Uncanny Christmas Tales – (021) Christmas Lunch

 

Terri Goode went to the University of Downshire in Abbottsford where she studied Drama and it was for her, like many girls of her age, a life defining time.

She was in halls for the first year and she shared with three other girls, and all four of them were studying the Performing Arts in one form or another and apart from their studies they also had in common the fact they were all natives of the Finchbottom Vale.

Terri was five foot eight with long cascading straw coloured hair,

mesmerizing blue eyes, a heart melting smile, a gorgeous figure, substantial breasts, and a pert derriere, all gracefully underpinned by stunning legs.

Out of all the girls Terri was the only one of them who was had a boyfriend when they first met during fresher’s week.

Ryan Chapman was four years older than her and had already been through University and he was literally the boy next door for Terri and she had loved him since she was 12 years old, but because she was younger and was a skinny tomboy with braces on her teeth she was invisible to him.

However, beneath the comfort of her duvet she fantasized about being with him and as she touched herself, she dreamed of him touching her.

She finally got him in the summer before she went off to Abbottsford and from that moment, she had him heart, body, and soul.

After dating for a month Ryan went to stay with his grandparents for two weeks and while he was away they began writing love letters to each other via email and when he returned to Shallowfield they made love for the first time, which was also her first time.

 

Ryan worked in Shallowfield for the Dancingdean Forestry Commission, which he heartily enjoyed, and his profession kept him at his physical peak, which he needed in order to keep up with a very vigorous Terri, because once she had succumbed to him that first time she wanted him all the time, he had created a monster, a beautiful, sexy, large breasted sex monster who wanted to do it with him at every opportunity, at any time and in any location.

So he kept his 6ft tall muscular physic in good order because he had to be ready for her, as with Terri in Abbottsford and Ryan in Shallowfield she was severely rationed, which was why when they did get together she wanted as much of him as she could get, so he would either drive to Abbottsford to give it to her or Terri would travel home to Shallowfield to get it.

Which was what happened in December when she got a lift home the week before Christmas after they had broken up for the holidays.

The first thing she did once she got all her things in the house was phone Ryan and invite him to lunch.

“I can’t babe” he said “We’re really snowed under”

“Oh, but you have to, everyone will be so disappointed” she pleaded

“Everyone?”

“Yes, the family” Terri lied “It’s for Christmas”

“You mean it’s a Christmas Lunch” he asked, “I really don’t have time for….”

“Its more of a buffet really, you don’t have to stay long” she explained

“Ok I’ll see you soon, but it’s really got to be a quickie” he agreed

“Absolutely, a quick in and out, I understand” she said

When she’d hung up, she quickly undressed and started to set the scene.

 

“Hello!” He called as he stepped through the front door “where is everyone”

“Is that you Ryan?” Terri called

“Yes, where are you?” he shouted

“I’m in the dining room” she called back so he walked down the hall

“Where’s everyone else, I thought we were having Christmas Lunch”

He said as he stepped into the dining room and found Terri lying draped across the table like an erotic Christmas buffet completely naked with only some strategically placed item of food to preserve her modesty.

“We are, and I’m it” she replied

“That’s a terrible waste of ham” he pointed out

“They’re just props from Uni” she said and threw one at him

“So, do you have enough time for some of this?”

“I could manage a morsel or two” he replied

“Good, now come and tuck in”

 

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (019) Christmas Mourning

 

The Ronettes where playing on the radio, it was Christmas morning and the children were rushing about like they’d had a caffeine injection; excitedly showing off their new toys while my wife was wrestling a turkey into the oven, and as I sat in my arm chair sipping my coffee my mind drifted back to the previous week.

 

The wipers swished rhythmically as they cleared the lightly beating sleet that was spattering the windscreen and the heater struggled to demist the inside, although all this was of no consequence as the car wasn’t actually moving.

It was the last Friday before Christmas and I was sat in a jam in the evening rush hour, half an hour I‘d been stuck in it and I was still only half a mile from where I worked.

I had time to take in the colourful and sometimes overly extravagant festive decoration on the houses which contrasted sharply with the meagre and rather tired looking display put on by the local council.

After another half, an hour I reached the main road, nothing to see here though, through the wet steamy windows except the red taillights of other frustrated drivers.

Twenty minutes after that accompanied by some over cheerful DJ on the radio, I could see the roundabout, the sleety rain was falling harder and it was difficult to see through the murkiness.

After crawling to the roundabout, I could just make out a flashing blue light which I suspected had nothing to do with Christmas.

As I got closer, I could see it was attached to a police car which was blocking my exit, without any explanation the police had closed the road.

So I was faced with a choice, go back the way I came or take the exit off the roundabout which would take me in the opposite direction from where I lived, after a moments consideration I did the latter.

By the time I eventually arrived home I was in a black mood, I shouted at the kids, moaned at my wife, and tried to kick the cat.

My mood was not improved when my half-cremated dinner was removed from the oven and what had once been gravy was now only a stain on the plate.

The weekend was spent doing all the pre-Christmas stuff with the family and all too soon it was over.

When I returned to work on Monday, I related my tale of woe to my workmate’s and we all had a big laugh about it.

Except for Harry, who lived locally, he just looked down at the ground grave faced.

Later, when we were alone, he told me the road was closed because a young woman had been knocked down and killed, and I was dumbstruck, I had no words just a feeling of shame at my selfishness.

It was a week before Christmas, and she had died, while I was cursing at being inconvenienced, ranting at being stuck in a jam.

A poor young woman lay dead on the rain-soaked street.

Somebody’s wife and lover, also a daughter and mother and she was mourned by two children, a sister, and a brother.

 

The sound of church Bells ringing out brought me back to Christmas morning and my family, but I still couldn’t help thinking of other families for whom Christmas morning would be less joyous.

With the bells still ringing out, I gave thanks for being alive.

I also vowed to be more patient, more tolerant and more understanding in the future, but I probably won’t keep it.

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – Christingle Girls

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county but that didn’t bother its inhabitants, they may not have been the biggest, but they were in no doubt that it was the best and that belief was no truer than in the southern town off Abbottsford which was Downshire’s administrative capital and the seat of the Downshire government.

It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University, was home to Abbottsford Town football club and benefitted from the renowned Winston Churchill Hospital as well as Abbottsford Cathedral.

It was at the Cathedral where the Christingle service was being held which well attended as usual as there were children and families there from all around the diocese. 

 

The Christingle Service had become ingrained in Anglican worship though it had 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 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.

 

Because the symbol of the service began life in the Sunday School classes the leaders also attended to watch their charges and from St Hilda’s were Matt Genner, Paul Hill, Diana Sherlock, and Pamela Skeet.

 

Diana Sherlock thought of herself as a plump girl but in reality, she was just a couple of dress sizes bigger than her best friend.

In every other respect she thought she was ok, with her luscious Auburn hair and an abundance of freckle and was a tall girl, but that hadn’t been enough for her to get her anywhere with Matt Genner, and she was convinced he didn’t even know she existed, but she had been in love with Matt since she was 12 years old and she was now 18.

 

Matt Genner and Paul Hill were cousins and had black hair and wild gypsy eyes and were also 18 years old and good-looking boys, and were very popular with the girls, but the sort of girls who kept throwing themselves at them were not the type of girl they were looking for.

 

Pamela Skeet was 17-year-old and she was pretty, tall and slender girl with long dark hair and she was on the outside at least ultra-confident and ultra-popular with the boys who she kept dancing on strings, but they were not the right boys.

She was always immaculately turned out, painted, perfumed and powdered and ready to impress Mr Right.

But apparently, he was never looking her way, whoever he might be.

But for all her big talk and bravado she was fast approaching 18 and hadn’t even been kissed.

Because she was pretty and because she knew she was pretty, Pamela always talked big when it came to the opposite sex, and her friends bought into it.

But it was all bravado, if one of the men she flirted with actually came on to her she would have run a mile.

Outside she was sexy and confident but inside she was a shy and dowdy little mouse.

 

Pamela was convinced she was never going to be kissed and especially not before she reached her 18^th birthday.

She could quite easily get a kiss in time if she acted like a tart, but she wasn’t a tart and she wanted her first kiss to be romantic, not desperate.

Meanwhile Diana was still dreaming of a romantic affair with her prince charming Matt Genner but was resigned to the fact it would never happen.

 

The two friends finally confided in each other during December

“You fancy one of them?” Pamela probed “Which one?”

“Matt” she reluctantly replied

“How long have you fancied him?” Pam quizzed

“Since I was 12” she replied

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked

“Because nothing will ever come of it” Diana said definitively

 

But Pam was very persuasive, and they made a plan, so on the afternoon of the Christingle service the girls did each other’s makeup, so they could each snag themselves a dark-haired Gypsy eyed boyfriend.

“Wow” Pam said “I look really hot”

“Not bad eh?” Diana said admiring herself in the mirror

“I look about 20” Pam said, “Don’t you think?”

“21 maybe” Diana added

“Shall we go to the pub with them then” she suggested

Diana thought about it for a moment and said

“I don’t know” she said “I look rubbish”

“You can borrow something of mine” Pamela said

Diana reluctantly agreed so half an hour later they were laughing and joking and on their way to the Cathedral.

At the same time Pamela and Diana were doing their makeup Matt and his Cousin Paul were just leaving home themselves for the same destination.

 

The Christingle service was lovely, and the huge congregation thoroughly enjoyed it but for the girls it caused a problem for them as they lost track of the boys, but unbeknown to them they had also decided to go to the pub, fortunately they also chose the Castle.

 

Pamela hadn’t been to a pub before and although she looked old enough to be in there after the makeover, she had no ID, so she went and found a table and Diana bought the drinks.

 

The girls were sat at a corner table facing back towards the bar.

“Look who’s just come in” Pamela said, and Diana looked up and saw their prey standing at the bar.

As soon as she saw them Diana got all flustered and her cheeks flushed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pamela asked

“Nothing” she said trying to look anywhere but at the bar.

“Just play it cool” Pam asked and glanced at the bar just as Matt looked across at them and smiled

“He’s looking over here” Pamela whispered

They both smiled back at him and then Diana said

“Well he’s not looking at me, is he?”

 

Diana spent the next 20 minutes sneaking glances at Matt as he laughed and joked with his cousin, every now and then he would throw a glance at her and she would look away.

There were a number of girls who approached them but whatever they were after they left without it.

Pamela suddenly got up and announced she was going to the loo and almost as soon as she left there was movement at the bar as Matt started walking towards Di.

“Hi Diana” he said

“Hello” she replied “Pamela’s gone to the loo”

“I know I saw her go” he said “it was you I wanted to talk to”

“Me?” she said incredulously

“Yes you” he replied

“Why?” she asked

“Blimey you don’t make it easy for a bloke” he said

“I don’t understand” she said

“I wanted to ask you something while Pamela was in the ladies” he explained

“Oh, I see” Diana said with a sigh “you want her phone number I suppose”

“No” Matt replied with surprise “Why would I want her number?”

“Sorry?”

“I wanted to ask you out” he explained

“Me?” she said incredulously

“Oh no not again, yes you” he replied

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for ages, but I can never get you on your own, so I never get a look in”

“Seriously?” she asked 

“Yes” he replied “So?”

“Yes” she said

“Now was that a question or an answer?”

“Definitely an answer” she said and grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Good” he said, “now can I get you a drink?”

 

Matt walked to the bar just as Pamela returned from the toilet and Paul joined his brother at the bar.

When he first walked to the bar and saw Diana sitting at the corner table he congratulated himself on his choice of venue and hoped Christmas had arrived early and seemed he was not to be disappointed.

 

“Well?” Pamela asked when she returned to the table.

“Well what?” she replied

“Did he ask you?” Pamela asked

“Yes” she said excitedly, and they hugged

“But how did you know?”

“Paul told me” she replied

“But how did he know?”

“Matt told him?” Pamela said

“Oh”

“Anyway, Paul told me” she said “and then he kissed me”

“Where?” asked Diana, wide eyed with curiosity

“On the lips stupid”

“No, I mean, where?” she explained “Where were you when he kissed you”

“Oh outside” Pamela clarified

“What were you doing outside?” Diana asked “Apart from being kissed”

“Well I went to the loo” Pamela explained “and when I came out Paul was there waiting for me and he told me no to go back to the table because Matt was asking you out”

She paused for breath

“Which was taking forever by the way, and we were blocking the door, so he suggested we went outside and that was when he kissed me, in the moonlight, it was very romantic”

“Wow” Diana responded “And did he ask you out as well?

“Yes” she said excitedly, and they hugged again

“Who’d of thought it, I have a date”

Diana said

“Me too” Pamela squealed just as the boys and the drinks arrived.

 

After they were on the way home from the bus stop they split up.

Paul turned left so he could walk Pamela home and romantically kiss her in the moonlight once more and Matt and Diana turned right and walked slowly hand in hand in the moonlight, as they were in no rush to get home.

“Fancy that, I’m walking hand in hand with Matt Genner” she said inside her head

While Matt was thinking to himself how lucky he was.

 

“Was that romantic enough for you?” Paul asked moments after his lips left hers

“It was acceptable” she said

“Perhaps I should have another go” he suggested

“Definitely worth a try” Pamela said obligingly

 

When they got to the end of the path that led to her front door they came to a halt and he turned to face her, and he kissed her soft lips, in a long and sensual kiss.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that” Diana said

“Me too” he concurred

“How long?” she asked

“A couple of years, almost three to be precise” he confessed

“I was 12” she admitted “when I first noticed you like that”

“Was it worth the wait?” he asked

“It was for me” she said

And then her kissed her again which she took to mean “me too”

 

So, the Christingle Girls got their dark-haired gypsy eyed boys and had them hook, line and sinker, and they were all set to have a very happy Christmas indeed.

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (022) Christmas Bazaar

Brassington is a large sprawling village nestled in the wooded hills on the southern edge of the Dancingdean Forest in the south east corner of Downshire, and it was where Philippa Payne was the head teacher at St Basil’s School and beyond that she was a much respected figure in the village who had dedicated her life to educating the children of Brassington, but she had done it at some personal cost, namely the love of her life, Laurence Dyer.

Laurence was a successful fiction editor, considered by many to have the Midas touch and he was subsequently offered a job at a renowned New York Publishing House, but the offer came shortly after she was given the Headship at St Basil’s, he very much wanted her to go with him and he assured her that she could get a job in any school she chose, but she was scared, fearful of the unknown and the uncertainty, she was also insecure about the depth of his feelings and was unsure about her love for him, so he left and she stayed.

In the ten years that followed that momentous decision she realized that she loved him more than life itself, but that ship had sailed, and she refused to invest her love elsewhere, so she soldiered on as a loveless educator and stalwart of the village.

 

One of the high points of her year was the Christmas Bazaar which was a busy and exciting event that took a lot of organizing but brought a lot of joy, with all the usual seasonal attractions as well as Santa’s grotto, but on Saturday afternoon at the height of the event as she strolled amongst the throng of excited children and frazzled parents, she caught sight of an attraction she hadn’t expected to see, Laurence Dyer, and he beamed a smile in her direction the moment they made eye contact, and her legs instantly turned to jelly.

 

He hadn’t changed a bit in her eyes, although his hair was a little greyer and his waist a little thicker, but he was still the man she once loved, still loved.

“Pip!” he said “You haven’t changed a bit”

“Laurence?”

“You look great” he said

“What are you doing here?” she asked, although that wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, she wanted to know everything else, was he married? Was he back? Was he hers?

“I’ve transferred to the London office” he replied

“Are your family moving with you?” she asked

“No, only me” he replied “There is only me”

“So, when did you get back?” she asked encouraged by his previous answer

“Last night” he replied and she dared to hope, after all he had wasted no time in getting to Brassington, but before she could build on that glimmer of hope, she was called away from him to avert a crisis

“It’s good to see you” she said as she was led away.

 

The moment the problem had been resolved, she set off in search of Laurence to continue her interrogation of him, but after a thorough search and three circuits of the School there was no sign of him and very soon the visitors started to drift away and the doors were closed for another year and as the team of helpers began to pack away Philippa sought out a quiet corner in which to reflect on a missed opportunity and she took sanctuary in the grotto.

 

The grotto was decorated with red and gold velvet drapes, adorned with tinsel and coloured lights, with a huge throne in the furthest corner surrounded by Christmas parcels, and 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.

She walked slowly down the snow covered path and sat on Santa’s throne and put her head in her hands and sighed and remained there for an indeterminate amount of time until she was brought back to the moment by a familiar voice.

“So, this is where you’re hiding” it said, and she looked up

“You’re still here” she exclaimed

“You sound disappointed” Laurence pointed out

“No, no I didn’t mean that” she corrected him a little too forcefully

“It’s just that when I couldn’t find you anywhere, I thought you must have gone”

“You were looking for me?” he asked

“Erm well yes, because we hadn’t finished catching up” she explained

“That’s good but I didn’t travel three and a half thousand miles just to catch up” he said

“Really? What did you come for then?” she asked

“I came here to pick up” Laurence said

“What?” she exclaimed

“From where we left off” he added and kissed her, and it was like they’d never been apart.

Snippets of Downshire Life – Feast of St Thomas

The traditional seaside resort of Sharpington-by-Sea with its Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, has all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park and it was in the grand neighbourhood of Granite Hill, which in a nod to San Francisco, the locals had nicknamed Nob Hill where Illustrator, Kim Labuschagne, was attending a dinner party on St Andrew’s Day, at the home of local celebrity, children’s author, Alesha Khan.

In addition to the hostess Alesha, was St Lucy’s Church Warden, Henry Appleby, Russell Glavin, Curate of same, Alesha’s brother, artist Zach, Literary agents, Jayson and Kathryn Mercer, Actresses Kerry Freeborn and Sharon Blackburn and Tim Street who was a Local Historian, so it was an interesting bunch.

Kim had known Alesha since they were at school and apart from being best friends, Kim also illustrated her children’s books, and as a result she had become well known in her own right and her work had become well sort after, so life was good, but not quite perfect, yet.

Although the dinner guests were indeed interesting her interest was very much in one among them and that was Tim.

When the time came for them to take their seats Kim found that she was seated next to Zach Khan, but he was completely absorbed by Sharon who was opposite him, but Kim had no interest in him anyway because she saved all her attention for Tim Street who was sat opposite her.

Tim was a local historian who was the Curator of the Sharpington History Centre, and he was at the dinner party because Kim asked Alesha to invite him.

They met one rainy Friday afternoon in October, Kim entered the History and stood dripping on the doormat for several minutes before she ventured further.

“Can I help?” Tim asked the tall skinny girl as she dripped on his floor.

 “I do hope so” she replied brightly

“I’m looking for information about my family name”    

“Ok I’m sure we can help with that” She said, “What’s the name?”

“Labuschagne” she replied proudly

“Oh excellent” he replied as he brushed his sandy hair off his forehead “That’s a cracking good name”

“Thank you” she said with a laugh “I like it, and so far, as I know I’m the last one”

“Well come and take a seat and you can tell me what you know over a cup of tea” he suggested

“Oh yes a cup of tea would be lovely”

On that first meeting they spent more than an hour together while Kim related everything that she knew about the family, firstly the facts, names and dates and the anecdotal information which may or may not have been true.

Tim’s immediate interest in the skinny young woman was her name, he did a lot of research of the kind she was looking for, but unlike hers they were very common, such as Wilson, Brown, Andrews and Cooper of which there were very many in the county, so to be asked to undertake research on Labuschagne was refreshingly different.

But an interest in the name was soon surpassed by one in the young woman herself, and in particular her company, although she was unaware of the fact.

Kim had only gone to the History Centre in order to get some help and pointers, but the nice Sandy haired Historian was so helpful and friendly that when he offered to research her name with her she didn’t hesitate to accept.

So, over the following weeks she went to the LHC to meet with him almost every day and with each subsequent visit the importance of her original visit waned while her attraction to Tim grew exponentially.

However, she was not able to shake him from his primary interest in the research which was why she asked Alesha to include him on the party guest list.

But despite the fact that they were seated opposite each other during dinner and talked non-stop about a range of topics, and they both enjoyed the others company, they parted at the end of the evening without securing a date.

However, he did ask if she needed escorting home, but she had to say no as she had already told Alesha that she would help her clear away, she kicked herself for not foreseeing the possibility that he would ask, she was however encouraged that he had asked though.

With the arrival of December came more demands on her time so she wasn’t able to spend as much time with Tim at the LHC, but she looked forward to the times that she could spend with him and she enjoyed every minute she was there, but she made no progress on securing a date.

It was her birthday on the 21st so that was her target and failing that she wanted him on her arm by Christmas.

The problem was that as the days slipped, because Tim was as efficient as he was gorgeous he was likely to have completed his research before she had got her man.

And her worst fears were realised when he phoned her two days before her birthday and told her he was finished.

“Oh great” she said “And so soon”

“When can you pop in?” Tim asked, “Can you do tomorrow?”

“Oh yes I think so” she said unable to think of a reason not to

“Brilliant I’ll see you then” Tim said “Bye”

After she hung up she chastised herself for dithering, but in the end, she couldn’t make it as she was tied up all day with Alesha and her publisher discussing the illustrations for the new book, so she didn’t make it to the Local History Centre until the next day, which was her birthday.

“Hello” he said when he saw her, and she instantly smiled

“Hi Tim, sorry about yesterday” she said

“No problem let’s go and sit” he said “The kettle has just boiled”

“Lovely” she responded

They were sat down at the table with only the remnants of tea left in the mugs when Tim said

“I have a full record of The Downshire Labuschagne’s up to and including you, and as it’s your birthday I had it bound in Leather”

“Wow” Kim said, and as she studied it tears filled her eyes “It’s beautiful”

“I’m glad you like it”

“I love it” she said and stood up and hugged him “Thank you, in fact, let me buy you lunch as a proper thank you”

“Oh, I was going to take you to lunch for your birthday” he said

“Well how about this, I’ll take you for a thank you lunch and then you can take me for a birthday dinner tonight”

“Ok that’s a date” he said

“I do hope so” she said and took hold of his hand

 

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.