Jenny replied

“Well allow me to treat you to lunch” he offered “do you like Italian? I know a great restaurant called the L'uccello canto?”

“That’s my favourite” she said “So yes I’d love to”

 

As they walked briskly to the restaurant through the snow they passed Doily’s bookshop when Jenny stopped in her tracks.

Because in the shop window was a pile of books in front of a cardboard cutout of her lunch date.

“You’re Paul Morfett” she said “I know you told me you were a writer but you didn’t tell me you were a good one”

“Well I do ok” he said “have you read me?”

“Occasionally, I like that you do your research” she replied

“I like to get it right” he said

“Come on” she said and pushed open the door “I want to show you something”

They went to the back of the shop to the reference section and after perusing the history shelf she withdrew a tome and handed it to him, with the back cover on display.

“Do you recognize anyone?” she asked referring to the author’s photo

 

“I can’t believe that I’ve actually spent the afternoon with my favourite history academic and it turns out she’s not a crusty old professor” he said with the candle light dancing in his dark gipsy eyes as they peered at her from behind the flame.

“Well I’m releived to know that you don’t think I’m crusty” she said

 

They spent all afternoon in the restaurant as the snow continued falling outside and along with their favourite Italian food, a liberal amount of wine and a number of liqueurs were consumed and when they left they were merrier than the season.

They stepped outside and their shoes crunched on the snow covered pathways and they braced themselves against the cold and tried to draw themselves deeper into their coats as a promenade tram went by with its windows steamed up.

“Where to now?” she asked when they reached the corner

“I think I should get you home” he said

“But I don’t want to go home” Jenny retorted

“Well my apartment is just along the promenade” he suggested

“Will there be wine?” she asked

“There can be” he replied

“What about kissing? Will there be any kissing at your apartment?” she asked brazenly

“There could be kissing now” he pointed out

“Yes there could” she agreed and they passionately kissed as the snowflakes fell around them.

The Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa – Winter Solstice Pagan Rite

 

The beautiful Downshire village of Clerembeax St Giles was situated to the west of Abbeyvale located between Grace Hill and Bushy Down and on the outskirts was the Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa and one of the rooms was occupied by John Claffey and Lori Fourie who had to spend the night at the Palace after being snowed in after a snow storm on the previous afternoon and as a result had a bonus night of unbridled passion, a pagan rite on the Winter Solstice, so to speak.

It’s not uncommon for couples or married people, to take advantage of an unexpected stay at a Hotel, however John and Lori were not a couple, though they were married, just not to each other, in fact until the previous evening they hadn’t even met.

They had both spent the day, independently, using the facilities and enjoying some of what was on offer, choosing from, fitness classes, Yoga, gym, rock sauna, infra-red sauna, aroma steam room, ice fountain, drench showers, Jacuzzi, a Romanesque pool, Reflexology, Raki, facials, scalp massage, hand massage, Manicure and Pedicure, the world was their oyster.

Lori had been there with her sister, but she had to leave early to pick up her kids, and John was there for a range of treatments, including water therapy, following a knee injury sustained on the Rugby field.

They had both independently decided to take full advantage of the facilities and squeeze the last drop of enjoyment from the day at the Spa and then when it came time to leave they found the weather had closed in, so they both booked rooms and a meal at the restaurant and then spend the rest of the evening in the bar which was when they met for the first time and where they drank too much and ended up using just the one room and because it was still snowing the next morning they stayed for two nights.

 

By Sunday morning the thaw had set in which meant they would be leaving after breakfast.

John was the first to rise and showered first, leaving Lori sleeping and reflected, as he showered, on the delightful events of the two nights and a day they had spent together and was thinking about how he would begin Sunday in the same vein and still have time for breakfast.

So, he got out of the shower and hastily dried himself and was just about to open the bathroom door and put his plan into action when the door burst open and Lori rushed in

“Morning” she said and kissed him

“Hi Babe” he replied, and she bustled him out of the door and closed it.

When he heard the toilet, seat go down with a bang he shuffled away disappointed at not being able to put his plan into action, so he dried his long lean body off and with the towel wrapped around his waist and sat on the bed in front of the TV while he waited for the object of his lust to emerge clean and fresh from the bathroom.

 

When Lori finally appeared pink and pristine from the bathroom wrapped in towels she said

“Are you not getting dressed?”

“In a minute, I’m just watching the news” he lied as his eyes surveyed her every curve of her beneath her toweling sarong.

A curvaceous form he had become very familiar with in the short time they had known each other.

As Lori stooped over her bag and fished out a pink bra and matching pants, John walked up behind her and as she stood up she gasped and leant back in his arms, her short red hair, still wet against his skin

“You made me jump” she gasped

“I thought you might want some help” he lied

“Help with what?” she asked suspiciously

“To get you dry of course” John said innocently

“Really?” she asked doubtfully

“You are such a cynic,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I know it’s a character flaw” she said as he nibbled her ear, and then

Lori breathed sharply in and out through her nose as he un-tucked the sarong and it fell open to expose her nakedness.

“We’ll miss breakfast” she said as he kissed her neck, but it was said with no conviction and he wasn’t really listening.

 

When they collapsed in a breathless heap on the bed and just lay there, spent and panting.

“Can I have breakfast now?” Lori panted

“You have a one-track mind” he replied and then he suddenly realized the time, so they had to jump in the shower together to wash away their lust, so they could make the restaurant in time for breakfast and only made it by the skin of their teeth to satisfy a different kind of pagan rite.

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – The Miracle Marathon

 

The Finchbottom Vale nestles comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, and to the east 15 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between the seaside resort and Pepperstock Green was the rambling village of Brookley and at its heart were the churches of St Lucy and St Mildred’s and the Vicar of St Lucy’s was Reverend Ashleigh Bell, and the third weekend of advent was a test of endurance, which she called her “Miracle Marathon”,

St Lucy’s Day on Friday, The Carol Concert on Saturday night, the Sunday Service with the lighting of the third candle of advent, followed by Christingle in the afternoon, but on the Second Sunday of Advent all was not well.

 

On Sunday Morning Libby Barr and her brother Stephen were walking towards the church, but when they reached Stephenson’s corner store Stephen said

“I’m just going to get a paper”

“Ok I’ll see you in there” she replied and carried on walking.

 

With his paper in hand he pressed on for the Church and was surprised to see Libby outside St Lucy’s church engaged in conversation with the Vicar, who he believed was called, Ashleigh Bell.

He reached them about the same time as two mature ladies who were in the company of a younger man, who he judged must be Chris Baker, as his sisters demeanour changed when she saw him, and he heard the Vicar say.

“It’s just one thing after another” Ashleigh was saying

“It’s St Lucy’s day on Friday and next weekend we have the Third Advent Service, the Carol Concert and Christingle”

“What’s the matter? Is life testing your patience Vicar?”

Chris asked cheerfully

“No, it’s testing my faith,” she snapped without humour and went inside.

“Now look what you’ve done” Mature lady number one said and followed in the Vicars footsteps.

Mature Lady Number two just looked at him and tutted and then followed the other one.

“I think I’ll go back to bed,” he said to Libby, who blushed.

“What was the Vicar saying anyway?” he added

“The heating system has packed up” Libby replied

“Oh great” he said

There was a bit of an awkward silence and then he said

“Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were away on family business”

“I am… I mean… I was, I brought it with me instead” she said and then almost as an after thought

“Oh, by the way this is my brother Stephen”

Stephen was as different from Libby as it was possible to get.

He was the fat to her thin, the short to her tall, and the busty to her flat.

But in one obvious way there was no difference at all he had the same friendly open face, and Chris shook his hand warmly.

“Stephen stayed at mine last night” she added

“So, you’re the family business?”

“Yes, pitiful isn’t it?” He replied and laughed

 

As they came out the church Libby said

“I rather enjoyed that, she gives a good sermon, even if it was a bit chilly in there”

“Come on over to the Fiddlers and I’ll buy you both lunch” he suggested “That’ll warm you up”

 

At the Fiddlers Elbow, the conversation turned back to the Vicar.

“I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea, it was very out of character” he said in defense of Ashleigh

“It’s just such a busy time for her”

“Don’t worry” Libby said, “I wasn’t offended, and I like Ashleigh”

“Good” Chris said, “It’s not like her to snap like that, the plumbing problem must really be bothering her”

“I thought the same thing” Libby said and added

“Anyway, Steve and I have been talking”

“What about?” He asked

“The plumbing” she said

“I didn’t know that was your area of expertise” Chris said

“I thought you were property magnates”

“Kind of” Steve replied and laughed

“We buy old houses and do them up, either for sale of let” he said

“But as part of the process we strip out and salvage a lot of stuff”

“So, what did you have in mind?” Chris asked

“Well it’s not a complicated system,” Steven interjected “We could easily patch it up in the short term, to get them through Christmas, replace a few pipes and put in a better pump, and then we could look at a more permanent solution in the New Year, probably replace the whole thing”  

“They don’t have much money though” Chris added

“Not an issue” Libby said, “we know people who know people, and Steve and I can do the fitting”

“But I thought you were a “suit”” he said to Libby 

“I am” she replied proudly “but I had to do a lot of grafting before I got the suit”

“Are you sure we can do it?” he asked

“We?” Libby said

“Mr. Solicitor is going to get his hands dirty?” she asked disdainfully

“How do you think I managed to fund my education?” he retorted and they both nodded.

Well he had been feeling rather guilty about his earlier flippancy with the Vicar, so it was with the most selfish of motives that he suggested they go and make her day.

 

 

Ashleigh Bell burst into tears when Libby and Steven put their proposal to her.

“It’s divine providence” Ashleigh sobbed as she hugged them both “I prayed for a solution and here you are”

She was so overcome she fainted away in Libby’s long gangly arms.

Steven and Chris made a tactical withdrawal and Libby stayed with Ashleigh for a while afterwards, and they took a walk around the village green and got to know each other.

He was also from Northchapel like Libby, but he was still living there until he sold his house.

His marriage had just ended badly, and he just wanted to off load the house and draw a line under an unhappy episode in his life.

“I wouldn’t mind living here” Steven said “first impressions and all that”

“I wouldn’t live anywhere else” Chris admitted “but houses don’t come up for sale here very often”

“I can understand why”

 

When Libby finally reappeared, it was clear that she had been crying as well.

“Is everything ok?” Steven asked “She was really overcome”

“Yes, but she also has a fever from spending so much time in that draughty old church with no heating on” Libby said “I’ve put her to bed”

“Will she be alright on her own?” Chris asked

“I’m going to pop back in a little while” Libby said

“I don’t mind keeping you company” her brother said, and Chris concurred

“Me too”

Libby smiled at the pair and she was a little quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

 

 

Stephens first day in the village proved to be a bit of an eventful one for a Sunday, and if Sunday had been an eventful day then it merely heralded the beginning of an even more eventful week to come.

 

On Monday morning Libby and Stephen summoned Chris from his bed early to start working on St Lucy’s plumbing and they had a productive morning.

Just before midday Stephen Barr was removing some lengths of old, often patched copper pipe, when he heard someone behind him and he turned around to see it was Ashleigh Bell.

“Hello Stephen” she said

“Hello Vicar, you surprised me” he said “You should be resting”

Then she surprised him again by giving him a bear hug almost crushing his ribcage and kissed his cheek several times.

“You’ve saved my life” The Vicar said and was about to hurry away, when she went very pale and swooned and would have ended up on the church floor had Stephen not caught her.

“Libby! Chris!” he called

 

“What’s going on?” his sister asked and then she saw Stephen holding the Vicar

“Oh God what’s she doing here?” she snapped “She’s supposed to be at the Vicarage in bed”

“Well let’s get her back there then” he said

“I don’t want to go” the Vicar protested

“Well you’re going” Stephen said “so hush”

“You’re so bossy” Ashleigh said before she faded away again

 

Before they left the church, they told Chris what they were doing and once back at the Vicarage they quickly got Ashleigh back to bed.

“I’ll get the Doc” Libby said

“I’d better stay and make sure she stays put” Stephen said, and Ashleigh blew a raspberry

“How very ecclesiastical” he said, and she muttered something illegible but made no further protest

 

“Please don’t make stay in bed, I’ve got so much to do” she pleaded

“It’s for your own good” he said

“But its St Lucy’s day on Thursday” she protested

“No, it’s not”

“What?”

“St Lucy’s day is on Friday” he pointed out

“Oh”

“So, what do you think you should do?”

“Do as I’m told, rest and get better” she said meekly

“Is the correct answer, now go to sleep”

“Thank you” she said quietly

 

They took it in turns to sit with her for the next 48 hours with her Verger, Brenda, taking the evening shift so any time he lost during the day he made up in the evening.

 

By the end of Tuesday old the dodgy pipework was out and by the

Ten o’clock that night all the new ones were in, which meant that on Wednesday they just had to service the boiler and install the new pumps.

 

The Vicar was confined to the Vicarage until Wednesday, and it was lunchtime when an anxious Ashleigh confronted Stephen about letting her go to the church.

“Eat your soup” he responded, and her shoulders slumped “And then I’ll walk you over to St Lucy’s”

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded so she began to wolf down her soup

“Slow down” he said with a chuckle, “you’ll get indigestion”

 

She finished her soup in no time flat and leapt up and said

“Come on let’s go”

“Alright, alright, you need to wrap up warm, its bitter cold out there” he insisted

“Yes mum” she said and grinned, and as she put her stout shoes on he found her coat, hat, scarf and gloves

“I don’t need all that, just the coat will be enough”

“You wear it all or you don’t go” he insisted

“Did I mention that you’re bossy?” she said

“Several times”

She reluctantly pulled the hat on and he put the scarf around her neck and then as he was buttoning her coat she burped

“Sorry” she said and grinned again

“I told you, you were eating too fast” and smiled

“I know” she said resignedly “Now let’s go”

“Gloves” he retorted

 

Once she was fully dressed to his satisfaction they stepped outside the front door and an icy north-easterly wind almost cut them in two

“It’s freezing” she said

“So, I was right then?”

“Yes, you were” she conceded and then she shivered

“Can I hold your arm?”

“Of course, you can” he said, and they walked slowly across to the church.

 

Libby was by the door when they arrived and after embracing Ashleigh she said

“You’re just in time, we’re about to fire up the boiler”

“Time for a quick prayer then” she said and walked slowly down the aisle, but she only got half way before she had to use one hand to support her weight on the pew, so Stephen rushed to help her and as Chris joined Libby they exchanged a look.

 

After a brief prayer Stephen helped Ashleigh down the stairs to the room where the boiler was housed, Chris had already carried a chair down, so the Vicar could sit and have a Grandstand seat.

“I’m alright standing” she said, and Stephen gave her a look, so she sat, and Stephen stood beside her.

“Ok light the pilot light” Libby said as she fiddled with the control panel

“Done” Chris said

“Here goes!” Libby announced, and Ashleigh took hold of Stephens’s hand and after a few moments of anti-climax the boiler roared into life.

“Thank you, God,” Ashleigh said and began to cry, so Stephen knelt down to comfort her and the other two made themselves scarce.

 

While Stephen was comforting the Vicar Chris and Libby were checking the radiators and pipework to make sure the heat was circulating around the system,

They had just completed their examination as Stephen was helping a clearly exhausted Ashleigh up the steps.

“Is everything ok?” she asked weekly

“It is” Libby confirmed “but we’ll have to leave it running at maximum in order to penetrate the chill”

“Ok” she responded but Stephen interrupted

“I’ll explain it to her later, when she can take it in”

And with that he shepherded her away and back to the Vicarage and settled her down.

“No more outings until Friday” he said

“You’re just like my mum” she said sleepily

“Well you need mothering”

“You can have the job” Ashleigh said quietly and then she was asleep.

 

Twenty minutes later he left the Vicarage and walked to his sister Libby’s house, and got there just as she was leaving

“Hi Honey, is she ok?”

“I put her to bed and she’s sleeping soundly”

“Will she be ok for Friday?” she asked

“I don’t know, we’ll know better tomorrow” he said, and she nodded before saying

“I’m going into the office to catch up a bit, are you coming?”

“No, I’m going to stick around the village through the weekend if that’s ok” he said “there’s plenty I can do with my laptop”

“I thought you probably would, stay as long as you like” she replied and kissed his cheek “I’ll see you later”

 

He spent a little over four hours sitting in the Vicarage with his laptop open as he waded his way through a backlog of email correspondence, until the Verger, Brenda, arrived.

And he spent a further half an hour talking to her about the following day, then she went to check on the patient.

She came back down about ten minutes later and said

“She’d like some soup, and she wants you to do it and take it up, she was most insistent”

So, he did as he was instructed and at her request, sat with her while she ate it, there was no conversation, just eating the soup without spilling any took all her concentration, then she gave him the tray and settled down again and he went to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” he said and turned off the light 

“Good night mum” she retorted

  

Brenda said she would stay the night just in case she got the wanderlust and he promised to be back first thing next morning.

After he left the Vicarage he went across the road to the Fiddlers Elbow and had a very acceptable Ham, Egg and Chips and a couple of pints.

“Come again” the barmaid said as he put his plate and mug on the counter

“I will for sure” Stephen retorted

The Landlord, Glen said

“But I’ll warn you now we don’t do the normal menu on Friday because of St Lucy’s Day, it’s just Burgers, Hot Dogs and Bacon Butties”

“Oh, whys that?”

“Well its always bitter cold and people just want something hot and they want it quick” he explained “in fact when it’s really cold like this year we watch it from the function room upstairs”

“Is it a good view from up there then?” Stephen asked

“Very” Glen replied

“Then I’d like to ask a favour” Stephen said

   

The next day, Ashleigh Bell was much improved, and had her appetite back, so he made her a proper breakfast which she polished off in no time flat, and subsequently she spent more time awake that asleep, and talked virtually nonstop, it was only when she slowed down that he knew she was tiring so he would put a blanket over her and she would doze in the armchair for an hour of two, then she would awake with recharged batteries. 

 

Stephen stayed with her well into the evening, and only left once she had settled down for the night, she was sufficiently on the mend that there was no need for anyone to stay overnight, but he was back at the Vicarage to find she was not only already up, but she was showered and dressed.

“My, you’re up bright and early” he said

“Yes, I’m fighting fit and rearing to go” she said “it’s a big day”

 

It was St Lucy’s Day, a big day in the Village and an important one in the County.

St Lucy was the Patron Saint of Downshire and as a result there were numerous churches in the County bearing her name and it a special day for those churches and the communities they served.

It all began once the darkness had fully descended with a multidenominational service of celebration and then after the church service, a parade of school children from St Lucy’s and St Hilda’s schools process through the village carrying their Lucy lights and then they throw them onto the bonfire to light the Lucy fire on the village green.

It’s all very pagan and a Swedish tradition originally, a mixture of the Christian and the pagan really, it is believed that St Lucy’s light can lengthen the days of winter.

The St Lucy’s day festival was always well attended as its such a unique event in the church calendar.

Christians from churches far and wide attended the service and a healthy crowd both church and secular turned out for the parade and the bonfire.  

 

“It is a big day” he agreed “But if you overdo it today you’ll never manage to get through the weekend”

“Well I’ll conserve my energy then and let you make my breakfast” she said and laughed

“Of course, I’ll make breakfast for you” he said “But I’m serious about you not overdoing it”

“But I don’t want to miss it” she said glumly

“I’m not suggesting you do” he said

“I don’t understand” she said suspiciously

“I’m suggesting a compromise” he said “you officiate at the celebration service, but not the procession”

“But….”

“Brenda will stand in for you on the parade”

“But I’ll miss the bonfire” she said

“No, you won’t, Glen at the pub has said that you can watch from his function room….”

“But…”

“…. While you’re eating bacon sandwiches”

“Will there be beer?”

“There could be beer”

“And where will you be?” she asked

“Next to you” he replied

 

St Lucy’s Day went without a hitch and as Stephen walked her back to the vicarage she said

“You were right, I would have been wiped out if I’d done the procession as well”

“And you enjoyed it at the pub” he said

“The Bacon butties and the Beer were good” she said and sniggered

“You can laugh now but you’ll be pining for me tomorrow” he said

“Why? Where will you be?” she asked with alarm

“I have to go home” he said

“Are you not coming back?” she asked pitifully “For the Carol Concert I mean”

“I’ll be back” he said “But I need some fresh clothes, I was only planning on staying for the weekend and I’ve been here all week” 

“Oh, I see”

“So, you will have to cook your own breakfast in the morning and I’m trusting you to behave and then I will see you before the Concert” he said

“I could come too” she suggested “That way you can keep an eye on me, and you could buy me breakfast instead, and lunch”

“Don’t you think that’s taking advantage of my good nature?” he said, and she lowered her head and looked at her feet in response

“Got you” he added “I’ll pick you up at nine”

And when she lifted her head he kissed her forehead.

 

She enjoyed the outing, even if it was only to Northchapel, she hadn’t left the Village for more than a month, they had breakfast at a roadside greasy spoon and lunch at his house and she slept pretty much all of the time she was in the car, but she was glad she went, and he was glad she was there.

 

Stephen got her back to the Village in plenty of time for her to have a bath and get herself ready for the Carol Concert.

With the success of St Lucy’s day under her belt she approached the next leg of the marathon with renewed vigour.

The Carol Concert on Saturday night was an all ticket occasion and as always it was performed to a packed house, one of whom was Stephen Barr.

However, Ashleigh wasn’t able to rest on her laurels because the next morning brought the Sunday Service and the lighting of the third candle of advent which again went without a hitch.

 

After another success with the morning service going off without a hitch and there was just time for a light lunch with Stephen before she was off again with the Christingle.

 

The Christingle Service has become ingrained in Anglican worship though it has its origins in Eastern Europe and the Christingle Service is a Service of candle lights where very many years ago people gathered in the street, sang carols and collected gifts to help the less fortunate in the community.

It is a beautiful candle lit service of hymns, carols, recitations and bible readings, but Christingle goes beyond a candle light service and it tells a story.

A story is told with the symbolic use of the following items:
An orange representing the world.
A red ribbon tied around the orange to symbolize the blood of Jesus shed for his people.
Toothpicks decorated with dried fruits and sweets are placed at the four corners of the orange representing all the people of the world.
A lighted candle in the centre of the orange represents the gift of the light of Christ to the world.

Firstly, the children make the Christingle lights in Sunday school, and then they carry them proudly in procession into the church where they are lit for the service.

 

By Sunday evening it was over, Ashleigh had got through it, and the miracle marathon had been completed and she looked visibly relieved and hugged Stephen who had been on hand at every stage of the proceedings, watching, supporting and worshipping.

 

It certainly had been a funny week, a week in which Chris, Libby and Stephen had saved the day, and Ashleigh Bell’s sanity and Ashleigh had survived the miracle marathon and had made a significant discovery.

 

The following week by comparison was a quiet one and she had to admit to herself and Stephen, that the stresses and strains of the previous week had taken its toll on Ashleigh but was no more serious than being thoroughly run down and had been advised by the Doctor to take complete bed rest for the week which would hopefully put her right and she would be strong enough to participate on the following Sunday.

Throughout the week Stephen had been at her side, keeping her in check and making her happy and by Saturday Morning she was ready to take on the world and on Saturday morning she went to the Church with her Verger Brenda to make sure everything was in hand for the next day while Stephen walked to his sister’s House where she was having coffee with her boyfriend Chris.

Libby and Chris Baker had become an item, either before, during or after the Christingle, he wasn’t quite sure which.

“Hi Steve” Chris said “I’ve just heard something from one of my clients that may be of interest if you were serious about wanting to live in the village, there is a house coming on the market very soon that you might be interested in”

“That good of you to let me know” he said “But there has been a change in my circumstances”

“What change?” his sister asked

“I fell in love” he said simply

“So, tell us something we don’t know” she snapped “You need to tell her, not us”

“I have told her” h said

“And?” Chris and Libby Chorused

“We’re engaged” he told them.

“That’s fantastic,” Chris said genuinely, and Libby cried before she hugged her brother.

 

 

 

 

A WASTED WISH

 

Why would I make a Christmas Wish?

And hope that it would come true,

What on earth could I ever wish for?

That would be a tenth as good as you