The Christmas Calendar Girls

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘Nothing. It’s just Fern being very annoying.’

  Jasper grinned just as Arlo shouted at him to come outside because they’d found a hedgehog. The twins couldn’t have been more different, yet they couldn’t have been closer brothers. Affection fuelled Jasper who always held Davina’s hand and loved nothing more than to wrestle with his dad. When the children watched a movie together, and it got sad, his eyes were always the first to fill. On the other hand, logical Arlo would analyse the plot, saying things like that wouldn’t happen in real life, and he loved asking questions. Do other planets think of us as aliens? How can reindeer pull Santa’s sleigh if they don’t have wings?

  At least that used to be the case. But recently things had changed. Jasper no longer wanted long, lingering hugs. He’d told Davina recently that he was a big boy and big boys didn’t like soppy cuddles.

  ‘Oliver wasn’t quite what I expected,’ I said.

  ‘Good-looking?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Funny?’

  ‘You could say.’

  ‘Ambitious?’

  ‘Oh, definitely. Yes. And he had clean nails.’ That was Davina’s thing.

  She folded her arms. ‘Darling, I love you, but is there the smallest chance you’re being a tad picky?’

  ‘He didn’t pay for dinner even though eating out was his idea, didn’t even offer to split the bill. And I don’t think he has the greatest respect for unemployed people. He talked the right talk but underneath was a fake.’

  ‘Swipe left and move on.’ She grimaced. ‘Oh, Fern, what a shame.’

  ‘No, honestly, some good came of the evening. Prepare to thank me. I’ve come up with a stand-out fundraising idea to help tide the food bank over – or at least hopefully pay for a month or two’s rent.’

  ‘Really?’

  I cleared my throat and was about to explain when Audrey came in through the patio doors. ‘John’s ready, everyone,’ she said. ‘Come along, Cara, dear. He says there’s a burger done just the way you like it, if you’re quick.’

  Cara and John had a patio heater and had set out deckchairs. The dining room table was at the back of the lounge, near the sliding glass doors, so that we could bob in to help ourselves to the salads and breads.

  ‘Okay,’ she called from the kitchen. ‘Just checking on the lemon meringue pie.’

  ‘I’ll tell you about my idea later,’ I said to Davina. ‘Honestly. It’s so original and it’s going to make Christmas amazing on the estate, as well as helping a needy cause.’

  We went outside whilst Audrey headed upstairs to fetch Lex’s woolly hat, ignoring Cara’s offer to get it. Audrey said the exercise would do her foot good.

  ‘Thank goodness the meat’s cooked in time,’ said Cara and turned up her jacket’s collar. ‘John only got back from work an hour ago and had to put the coals on as soon as he got in.’

  ‘Working? On Saturday again?’

  ‘I know. Since winning those two big accounts last month he’s got to prove to the clients that they made the right decision.’

  Audrey came outside and handed out the children’s coats that she’d collected. Then she went to Lex and put on her little woolly hat before helping the five year old choose a juicy sausage. Smoke filled the air and joy filled my heart as Lily laughed when Max bit into his burger bun and mustard squirted across his chin.

  I wished I lived nearer to Mum and Dad. They visited when they could and Lily and me often went there for the holidays. But both still had demanding jobs. They weren’t as old as Audrey. There was a ten year age gap between me and my younger siblings and my parents had two lots of university accommodation to pay for. Dad wanted me to move back after Adam died whereas Mum said she was worried living at home again would stop me from getting back to normal – whatever normal now was. But she was right. Dad and I didn’t want to admit it but I needed to start forging my own way again, for Lily’s sake as much as mine.

  Adam’s parents had been the opposite; they couldn’t face meeting up at the beginning – they couldn’t deal with any reminders of their son. But slowly, over the last three years we’d seen each other more often. Easter as well as Boxing Day and this year we’d even met them in Wales for a weekend away together.

  Normal is as normal does, so during the day I’d just picked up the old routine. Work. School. Cooking. Homework. But normality didn’t feature at night, behind closed doors, under the duvet. I’d never cried myself to sleep over anything when I’d been with Adam. Nor wished tomorrow would never come. Nor suffered anxiety attacks at two in the morning because my body couldn’t process all the glasses of alcohol.

  Audrey gave John a kiss after he’d served everyone. Despite the dark, I saw his face glow. I’d ring Mum and Dad tomorrow. Forty miles wasn’t that far. We could meet sometime soon for lunch.

  Cara disappeared inside to take out the meringue.

  ‘This is yummy,’ said Lily and tore off a mouthful of baguette, crumbs tumbling down her chin as she gazed up at the sky. ‘The stars are so pretty. And Arlo just pointed out a satar… satar…’

  ‘Satellite?’ I said.

  ‘Yes. It moved really slowly. In my head I pretended it was Father Christmas’s sleigh. I wish we could eat outside every night.’

  ‘Me too, sweetheart. But much as I love this autumn one-off, only during the more summery weather and—’

  A bleeping alarm sounded and John hurried indoors. With barbecues the danger was supposed to be outdoors. The rest of us peered through the glass. Minutes later Cara came into view.

  ‘It’s the pie. The meringue on top is burnt to a crisp. It looks as if it’s fallen top first into the barbecue coals.’ Her voice sounded just a bit too bright. ‘Silly me. I’d put the oven on the wrong setting in my rush to grab my burger.’

  I looked at Davina. This wasn’t like Cara, the woman who could easily bake fifty perfect cupcakes for any charity fundraiser; the woman John would tease about running their family super efficiently, as if it were a business with deadlines, budgets and goals. She had a timetable in the kitchen that factored in the children’s hobbies, chores they should do, along with date nights with John and the mornings she helped out at the school, doing reading with struggling pupils. However, I’d glanced at it tonight and this month’s page looked decidedly neglected.

  ‘Oh love,’ said Audrey and pulled the door across, a frown across her face. She went in. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve all made mistakes like that. How about… let’s send someone down to the parade to fetch ice cream. We’ve got strawberries in the fridge. That will be fine. Don’t you worry.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure the children like ice cream,’ I said in a loud voice and winked.

  They clapped their hands. ‘We do, we do!’

  ‘Great idea, Granny!’ shouted Hannah.

  ‘But I wanted to give you all a nice, hot pudding after being out in the cold,’ mumbled Cara, as she was washing fruit with me. Davina got out bowls and spoons. ‘Perhaps if I make pancakes and—’

  Davina pulled off her headband and, removing the pumpkin hat, placed it on Cara’s head. She rested her manicured hands on my short friend’s shoulders.

  ‘You’re the queen of cooking on Birchwood Estate, everyone knows that. Just relax. Take it easy for once.’ Davina’s hands squeezed. ‘You’ve looked tired lately, Cara. Is everything okay?’

  ‘Me? Yes. I’m fine. Just disappointed, that’s all. I know lemon meringue is the twins’ favourite.’

  ‘I spotted a plate of your homemade shortbread biscuits,’ I said. ‘How about we crush those up and sprinkle them on top of the ice cream?’

  Cara raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a good idea. And I’ve got some pistachio nuts and a bar of dark chocolate. I could melt that all together as a topping for us grown-ups.’

  ‘Sounds delicious,’ said Davina and turned to Audrey who was putting condiments back into the fridge. ‘What a good idea of yours to get ice cream. Cara’s lucky to have you here to save the day.’<
br />
  ‘Audrey should come to the cinema with us next Wednesday, now that her ankle is so much better,’ I said. ‘We’re going to see Falling for Charity, set in a charity shop – you help out in a children’s one, don’t you?’

  Audrey’s wrinkles deepened as she beamed. ‘I do. What a kind invitation – but only if you’re sure. I don’t want to cramp your style.’ She looked at Cara who smiled, though still looked subdued as the rest of us discussed the film. Clean plates and compliments about her ice cream topping cheered her a little but she didn’t even laugh at her husband’s characteristically bad jokes.

  ‘What’s this idea of yours then, Fern? Don’t keep us on tenterhooks,’ asked Davina after we’d washed up. Audrey had gone to bed early to read, and the children were playing I Spy with Max, and John who’d drunk too much lager. He was laughing at Pickle the hamster who despite his old age, was enjoying exploring the lounge in his plastic ball.

  I put down the gingham tea towel. The three of us sat at the table in front of the patio doors.

  ‘Are you ready for this? You’re going to love it.’ I rubbed my hands. ‘Have you ever heard of… a living advent calendar?’

  4

  Davina’s brow furrowed, defying our accusations of her using Botox since turning thirty.

  ‘A what?’ asked Cara.

  ‘Believe it or not, it’s a thing. The idea originates from Stockholm. I read about it last year. Businesses club together to raise money for good causes. Locals visit a different venue each night, from the first to the twenty-fourth of December and enjoy refreshments and a thirty minute performance such as carol singing or a short play.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Davina.

  ‘Obviously that would require a huge amount of planning and involve the local council, plus rehearsals for performances and… well, we haven’t got time. So I’ve come up with something simpler that I’m hoping we can organise in the five weeks we’ve got from now until the first of December.’ The progressive dinner Oliver talked of helped me come up with this. ‘It will be a calendar created by the residents of Birchwood Estate. We need twenty-four householders to take part. Each of them will create a large display in their front window with the relevant day’s number on their door. We’d hope for a range of different themes, from robins to reindeer, from snowmen to Santa – cosy fireplace scenes or Nordic winter wonderlands…’

  My friends listened intently.

  ‘It sounds complicated,’ said Davina.

  ‘It needn’t be. The displays can be posters made out of cardboard and pressed against the whole window, or a scene made from ornaments, cuddly toys, whatever the owner prefers. The display just needs to be lit up with lamps or fairy lights. The aim is for them to look like the fancy windows of those big department stores in London that every Christmas contain festive scenes.’

  ‘I used to love visiting them for a treat when I was little. They looked so magical,’ said Cara.

  ‘At the beginning of December maps will be posted through all the doors on the estate so that residents know which houses to visit on which night at a given time – perhaps six o’clock. One by one the displays will appear as December progresses. On the first night any resident can – and hopefully many will – visit the house bearing Number One and stand outside enjoying drinks and snacks… money will be raised by donations for those. On the next night, both displays One and Two will be lit up but locals will only congregate outside the second house. And so on.

  ‘As the days progress, more and more displays will be revealed, each night people gathering outside the latest date’s door, so that by the twenty-fourth, twenty-four displays are lit up. Well, twenty-three – I’ve said I’ll do the first and last nights. But I don’t think that will matter.’

  Cara’s mouth upturned for the first time since the lemon meringue ended up in the bin. ‘Fern… what a great idea. Hannah and Lex would love brainstorming this project. And it will really bring the community together.’

  ‘I hope so. But yes, that’s the point as well. Everyone contributing and spending time together for a good cause, for those less fortunate than themselves – what better example at Christmas is there for children?’

  ‘Do you think enough houses will want to take part?’ asked Davina. ‘I mean… I’m not sure how many know about Chesterwood’s food bank or, harsh as it may sound, care enough to get involved. December is a tough time for everyone cost-wise and the expense of taking part could add up, what with making the display and then providing refreshments…’

  ‘Agreed, and I am worried about that. But we’ll only advertise it on the estate, to keep numbers under control,’ I said. ‘And people can also club together. Just because one house is allocated one of the twenty-four numbers doesn’t mean a neighbour can’t pitch in. That would halve costs. I’m also going to suggest people ask their employers if they’d be prepared to sponsor the event – maybe contribute to that person’s outlay if the company’s details are advertised on the back of the map.’

  I took out my phone.

  ‘A few hours ago I posted about it in the residents’ Facebook group, to see if people would be interested. I explained all about the food bank and my idea.’ Rolling my lips together I pressed on an icon and headed to the relevant page. What if people thought the idea far too ambitious? Perhaps they’d have a point. I scrolled down and got a sinking feeling in my chest.

  I showed the other two the screen. ‘Only one house has signed up, so far. But as I’ve said I’ll do two, that’s three of the days taken care of. It’s a start.’

  Cara took out her phone and put her name down.

  ‘What if it rains?’ asked Davina and punched into her phone, signing up too.

  ‘People will be wrapped up well and can stand under umbrellas. I’ve read online about other villages that have held a similar event and the weather hasn’t put off many people – certainly not the children. Then on the last night, the twenty-fourth, there is an advent calendar walk, where everyone meets at house number one and follows the route together, to the last number, effectively walking in a big circle as it will begin and end at my place.’

  ‘Most people will have finished work for Christmas by then,’ said Cara. ‘The atmosphere should be lovely. And it’s a real treat for us adults. I used to love advent calendars as a child, trying to guess what the very last, largest picture would be of.’ Her face momentarily brightened. ‘Count me in. I’ll help as much as I can.’

  ‘I’ll help of course, you know that,’ said Davina. ‘But I can’t help having my doubts… it seems like such a momentous project.’

  Heat surged into my cheeks and I pulled up my roll neck jumper. ‘Fair enough if you don’t think it’s feasible or we won’t get the final numbers we need… you know how I get carried away sometimes… perhaps not enough people will volunteer in the Facebook group… I could always delete the post and—’

  ‘No, I love the concept,’ said Davina. ‘I’m annoyed I didn’t come up with it myself.’ She clapped me on the back. ‘You have really thought it through. A living advent calendar is such a stand-out idea and if… if it takes off, should raise enough money to give Ron time to sort things out permanently at the food bank, especially if residents’ employers get involved. Companies might be willing to offer goods instead of money as well. For a start, our neighbour, the one who owns a pub – he’s got lots of contacts. I’m sure I could acquire some low-cost alcohol.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to sound negative, but I just think we need to realise it’s quite a task ahead of us.’

  ‘But us three can achieve anything, once we put our heads together, right?’ said Cara eagerly.

  My eyes almost welled up at their support and the enthusiasm on Cara’s face. I hadn’t seen that for a while.

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ said Davina and grinned. ‘Like the time we persuaded the manager of Love in a Mug to start doing those delicious coconut hot chocolates we could only get in town, by taking it in turns to go in each day to ask f
or one.’

  Cara smiled and squeezed my hand. ‘Bringing everyone together, friends and family, over food and drink, with the purpose of helping people facing difficult times… your idea really does encapsulate everything that the festive season should be about. Of course, Davina’s right, some people might need gently persuading to take part but I’m sure we’ll succeed. I’ll start off by having a word with my reading club.’

  ‘There’s someone I can talk to who’d got a background in hospitality,’ I said. ‘I’m seeing him tomorrow to ask for advice – he might have some ideas on how to make each night really entertaining.’

  ‘He?’ asked Davina and nudged Cara.

  ‘We’re meeting tomorrow afternoon,’ I said ignoring her question. ‘Megan next door is going bowling and wants Lily to join her. Bless her, she insists it’s for fun and won’t take any payment.’

  Davina tilted her head. She knew I was friends with Kit but I hadn’t shared anything about his background in London – about his story that I’d learnt about whilst he was dependent on the food bank and helping me with my article. So I didn’t want to let her know it was him.

  I looked at my watch. ‘Goodness, Lily and I really ought to—’

  ‘Fern Fletcher! Why the secrecy?’

  ‘Lily, fetch your coat, darling,’ I called, heart thumping as my chair scraped back. ‘No secrecy. It’s just a friend I met through work. If I say any more you’ll only jump to all sorts of conclusions, like you did with Oliver.’

  5

  Today’s weather has made my hair even curlier. Drizzle is far more effective than any spray definer. As a young girl I’d despaired and yearned for ruler-straight locks that would keep their style longer than ten seconds. Yet older relatives said one day I’d be grateful. They were right. Busy journalists or mums don’t have time to faff with straighteners or gels. Wash n’ go was underrated. Hopefully one day Lily would also understand this.

  Adam loved my curls. He said they made me different. He accepted any self-perceived flaws so that I almost stopped seeing them. Like the stretch marks at the top of my legs. And double chin whilst I was pregnant. He’d use any self-criticism as an excuse to sweep me into a tight embrace.