Christmas at Lock Keeper's Cottage

by Lucy Coleman

  Tollie puts his hand up to scratch beneath his wig. ‘Well, everyone, I need to get out of this suit,’ he declares, looking very pink-faced. ‘What with the padding and the hot air we all generated, I need to step under the shower. It was a great first cruise, so thanks to you all. And you did a brilliant job of those new backing tracks, Gray. The one you wrote for story-time was perfect. Not too distracting, but catchy.’

  Gray starts to doo-ba-di-ba-di-ba-doo and then the girls join in too, as Tollie walks off in the direction of the cottage. His laughter echoes around him as he walks.

  ‘Are you coming back to The Bullrush?’ Sarah asks me as she places a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, nodding in the direction of the inn.

  I shake my head. ‘Maybe later, though.’

  ‘Kurt will be up to his eyes in cream teas and he’s only got Maggie there to help, so we’d best get back.’

  ‘Of course. I’m just grateful to have the girls helping out, especially when it comes to joining in with the singing. Sadly, I don’t have a tuneful voice, so I tend to mime. I usually leave the singing up to Gray.’ I give him a cheeky grin.

  He’s still trilling his little chorus under his breath and the girls are loving it.

  ‘You shouldn’t worry about that,’ Sarah replies. ‘I don’t, even though every other note that comes out of my mouth is flat. A good voice is a gift I envy.’

  ‘There.’ Gray turns to face me. ‘The reason I do what I do is to bring a little joy into the world. Life without music would be very dull indeed.’

  I look at him and as our eyes meet my heart begins to pound in my chest. ‘Life is never dull when you’re around, Gray. It’s only dull when you’re not here.’

  Oh, dear! I didn’t mean to say that, and Sarah shoots me a sympathetic glance, before shepherding the girls back along the towpath.

  ‘If you get a chance to pop in later this evening,’ she calls over her shoulder, ‘Kurt and I might be able to join you for a quiet drink. Abe and Ethel are manning the bar and Maggie will be in the kitchen.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan. Hope to see you later, then, and thanks, girls, you truly are little stars.’

  As we wave them off Gray slips his hand into mine, pulling me close.

  ‘I love it here,’ he whispers into my hair. ‘Sometimes I wish I had a little camera so that I could see what’s happening on board as I man the tiller. I heard the singing and the children were all rosy-cheeked and smiling when they left.’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be a cruise without our captain.’ I tilt my head to look up at him. ‘But I forget that you miss out. It was amazing today and Tollie was the definitive Santa. Seriously, he was made for that role. A trained actor couldn’t do any better. When he was telling the story, even the most fidgety of the children managed to sit still, more or less throughout the entire time. Then he had them up and dancing, of course, getting rid of some of that excited energy before their parents took them home.’

  ‘And we get to do it all over again tomorrow.’

  Instinctively we both turn to look at The Star Gazer. With her beautiful crimson paintwork and the freshly picked greenery draped in swags from the cabin top, she is a showstopper. Tollie and Fisher have made every inch of her sparkle in the run up to today and it shows.

  Gray squeezes my hand affectionately.

  ‘Come on, let’s go back and put our feet up for a bit. It might be a late one tonight if we head down to The Bullrush this evening. I think it’s wishful thinking on Sarah’s part hoping there will be time for a quiet drink any time before closing. The car park has been full all day. I doubt there were many spaces free on the main road at the top, either. The canal has been busy this afternoon and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect for our first weekend cruises. Granted it’s chilly, but, when the sky is so blue and the sun comes out to play, it’s a little piece of heaven.’

  ‘We’re lucky. Fingers crossed it continues.’

  We walk on, Gray swinging my hand as it nestles in his. Music is such a part of his being that it never leaves him and there’s a rhythm to everything he does.

  ‘They’re a lovely little family, aren’t they?’ he suddenly pipes up.

  He’s thinking about Jade and Jude. Sarah and Kurt have done a great job bringing them up, not being overly protective and letting the girls see how hard they both work to build the family business. Something the girls can get more involved with as they get older, if that’s what they want.

  ‘Sarah regrets they didn’t make the break sooner, as she says she missed so much of those early years having to put the girls in nursery while she worked in an office. But it helped to make the twins more independent, and they are so close anyway that they have always been company for each other. It must be wonderful to have a sibling, someone who knows you almost as well as you know yourself.’

  Gray squeezes my hand gently in his, lovingly.

  As we take a slow walk back, Gray hums ‘White Christmas’. All that’s missing is a little sprinkling of snow and maybe a cup of hot chocolate with my favourite marshmallows. Not the teeny-tiny things cafés often dish out, but the big, fluffy ones that go all gooey inside. But I’m one very content chief elf and I’m not complaining. With twenty-four days until Christmas is here there’s plenty of time to experience everything this season has to offer...

  5

  The Monday Blues

  Flat. Empty. Deflated.

  I feel like a balloon that has been floating high up in the sky, soaring above my day-to-day troubles, carefree and optimistic about each new tomorrow. Until it arrived. Suddenly, all of that energising hot air has dissipated and I’ve sunk slowly and surely back to the frosty, dull brown earth.

  ‘What’s up with you this morning?’ Fisher looks across at me, frowning. ‘I thought you’d be buzzing. That was some start to this year’s festivities, and it was great to have Gray back among us.’

  ‘The weekend was amazing,’ I admit, doing my best to raise a smile. But I only succeed in lifting the corners of my mouth and it doesn’t exactly infuse my face.

  Fisher stares at me, his eyes widening as he waits for an explanation.

  ‘I’m being selfish, ignore me,’ I mumble, avoiding eye contact.

  ‘Missing Gray isn’t being selfish, Immi. It’s simply an admission of how you feel. It’s okay to admit that and it won’t jinx anything, darling girl.’

  Sometimes I feel as if my whole life has been jinxed and when things go well, it unsettles me. I’m just waiting for the bad news to arrive. I know he means well, but the sense of emptiness I’m feeling today has put me in a bad mood. Platitudes won’t do, even if they are handed out with the best of intentions. Fisher would do anything for me and that includes doing his best to cheer me up.

  ‘Gray’s mum is on the mend and he sees that as a glimmer of hope that our situation is about to change. But on a freezing Monday morning here I am again. Alone. The reality of it hits me hard and now, in here—’ I tap the side of my temple ‘—the doubt is beginning to creep back in. His mum can’t afford to run that house on her own, having given up work, even if she has turned a huge corner health-wise. So, nothing has really changed, has it? I’m so happy she’s doing well but her home is everything to her. Gray is a good son and he’ll do the right thing – I wouldn’t expect any less of him but that doesn’t make it easy to accept. I know that sounds mean-spirited of me, but each parting is getting harder, Fisher, and it feels like we’re stuck.’

  Fisher sighs, pushing back in his chair as he releases the pen in his hand. It falls onto the desk with a clatter. He’s a handsome man, his jet-black hair threaded with enough silver to make him look distinguished. His brow furrows as he stares at me, the sadness in his eyes full of understanding.

  ‘Life is tough, Immi, and we only have to look around to see the evidence of the daily struggles. Remember that it’s hard for Gray, too. The truth is that no one knows what tomorrow will bring. When changes come, they often happen quickly, but
the period beforehand can feel like treading water.’

  Our eyes meet as I acknowledge his words, but there isn’t an ounce of positivity in me this morning. There’s only that awful depleted feeling of having been robbed of something. I push my shoulders back and shift around in my chair rather uncomfortably. I know I’m being unreasonable because if, and when, the changes do come, it will open up a myriad of different emotions for me. Fear of messing things up being one of them.

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ My words sound dejected and I decide to shut up before I make it any worse.

  He expels a deep breath and his head tilts forward. Staring down at his hands, he clasps them together reflectively and I feel awful for being such a misery.

  ‘When my wife upped and left me for another man it broke my heart. All my plans for the future involved her and I’d been ploughing on, working towards what I thought was our dream. If only I’d taken time out to talk to her, asked her what she wanted out of life… Don’t make the same mistake I did, Immi. You need to spell out your concerns to Gray. Knowing you as I do, I bet you simply back off and leave everything unsaid. You can’t live your life treading carefully and avoiding the real issues.’

  It’s as if he can read my mind and he’s right. Everyone in my life so far has left me, except Tollie, and, as I could never leave Tollie, I’m as much a part of the problem as Gray.

  ‘If I add to the pressure Gray’s feeling, then I’m just another worry for him to juggle. It could end up driving us apart.’

  Fisher sits forward, leaning his forearms on the desk as he stares across at me intently.

  ‘Don’t let your past scar your future, Immi. Tell Gray how you’re feeling. I’m not saying there’s a quick and easy solution, but being honest with each other is the first step in determining a way forward that will work for you both. I learnt that lesson the hard way and I’d hate for you to make the same mistake.’

  Back in the day, everyone thought Fisher and Wendy were a team. They were working hard to pay off the mortgage on their old converted barn, to give them financial freedom. The future shone bright on the horizon, as Fisher longed to set up his own business. Wendy helped out in The Bullrush and everything seemed fine. Until the day she left, leaving him a note to let him know she had found someone else. What hurt Fisher most was that the affair had been going on for a long time. Wendy had always wanted children, they both had, and as far as I can tell it just never happened for them. The man she left Fisher for was a widower with two children of primary school age.

  That was just over eleven years ago now. Buying a grand canal cruiser was supposed to be their dream future together, running special event trips up and down the canals. Instead, they ended up selling the barn to go their own ways. A year later, Fisher bought a small cottage a stone’s throw away from the Aysbury Junction Marina. The remainder of his equity he put away until the day he found The Star Gazer and the rest is history. Now he’s counting down until he can take early retirement in eighteen months’ time. But you can’t run cruises on your own. That’s the trouble with dreams – they usually involve other people to help turn them into reality.

  ‘Point taken. Thanks, Fisher. I need to steel myself for some tough talking. Or maybe I just enjoy having a moan when I’m in a bad mood.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. What does Tollie say?’

  Is there anything at all Fisher doesn’t notice?

  ‘Nothing. We haven’t talked about it.’

  Fisher rises up out of his chair. ‘That’s precisely my point and you must remedy that side of things, too. Now, I need another strong coffee. It’s going to be a long day, I think.’

  On Mondays, I finish at four o’clock and I’d promised Mrs Price I’d pop round to have a cup of tea with her. Or rather I was summoned, and, as she’s never extended an invitation to me before, I didn’t think I could refuse.

  It’s Tollie’s doing, because I’d shown him the old photograph of the cottage tucked into the parcel that Martin gave me, and he must have mentioned it to Mrs Price. Yesterday afternoon when we arrived back after the second Santa Ahoy Special trip for the day, I bumped into her on the towpath. She wanted to know if I had any more photos and I admitted that I hadn’t had time to look through the pile. So she decided that we could do that task together.

  Byre Cottage is a converted cow shed, but from the outside this bijou, reddish-pink brick building is as cute as any cosy little cottage an artist could paint. It’s a brisk ten-minute walk to the cluster of farm buildings that were turned into smart new homes back in 2001. As I walk into the central courtyard, I feel honoured to have been invited into Mrs Price’s inner sanctum. Few get to see her in her own environment, as she seems to spend most of her time flitting between her various charitable works. Then she disappears for long periods at a time.

  As far as Tollie is aware, the only person she ever worked for in Aysbury was him, following the death of Grandma Nell. Grandma and Mrs Price were friends, despite the obvious age difference, both taking an active role in organising many of the community events. Whether she knew anything at all about Mrs Price’s past, we’ll never know, as Grandma wasn’t prone to gossiping and kept secrets very close to her chest. With no evidence of any immediate family, it seems that Mrs Price gravitated here.

  Who knows if there was ever a Mr Price from where she hailed originally? The rumour is that she uses a fictitious name, but where that idea came from, I have no idea. Although I was vaguely aware Tollie had taken on a housekeeper after Grandma died, I can’t say I recall Mrs Price ever being around whenever Dad and I visited him.

  When I did ask about her once, he said that Grandma hit it off with her from the start. He’s not usually one to talk about the past, or other people, so there’s little point asking him for information if he doesn’t offer it. However, when I pressed him, he simply said that Grandma attracted unusual people like a magnet. He informed me with a wink that he, too, came under that category.

  Mrs Price was one of the first people to move into what is known as the Saint Nicholas’s Well complex. Byre Cottage is the smallest of the properties, the four other detached barns dwarfing it in size, but, with its own little walled garden sitting inside the main courtyard, it abuts the narrow lane in a very leafy spot.

  The rear of the cottage is really the front, and as I stand here looking at the tall double gates I look around for a doorbell, or knocker – some way to announce my presence before I walk into Mrs Price’s garden.

  The high wall surrounding the property is made from reclaimed bricks and the colours range from a deep red to various shades of dark pink. But it blends in well and looks as if it’s been here forever. On the top third of the wall is a brick latticework effect, with a half-a-brick spacing between each one. A whole host of climbing plants, some carrying winter blooms, tumble in profusion over the top of the wall, partially obscuring what’s on the other side. It’s impossible to get more than the odd, teasing glimpse of the building beyond.

  Suddenly a man appears behind me, calling out as he walks across the open space between us.

  ‘Is Mrs Price expecting you?’ he asks directly, looking me up and down as if I might be selling something. Well, I do have a plastic carrier bag in one hand and a small potted plant in the other.

  ‘Yes. Yes, she is – I’m, um, Imogen Tolliman. I’ve walked up from the marina.’

  ‘Oh, right. I thought your face was vaguely familiar. We have tickets for the grandkids on one of next weekend’s Santa cruises. Great job you’re doing there. They’re very excited about it. Here, let me help you with the gate. There’s a trick to it, you see. Mrs Price doesn’t encourage visitors.’ He lowers his tone as he speaks.

  Mrs Price has that effect on people, I’ve noticed.

  He reaches up to place his hand over the top of the gate and appears to be releasing some sort of latch. I notice there’s an external mailbox on the wall, so I guess for a woman living alone keeping the gate bolted is a matter of security. />
  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m Cameron,’ he adds, as he slips one of the double gates open for me to step through. ‘My wife, Lizzie, and I live in Meadow Barn, over there.’ He points to the far corner of the courtyard. Surrounded by its own high walls, it must back onto the fields and I should imagine the view stretches out endlessly.

  ‘What a fabulous barn and an amazing backdrop.’

  He gives me a friendly smile. ‘Yes. But with that comes the early morning alarm call, as we’re in easy earshot of the chickens and the cockerels. You don’t get many of those living in the city, but we’re used to it now. It’s a great place to live.’

  I nod, thinking that this is the best of both worlds. Rural and private, but not isolated.

  ‘Do you need a hand with that?’ he asks, offering to take the bag from me.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll look out for your grandchildren next weekend. All of the trips are fully booked already and we’re thinking about running a few extra excursions next year.’

  He gives me a nod, his eyes sparkling. ‘My wife and daughter will be bringing them along. You ought to think about doing a Santa booze cruise for the parents.’ He’s serious. ‘I’ll be buying up a few bottles of The Bullrush Christmas Brew to do my bit for the fund,’ he adds. Word is obviously getting around.

  ‘Every little helps,’ I reply enthusiastically.

  ‘What helps?’ Mrs Price’s voice rises up out of nowhere. ‘If you’re coming in, come in. Good afternoon, Cameron. The tea is stewing, Immi, I thought you were late.’

  Cameron and I both jumped the instant we heard her voice and he turns on his heels with a quick, ‘Goodbye, ladies. Enjoy your tea.’

  ‘It’s half-past four, you know,’ Mrs Price informs me as I step through into her garden. She swiftly snaps the bolt across before marching up to her semi-opened front door. ‘The cat has knocked the door ajar and now I’m losing all the heat.’