Christmas at Lock Keeper's Cottage

by Lucy Coleman

  I try not to dwell on the seemingly impossible question over whether Gray and I will ever be able to get together as a couple, permanently. Rona won’t consider leaving the house she’s lived in since the day Gray was born and Tollie, well, the marina has been his life for more than fifty years. He’s spent the last thirteen years making sure I’m okay, but as time passes our respective roles have begun to change.

  The child becomes the parent, and in a way it’s the same for Gray. With Tollie, I try my best to knock some sense into him. He takes on too much, resolute in the belief that nothing should slow him down – even the aches and pains of a body that is beginning to rebel. He’s eighty-six now and very active by anyone’s standards, but he needs to realise he isn’t a machine. If he doesn’t learn to pace himself there will be consequences and that thought terrifies me.

  ‘Ahem. Two beers?’ Kurt appears and, rather reluctantly, I pull away from Gray.

  The guys do their usual manshake, ending with a fist pump as Kurt expertly balances the tray on one hand.

  ‘My, The Bullrush Christmas Brew – that’s new,’ Gray replies with a smile. We’re both impressed as we take our seats.

  ‘Famous at last. You can’t say you’ve made it until you have a brew with your name on it. Are you staying over?’ Kurt asks.

  The same question has been hovering on my lips, too. The heart-stopping disappointment if he isn’t didn’t allow me to ask.

  On the few occasions Gray has made it here for a visit, the two-hour plus round trip has robbed us of precious time together. Our relationship has become a waiting game, full of brief, exciting highs and then long periods where all we’ve been able to snatch is an hour on the phone, late at night.

  ‘Yep. And, hopefully, every Friday and Saturday right up until Christmas. Fingers crossed I don’t get any rush jobs.’ Gray winks at me and I could jump up and down with joy. He does look a little tired, but I can see he’s content that things at home are going well.

  ‘Us struggling musicians have to chase the work. You know what it’s like. One day I’ll be famous and then I’ll get to pick and choose. But hey, this weekend I’ll be donning my Captain Christmas cap and it will be all aboard The Santa Ahoy Special, as we kick-start the festive season. Life doesn’t get any better than when I have Santa’s trusty elf by my side.’

  Kurt chuckles as he walks away to fetch our food. I’m very aware that the other pressure on Gray is a financial one, which means he can’t afford to turn down any job that comes his way, even if it involves working at weekends. And that adds to the pressure if Rona isn’t doing well. As a self-employed musician and composer who was based in London, the distance has put him at a disadvantage. But even when he isn’t working, he’s always tinkering about with some little project or other.

  As we take our seats, Gray holds up his beer bottle and we chink.

  ‘That’s good news… that you can stay over.’ I’m trying not to sound as excited as I feel, but my heart is pounding in my chest and suddenly I’m full of the joys of Christmas. ‘Let the festivities begin!’

  Our eyes lock and I can see how much he’s missed me and feel that sense of regret for the time we’ve lost. Sometimes life seems too complicated and it’s hard to avoid feeling a bit depressed. Fortunately, my other part-time job, at the Lockside Nurseries, spirits me away to my happy place. When people, or the world in general, are getting me down, then nurturing nature’s bountiful gifts is spiritually healing. I can lose myself for hours in the greenhouses deadheading, or re-potting and watering. It’s the only place I can really switch off the emotional turmoil for a while.

  Gray is gazing at me and I feel my cheeks begin to glow.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m just happy to see you. Is that a crime?’ He laughs and I want to hug him all over again.

  ‘That’s not a smile, it’s a mischievous look you’re wearing. It’s great to see you so relaxed, Gray.’ I reach forward and graze my fingers over the back of his hand.

  ‘Ma is doing well. She’s even started driving again. I’ve left her with a packed weekend planned. So, here’s to lovers of Christmas everywhere and to a very special one for us this year Immi.’ The optimism in his voice as he makes a toast touches my heart. ‘Who is this little boy you were telling me about on the phone, who made my Immi cry, then?’

  Taking a quick sip of beer, I’m pleased that it isn’t too strong, or overpowering. This is going to be a popular one; Pete and David have done The Bullrush proud.

  ‘A hint of fennel, hmm… I like that,’ I confirm, placing the bottle firmly back down onto the tabletop. ‘The little boy’s name is Billy Davis.’

  ‘And he’s seven, you said?’

  ‘Yes. He was nominated by his grandma for a silver ticket. Watch this clip.’ I pull out my phone and flick through to find the email.

  Mrs Price, Tollie’s former housekeeper, is the official contact for nominations for two very special boat trips we run for the Santa Ahoy Little Stars. All the other trips are run in aid of charity, but the silver tickets are for children who deserve a little extra spoiling.

  As I click on the attachment, Gray pulls his chair up alongside me.

  The picture is dark and a little grainy, but it’s just possible to make out a child’s bed and the distressed sobs emanating from a heap in the middle. It’s a pitiful sound in the soft grey light and it’s a wail that comes from deep down inside the poor little mite. The young boy is crouched down on the floor next to his sister, his voice calm and reassuring. He’s trying to comfort her, but I don’t think she can even hear him above the noise she’s making, so great is her distress. Only the odd hiccough breaks the constant sobbing.

  ‘She’s lost her Noo-Noo, apparently,’ I explain to Gray. ‘It’s a little blanket, like a comforter, with an animal’s head in the centre.’

  Rather unexpectedly, the boy lies down on the floor and begins, very softly, to sing. His voice rises up in the darkness hauntingly, with the most beautiful ring to it. It’s the voice of an angel. ‘Twinkle, twinkle little star—’

  At first, it’s hard to hear him but gradually the crying begins to subside. It reduces to a heart-rending, intermittent sniffing sound and the boy slowly snakes his hand up onto the bed. When he covers her hand with his she throws it off, unwilling to be pacified in her anguish. He waits a few seconds and then tries again. This time Billy begins to gently stroke the back of her hand with his fingertips. The little girl, who, I know from the email, is three, is no longer thrashing around inconsolably, having run out of steam. She lies there, prostrate and exhausted.

  He continues singing for several minutes, the sound of his achingly beautiful voice so soothing and empathetic that my eyes begin to prickle with tears once again. The creak of a floorboard confirms that this is being filmed through the partially opened bedroom door. When it ends my heart feels full, so great is the love and caring in that little boy’s actions.

  ‘Ah, that even brought a lump to my throat,’ Gray admits.

  ‘I know. The grandmother told me that her daughter unexpectedly went into labour an hour earlier and there was a mad dash to get her to the hospital. The baby wasn’t due for another month and, in the panic, they later discovered that the blanket found its way into the overnight bag they’d taken with them. Her granddaughter had been distraught when her parents had left so suddenly, and then losing her treasured Noo-Noo had seemed like the end of the world. They turned everything upside down looking for it, to no avail.’

  ‘Ah. Poor little thing.’ I can see that Gray is moved.

  ‘The woman went downstairs to fetch little Maddie a drink of water and when she returned this was the scene she found. Billy finally managed to get Maddie to fall asleep and, a few hours later, a call confirmed that their new baby sister had arrived. Weighing in at only five pounds three ounces, she was tiny, but perfectly healthy. The grandmother said, “I told Billy that he was a little star comforting his sister like that and he is the best big brother in
the whole world,” and I agree with her.’

  Gray tilts his head, leaning in to rest it against mine.

  ‘Has Tollie seen it?’

  ‘Not yet. It came in just before you called. We have some wonderful little stars already lined up this year.’

  ‘Guess it had better be just the one beer for us tonight, then. We’d best be up at the crack of dawn to get Fisher’s boat all decked out. Can’t have the old girl under-dressed for her first outing of the festive season, now, can we?’

  Another thing I love about Gray is that he understood the importance of Santa Ahoy from the outset and even last Christmas, despite juggling the impossible, he was here to captain most of the trips. To some it’s just a cruise in aid of charity, down the canal to the marina and back, with Tollie dressed up as Santa. Kiddies come from all over, and it’s wonderful to see their eyes shining brightly as we sing Christmas songs and Tollie tells one of his wonderful stories. But when the nominations come in for our little stars, kids who have battled through tough times, or are heroes, stepping up when an adult hasn’t been around, those are the boat rides that make our hearts soar.

  When I met Gray he quickly realised that my world was here and it always would be. Love me, love my granddad, love my friends. And he was keen to do whatever he could to help. Gray volunteered to take over the role of captain when Fisher handed over his cap, and the use of The Star Gazer, his fifty-seven-foot Colecraft narrowboat. It’s the love of Fisher’s life as it represents a dream, and he spent a year altering the internal layout. After he ripped out the bedrooms, it became a luxury cruiser and his retirement plan. Two years and counting he says, as the magic number fifty-five hovers on the horizon like a beacon.

  I think Fisher handed over the reins to Gray as a test, if I’m being truthful. How much did he want to be a part of my life? Gray put his all into it; in doing so, he didn’t just grab a place in my heart, but in the hearts of my Aysbury family. It takes a very special man indeed, given his situation at home, to donate his precious free time. From litter picking, to running raffles at our village fairs, the first two years we were together Gray could always be relied upon to help. Last year was different, but he made it here whenever he could, which wasn’t easy as Rona couldn’t be left alone. Gray would arrange for one of Rona’s friends to sit with her and we accepted that staying over was no longer an option.

  His life is split into two very different halves and I bet there are a lot of men out there who wouldn’t be able to cope with that, but Gray does. I’ve tried my best to be accepting of the situation we find ourselves in – one where the future seems full of obstacles. But from what Gray said, is that about to change? Could this be our perfect Christmas, at long last?

  2

  Santa’s Little Helpers

  ‘Tollie, my man. How are you doing?’

  The sitting room looks like a post office sorting centre for Christmas parcels. Tollie is sitting in his armchair with a folding table in front of him. He looks up from the half-wrapped gift he’s working on, then quickly rips a piece of tape from the dispenser to secure the paper, before sliding the table away from him. At the side of his chair within easy reach are a dozen rolls of wrapping paper. To his right is a pile of empty jute sacks and two more lean against the wall, filled to the brim with donated toys collected throughout the year.

  Gray turns to survey the various piles of beautifully wrapped presents, which cover most of the floor. They’re all neatly labelled according to age. Some have silver tags, for girls, and some have red ones, for the boys.

  ‘Good. Great to see you, Gray. I was hopin’ our captain was on his way. I can relax now.’ Tollie stands and Gray walks over to give him a man-hug. In return he receives a hearty pat on the back. ‘It’s going to be a busy season,’ he adds, looking around him.

  ‘Well, judging by the amount of donations, we’re going to do the kids proud.’ Gray tips his head, acknowledging Tollie’s efforts.

  ‘How’s Rona?’

  ‘Doing well, thanks. It’s work that’s kept me away, this time. I’m on catch up as I fell way behind. I mean… it’s good that I’ve had a big job on and I’m grateful for that, but weekends here are special, and I’ve missed it.’

  Gray turns to give me a knowing smile and Tollie laughs.

  ‘She ain’t the same when you’re not around, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Tollie!’

  ‘Just sayin’ it as it is, m’dear.’

  I know he has a point. I do try hard not to let Tollie see when I’m really missing Gray, but it’s tough always trying to be upbeat and pretending that I can cope with mine and Gray’s arrangement. Not least because there have been a lot of days recently when I can’t, but it would be unfair of me to admit that. Gray was hoping to move in permanently last Christmas but that was before Rona’s diagnosis.

  Gray adds that extra something whenever he’s here and Tollie feels it, too. For me it’s like living on a roller coaster, as my emotions go from extreme highs to the lowest of lows. This year, on the very rare occasion we did get a weekend together, it took a while to find ourselves again. Just as we were slipping into our old, comfortable ways it was time for him to leave. And we had no idea when he’d be back again.

  Thankfully, privacy isn’t an issue whenever he is here. The 1830s, stone-built lock keeper’s cottage only has two bedrooms, but in the sprawling garden abutting open fields, there’s a rather sizeable barn conversion. It began life as a place to store farming equipment and at some point was turned into a storage space to house boats for daily hire and a first floor was added for use as a workshop.

  When Tollie bought the property, he gutted it and turned it into a three-bedroom, rather basic but fully functioning holiday let. It was perfect for when Dad and I came to stay four times a year and gave Tollie a small income in between times. Since then it’s had a large injection of cash and now ‘The Retreat’ is a stunning property and I’m lucky to call it my home. It works well, because it means I’m on hand if Tollie needs me, but we both have our privacy too. And when Gray is here it becomes our sanctuary away from our worries, responsibilities and the world outside the door. If only the cottage were as pristine, but Tollie doesn’t like change.

  ‘Tollie, you’ve been at that all day with barely a break. We’ll finish off the wrapping. Sarah and Kurt are hoping you’ll pop in. Fisher’s there and he looks like he’s settled in for a pint or two.’

  Tollie nods, but I can see he’s not happy. ‘I could do with stretching my legs, but you two ought to head off to The Retreat to unwind – this can wait until I get back.’

  ‘Well, I think we have time to put in an hour or two’s work here, while we catch up,’ I reply, trying to estimate how long this is going to take.

  Besides, Gray and I have two blissful nights to look forward to and we need that settling-back-in time after such a long spell away from each other. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, but we long to be able to live together like any normal couple. Whether we like to admit it, or not, the fear of it never happening hangs over us both constantly, because you never know what’s around the corner.

  Tollie heads out and we start clearing the floor, filling the empty Christmas sacks and being careful not to mix up the piles. We carry them through to the big cupboard in the hallway and as we walk back Gray begins to hum. He playfully comes up behind me, placing a hand either side of my hips, and starts to conga. It makes me giggle and I try to shake him off.

  ‘Stop. We have work to do.’

  He grabs my hand and I turn to face him as he snakes his arm up above my head and spins me around. Releasing his hand, I bow, looking up at him and shaking my head in feigned annoyance. But now he’s in shoo-be-doo mode, continuing to sing as I lead him back through to the table.

  ‘That’s a new tune,’ I remark, taking a seat and reaching inside the first sack. It’s a football and I groan; I hate wrapping round things.

  ‘Yep. It’s a jingle I’m working on at the moment. I
t’s for a hair shampoo commercial and it’s supposed to be lively and invigorating.’

  He continues to shoo-be-doo beneath his breath, as he begins dispensing tape. The battle with the football begins.

  ‘Rona really is doing well, then?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘The doctor has taken her off the new medication she was on, as Mum said it was making her anxiety worse. She’s been seeing a therapist for a couple of months now and I think it’s finally beginning to pay off. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, Immi, because nothing is guaranteed but there’s a real improvement in the way she’s handling her panic attacks. Her latest blood tests were all fine and her oncologist is happy. She’s started going to her Women’s Institute evenings again and her old friend, Hilda, convinced her to join the committee.’

  I stop for a moment, my eyes scanning his face. This is brilliant news.

  ‘You engineered that,’ I say pointedly.

  He sighs, but I can see that it’s more tiredness than exasperation.

  ‘Immi, I had to do something. I want a life with you, and it hurts not being able to put you first. I love you, even when you’re being annoying. Like now. We could finish off these presents in the morning, you know.’

  He sits there grinning at me and my heart melts, once again. I ignore him, of course, and make a start on the next gift.

  ‘Tollie would be disappointed in us if when he arrives back nothing had been done. You know him, he’d take off his coat and sit here until the early hours to finish this off. Tape, please!’

  Gray shrugs his shoulders and gets back to work but my heart is pounding. Is the worst really over and can we pick back up where we left off this time last year, looking forward to making our dreams come true?