Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (27) Christmas in Highfinch

 

Christmas was just around the corner for the inhabitants of Highfinch which nestled on the edge of the Pepperstock Hills where the Lily Green Hollows Golf Club separated the village from the Hamlet of Lily Green, which made up the parish of St Martins Church.

It was the first time for quite a few years that Jenna Lawton had approached the season with a boyfriend, although calling him a boyfriend was pushing it a bit as he was almost forty, but then she wasn’t exactly a girl at 37.

It was also the first time she had approached it as a Vicar.

Another significant difference was something that also hadn’t happened for quite a few years and that was she would be spending it with her baby brother.

Brian Lawton was 33 years old and had been medically discharged from the Downshire Light Infantry due to injuries sustained in Afghanistan when he lost most of his left foot.

 

Brian had led a rather rudderless existence since leaving the Army in the previous January, until mid-October when he made one of his infrequent phone calls to touch base with his sister who was at the time the de facto Vicar of St Martins in Highfinch while the Reverend Mortimer was recovering from a heart attack.

Everything that subsequently followed began with a simple question on the innocent phone call.

“So how are you sis?” he asked jovially and she burst into tears.

Unable to get any sense out of her over the phone he said

“Ok I’m on my way”

Fortunately he wasn’t a million miles away as he and another ex-soldier were doing some security work in Sharpington and it was his day off.

 

However once Brian arrived to comfort his older sister he never left as she suggested he stay with her permanently at the Vicarage and he agreed and also suggested he might find work at the Golf Course.

In truth Jenna had no doubts whatsoever that they would welcome him with open arms at the Golf Club because the manager of Lily Green Hollows, David Pike, was on the parish council and she had already broached the subject with him and used her influence.

 

But Brian was not the only newcomer to Highfinch and the Vicarage that year because two weeks after he took up residence he and Jenna were joined by the 30 year old replacement Curate, Rosie Coulter and Jenna and Rosie took to each other from the first moment they met.

 

But even with, Nick Faulkner, the man she loved, at her side, and her brother Brian on hand for support and an eager young Curate to help with her with the burden she was not looking forward to Christmas with as much enthusiasm as she had in past years.

Because that particular year she saw the normally joyous event of the Christmas church calendar as nothing more than tiresome obstacles that had to be overcome.

 

The month of November began in a much happier vain when Jenna and Nick began dating, firstly to bonfire night display at Sharpinghead and then on Saturday Night he took her over to Purplemere and they had a lovely meal at the Runcible Spoon.

The next day Jenna was in a wonderful mood and it didn’t take an expert to know why and Brian was very pleased to see she was looking much more like her old self and seemed to have fully recovered from the malady of despondency that had afflicted her when he first arrived and she thought the Bishop was going to transfer her.

Jenna was also on very good form in the pulpit and she delivered a very inspiring and enlightening sermon.

 

However it wasn’t long before a gloom descended over her when she remembered that even before she reached the first hurdle of her Christmas marathon she had another problem to solve first.

A local man called Henry Gold normally played Santa at the St Martins Christmas Bazaar and had done for many years but since his sad demise earlier that year it had proved difficult to replace him.

However Rosie thought she had the perfect solution.

“What about Brian?”

“Brian?”

“Yes, he’ll need a bit of padding but I think he’ll be a natural” Rosie said “He’s got lovely broad shoulders”

“I think that’s a great idea” she said and kissed her check “Well done”

 

Jenna walked into the lounge at the Vicarage and she said

“Brother Dearest”

“What?” he responded suspiciously?

“I have a task for you”

“And what’s that?” Brian asked

“I need you to help out at the Christmas Bazaar” she said

“Oh ok yes I can do that” Brian said a little relieved to get off so lightly

“Excellent” she said “We just need to get the ladies to alter the costume” 

“Hold on what costume?” Brian said “I don’t remember agreeing to a costume”

“The Santa costume obviously” Jenna said

“I am not going to dress up and Santa” he said adamantly

“But you have to, you can’t sit in Santa’s grotto in your ordinary clothes” Jenna insisted

“What grotto?” he asked

“You’ll make a wonderful Santa” Rosie added

“That’s not fair, you’re ganging up” he said indignantly “ganging up isn’t fair”

“I’ll let you know when you’re needed for the first fitting” Jenna said as she left the room

“But Jenna?” he called

“Can’t talk, I’m going to lunch with my boyfriend”

A moment later her head appeared around the door and she added

“I rather like the way that sounds”

Brian spent the next five minutes trying to fathom how she had managed to rope him into playing Santa at the St Martin’s School Christmas Bazaar without him even realising what he had agreed to and in fact he was left with the impression that he actually volunteered.

 

However she became more troubled the closer she got to the first obstacle to be conquered in the marathon which came on 

November 29th, and that was the First Sunday of Advent.

But despite it being a test of endurance she got through it without a hitch and with it successfully under her belt she should have been able to approach the next leg with renewed vigour.

However it soon began to look as if she wouldn’t get there with her sanity intact.

 

The day after her success Jenna was in the church Hall with a small team of ladies who were on hand to affect alterations to Brian’s Santa suit.

It was obviously the team of ladies who did all the work while she looked on, but the lack of activity gave her time to think and time to think meant time to worry and it didn’t go unnoticed.

And at the Vicarage that evening Brian broached the subject with her.

“What’s the matter sis?”

“Christmas is the matter” she replied

“But you love Christmas” he reminded her

“Yes but It’s such a busy time, there is so much going on, Advent, Christingle, Carol Concert  and the Bazaar and everyone is watching me to see if I screw up”

“But you’ve been here for ten years” he said “this is hardly your first Christmas”

“Yes but it’s my first Christmas as the Vicar” she said worriedly

“Look you’ve already ticked off the first Sunday of advent and the Bazaar is totally covered, so stop worrying” he reassured her.

 

Despite her brothers words of comfort she still approached the Second weekend of Advent with little confidence and when she got to Friday lunchtime it suddenly got a whole lot worse.

She was in the Church Hall where she was waiting for Brian to arrive for the final fitting for his costume when her phone rang.

 

Jenna hung up the phone and muttered something under and almost knocked her brother over who just happened to be coming the other way.

“It’s a total disaster” Jenna blurted out “Trevor Gurney has appendicitis”

“Oh no” Brian said “is he ok?”

“What?” she said as if confused by the question

“Trevor” he clarified “is he ok?”

“Oh shit,” the Vicar exclaimed, “I never thought to ask”

“So what’s the disaster then?” He enquired

“Trevor is the chief Elf to your Santa,” she explained

“So what’s the problem?” he said “can’t we just find someone to fill his shoes?”

“It’s not his shoes that are the problem” Jenna explained

“He’s a six foot stick insect with a bum like a twelve year old boy”

“Oh” Brian said unhelpfully

“We can’t get anyone else with their own costume at this late stage” she went on

Brian went to speak but she was in full flow and cut him off

“No! We can’t hire a costume they’re all gone, and if we put one of the volunteers in Trevor’s costume they will just look ridiculous”

“Don’t you think a six foot Elf is ridiculous anyway?” Brian remarked

“He’s a very good Elf” Jenna said indignantly “and he supplied his own costume”

 

“So let me get this straight we need someone six feet tall, stick thin with an arse like a 12 year old boy” he asked

“Yes” Jenna replied crossly, “That’s why it’s a disaster”

“I know just the person,” he said

“Really?” she asked doubtfully

“Really” he said and taking out his mobile phone he got up his contacts list, scrolled down and hit call.

“Rosie? Where are you?”

“I’m here” she said suddenly emerging from the Church Hall

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked and put his phone away.

The Vicar paced up and down like an expectant father while looking her Curate up and down.

“I don’t believe it, the solution was right under my nose all the time” she said 

“Will you do it?” She asked eventually

“Do what?” Rosie asked

“Be the chief Elf to my Santa” he said “You are uniquely qualified”

“Ok” Rosie agreed

“Sorted” Brian replied

“Thank you God” Jenna said looking to the heavens and crossing herself “and thank you Brian”

“You’re perfect Rosie, I can’t believe I didn’t see it” she said

“You obviously don’t spend as much time looking at her as I do” Brian said and then blushed at the realization that he’d said it out loud.

Jenna pretended that she didn’t notice but Rosie did and she was smiling as she went back inside.

Jenna just kissed his cheek before going off to belatedly enquire about Trevor’s state of health.

 

On Saturday morning Jenna and Rosie left the Vicarage very early as there was a lot still to do in readiness for the Bazaar.

By the time Brian arrived at St Martin’s school at 11.00am she was fussing around like a mother hen, uncharacteristically wanting things just so.

“Hey sis” he said

“You’re cutting it fine” Jenna said crossly

“There’s plenty of time” he said

“There’s still so much to do” she retorted

“Ok just calm down” Brian said “it’s all in hand”

“Look it’s not just a Christmas Bazaar you know we’re making Christmas memories” Jenna said “it’s important for the children so it’s got to be done right”

Just then Rosie came through the door behind him

“Hello Santa” she said brightly

“Hi Rosie” he said “Hey why aren’t you in costume?”

“Some of us have had a very busy morning Grouchy Clause” Rosie said

“Come on Rosie your costume is through there” said Jenna and lead her away to one of the offices, but she paused by the doorway and let Rosie go ahead of her gave her an appraising look and declared to her brother.

“You were right bro she does have a bum like a twelve year old boy”

“Yes she’s perfect” she heard Brian say and smiled and left him with the drama teacher Cherry Overton-Brown who showed him in to the grotto where he was to be fully regaled in the red velvet suit and sat on his throne where Cherry would apply the finishing touches to his beard, wig and hat.

 

Jenna was much relieved by the end of the afternoon when everything was over and done.

All the feedback she had heard was that the new Santa had done a very good job so she went to find him and thank him, she had been sharp with him earlier in the day and he hadn’t  deserved it.

To get to the grotto you had to enter via an adjoining classroom, like an anteroom, where the walls were hidden behind red velvet drapes, decorated with tinsel and coloured lights.

The adjoining door was slightly ajar so she looked through the gap into the magical grotto.

Leading to the throne was a snow covered path and on one side of it was a festive tableau of snowmen and reindeer and on the other side Santa’s sleigh was parked.

The huge throne was in the furthest corner surrounded by Christmas parcels where Brian, fully regaled in the red velvet suit was sat on his throne, and sitting on his lap was a tall and flat chested Elf and they were kissing.

 

As the resident celebrity of Highfinch, and the Vicars boyfriend, Nick Faulkner, was both the guest of honour and the raffle prize draw master.

But with the draw complete he went in search of his own prize draw, namely the Reverend Lawton and he caught up with her in the ante room to Santa’s grotto and she was peering through a gap in the door to the grotto.

“What are you looking at nosy?” Nick said

“Shush” she said and put her finger to her lips “Come and have a look”

He tiptoed across the room and also peaked through the crack in the door and could see Rosie the Elf snogging Santa Claus.

“Well, well” he said “Just wait until Mrs Claus finds out about this”

“Oh I think she already knows” Jenna said     

 

With the resounding success of the St Martins School Bazaar and the added bonus of discovering her brother and her Curate were in love she breezed through the Second and third Sundays of Advent which meant she was on the home straight.

The Trifecta of Christingle, Carol Service and the fourth Advent Sunday which were on consecutive days.

But she was in a great frame of mind and was brimming with confidence.

However a phone call from on Wednesday morning threw a spanner in the works, it was from Lee Shuttlewood, the church warden.

“Oh God, It’s just one thing after another” Jenna said “It’s Christingle on Friday and then the Carol concert”

Jenna hung up and let out a muffled yell.

“What’s the matter? Is life testing you’re patience sis?”

Brian asked cheerfully

“No it’s testing my faith,” she retorted without humour and left the room.

“Now look what you’ve done” Rosie said and followed quickly in the Vicar’s footsteps.

“What was Lee saying anyway?” Rosie asked hoping she would be able to give her some words of comfort

“The sound system and the visual displays have packed up” Jenna replied “Christingle is in three days”

“Oh no” Rosie exclaimed and started crying and then Jenna had to comfort her.

 

The Christingle Service has become ingrained in Anglican worship though it had its origins in Eastern Europe.

The Christingle Service is a Service of candle lights where long 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 specific 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 placed at the four corners of the orange representing all the people of the world and a lighted candle in the centre of the orange representing the gift of the light of Christ to the world.

 

After about 10 minutes Jenna and Rosie were sitting in the kitchen feeling sorry for themselves when they had a visitor.

“Hello!” a voice said

“Who’s that?” Jenna asked

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already” Nick said as he appeared in the door way.

“Oh Nick” she said and threw herself into his arms.

Brian had been feeling rather guilty about his earlier flippancy with Jenna so he phoned Nick.

 

“So what can I do to help?” he asked

“Nothing much” she said “unless you know anything about the sound system”

“Well no” he confessed

“That’s not my area of expertise, but I know people who know people”

“Really?” she said suddenly encouraged.

“I’ll makes some calls” he said

 

Two hours later, Greg Scott, a friend of Nicks pulled up outside St Martin’s.

Nick introduced him to Jenna, Rosie and Lee Shuttlewood and then they all went inside.

After giving him a brief tour they left him to it and waited in the vestry until he was done.

 

The waiting was awful, no one spoke and they all feared the worst and Jenna was convinced that Christingle and the Carol Concert would have to be cancelled or simplified significantly.

 

“So what conclusion have you reached?” Nick asked

“Well it’s not a complicated system,” Gregg replied “I can easily patch it up in the short term, and after Christmas we could look at a more permanent solution maybe even replace the whole thing”  

“We don’t have much money” Jenna added

“That’s not an issue” Greg said “I wouldn’t have a business at all if it wasn’t for Nick so I’m just repaying a long overdue favour”

 

After Scott had gone Jenna said

“It’s divine providence”

And burst into tears.

 

Gregg Scott was good to his word and had the audio visual systems working like clockwork.

He did have to swap out the visual displays as the circuitry was fried on the old ones but he had the work completed in plenty of time for Christingle which was On Friday December 18th.

 

Gregg Scott had the work completed in plenty of time for Christingle which was On Friday December 18th.

First of all the children assembled at the church hall in their Sunday School groups and made their Christingle lights and when all the congregants were seated in the church the children carried them proudly in procession into the church where they were lit for the service.

It was always a big hit with the children which was why Jenna wanted it to go smoothly, which it did.

 

The Carol Concert was on the following night and was an all ticket occasion and as always it was performed to a packed house.

The sound system was excellent and the new visual displays came into their own.   

But as successful as the concert was there was no time for Jenna to rest on her laurels because the next morning brought the Sunday Service and the lighting of the fourth candle of advent, the final leg of the trifecta.

 

From the moment the service ended she relaxed and as she stood in the doorway with the breeze stirring her brunette hair,

The difference in her demeanour was palpable, her intelligent green eyes were laughing again and broad toothy smile was on full display.

She still had Christmas Morning to contend with but that pretty much took care of itself, she had written the sermon, the readings had been selected as were their readers, the hymns and carols had been chosen and the slideshow for the visual displays was done.

So she was looking forward to a few stress free days off.

 

The day following the last Sunday of Advent was Nick’s Fortieth birthday so as soon as she was up and dressed she walked round to his house carrying a little gift bag.

She stood on the door step and knocked on the door and when it opened she said

“Happy Birthday old man, I come bearing gifts”

“Well thank you” he responded and kissed her “Come in”

 

For his big day she had booked a table at the same restaurant where they had their first serious date, the Runcible Spoon in Purplemere.

It was an expensive restaurant especially for her but she felt it was important.

As a result her present was a bit less than she would have liked to have spent on him, but she made what little she had count by buying something he would appreciate.

 

Nick wasn’t just a TV Sports Presenter he was a sports aficionado.

In fact he was writing a book on the subject, so while she was browsing at the Christmas Bazaar there was a stall selling second hand Bric-à-brac including a small selection of books and amongst them was an old book from the 1970’s entitled ABC of Soccer Sense by Tommy Docherty.

She was sure he would like it until he started unwrapping it and then she thought it was a bit naff.

“Wow” he said “this is one of Norman Giller’s”

“Is that good?” she asked

“Yes it is” he replied “Where on earth did you find it?”

“Do you like it then?” she asked

“I love it” he replied and kissed her

 

On Christmas Eve Nick suggested they take a walk over to The Kingfisher over in Kingfisherbridge.

They had taken a walk over there on a rainy lunchtime back in September before he had to leave to work on the Rugby World Cup.

They hadn’t been back since, she thought it was sweet of him to think about going back.

It was about a mile and a half walk from Highfinch but it was a much brighter day as they walked towards Hawks Wood on Christmas Eve than the previous occasion.

They had a couple of drinks and some sandwiches and then they headed slowly back.

As they were walking back through Hawk Wood he said

“Look this is where we almost got run over”

Back in September they were so busy concentrating on hearing what the other was saying above the beating of the rain that they didn’t notice the mad cyclist approaching them from behind.

In fact they only knew he was there when he shouted

“GET OUT OF THE WAY, I’M NOT STOPPING”

They jumped sideway just in the nick of time.

“You Godless heathen” she yelled at the errant cyclist

As Nick was falling backwards and instinctively reached out to grab something while he was falling but the only thing in reach was Jenna so he landed on his back in the wet bracken and she landed on top of him.

“Yes and that’s where you almost kissed me” she said

After jumping clear of their assailant they lay there nose to nose on the wet ground for a full minute before she said

“This is awkward, and not a little compromising for a woman of the cloth”

“Indeed” he agreed desperate to reach up the infinitesimal distance to her lovely lips and plant a kiss on them

“A less gentlemanly man than I would probably take advantage of the situation”

Then he rolled her over onto her back and pushed himself up and helped Jenna to do the same, “But alas I am”

“Trust my luck to find myself lying in the undergrowth with the only gentleman in Highfinch”

And a smile began around her green eyes and a broad toothy smile spread across her pleasant demeanour.

“I seem to remember that was where you almost kissed me” he retorted.

“Well we could just kiss now instead” she suggested so they did.

“You know the old saying” he said “life begins at 40”

“Yes” she replied “Are you going to go all philosophical on me?”

“What I’m trying to say is that my life began before I was 40, because it began when I met you” he said

“Mine too” she agreed

“And there is only one thing that that could possibly improve on that beginning” Nick said taking his hand from his pocket

“So will you marry me?”

“You want to marry me?” she asked staring at the ring

“Of course I want to marry you” he said “But if you say no I’m happy to try your Curate, I do like a brunette”

“Don’t you dare” She said and snatched the ring

“You’re mine”

I DON’T WANT

 

I don’t want silk lingerie

Or delicate handmade lace

I don’t want designer frocks

Or makeup for my face

I don’t want French perfume

Or expensive jewellery

I don’t want a penthouse flat

With luxurious foolery

I don’t want foreign holidays

Or bouquets of every hue

I don’t even want a sports car

I just want a man that’s true

Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (26) Betcha By Golly Wow – Rosie’s Tale

It was Saturday night in Mornington-By-Mere and goods friends Roxanne Kincaid-Smith, Lindsay Cooper and Rosie Parsons were sitting in the bar of the Old Mill Inn discussing their plans for the Bank Holiday.

All three of the girls were born and bred in the village but since starting out on their chosen careers they didn’t get together as often as they would have liked due shift patterns for Rosie and Roxy and the on call Rota for Lindsay.

 

At 27 Rosie was the oldest of the trio and most of the time lived in Military Row at number 5 with her 23 year old sister Katie.

But Mornington wasn’t her only place of residence and nor was it her source of employment.

Rosie was a Staff Nurse at the Winston Churchill Hospital in Abbottsford and rather than commute back and forth she shared a flat with two other Nurses, Jane Hall, and Lorraine Chapman who also lived in Mornington and worked at the Churchill.

It wasn’t a huge flat and nor was it in the smartest part of town but it was perfect for them as it meant that they had a place to live that was close to work, which was ideal for them all as they worked shifts, and it meant that split between the three of them their expenses were less than their travelling would have been. 

 

They were all single, all looking and all quite pessimistic regarding their prospects in the relationship department.

But they all got on well and made the most of their situations.

They all had hopes and dreams though, of finding the right man and settling down and having babies.

The only downside to her dream job happened to be that her shift patterns meant she didn’t get to see her best friends regularly enough for her liking.

But a three day window opened up in which all three friends were off duty and furthermore without any other commitments in their diaries, an event rarer than hen’s teeth, so they all decided to make the most of it.

The fact that the three days happened to fall over the Bank holiday weekend was just the icing on the cake.

They had already eaten a sumptuous meal at the Old Mill Inn and followed that up with a significant amount of alcohol which influenced their decision making significantly.

But a decision had to be made, as they had signed up for the Sharpington Day Parade on Bank Holiday Monday.

It was a Charity event which raised tens of thousands of pounds every year much of which was collected by volunteers rattling tins along the route.

And traditionally the majority of volunteers took part in fancy dress and it was that element of the Parade which was vexing the three friends as they didn’t know what to go as.

“It needs to be something different” Lindsay said

“It needs to be something memorable” Roxy added

“I know just the thing” Rosie Parsons suddenly announced

“What?” the other two asked

“Golliwogs”

“What?” the two repeated

“Brilliant eh” Rosie said

“Are you mad?” Roxy asked with alarm “I’m a serving Police Officer”

“So?” Rosie asked

“It’s a bit “out there”” Lindsay pointed out

 “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Adventure?” Roxy said “They’ll hang me out to dry”

“Oh God just because you wear blue serge knickers doesn’t mean you can’t have a laugh” Rosie said “Besides who’s going to recognise you under the makeup?”

“Oh I don’t know” Roxy said doubtfully

“We could carry tambourines so people will think we’re minstrels” Rosie suggested

“I’m not sure people will see the distinction” Lindsay added

“Oh come on you two it’ll be fun” Rosie said encouragingly

“I’ll remember that when I’m working as a security guard for Quid Busters” Roxy retorted

“Don’t be such a drama queen” Rosie said

“So are you two in or not?”

“Count me in” Lindsay said with bravado and turned her eyes on Roxy

“Ok I’m in” she agreed reluctantly

 

In the cold light of day when they surfaced on Sunday afternoon the girls had serious doubts about the wisdom of dressing as Golliwogs for the Sharpington Day Parade but none of them voiced their concerns as they didn’t want to appear wimpy in front of the other two.

The drive over to Sharpington to register was completed largely in silence as they were so hungover from the night before.

Unfortunately it was a trip they had to make, as volunteers for the fundraising effort for the Parade had to register on Sunday afternoon where they would also pick up collection tins.

Fortunately those participating in fancy dress were not required to notify the organisers in advance what they planned to dress up as or to provide a photograph either which was just as well really due partly to the Non PC nature of what they had in mind but mainly as they didn’t know the precise details themselves.

 

As they walked quietly along the promenade towards the organizers marquee in Jubilee Park the three of them still had great unvoiced misgivings about the costumes.

“Why on earth did I suggest Golliwogs?” Rosie asked herself.

Despite her bravado of the previous night she was particularly concerned because she worked at the Winston Churchill Hospital which had a large number of Black and Asian staff all of whom would be extremely pissed off with her if it came out what she had done.

But as they turned up one of the lanes they spotted something that put all their minds at rest.

They came upon a shop selling a mixture of the usual seaside novelties along with a selection of fancy dress items such as clown masks and reversible wigs.

“That’s perfect” Rosie said holding a clown mask in her hands “No one will see the black makeup under this”

“And these are just what we need” Lindsay said picking up a wig which was black on one side and red or white on the other.

“I think we might just get away with it” Roxy said and as they left the shop with their purchases their collective mood had lightened appreciatively.

 

They continued their walk up to Jubilee Park and duly registered and were quite surprised at how quickly it was all completed and it was only just over an hour later when they were heading back down the lane again carrying their collection tins.

The journey home was much more typical for them than the earlier one was with all three of them having found their voices again and for the most part they were all speaking at the same time.

But amidst all the incessant chatter, during which it would have appeared to the casual observer that they were all talking and no one was listening, they formulated a plan.

They would drive down from Mornington to Sharpington at “sparrows fart” as Rosie described it and go straight to the Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park where Lindsay’s Aunty Lynn had a static caravan, which she seldom used, but then she did live on the Shore of Teardrop Lake in the Dancingdean Forest, so why would you leave that for a caravan in Sharpington.

Lindsay had already spoken to Aunty Lynn and got her permission although she didn’t say what she and the others were planning to do. 

 

Sharpington-by-Sea is a traditional seaside resort complete with a Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park.

Which was the first purpose built amusement park to open in Britain, which had an assortment of rides, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The Cyclone and the Morehouse Galloper, all very tame compared to a 21st century roller coasters but still fun.

But on Bank Holiday Monday the town was taken over by the Sharpington Day Charity Parade.

 

The road leading to the coast was very busy and even leaving Mornington at the crack of dawn didn’t speed their journey any, as a lot of the roads in Sharpington were closed to the public which slowed their progress, until they reached the outskirts of the town where they turned off and circled around and then up to Whitecliff.

 

When they had finished changing and had made their faces up they put their clown masks on and the red or white side to their wigs, Roxy plumped for the white while Rosie and Lindsay chose the red.

The clown masks were made from latex and were designed to fit right over the head but because it was still summer and they were wearing nylon wigs they decided to cut most of the back out and put some strategically placed holes in the face.

They were concerned that if their heads sweated too much the black face would run, they needn’t have worried.  

 

To avoid having to black up everywhere they all wore long sleeved tops and gloves and bright red silk scarves around their necks.

The wigs covered their ears so they didn’t need to do them and the clown mask covered everything else.

They were all dressed in Red, White and Blue of some description but Rosie was wearing blue and white stripped leggings and a red blouse that hung down to her bum.

In addition they all wore substantially sized bum bags to carry some essential items for the day.

Rosie had water, wine gums for her sweet tooth and sherbet lemon in case she ran out of wine gums.

 

When they joined the parade they were about six or seven floats from the front and Roxy was hoping they could get round without having to expose themselves as Golliwogs.

The atmosphere was amazing and they were really enjoying themselves, and they had almost forgotten what they had planned to do.

But as they approached the Pier Rosie gestured to the other two and they stepped through the crowd and went into the ladies and when they immerged five minutes later their clown masks had gone and their wigs had been reversed and they all looked like Al Jolson.

 “Here goes nothing” Rosie said to herself as they ran back through the crowd

Their arrival was greeted with a huge cheer from the throng as they took up their positions and they collected as much money in ten minutes as Golly’s as they had all the while they were clowns.

But their success was short lived because after about one hundred yards the procession passed by the end of what was known locally as pub crawl alley because in that street, that lead from the promenade to the outskirts of town, had a totally of 27 pubs and clubs in it.

And it was from one of those pubs that a small group of inebriated afro Caribbean patrons saw them and took exception at what they saw and amidst shouts of abuse and threats of physical violence Rosie decided that discretion was the better part of valour and shouted to her friends

“Quick leg it”

 

When the balloon went up, the three girls all ran in different directions and unknown to them the group of pursuers were halted in their tracks when the appreciative crowd put themselves between them and their prey, but not being aware of that fact, as they never looked back, the girls just ran hell for leather like startled deer.

Rosie was a tall slender woman of 27 without an ounce of fat on her sleek form and when she walked she had an understated elegance about her but when she ran she lacked any degree of grace or style whatsoever.

 

Kelly Westwood was standing outside Bizzie Lizzies Florists having just stepped outside for a breath of fresh air when she noticed the tall slender and uncoordinated Golliwog running towards her.

The shop didn’t open on Bank Holidays and ordinarily Kelly wouldn’t have dreamt of wasting a precious Bank Holiday Monday working at the shop but there were exceptional circumstances on that occasion.

As on the following Monday Lizzie Katarski, her boss and owner of the Bizzie Lizzie chain of florists which had branches all across Downshire, was moving her office from the Abbottsford shop in Abbey View Road to the Sharpington premises.

The reason was that her husband, who had been promoted to Detective Inspector had transferred to Sharpington.

So they sold their substantial property in Abbottsford and bought a beautiful cottage in Dulcet-on Brooke right on the river so it made sense to operate out of Sharpington.

 

So that was the reason behind why Kelly had given up her lazy weekend and was working on a Bank Holiday.

There was quite a lot of reorganising required as the room which was to be Lizzie’s office was being used as a storeroom and had been for the six years she had worked there.

She had spent most of the weekend sorting out along with her assistant Michele Norman, but she had left in order to catch the end of the Parade.

But they had done what was needed, the office was completely cleared and ready for the decorators to start work the next day.

She just had to put the rubbish out by the bins and she could go home, if she could manage to get out of town, and if she could it would be bumper to bumper all the way to Sharpinghead, where she lived.

Kelly decided on reflection that there was no need to rush and put the kettle on which was when she stepped outside, while she was waiting for it to boil.

She was a tall statuesque thirty year old, amply proportion with wavy chestnut hair that was blowing in the afternoon breeze. 

She smiled as she watched the black faced girl running towards her with her arms flailing around as if she was swatting at a swarm of invisible bee’s and she was so lacking in coordination that her forward momentum was so laboured it was as if she was running through treacle and the whole thing was accompanied by a ridiculous squeal and it was probably the combination of amusing ungainliness and the clichéd scream that caused Kelly to take pity on the poor floundering creature.

“For goodness sake get in the shop and stop making that ridiculous noise” she said with a laugh

 

Rosie gratefully accepted the invitation and darted straight through the door

“Don’t let them get me” she said as she cowered in the corner

“Who?” Kelly asked from the doorway

“The lynch mob of course” she replied

Kelly stepped back out into the street, looked both ways and then re-entered the shop

“But there’s no one there” she said

“I must have out run them” Rosie said and relaxed a little

“That’s not likely, the way you run” Kelly pointed out

“What do you mean?”

“You run like a girl” Kelly said

“I am a girl”

“Oh I’m sorry I couldn’t tell under the make-up”

“Ok I admit I’m not as curvy as you are but I do have hips and boobs” Rosie said indignantly and Kelly grinned

“You’re teasing me aren’t you?” She asked

“Just a bit” Kelly admitted

“Go and clean you face off at the sink and I’ll make us a drink”

“Ok thanks”

“Tea or coffee?” Kelly asked

“Tea please”

“Ok bwana” she said and giggled

She made the drinks and went through to the shop and sat down.

“I’m Kelly by the way” she shouted and her guest appeared through the door her face scrubbed pink and her blonde hair untidily brushing her shoulders.

“And I’m Rosie” 

“And rather pretty too, underneath the war paint”

Kelly said a little too honestly

“So who was it you thought was chasing you” she asked quickly changing the subject

“A group of angry black men” she replied

“And what do you think made them angry?” Kelly asked

“I know it was a bit of a mad thing to do” Rosie admitted “But it seemed like a good idea at the time”

“Was alcohol involved at the time?”

“Yes” Rosie admitted

“Quite a bit I imagine” Kelly suggested

“Yes” she said “the next day of course I knew it was a mistake”

“So why did you go ahead with it?”

“I didn’t want to be the one to back down” Rosie said

“I implied the other two were wimps the night before”

“So there were three of you?” Kelly asked

“Yes”

“So where are they now?” she asked

“I don’t know” Rosie replied and burst into tears and Kelly put an arm around her and comforted her.

 

It took about half an hour for Rosie to finally cry herself out.

Kelly told her to text her friends and then wait for a call and afterwards Kelly steered her questions away from the Golliwog incident and onto questions about Rosie’s life.

“So what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a Staff Nurse at the Winston Churchill” Rosie replied

“So you live in Abbottsford then?”

“Yes and no” she replied and then in answer to Kelly’s next question added

“My home is in Mornington but along with two fellow nurses we rent a little flat near the hospital so we live there when we’re working and in Mornington when we are not”

“That sounds like a good arrangement” Kelly said

“Yes it works well and it’s cheaper than the three of us commuting”

“What about car sharing?”

“We thought of that but we work different shift patterns so we very rarely start and finish at the same time”

“So when do you get to see your boyfriend?” Kelly asked

“There is no significant other in my life either in Abbottsford or Mornington” she replied and before Kelly could ask another question she received a text message and she went very pale.

 

“Are you ok hun?” Kelly asked when she saw the paleness of Rosie’s countenance

“It’s from my friend Lindsay” she said

“And?”

“I can’t read it, I’m scared” Rosie said

“Do you want me to?” Kelly asked and Rosie nodded

Kelly took the phone from her and quickly read it and said

“She’s fine, she says she gave them the slip and she’s awaiting instruction”

“Thank God” Rosie said and threw her arms around Kelly’s statuesque frame, in a hug that lasted for more than five minutes.

In fact it only ended when the spell was broken by the sound of Rosie’s phone ringing.

“Oh goodness” Rosie said as the pair parted awkwardly and a flustered Kelly picked up the empty cup’s and took them out to the kitchen area and the former accepted the call and said

“Roxy is that you?”   

 

When Kelly returned from the kitchen she was greeted by a smiling Rosie.

“Good news” she said “Roxy is safe and I’ve phoned Lindsay and we’re to meet up by the entrance to the Pier”

“That is good news” Kelly agreed

 

“I don’t know how to thank you” Rosie said and kissed Kelly’s cheek

“Nonsense I didn’t do anything” she replied “But provide a cup of tea, a sympathetic ear and a comforting hug”

“I think it was far more than that, thank you” Rosie said kissed her cheek again and left.

 

“I wish that it was” Kelly said to herself and a few minutes after that she left the shop and made her way along to the Pier.

She was very taken with Rosie, very taken indeed,

It had been a number of years since she had been so affected and she had been content in those years but Rosie Parsons had upset that content and she was encouraged that Rosie might well be receptive to her advances having stated a lack of a significant other in her life rather than a boyfriend.   

 

There was no sign of the others when Rosie reached the entrance to the Pier but she only had to wait a few minutes before Lindsay arrived and a moment after that they saw Roxy approaching the Pier hand in hand with a man.

“Lucky cow” Lindsay said as she gave Rosie a hug then Roxie left the mystery man on the periphery and the three reunited girls silently hugged and then they found their voices and for the most part of the next five minutes they were all speaking at the same time.

 

Kelly watched on from a safe distance and when the chattering huddle broke up Roxy introduced Lindsay and Rosie to her man, Richard and as the last of the floats had gone past they all walked together up to Jubilee Park to hand in their collection tins.

Kelly continued to watch on as they moved away until they finally disappeared from view and she returned to the shop in a very positive state of mind.

And hoped very much to see Rosie Parsons again even though she had at that time no idea how that happy occasion might be arrived at.

 

In the days that followed the Bank Holiday weekend Kelly cursed herself for not exchanging contact details with Rosie Parsons.

She was positive that Rosie would be receptive to her advances but she could hardly make an advance if she didn’t know where she was.

Kelly knew she worked at the Winston Churchill Hospital in Abbottsford and that she lived in Mornington if only part time but although it was a small village she couldn’t go knocking on doors until she found the right one, that would make her a stalker.

Fortunately as the boss was moving her office into the Sharpington shop a week after the Parade she was very busy and had little spare time to dwell on it.

There was also the added distraction that week of the story in the Sharpington Courier about the sighting at the Sharpington Day Parade of a trio of golliwogs and a group dressed as the Jackson 5 written by her elder sister Molly.

There was also a picture from the event showing three individuals all with black curly wigs, black faces with white circles around their eyes. All were wearing typical golliwog or minstrel costumes of red, white and blue.

The paper also claimed that the picture was of two females and one male although Kelly couldn’t see how that mistake was made she thought it clearly looked like three girls.

She could have pointed out to Molly her error in regard to identifying Rosie as a man but that would have given away her identity. 

 

Meanwhile Rosie was on nights and in the quiet moments of the wee small hours couldn’t get the image of the curvy florist out of her head.

It was not the first time in her life that she had feelings for a woman, though she had never acted upon them, but this one was different, maybe it was the circumstances under which they met when she felt Kelly’s reassuring and comforting arms around her, a feeling she would have liked to experience again.

 

She had been so busy that week that she was completely unaware of the story that had appeared in the Sharpington Courier.

Which was perhaps just as well, it wasn’t until she read another article in Sundays Abbottsford Clarion about pressure being applied from the highest levels to catch the culprits.

So she immediately phoned her friend Roxy to find out what had been going on in Sharpington.

 

Kelly had been very worried and a little intimidated about having the owner, Lizzie Katarski, coming to work out of her shop but as it turned out she needn’t have worried as she found her to be the least intimidating person she had ever met.

 

Also on that Monday Rosie got a phone call from her friend Roxy to say that they were dropping the investigation and they were in the clear.

After she had hung up the phone she was so relieved that she cried and as she sobbed she wished for Kelly’s comforting arms around her.

 

After a string of unrewarding relationships since she left college Rosie remained single.

Though she had never had a relationship with a woman, the attraction to Kelly was very strong, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

However after due consideration and with her eyes still wet with tears she phoned directory enquiries and was connected to “Bizzie Lizzie’s”.

She was in Mornington when she took the call from Roxy and thought she would ask Kelly out to lunch as a thank you for helping her.

“Bizzie Lizzie, Good morning” a voice announced

“Yes good morning, may I speak with Kelly please” Rosie said

“I’m sorry she’s not available at the moment, can I help?” the voice asked

“No its ok, could you just tell her that Rosie called”

“Certainly madam”

She felt a little dejected after falling at the first hurdle, but what she didn’t know was that the reason Kelly wasn’t available was because her boss, Lizzie, had collapsed in the shop and Kelly had gone in the ambulance with her to the Royal Downshire Hospital in Purplemere. 

 

When Kelly returned to the shop she didn’t know what to make of the day.

It had been a funny day, a roller coaster day, first she was down when Lizzie collapsed right in front of her, then she was up when they found out the reason she passed out was that she was pregnant.

So Kelly was quite cheerful when she returned to the shop only to find she had missed Rosie’s call and she was deflated again.

She was left with only the slim hope that Rosie might call again and she wasn’t happy about that.

However she was left encouraged after the phone call that she would not be sowing her seed on stony ground and she was very happy about that.

 

Kelly would have been even more unhappy had she known that Rosie had resolved not to call again and had in fact repeatedly chastised herself for being so stupid for phoning in the first place.  

Although she was unaware of the latter, Kelly presumed the former as she waited in vain for the phone to ring again.

Over the following week she was still hopeful but resigned to the fact that she would probably not call again and that may well have been the end of it had she not remembered the invitation she had received some months earlier to Allen Boddington and Ruby Legg’s wedding at St Winifred’s Church in Mornington.

Which offered her an opportunity to be in Mornington with the chance that she might run into the skinny nurse that had been haunting her dreams.

 

The Westwood’s and the Legg’s were family.

The Legg family where poultry farmers and lived on Dryfield Farm near the hamlet of Fallowacres, which was as near as damn it the center point of the Finchbottom Vale, though only geographically.

In addition they also ran Legg’s Farm Shop in Mornington and had done for several decades.

Ruby’s mother Helena and Kelly’s mother Lisa were sisters so all the Westwood’s were invited.

Also Kelly was close enough to Ruby to enquire about the guest list and perhaps even to influence it in some small way.

 

It was at the end of September and the weather was unseasonably warm as Rosie was getting dressed for the wedding and she wasn’t particularly happy.

She wasn’t really fussed about going to tell the truth it was her day off and she really wanted to drive over to Sharpington.

In actuality she was surprised to get the invitation at all, she didn’t really know either the bride or the groom that well even though they were distant cousins of the Boddington’s, several times removed.

But her sister Katie insisted they accept as she was interested in becoming better acquainted with the grooms’ brother.

 

So it was a grumpy Rosie, who, along with an excited Katie, made her way reluctantly through the village, very definitely under protest, towards the church.

As she and Katie stood outside the Church mingling with the other guests she was introduced to Helena Legg, the mother of the bride, when she caught sight of a tall straight backed statuesque amply proportioned thirty year old, wearing a lavender dress, with wavy chestnut hair blowing gently in the afternoon breeze. 

“It can’t be” she said to herself and set off to follow her but everyone else seemed to move at precisely the same moment.

The sudden exodus towards St Winifred’s prevented her from getting a close enough look at the woman to identify her.

She did get a good look at the Lavender dress which was open at the back and plunging at the front.

 

Once inside she had no more luck than she had outside, she had noticed her in the church, but she was too far away to tell if it was her.

It was outside in the September sunshine as Rosie waited for the photographer to complete his play book of poses that she was rewarded with the perfect view of Kelly Westwood and an opportunity to indulge in a spot of appraisal.

She was clearly dressed more formerly than the last time Rosie had seen her and she was wearing more makeup on her face and something she had seen before, a radiant smile, and the addition of that smile made her extremely pretty.

Kelly suddenly became aware that Rosie was watching her and as their eyes briefly met she turned the smile on her and Rosie blushed.

 

Satisfied that she had made an impact she then steeled herself, took a deep breath and walked gracefully towards her before the blush left Rosie’s cheeks, clip clopping across flagstones on stylish stiletto heeled shoes.

“Hello Rosie” she said avoiding eye contact

“Wow Kelly” she responded “you look stunning”

“Thank you” she said and blushed again

Just then the photographer started barking orders again and Kelly said

“Here we go again”

 

It was another ten minutes before they resumed their conversation

“So you’re related to the bride?” Rosie asked

“Yes” she replied “She’s my first cousin”

“Well your first cousin has just married my third cousin” Rosie said

“Yes I know” she confessed

“So you knew Allen was my cousin, before today?” she asked and Kelly nodded

“And that we’d both be at the wedding?” Rosie asked

“Yes” Kelly said

 

As they walked into the Hotel for the wedding breakfast Kelly was inwardly congratulating herself for her cleverness at arranging their meeting and once inside Rosie was delighted to see they were sitting together on the same table.

During the meal they drank steadily and spoke only small talk and then the speeches followed and more wine, then champagne and then the free bar.

So it was with a light head and a lascivious eye that the statuesque vision in lavender, that was Kelly Westwood, led Rosie onto the dance floor and then held her in her arms as they danced.

They danced three slow dances together and when the tempo of the fourth indicated it was not to be another one Kelly steered Rosie towards the terrace, fresh air and moonlight.

 

Rosie was staring at Kelly’s bosom illuminated by the moon as she said

“It was very fortunate we ended up on the same table”  

“Allen and Ruby intended that we should be sat together so they engineered the whole thing” Kelly confessed

“Why would they do that?” Rosie asked

“Because I asked them too” she confessed

“Why…?” she began and then as they stood together on the terrace in the moonlight Kelly kissed her and when Rosie came up for air she said

“Oh that’s why”

“Do you mind?” Kelly asked

“No” she replied “But if your first cousin is married to my third cousin, doesn’t that make us related?”

“Not really” Kelly replied

“Good” she said and returned Kelly’s kiss. 

LOVES EXQUISITE ACHE

 

Oh, to feel loves exquisite ache

That desperate longing

That naked want

Feeling so alive in the torment

While craving the fix

Of that heady foaming brew

To quench the thirst of desire

And when that significant soul

Who holds my captive heart

Is but a kiss away

I am dragged from sorrows

Unfathomable depths

And bitter anguish evaporates

Like dew in the morning sun

And euphoria fills every pore

And in that perfect ecstasy

That blissful state of love

I remain until I am again alone