I watch the sunset and think of you
And picture you
beneath that sun
Burning high in your
sky
And I feel your presence
Though you are half a
world away
And we are separated
By oceans and
continents
Our hearts are connected
And soon we will be
hand in hand
To share our sunsets
Mornington-By-Mere is
a small country village lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the
Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint
picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor
House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a
Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
But Mornington-By-Mere
is not just a quaint chocolate box English Village it is the beating heart of
the Finchbottom Vale and there were a number of cottages and small houses on
the Purplemere road and Dulcets Lane which formed the part of Mornington Village
known as Manorside and Mariana Harding was staying at number 1 Dulcet Mill Lane
in the house she was raised in, along with her brother George, by their Aunt
Julia.
She was a
well-travelled woman in her mid-thirties who hadn’t put down roots anywhere but
she had made lots of friends which became problematic at Christmas time when it
came to sending Christmas cards because a considerable amount of strategic
planning was required to ensure that maximum effect was gained from sending
Christmas cards, because, design, timing, size and quality are of paramount
importance.
There are all kinds of
do’s and don’ts, one of them is sending Christmas cards too early, which is not
only ineffective but can be humiliating for the sender because it is very
revealing, by disclosing the size and quality of card, it exposes the sender to
the possibility of a devastating counter-attack.
On the other hand, a very
late Christmas card runs the risk of negating the recipient's ability to
respond, and reduces one's total card count, and it can look like an afterthought.
Mariana thought it was
better to be on the early, rather than late side, because the pre-emptive Christmas
card sets the pace and compels the opposition to reply.
And it is a brave
opponent who will respond with either a lesser card or better than card.
The second thing she
considered was the value and size of cards. Important people, certainly people
who think they are important, send big and important looking Christmas cards
which was designed to make the recipient feel small.
It was a costly option
but she thought it was worth it.
She didn’t consider
herself a snob though and she thought there was definitely a place for cheap
and nasty Christmas cards.
They could be used for
a variety of reasons they didn’t just imply bad taste or poverty, they could be
used to disrespect the recipient, and possibly lead to deletion from their Christmas
card list.
She found cheap cards
were particularly useful for terminating pointless Christmas card exchanges
with people she met on holiday or business trips when she foolishly exchanged addresses
on drunken night’s outs.
She tried to avoid
First-time Christmas cards sent on impulse to recent acquaintances because they
can have devastating consequences or disappointments.
But she didn’t follow
her own protocols so when she was in Denver for a conference at the end of
November and she met a man called Seelie Dawson, with whom she let her guard
down, and one night after dinner, when alcohol had been taken, she gave him her
address and phone number.
Following that breach
she was overcome with regrets, firstly for the breach, second for not getting
his details, thirdly for not giving him her email and finally for losing her
phone on the journey home.
And ever since she got
back to Mornington she had thought of nothing else but him and had abandoned
her long standing and well-honed system and sent no cards at all and occupied
her time examining the abundance of cards that arrived through her door every
day hoping there would be one from him and each day she was disappointed.
But she never gave up
hope and then on Christmas Eve she perused the pile of mail on the door mat once
again and on that day with wonder in her eyes she received a Christmas card and
the postmark was from Colorado, and she only knew one person there.
Her hand was shaking
while she opened the envelope and withdrew the card, but before reading it she
looked inside the envelope and saw a photo and it was a picture of her and
Seelie, together and smiling, which recalled the evening to her mind with perfect
clarity.
She turned her attention
to the card, but she closed her eyes and took a breath before opening it, but
when she did she read.
Mariana
I hope you liked the
photo, it was a very memorable evening.
I have tried several
times to phone you on the mobile number you gave me.
I am going to be in
England for the New Year, I would very much like to see you while I’m there,
perhaps we could have dinner.
I’ve written my
contact details on the back of the photo.
I look forward to
hearing from you, and I hope very much that we can get together in the New
Year.
Have a Happy Christmas
Seelie x
She flipped the photo
over and saw the full gamut of details and her joy could not be contained so it
was twenty minutes before she had calmed down enough for her start using them.
Despite the fact she
didn’t send a single Christmas card that year she had her best Christmas in a
decade and a very Happy New Year.
You are Cute with a capital C
And Gorgeous with a
capital G
You are beautiful to
me
You are my Beloved with
a capital B
You are my Darling, with
a capital D
You mean the entire world to me.
You are my alphabet girl you see
Every letter from A to
Z
Loving you is as easy
as ABC
The James family lives
in the village of Mornington-By-Mere, which is a small country village lying in
the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the
rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint
picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House,
12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a
River and a Mere.
But Mornington-By-Mere
is not just a quaint chocolate box English Village it is the beating heart of
the Finchbottom Vale and there were a number of cottages and small houses on
the Purplemere road and Dulcets Lane which form the part of Mornington Village
known as Manorside where the James’s lived in a small two bedroom cottage in
the row of West Gate Cottages on the banks of the River Brooke.
Wilson James was 18
years old when he fell in love for first time and it happened at Christmas at
the next door neighbour’s house while he was home from University.
He hadn’t intended to,
he wasn’t even looking for a girlfriend, he was far too busy and struggled to
fit in all the student socializing as it was.
In fact he didn’t even
want to go to the Craven’s house that night and he had never even given Deirdre
a second look.
Mainly because she was
just a kid, after all she was also only 15 when he went away, but also she
wasn’t his type, although he had only met her a couple of time as the family
only moved in at Easter.
But he did at least
remember that she had a crush on him but he shrugged that off, because a lot of
girls that he met seemed to feel that way about him.
So under sufferance he
went next door with his parents a week before Christmas and when he went in the
house and the pleasantries were exchanged he realized that the immature 15 year
old who had a crush on him had turned into a dazzling young woman and all at
once she had his full attention and he thought that if he couldn’t find a way
to fit Deirdre into his life, there was something wrong with him.
They only had eyes for
each other from the first moment and over the next week they were inseparable
but on Christmas Eve she and her family were driving to Nettlefield to spend
Christmas with the Grandparents.
So on that morning
shortly before the Craven’s set off the love struck couple exchanged presents,
he gave her a locket with his photograph in it, which she loved and then she
gave him a beautifully wrapped gift box and said,
“This is for you”
“Wow” he said and was
a bit embarrassed and felt a bit guilty because it looked so much more than
what he’d got for her.
But he opened the box
anyway and found it was empty.
“Is there supposed to
be something inside the package?” he asked and she smiled
“It's not empty” she said “I blew kisses into it until it was full”
“That’s really sweet” he said and kissed her
“I got you a proper present
as well” she said and handed him what appeared to be a CD “That was just a bit
of fun”
He loved the CD
because she had chosen it for him, and even though she said it was only a bit
of fun he kept that gold box by his bed while she was away and whenever he
missed her he would
open the box and take out an imaginary kiss.
People love each other in many different ways
Take love where they can find it, I would say
All kinds of love
shared each and everyday
But the truest are
those that can’t be taken away
Thirty Five year old
Ross Clarke lives in the village of Mornington-By-Mere, which is a small country
village lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean
Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint
picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor
House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse,
a River and a Mere.
But Mornington-By-Mere
is not just a quaint chocolate box English Village it is the beating heart of
the Finchbottom Vale and there were a number of cottages and small houses on
the Purplemere road and Dulcets Lane which form the part of Mornington Village
known as Manorside where Ross lived in a small two bedroom cottage in the row
of West Gate Cottages on the banks of the River Brooke and he lived there with
his grandfather.
Ross Clarke loved
Christmas and it really irritated him when he heard people whining about what a
crap Christmas they had because their mother in law over did it on the sherry
and told everyone what she really thought about them or when their wife's uncle
Stan spent Christmas afternoon asleep on the sofa breaking wind with monotonous
regularity.
Or their brothers new
girlfriend who kept hitting on her sister in law or the Gran who said
“Just a small dinner
for me, I don't have much of an appetite” then spent the afternoon eating all
the chocolate Brazils.
It really made him
angry because their bitching and moaning always brought him down at his
favourite time of year.
It also wound him up
when he thought about those who through no fault of their own had truly awful
Christmas’s, like his Grandfather who was one of the half a million or so men
of the allied forces, who along with six hundred thousand Germans who spent Christmas
1944 outside in the snow of the Ardennes forest during the battle of the bulge.
Men who sheltered in foxholes,
scratched out of the frozen earth with no hot food or drink.
Unable to light fires
for fear of giving their position away to the enemy and regularly coming under
enemy fire or being shelled.
And sometimes once they
had hewn out a decent sized foxhole and settled down into it out of the icy
wind, an order would come down the line to move out and they would move a
hundred yards or sometimes less and dig another hole.
He wanted to tell all
the whiners to go and bitch and moan to one of those old soldiers and see how
they would laugh at their petty gripes, they certainly wouldn’t get any
sympathy.
He had spent a of time
with his grandfather since his teens but for the last three years that time was
spent at the Briarbank Hospice and they spent that time talking at length.
But for the last three
months the conversations had been very one sided.
But there had been
another reason for his visits other than seeing his grandfather, and that
reason was Linda Perch, a thirty four year old palliative care nurse.
It was 9 o’clock on
Christmas Eve when he arrived at the hospice and his spirits lifted when he saw
Linda was on duty and when she saw him she smiled.
“Did you draw the
short straw?” he asked
“Worse than that I
volunteered” she retorted
Because she had no
family she was working all over Christmas to allow the nurses who did have
families to spend it at home with them she was doing the same thing over New
Years as well.
“So are you on
tomorrow as well?” he asked
“Yes I’m on until
Boxing Day”
“That’s tough” he said
and she told him that she would survive and then they parted company with a
smile.
They knew they would have plenty of opportunities to talk during the night and
he wished her happy Christmas at 1.45am.
He managed to see
quite a lot of Linda during Christmas Day as he had decided not to go home at
all and managed to catch a few zzzz’s in the arm chair beside his grandads bed,
but he managed to be awake and alert when she was around and he found that his
feeling for her were deepening and he hoped that when she smiled at him it
wasn’t just her professional demeanour.
But she went off duty
at two am on Boxing Day which was when he decided it was time to go home to his
bed.
He returned to the
hospice on Boxing Day evening and was pleased to see Linda’s car was in the
carpark, he didn’t think she would be back in until the next day, but when he
went inside instead of being greeted by her normal friendly smile, he found her
wearing a grave expression.
“Hello Ross I was just
about to call you” she said
“I’m a bit concerned
about Harry, his breathing is very laboured”
“Damn I shouldn’t have
gone home” he said
“Nonsense” she
chastised “it would have made no difference”
Then she gave him a
warm smile and added
“I’ve phoned Dr
Lutchford, so go and sit with him and I’ll be in shortly”
“Ok” he complied but
what she hadn’t confided was that she thought the end was close.
The Doctor arrived about
half an hour later and Linda accompanied Ross to the relative’s room and squeezed
his hand before she joined the doctor.
Fifteen minutes later
she and the Doctor joined him and Claire Lutchford sympathetically said
“I’m afraid he has
pneumonia”
“Does that signal the
end” he asked knowing that it did but wanted confirmation,
“I’m afraid so” Dr
Lutchford confirmed
“How long?” he asked
flatly
“Not long” she replied
“Don’t worry” Linda
said putting her hand on his “I will stay with him till the end”
Although she wasn’t
officially on duty that night she stayed with Harry and Ross.
The following day
Linda split her time between attending to Harry and keeping Ross company and
they spent a weary night and Harry Clarke died just after seven o’clock the next
morning with the winter sun invading the room and bathing his deathbed in
sunlight.
Linda was patient and
considerate and waited with Ross, who was quiet and showed no emotion as they
finally left the room
Ross spent the morning
in the relative’s room while Linda made all the necessary phone calls.
Sgt Pierce, the
village policeman paid a visit to rule out foul play and stayed until Dr
Lutchford arrived to sign the death certificate.
And an hour later
William Hemmings and Sons arrived to collect the deceased, although it was
Melanie Hemmings who offered their condolences.
Ross was looking out
of the window as the Hemmings vehicle drove away and Linda walked up behind him
and lightly stroked the back of his arm.
“Are you ok?” she
asked
“Not really” he
replied and the tears he had been holding back immediately welled up in his
eyes as he turned towards her, so she took him in her arms and he dissolved
completely into tears.
“Its ok honey” she
whispered, “let it all go”
And as he sobbed
uncontrollably onto her shoulder, Linda kissed his cheek.
She held him close and
stroked his back as he sobbed until he lifted his head and said
“I’m getting you uniform
wet”
“I don’t care” she
replied and he broke down again.
It dawned on her at
that moment as he sobbed his heart out that now his grandfather was gone he
would have no reason to go to the hospice and so she wouldn’t see him again,
and that was what she was thinking as she consoled him with her empty words.
Shameful selfish thoughts
of her never seeing him again as she held him in her arms instead of thinking
of him and his loss.
They were both
excruciatingly tired because it had been a very long night sitting up with
Harry, however she had had a lot of time to think as his life ebbed away.
And almost all of
those thoughts had been about Ross and the reason, they got on really well and whenever
he was there the two of them flirted, but at first she never thought it was
anything other than flirting, but she would always look forward to seeing him
and hoped that it might be.
But everything came
into sharp focus now that she was faced with the prospect of never seeing him
again.
And now she had him in
her arms she was not of a mind to let him go.
But let him go she
must, because now was not the time for her to claim him, but it wasn’t going to
be for long she hoped.
Had Ross known the
disposition of her heart when she comforted him in the relatives room he would
not have carried an emptiness inside him when he left the hospice.
In the days that
followed his grandfather’s death he had to contend with the double loss of his
grandfather’s death and his heart’s desire.
But then on New Year’s
Eve he received a fillip when he took a phone call from Briarbank Hospice.
It was a gloriously
sunny day in Mornington as he stared out of the window of his cottage, and his
heart skipped a beat when he saw Linda approaching with Harry’s personal possessions,
as the winter sun set her red mane ablaze.
And he pledged to
himself that once she crossed his threshold he wouldn’t let her leave again
until he had told her of his feelings.
The promise would have
given him less anxiety had he known that she had made a similar pledge and
after she crossed the threshold pledges
were kept and declarations were made and so Linda didn’t re-cross it again until New Year’s Day.
You will find it here you will find it there
Some people like it
but others don't care
Some will yearn for it
in deep despair
