The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  Feeling better instantly, she nodded in agreement. ‘I can’t quite say that but it’s jolly steep from my house too. I come from London and it’s a bit of a shock.’ She sat next to him on the bench. ‘The view is amazing though, even in this light.’ The bench was facing the far Welsh hills outlined against the sky. A glimmer of moonlight that had just appeared showed where the River Severn snaked its way in front of them. ‘It is worth the climb!’

  ‘It is,’ Fitz agreed.

  One of the dogs was now lying across Stella’s lap, while the other leant against her knee, so they were both warming her up. She liked the comforting weight of them although she was sure she should make them get down. She was teaching them bad habits.

  ‘What are their names? I haven’t heard you call them anything?’

  Fitz laughed. ‘Except “those bastard animals”, you mean?’

  ‘I haven’t heard you call them that! So, have they got names? Proper ones?’

  ‘I’m embarrassed to tell you. My mother is a little eccentric.’

  ‘And?’

  He looked sheepish. ‘Tristan and Isolde. I call them Tris and Izzy. The one on your lap is Izzy, with the purple collar.’

  ‘My, those are elaborate names – I wonder how they would have got on with dependable Geoffrey. I hope they wouldn’t have looked down their wet noses at him,’ she teased.

  ‘They have their faults, but they’re not snobbish.’ He was fondling Tris’s ears absent-mindedly. He paused for a couple of seconds. ‘So you’re not spending Christmas with your sister?’

  ‘Not this year, no. I decided to come down to Dad’s cottage, although it took some fighting for, I can tell you. She thinks I’ll die of loneliness and no one should be without family on Christmas Day.’

  ‘She has a point there, to be fair.’

  ‘Yes I know, but it’s only this Christmas! I really want to spend time in my dad’s cottage – which is now actually my cottage – and see if I want to live in it permanently.’

  ‘The place is yours completely? Annabel doesn’t have a say in what happens to it?’

  ‘Dad decided to leave his money to Annabel and the cottage to me. It came to roughly the same value in the end, and it might sound awful but we each got what we’d prefer.’

  ‘So you mean to leave London? That would be a big decision.’

  Stella had rehearsed this argument with her sister many times so knew her lines. ‘Yes, but I’d be living rent-free and I could change my life, probably for the better. I could work part-time as a supply teacher and study something at the same time.’

  ‘What would you study?’

  ‘Not sure. But it could be anything! Imagine!’ She found the prospect hugely exciting. Her teaching job in London had been brilliant, but exhausting and stressful. She wanted a change of lifestyle, and her father’s death could give her the opportunity to make this happen.

  ‘You’re obviously someone who embraces change.’

  ‘I think I am. Now,’ she went on, feeling it was his turn to be questioned, ‘are you spending Christmas with your mother?’

  ‘I am. I’m cooking lunch and then I’ll collect her and bring her home for the meal.’

  ‘Will she mind going home and then having to leave again?’ Stella could imagine this might be hard.

  ‘I don’t think so. I hope not. She’s very pragmatic and, as I said, her cottage is very unsuitable for someone elderly – steep stairs and uneven floors. Besides, she has a great social life in the care home.’

  ‘That’s good then. So, are you living in your mother’s house?’

  He sighed. ‘Currently. My girlfriend doesn’t really like dogs. I’m going to have to rehome them soon, but it does break my heart.’

  Stella had been stroking Izzy’s head absent-mindedly, and was very glad she didn’t have to make Fitz’s decision. ‘But if it was a good home? After all, you did put your mother in a care home.’

  ‘She made that decision herself. Being human has its advantages. No, what’s really worrying me is them being separated. Tris and Izzy are so close, and as far as we know they haven’t had a great life, but they have always had each other. But who would want two of these beasts?’ He sounded wistful.

  ‘Would you keep them if your girlfriend did like dogs?’ A small, ridiculous part of her was saddened by the mention of a girlfriend. She wasn’t sure why.

  ‘Oh yes. They’re awful but I do love them.’

  ‘Where are you based?’

  ‘Bristol. I could commute easily enough from here into work but … I don’t know. I’m going to try and work out what to do over Christmas, while I’m here. My girlfriend is coming up the day after Boxing Day. She may come round to the dogs, if they behave themselves. And I’ll have to discuss it with my mother.’

  ‘Well, if your girlfriend doesn’t fall in love with them, I’m sure someone will want them. They’re young; they will be trainable.’

  ‘You’re a woman of great faith, I can see that,’ said Fitz.

  Stella let the comfortable silence settle around them as she left Fitz to muse. Eventually she said, ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? We’re complete strangers and yet we’re telling each other all about our lives in a way we never would if we, say, worked together.’

  ‘It’s like people you meet on trains.’ He paused. ‘While we’re over-sharing, can I ask, have you got a boyfriend? Just so I can get the full picture.’

  ‘If I stay in London I have a boyfriend, not if I move down here.’ Stella thought about Piers, and their relationship that was hanging in the balance. The last time they’d spoken they’d decided to take a break while Stella spent Christmas in the cottage working things out. Piers had lots of good points, but he didn’t want to settle down yet. And while Stella wasn’t sure where she wanted to settle, she knew that she was ready in principle.

  ‘How could anyone not want to live here?’ Fitz gestured to the view again, more of which had emerged as the light grew.

  ‘How could anyone not like dogs?’ said Stella.

  ‘Touché. Well, seeing that you’re such a fan of these two, would you consider coming and spending Christmas Day with us and my mother? She’s a very sociable soul and it would make Christmas so much better if it wasn’t just me—’

  ‘Her beloved son?’

  ‘—to talk to.’

  ‘It’s really kind of you—’

  ‘Please don’t say no! I know we’ve established we’re complete strangers and we’ve shared all our secrets and so should never see each other again, but we could do that after Christmas? We should do slightly mad things on Christmas Day.’

  ‘My sister considers sitting at home alone with a tin of Roses and a bottle of Prosecco quite mad enough.’

  ‘That’s not mad at all!’ he went on. ‘What’s mad is taking pity on a poor Irishman who’s cooking Christmas dinner for the first time ever!’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘For his poor old mother who’s in a care home!’

  She couldn’t help laughing. She was tempted. He’d made her laugh when she thought she’d only be crying.

  ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ he went on, obviously seeing her considering the idea.

  ‘How?’

  He thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘I’ll work out something. I’m very resourceful.’ He considered some more. ‘Think how warm and fuzzy you’ll feel if you sacrifice your solitary Christmas Day for a poor man and his widowed mother. Did I mention she was widowed?’

  ‘I had sort of assumed …’

  ‘So you’ll come? I’m not a bad cook on the whole. And I’ll do Yorkshire puddings? Come on now, you know you want to.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘The dogs would really like it if you came. You can tell how much they love you.’

  She couldn’t resist any longer, and she did love his dogs. ‘OK! I’ll come.’

  After they had exchanged contact details and discussed what she should bring as a contribution (a conversation which was
mainly ‘nothing, you’re doing me a favour’ followed by ‘I have to bring something! It’s Christmas’), Stella suddenly remembered.

  ‘Oh, before we go, there’s something I must do.’

  The little tin dog was a bit more out of shape than it had been but Stella bent it back again as best she could.

  ‘Did your father make that?’

  ‘He did. He was aiming for a generic dog, rather than a particular breed of dog. The fact that it’s recognisably canine was good enough for him.’

  Fitz laughed. ‘I think I would have liked your father.’

  ‘He would have liked you.’ Piers, her current boyfriend, had met her father once and her father had done his best but they hadn’t really hit it off.

  ‘So are you going to tie it on then?’ Fitz went on more gently.

  ‘Yes.’

  Tris and Izzy made it quite difficult, wanting to get their noses into what she was doing, but at last the decoration was securely attached.

  ‘It looks grand there, doesn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘It does. I should have brought some dog food really, for the animal sanctuary, but there’s only dry food at home and I didn’t have anything watertight to put it in. I’ll buy something and bring it another time.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve got some tins of food that came with the dogs. It gives them terrible diarrhoea.’ He seemed quite pleased about this.

  Stella made a face. ‘That’s a kind and generous gesture at Christmas.’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, it won’t give all dogs diarrhoea! It’s a premium brand.’

  She tried not to smile. He shouldn’t be encouraged in his flippancy, which reminded her a bit of his dogs. ‘I’ll be getting home now. I’ve got to bake something to bring with me or it wouldn’t be a proper Christmas visit.’

  But she started to smile as she walked home. Although the prospect of a Christmas Day on her own had been fine – pleasant, even – the thought of spending it with an attractive man, his jolly-sounding mother and his adorable, if very naughty, dogs was better than pleasant.

  She’d made a batch of Welsh cakes (quick and sort of festive because they included dried fruit) and was about to have a shower when her sister rang. As she was feeling pleasantly Christmassy she answered enthusiastically.

  ‘Hey, Annabel! How are you? Happy Christmas!’

  ‘Stella? You’re sounding over-excited. You haven’t opened the Prosecco already? It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning and when you’re on your own …’

  Stella’s mood deflated almost instantly. Her sister obviously predicted a life of alcoholism and lonely spinsterhood for her. ‘I know what time it is, and no, I haven’t opened anything.’

  ‘Sorry. It’s just you sounded a bit – bubbly.’

  ‘Natural bubbles only, I assure you,’ said Stella, beginning to feel pleased with herself. ‘I’ve been for a walk, made some Welsh cakes and, more importantly, got myself an invitation for Christmas lunch!’ That’ll show her sister that she was perfectly capable of starting a new life on her own.

  ‘Aw! Nice!’ Annabel was pleased, Stella could tell. ‘Is it with Dad’s old neighbours? They’re a lovely couple!’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Or that nice family with children? Down the hill a bit?’

  ‘Not them either, but it’s lovely there are so many good people just near me, should I decide to live here.’

  ‘So, who are you having Christmas with?’

  ‘A really nice man I met on the common—’

  All trace of Christmas spirit left her sister’s voice as she rattled off questions. ‘What? Are you mad? You’re thinking about spending Christmas with a man you met on the common?’

  ‘Yes,’ Stella said slowly. ‘The common is just the name for a bit of land. It doesn’t mean the people on it are common, in Mummy’s use of the word.’

  Annabel took a couple of moments to take this in. ‘Don’t be silly, Stella! You know perfectly well what I mean. You can’t go and have Christmas with a perfect stranger. It wouldn’t be safe!’

  ‘His mother is coming. She’s in a care home. He’s fetching her and cooking her Christmas dinner. She’s a widow,’ she added for effect, as Fitz had done.

  ‘That’s just some story he’s told you! Don’t do it. Have some sense for once in your life.’

  ‘Listen, I’m taking the car. I won’t drink. If it’s dodgy, I’ll just leave!’

  ‘You won’t mean to drink, but you will and then you’ll have to stay …’

  ‘I could walk home! In fact I might leave the car there—’

  ‘Stella! You’ve got to promise me you won’t go!’

  ‘Annabel! Why are you being so unreasonable about this? You went ballistic when I said I was having Christmas on my own and now you’re going ballistic because I’m not!’

  ‘If you were having Christmas with someone sensible, instead of some random man you know nothing about, I’d be delighted!’

  ‘I know lots about him. We bonded by the Dog Walkers’ Christmas Tree.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ There was noise in the background. ‘God! Bloody Christmas! Apparently the turkey won’t fit in the oven. Can’t stay chatting. Just promise me you’ll ring and cancel?’ Then she disconnected.

  While Stella certainly hadn’t promised she’d cancel she did feel a bit thrown by the call. Was she mad to have Christmas with someone she’d met in – fair play to Annabel – a very random way? She felt a bit depressed by the thought, and wondered if her sister was right and she’d be better off staying at home and eating the Welsh cakes herself. She decided that Annabel was right, and picked up her phone to look for Fitz’s details. Just as she found them her phone rang, vibrating in her hand. It made her jump and she dropped it. It was Fitz.

  ‘Oh thank God you’re there and haven’t run off!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know who else to call! There’s been a disaster.’

  All thoughts of cancelling went out of her head. He obviously needed help. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Those bastard dogs! Scuse my language. They’ve trashed the place. I need a hand clearing up. I can’t have my mother coming here and seeing it destroyed. It would break her heart.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Can you just come over? You’ll see soon enough and I don’t want to lose a second trying to clear it up. There isn’t much time.’

  He sounded really desperate and Stella packed up her Welsh cakes and the bottle of wine (she left the Prosecco: Fitz didn’t seem a Prosecco sort of guy and she wasn’t planning to drink) and then, as an afterthought, a pair of rubber gloves and some cleaning products. She had quite a lot because her father’s house had taken a fair bit of sorting out after he died.

  ‘That was quick!’ said Fitz the moment he opened the door.

  ‘It’s really near. Now show me what’s happened!’

  He showed her into a small but pretty sitting room that led off the little hallway. It took Stella a few seconds to work out what the problem was. Nothing was ripped to shreds (which she’d been dreading and expecting) but everything, from the sofa covers to the walls, to the rug to the cushions, was covered in mud.

  ‘I went upstairs to a spare bedroom to stuff the turkey,’ Fitz explained. ‘It’s only a little bird but the dogs are terrible for jumping up when I’m preparing food. So I shut them in the kitchen, then I heard a bit of noise and came down to this.’

  ‘But how? This much mud? How did they do this? And where are they now?’

  ‘On the way back from our walk they got into my neighbour’s pond and it’s full of mud. I thought I’d shut them into the kitchen until I could unlock the shed and put them in there but I didn’t close the door properly, et voilà.’ Fitz gestured despairingly with his hands. ‘I’ve shut them in the shed now that the horse has bolted, so to speak. I’ve hosed them off and it’s freezing out there but I have to get this cleared up before my mother sees it.’

  As she looked, Stella took i
n the extent of the devastation. It seemed that having covered themselves in the contents of the neighbour’s pond, the dogs had taken it upon themselves to spread the mud over every surface. It was like an art installation.

  But her heart went out to the artists concerned. They were only young. ‘You can’t leave the dogs wet and cold in the shed. They’ll freeze to death. You go and dry them while I think how we should tackle this.’

  ‘I love that you said “we” just then. We hardly know each other but we’re already a team.’ There was a warmth in his brown eyes that made her heart do a little flip.

  But she couldn’t encourage it. He had a girlfriend and she sort of had a boyfriend herself. ‘Off you go!’

  While her father’s house had needed cleaning – and it had been a labour of love – the dirt had only showed when you cleaned a bit and saw the contrast. This was all fresh mud and it looked terrible. She started on the two little sofas and an armchair. Tris and Izzy had obviously rolled around on all of them. She pulled off all the covers she could remove and bundled them up. There might or might not be a washing machine but there’d be a launderette at least. Then she went into the galley kitchen and found a bucket and a scrubbing brush. If she was going to really clean this place, she’d need hot water and lots of it.

  Fitz came back into the house. ‘Well, they’re drier now. I’ll put their beds in the shed for the time being. How are you getting on?’

  ‘What time were you due to pick up your mother?’

  ‘In about an hour. It takes half an hour to get there.’

  ‘So we’ve got a hour and a half?’

  He paused. ‘Do you think we can do it?’

  ‘Honestly? Not really. But I’ll do my best. Unless …’ Thinking about cleaning her father’s house had given her an idea. ‘Unless we go to my house instead? What would your mother think about that?’

  He didn’t rush into his conclusion. ‘Well, they are her mad dogs; it was them that made the mess. And if she thought I’d met a nice girl on the common who’d invited us for Christmas, she’d be delighted.’ He paused. ‘We won’t be able to stay for long though, because of the dogs. They’re too young to be left for more than a couple of hours, at the most.’