The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  Ella beamed at Bill as she opened the tin. Mia, who was obviously very tired, was now happy that Father Christmas would enjoy his snack.

  ‘And there are some jam tarts if any of you don’t like mincemeat,’ said Ella. Everyone looked at her as if she were mad. ‘Oh, just me then,’ she said.

  Eventually everyone had their teeth more or less brushed and was in bed. Ella sank on to the sofa and closed her eyes.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ said Brent. ‘Let me walk you home.’

  Ella shook her head, her eyes still shut. ‘Nuh-uh. I can’t go home until I’ve done a little favour for Father Christmas. He’s so busy at this time of year I like to help out when I can. But everyone has to be asleep first.’

  Brent laughed. ‘Well then, let’s share a dram and sit by the log burner.’

  He got up to get the whisky but when he came back, Ella was on the verge of sleep. ‘You just have a wee nap then,’ he said. ‘I’ll check on the kids and tell you if it’s safe to go up a bit later.’

  ‘Thank you,’ mumbled Ella.

  ‘I think you could go up now,’ said Brent softly.

  Ella woke up. ‘That was the most heavenly power nap I have ever had,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. You must have thought me dreadfully rude.’

  ‘For not making polite conversation until midnight?’

  ‘Is it that late? Golly, those kids have got stamina. Remind me never to go clubbing with them.’

  ‘I definitely will remind you.’ He was smiling. ‘Now you go up and do your thing. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me. When do you usually open presents? First thing? After breakfast?’ She didn’t imagine they’d wait too long.

  ‘After lunch,’ said Brent.

  ‘After lunch?’ Ella was astounded. ‘Amazing!’

  ‘When Jenny and I were little we had to wait until after tea!’ said Brent. ‘But we ate the turkey at about six, so we didn’t have that to go through first.’

  ‘Poor little children!’ said Ella. ‘I’ll make sure we’re not a second late getting the meal on the table.’

  When Ella had laid each carefully labelled and extremely fat stocking on the appropriate bed and come back down, she took the glass Brent offered her. ‘This is nice,’ she said, having taken a sip.

  ‘It’s a single malt from just across the way in Jura,’ said Brent. ‘Did you have to buy all the things for the stockings?’

  ‘No, only a few little fillers and the chocolate oranges. Jenny did it all and had it Fedexed to me, with the actual stockings. She put each one’s presents in a labelled bag.’ She took another sip of the drink that felt like liquid gold, filling her with power, as if it were a magic potion. ‘There were a few little mix-ups – not sure Bill would have really appreciated Frozen bubble bath!’

  ‘Not at this time of year, anyway,’ said Brent.

  Ella laughed. ‘Now I must be off. What time do you want me in the morning? And what time do you want your Christmas dinner? Please don’t say one o’clock sharp!’

  ‘Oh no. We never seem to get round to the turkey until about three. I’ll do breakfast, but then we need you quite early.’

  She laughed. ‘You won’t need me when you’re all opening stockings and things.’

  ‘I’ll need you when I want to open the champagne, which will be about ten.’

  ‘Not Buck’s Fizz? I’m sure Jenny said you had Buck’s Fizz.’

  ‘I never add orange juice to champagne. I avoid extra calories when I can.’

  Ella punched him gently on the arm and went to find her coat.

  Ella arrived just before ten o’clock. There was a fair amount of hilarity and jolliness going on but Ella made a point of giving Mia a hug.

  ‘Good stockings? Father Christmas come up trumps?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh yes. He knows what we all like,’ said Mia.

  ‘And the others? Did they have things they liked?’

  ‘Uncle Brent’s stocking was a bit random,’ Mia said, frowning slightly. ‘But he really liked getting one.’

  Ella suppressed a chuckle. Doing a stocking for Brent had been a fairly last-minute decision. It included a caricature she had done of him from memory, on the back of a postcard. He’ll know it’s from me, she thought, but then realised he was unlikely to think it really was from Father Christmas – not at his age.

  ‘I’ve got to get this turkey crown into the oven fairly soon, so, since you don’t do presents until after lunch, I suggest you all go for a walk on the beach or somewhere, work up an appetite, while I do the sprouts and potatoes.’

  The family, coincidentally standing in height order, with Brent at one end and Mia at the other, stared at her as if she had just announced she was the Queen of England and was about to give them all knighthoods.

  ‘I don’t think so!’ said Judith.

  Mia shook her head, sad that Ella could have said something so stupid.

  ‘Not how we do things,’ said Bill.

  ‘We’ll all go for a walk,’ said Brent firmly, ‘then come back here for drinks and veg prep.’

  ‘When we were little,’ said Mia, who at seven was obviously very grown up, ‘we were allowed one big present before lunch.’

  ‘But we’re not going out and leaving you with all the work,’ said Judith. ‘You’ve been so kind to us all!’

  ‘That’s you told then,’ said Brent, smiling down at her.

  Inside, Ella was delighted, but as the Christmas Fairy she felt she should protest. ‘But the turkey crown doesn’t need to go in until eleven, not if you want to eat at three. It would mean hanging about a bit until then.’

  ‘We can start the veg now,’ said Judith.

  ‘And the drinking,’ said Bill. ‘I’m allowed a beer on Christmas Day, and some wine if I’m sensible.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ella, seeing she was outnumbered, ‘but I suggest you all open one big present to keep you amused while I cook.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ said Mia. ‘I know just which one I’m going to choose.’

  ‘We’re all going to help!’ said Judith. ‘I thought we explained.’

  ‘All right!’ said Ella. ‘If we’re all chopping and peeling and putting little crosses in the bottom of the sprouts – if that’s your tradition – shall we have some music on while we do it? We can have a singalong. I brought my iPod. It’s got a good Christmas compilation on there.’

  ‘Christmas carols?’ asked Bill.

  Ella couldn’t tell from his expression if he wanted to sing carols or not. ‘Some carols, some nice folky things you might know and, of course, Wizzard and all those Christmas favourites.’

  ‘Cool!’ said Brent. ‘Now, I’m in charge of drinks. Ella, what do you want? Champagne? Whisky punch? A cocktail?’

  ‘So can we open a present now?’ said Mia, the moment she’d been given sparkling apple juice in a champagne flute.

  ‘Of course!’ said Ella.

  ‘Have you got presents, Ella?’ asked Judith, concerned.

  ‘I did bring one present with me,’ she said.

  ‘Are you going to open it?’ said Mia, obviously feeling embarrassed that she was so much keener to rip off wrapping paper than anyone else seemed to be.

  ‘Sure am! Can’t wait!’ said Ella.

  She knew what was in the William Morris wrapping paper her mother favoured. It was a vastly expensive, long cashmere cardi. While on the surface her mother had been very grown up about Ella spending Christmas away from home, she had become sentimental at the last minute. ‘I want to give you a virtual hug!’ she had emailed, with a link to a website so grand it had ‘Lord’ as a title option when you ordered. ‘Tell me what colour you’d like.’ Ella had gone for Dragonfly, a wonderful zingy blue that made her think of summer.

  It was half past two, the turkey crown had been tested and declared cooked, and was now resting in a Christmas parcel of its own, consisting of foil and as many towels and tea towels as Ella thought they could spare. The roa
st potatoes and – randomly – the Yorkshire puddings (Ella had not been prepared for this but fortunately found a bun tin that would do) were getting their final browning. The gravy was perfect, so delicious that Brent had declared he’d be happy to have only that and the roast potatoes for his festive meal.

  Ella had agreed, and just for a moment allowed herself to dream of a time when it could be only Brent and her, about to sit down and eat together. She banished the thought firmly. They would never see each other again after this Christmas, and on the day after Boxing Day they would say goodbye forever.

  Now, Judith was playing the violin (either to herself or to her family, Ella couldn’t tell from the kitchen), and everyone seemed content. She was just putting the finishing touches to the table. She was wearing her wonderful cardigan, having had a slightly teary telephone conversation with her mother, thanking her for it, and Christmas was going perfectly.

  Ella tested the lighting, making sure there were enough fairy lights wound round things on the table so people could still see to eat if the main lights went off, and yes, they definitely could.

  She was peeping into the oven to check things for brownness when she heard a commotion.

  She went into the hall and saw the front door was open. There was a car and a very smart couple hugging Mia and Judith while Bill bounced up and down on the periphery. It didn’t take a Christmas Fairy to realise it was Jenny and her husband. They must have somehow managed to sort out the emergency with his parents and got up to Scotland to join their children on Christmas Day.

  Ella’s feelings were desperately confused. It was a magical thing to have happened. Little Mia would be so thrilled to have her mummy and daddy there for Christmas Day and the other two would be pretty delighted as well. Brent would be relieved to have the responsibility of looking after his nieces and nephew taken away. Everyone could relax. Christmas would be ‘proper’.

  She should be pleased too. She’d done a good job. She should go out now and let herself be thanked for all her magic. But then what? She didn’t really have a place here any more. She’d have to go back to her little room at Rebecca’s, and only after she’d said goodbye to everyone and probably cried. (She’d had enough champagne to make this a serious anxiety.)

  She made a decision. Even as she acted on it she knew it was impulsive, but it seemed like the only thing to do.

  First she squashed another place setting on to the table. It wasn’t easy as the holiday home didn’t have quite enough knives and forks and spoons for everyone to have all three, but after a bit of fiddling she managed it.

  Then she took the wonderfully brown roast potatoes and the beautifully risen (not a given) Yorkshire puddings out of the oven and put them on the side. She wrote a quick note saying ‘Goodbye and love from the Christmas Fairy’, added a funny doodle so they wouldn’t go hunting for her, and then she retrieved her boots and outer layers and her rucksack from the utility room and went out through the back door. And all before the joyous reunion was over.

  She had intended to go back to her room but she was worried someone in Rebecca and James’s house would see her. She’d be drawn into their celebrations and she didn’t want that. Unusually for her, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. When she came to the turn in the road, instead of going home, she set off for the beach. A good stride out would help her clear her thoughts and get the champagne out of her veins.

  It was unlikely she’d see Brent or the children again. And while she did really like the children it was the thought of Brent disappearing from her life that was tearing her heart in two.

  The fact that she was quite pretty and had a friendly, outgoing personality meant that Ella was never short of boyfriends. But her heart was rarely engaged. And something about Brent had disturbed this happy state.

  As she walked, Ella tried to work out why. While he was pleasant-looking, he wasn’t ‘drop dead gorgeous’. He was kind, to her and to his nieces and nephew, but lots of people were kind. He also made her laugh, but she had a lively sense of humour and laughed easily. There was something more, a connection, that she couldn’t put her finger on, that made the thought of not seeing him again seem so sad.

  She had nearly reached the beach, having walked along the road, looking at the distant hills, undisturbed by any passing traffic, listening to the seabirds, when she came up with a partial reason.

  They’d only spent a couple of days together, but he seemed to understand her, to see beyond the superficial, entertaining façade she kept up most of the time. He’d gone straight to the crux of her Christmas Fairy invention – her non-existent acting career – and made her realise that after Christmas it would perhaps be time to reconsider her options. He respected her abilities; he made her feel she was worthwhile, more than just one of life’s ornaments. She could be herself with him.

  She stepped on to the beach just as she heard a car; she was glad to be out of the way. The car was probably off visiting a relative, or taking a relative home, or going to fetch some forgotten present. She felt very alone, very far from home and so sorry for herself, she almost shed an actual tear of self-pity.

  She found a rock to sit on and pulled her rucksack off her back. She would do a sketch of the beach. It would remind her of a happy time although tears began to fall as she drew. She wiped her eyes and cursed the champagne.

  ‘Hey,’ said a male voice. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’

  It was Brent.

  ‘Why?’ she demanded and then realised she’d sounded a bit rude. She managed a smile.

  ‘Because I couldn’t find you anywhere else,’ said Brent. ‘Why did you run away?’

  She shrugged. ‘You know why. My work was done; I was surplus to requirements.’ She paused. ‘And there wasn’t room for me round the table.’

  He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. ‘There’s always room for the Christmas Fairy.’

  ‘Only on top of the Christmas tree,’ she said into his coat, loving the feeling of his arms around her.

  ‘Well, there’s not room for me round the table either. You stay here, I’m going back to tell everyone you’re fine, then we’ll have our own Christmas dinner. I’ll bring the makings and we can have a fire.’

  When he had gone, Ella felt there was no reason why she should wait until he got back for the fire. There was plenty of driftwood and she had paper, matches and even firelighters in her backpack. She set to.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve got a fire going already!’ said Brent a little later.

  Ella shrugged, hardly able to keep the smile off her face. ‘I am the Christmas Fairy! What do you expect?’

  ‘I’ll have to rename you the Firelighting Fairy, but I’m not without skills myself.’

  He sat down on the rock next to her, took off his own backpack and took out some foil-wrapped parcels. ‘Here’s some turkey, sausages, stuffing, all the lovely things you made.’ He brought out another parcel. ‘Here’s a baguette from actual France. Hope you’re impressed. Some amazing cheese, ditto, bottle of fizz, bottle of red in case you’re fed up with fizz, and some truffles, also from France.’

  ‘Did Jenny think I was terribly rude, just running off like that?’ said Ella, guilt washing over her.

  ‘I think she understood and was so pleased to be able to be with her family she didn’t really care. And with us gone, they can at least fit round the table.’

  ‘I do feel a bit bad, but really it was time for them to be together as a family.’

  ‘And they are all so excited about it! Nothing like a bit of absence to make people appreciate family life.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Now, fizz or red?’

  Ella thought about it. Champagne did make her emotional and she was already emotional enough, but the thought of sitting on this beautiful beach, with the man she loved, on Christmas Day, made the decision for her. ‘Champagne, I think.’

  ‘I’ll open the bottle,’ said Brent, and then frowned. ‘Um, you don’t happen to
have anything to drink out of in that magic bag, do you? I meant to bring glasses but forgot.’

  ‘Plastic beakers aren’t quite the same as crystal champagne flutes,’ she said, handing him a couple, ‘but they’ll do the job.’

  ‘I think they’re a vast improvement on crystal champagne flutes,’ said Brent.

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘It means I’m on a beach, with you, which is very special. Now,’ he moved on quickly, ‘food. I didn’t bring a knife – are you surprised? – so we’ll have to just tear things. Shall I make you a sandwich?’

  Ella did have a knife but decided not to mention it. She wanted to watch him tear things.

  He put his arm round her for warmth, and they huddled together, by the fire, eating chunks of bread and turkey, sausages, stuffing and even a few sprouts. (‘Otherwise it’s not really Christmas,’ Brent had insisted.)

  ‘I think that was the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had,’ said Ella, wiping her greasy fingers on her jeans.

  ‘I’m certainly never going to drink champagne out of anything but plastic beakers from now on,’ said Brent, also wiping his greasy fingers on her jeans.

  ‘Hey!’ she objected, catching his hand.

  He caught her hand in return. ‘Cold little fingers.’

  Seeing her fingers in his big, protective hand made her stomach lurch. Along with desire and happiness came a surge of melancholy.

  ‘Have we finished the fizz?’ she said, taking her hand back.

  ‘’Fraid so. Shall we open the red?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ella. ‘It’s Christmas.’

  ‘Thank God it’s a screw top,’ he said, having found the bottle, ‘or we’d have been screwed, so to speak.’

  Ella rolled her eyes. ‘You think the Christmas Fairy doesn’t have a corkscrew with her at all times?’

  ‘You!’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I brought Jenny’s present for you.’ He produced a package wrapped in silver tissue paper, with curly ribbons and a beautiful sticker shaped like a unicorn.