The Christmas Spirit

by Susan Buchanan

  Just then the letterbox rattled and a thud heralded the arrival of the morning’s mail. Stanley shuffled off to retrieve it. His arthritis was getting worse, he noticed, as he sat at the table and opened the letters with difficulty. Quarterly gas bill. He hadn’t received his winter fuel payment yet. He gasped when he saw the total. Could it really be that much? He was always so careful and only ever had one radiator on in the house. Sighing, Stanley decided he’d have to economise more for the next few months, both on fuel and on other essentials. He wondered if he was eligible for any other benefits. You always heard on TV of millions of pounds in unclaimed benefits because few people knew they were entitled to them. Perhaps it would be worth a trip to the Department of Work and Pensions to find out. He couldn’t phone them as he couldn’t hear very well on the phone, even with his two hearing aids and the special phone with hearing assistance. Then there were all those confusing menus to get through. Why couldn’t a real person just answer the phone on the other end? And they were always in such a hurry to get you off the phone.

  Setting the bill aside for a moment, Stanley picked up the remaining letters. A Christmas card, with a gold bauble on the front and a frosted finish. Glitter came away on his hands; a lovely card.

  To Stanley from John and Maureen, Merry Christmas. A lump formed in Stanley’s throat. That’s how it would be from now on. To Stanley; not to Stanley and Edie, or Edie and Stanley, but Stanley - just Stanley - alone. Stanley wiped away a tear which had come unbidden to his eye. He turned his attention to the last letter and on opening it was met with a robin perched on a gate, snow all around him; a cottage featuring a roaring log fire in the background. To Edie and Stanley, Love at Christmas Elizabeth and Robert.

  Stanley couldn’t work out what was worse, for Edie to have been eradicated altogether from the previous card and her absence made all the more notable, or for someone not to have been informed of his wife’s passing. Elizabeth and Robert, from Calgary; friends of friends. He would have to find their address and write to them, send them a card, but also somehow mention the fact that Edie was no longer with them, save them getting it wrong next year. Possibly they would be embarrassed, but best to set the record straight and hopefully Stanley wouldn’t receive a card next year still addressed to his much-loved but now departed wife.

  It had felt liberating to be so strong when confronted with Ethan for a change. Rebecca had felt a sense of pride at standing up for herself, although when she had got back to her car the night before, her legs were shaking and she was glad to be able to drop into the driver’s seat before they gave way. This new sense of empowerment was short-lived, however, as the harsh reality that was spending Christmas without a partner reared its head again.

  Everywhere she looked there was Christmas. Every second house now had its Christmas lights on. For her part, buying a Christmas tree was the furthest thing from her mind. She and Ethan had always done that as a couple; a key part of the Christmas proceedings. They even decorated it together. He was the only man she knew who wasn’t a parent, who enjoyed such things. How could their relationship change so quickly? She still didn’t know what had gone wrong. What was clear to her now, though, was that they weren’t meant for each other. The coldness he had displayed towards her the night before, the fact that he could instil such anger in her, usually such a placid person, told her that. But it didn’t make spending Christmas without a boyfriend any more palatable. There were parties to go to, relatives to field questions from about the breakup, new arrangements to make for Christmas Day. Hannah had already said she could spend Christmas with her and Rebecca would have preferred to, but her mother had insisted she come to them. She would be pitied and fussed over, loved really, but sometimes you just needed space. She could have had that with Hannah, both of them single and in similar circumstances, well sort of, Hannah hadn’t just been dumped. Instead she’d have to endure twenty questions from her mother, who was a big Ethan fan, although ultimately her loyalties lay with her daughter, or so Rebecca hoped.

  As she walked through the supermarket, Rebecca tried to avoid any Christmas related areas, but even the wine aisle had seasonal offers. Items on her shopping list weren’t in their usual place, as products had been re-jigged to accommodate all the Christmas stock. Where she’d usually find the gravy granules was now home to selection boxes and tins of Quality Street and Roses; the latter one of the key reasons half the country had to diet in January, with office staff gorging themselves throughout December on chocolate from well-meaning bosses and clients. She had fancied grilled halloumi for dinner, but was having difficulty finding the Cypriot cheese amongst the array of selected specially for Christmas cheese boards and other cheese gifts. Since she was here, maybe she could get one of those for Christmas Day; her way of contributing to the Christmas meal. Her mother would never accept money from her and would be horrified if she offered. Their home was still her home, even though she hadn’t lived in it for five years.

  The cosmetics aisle played host to a giddy assortment of bath sets and bubble baths, body scrubs and bath crèmes, in brightly coloured packaging, festooned with ribbons and lace. All Rebecca wanted was a bottle of moisturiser, but she was foiled once again. Where had they put the damned moisturisers?

  And to cap it all off, the supermarket was playing Wizzard’s Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day. Even that couldn’t lift her spirits. Rebecca wasn’t looking forward to Christmas this year, not one bit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  11th December

  The more clement weather meant that those who had stayed tucked up indoors now ventured out. A light drizzle was still falling but the snow had melted, leaving behind only clumps of brown slush here and there. The relief of it being once again above zero degrees was almost palpable.

  As a result the bakery was swamped. Both Jacob and Natalie had been rushed off their feet all morning. Since she checked the forecast every night, Natalie had anticipated they might be busier and had come in even earlier that morning to start whipping up her creations. They’d already sold out of that day’s Christmas special – mouth-watering cupcakes, emblazoned with tiny Christmas trees, robins, presents and carol singers. Jacob had remarked wryly that they were going like hot cakes. Natalie had groaned at him. She put batch after batch in the oven, but still she couldn’t keep up. Eventually she decided not to try, as she wanted to ensure they could sell the rest of the day’s stock. She would make more the next day.

  The Christmas tree, which she had expected to be delivered yesterday, arrived only today, amid much apologising by the garden centre. A mix up with labels had meant it had been sent to someone else before they noticed their mistake. They would give it to her for half price because of the inconvenience. Natalie accepted and thanked them. She would get around to putting it up later.

  Things calmed down a little around three o’clock, and Jacob and Natalie decided to take a break.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of tea before we do anything else,’ Natalie suggested, ‘I’m going to dress the tree shortly. Do you want to help?’

  ‘I don’t really know much about putting up a tree, but I’ll do what I can,’ Jacob said, although really he meant he would put the fairy or angel or star at the top. He didn’t really expect Natalie to need his opinion on much else, but Natalie had other ideas.

  ‘I think this is the best spot, don’t you?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Jacob said, noncommittally.

  ‘Right, have a rummage through those baubles there and take out five you like.’

  ‘I’m not really a bauble kind of person. I don’t know anything about them.’

  ‘Trust me, everyone’s a bauble person. Go on, what have you got to lose?’

  Reluctantly Jacob delved into the bag and discovered that it was full of lots of individual boxes. He took one out; it looked very unusual, then he saw it was made of wood. Opening it, he pulled out a glass heart; it was pretty heavy.

  ‘This is really nice,’ he turned to Natalie, weighing
it in his hand.

  ‘Ah, the Kiev heart. Did you know that Ukrainians celebrate Christmas on 7th January, but they decorate their Christmas trees on the 6th?’

  Admitting his ignorance on the subject, Jacob stuck his hand into the bag once more. Another box, this time a miniature glass Christmas tree, and so it went on, with Natalie explaining the history behind each one.

  Jacob had shown a genuine interest in decorating the tree when it became clear that Natalie viewed doing so with such reverence and had gone to painstaking lengths to ensure that the tree was spectacular. And all this just for a tree for the bakery. Jacob wavered between mystified and impressed.

  Just as he passed the last bauble to Natalie, his mobile rang. ‘Back in a sec,’ he said, heading through the back to take his phone out of his winter jacket. The screen flashed at him as he picked it up, Tabitha.

  ‘Hey, sis, how you doing?’ His voice was warm and the depth of affection for Tabitha obvious.

  He listened to her and then said, ‘Really? Of course you can come for Christmas. Stay as long as you want. I can’t believe it!’

  Tabitha continued to give him details and it transpired that she wanted to come the following day. Jacob was delighted.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Natalie asked when he returned to the task of decorating the tree, after first serving a customer who had come in for a Chai latte, only to be told they didn’t have them, and who chose a skinny decaf latte instead, and was tempted into a piece of nougat, too.

  ‘More than OK,’ Jacob grinned. ‘My sister’s coming for Christmas. Actually, she’s coming tomorrow and staying right through Christmas.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m not surprised you look like the cat who got the cream,’ Natalie smiled at him. ‘There, what do you think of the tree?’

  Jacob stood back and admired it: the amazing baubles, no tinsel and the white fairy lights; it glowed in an almost otherworldly fashion. What was he like? His good news had made him go soft in the head, he thought. ‘It looks fantastic, very Christmassy.’

  ‘Perfect, exactly the desired effect. The garden centre had them at such a good price and the trees there really are lovely, not the sad specimens some of these cowboys try to pass off at full price which barely last until Christmas.’

  Jacob nodded his agreement. Yes, he’d seen some scrawny Christmas trees come Christmas Day, too. Perhaps that’s why some people only bought theirs during Christmas week.

  As they closed up the bakery and said goodnight, Jacob walked home happier than he had felt in a long time. Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  On the other side of town, Stanley had had a great day, his third at the club. Not only had he made some new friends, both male and female, but he liked the ambiance, the staff and the camaraderie. He looked forward to the days when he would be going to the club and knowing he had a busier schedule meant he felt more content being at home, pottering around, doing the occasional bits and pieces of housework, or watching telly, on the days he wasn’t at the club.

  He hadn’t been into the bakery for a few days. He’d need to go and try some of their Christmas cakes. Word was that the new woman, Natalie, was doing a different Christmas cake every day; so one of his cronies at the club had told him.

  Today he’d played dominoes and won, a first for him in a long time. Edie hadn’t much liked playing dominoes. Lunch had been good, too: pea and ham soup followed by chicken and bacon parcels with roast potatoes, gravy, and baby carrots. At this time of year and especially when the temperatures were so low, having a hot meal prepared for him made all the difference. He’d never had to think about it before; Edie had done all the cooking. Oh, how he missed her. He talked to her over their cups of tea, telling her all about the new people he was meeting and how she would have liked them. He’d enjoyed a lively debate about the latest news items, and the members of the club had been divided over certain issues. But there was no hostility - it was all in good fun and everyone seemed nice and relaxed. He was glad to have found the club and could no longer imagine how he had got through the days before going there.

  There had been much talk of Christmas, and Cathy and a few other women who ran the club, had been decorating the rooms for them whilst they had lunch. Stanley wouldn’t be getting a tree this year. What was the point? Who would see it? And what was he going to do, put a present to himself under it? No, far better not to have the hassle when there was only himself to think about. His gifts from his grandson usually arrived sometime between Christmas and New Year, occasionally even after New Year, depending on the postal services. Christmas was the worst time of year to send gifts abroad. They took an age to reach the recipient, arrived damaged or not at all. He would have to start thinking about his grandson’s gift. Edie dealt with all of that, usually. He had no idea what to buy. He had heard someone mention last postal dates, though, and he had the impression that he had missed it. Oh well, like everything else the gifts would arrive late. He really must put some thought into what Thomas would like.

  The high point of the day, though, was that he had been invited to the pub the following night. The pub! He hadn’t been to a pub in about fifteen years. Edie wasn’t much of a drinker and he’d either lost touch with his drinking buddies or they had died. When you got to his age, he thought, it really was that simple, sad but true. So, he was looking forward to going to Corrigans the following evening, with a few of his new pals from the club. What did you wear to the pub these days, he wondered? Would a dress jacket over a shirt and tie be too formal? That’s what he liked to wear normally when he went out. Decisions, decisions.

  Chapter Fifteen

  12th December

  The bakery and café had been chock-a-block since they opened their doors. The first customers commented on the beautiful tree with its highly original decorations. A young mother had to stop her toddler from dismantling it, whilst a sheepish-looking young man just managed to stop his dog weeing on it. Customers continued to ask how Mrs Williams’ recovery was going, and for Natalie to pass on their regards to her. What a time of year to be laid up, they said. Poor thing. Natalie had gone over the books again the night before and felt pleased that the owner could hardly fail to be happy with the takings since her arrival. And so far she didn’t seem to have lost her any customers...on the contrary.

  It was difficult to say whether the tree was the hot discussion topic of the day, or that day’s Christmas cake special - torta negra de Navidad - a traditional Venezuelan Christmas cake, which didn’t originate in Venezuela, Natalie told those who asked about the recipe.

  Rushed off his feet all morning, Jacob didn’t notice Rebecca come in. She had gone to lay her coat and hat over a vacant chair, since there were few left. As she turned to come back to the counter, he shot her a huge smile. He was elated to see her and thought she looked even more beautiful than last time, despite her hair being a little mussed from the wind outside; her flushed cheeks only adding to her attractiveness. She was like a goddess, but seemed oblivious to how pretty she was. Fortunately he had stopped becoming tongue-tied when she was around. He made some small talk with her as he took her order, then told her he would bring it over.

  As Natalie cleared the tables, she also picked up the newspapers which were lying on various tables and put them back on their rack; all but one. Just then the bell tinkled, indicating someone entering the bakery. Sophie breezed in, a gust of wind closing the door behind her. Gathering the crockery and plates containing only a few cake crumbs - it would be almost blasphemous to leave a piece of cake here - Natalie headed towards the counter.

  ‘Good afternoon, Sophie, how are you?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks. You? Busy?’

  ‘Oh yes, this is it quiet,’ she indicated the still full bakery café. ‘And how’s your boss?’

  ‘Getting better, although she needs to take it easy; all going well she might be out tomorrow,’ Sophie said, as she tugged at a loose thread on her coat, glancing every now and then to her lef
t.

  Natalie followed her gaze and saw Jacob chatting to Rebecca, handing her a hot chocolate and a piece of Christmas cake.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said, thoughts whirring around inside her head. ‘So, are you staying for a bit today, or do you need to rush back?’

  After sneaking a peek at table two, Sophie said, ‘No, I really must get back. Things are pretty hectic. I’m barely keeping everything afloat. It’s just as well I’m so organised and in tune with Meredith’s ways and appointments, or we really would be in trouble. Maybe tomorrow.’

  ‘No problem. What are you having then?’

  Sophie opted for Natalie’s recommendation of the cake of the day and a skinny latte. As Sophie left the bakery, Natalie smiled to herself and thought, all in good time.

  Jacob returned to the counter and left Rebecca in peace to drink her hot chocolate.

  ‘You missed Sophie. She came in to update us on Meredith and get some things to take away.’

  ‘Really?’ Jacob looked crestfallen. ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘Sophie or Meredith?’ Natalie asked, trying not to smirk.

  ‘Erm, both,’ said Jacob, blinking rapidly.

  The corners of Natalie’s mouth twitched as she said, ‘All going well, Meredith will be out tomorrow, and Sophie’s frazzled, poor dear. She could do with a good night out, I think.’

  ‘Yes, she does have a lot on her plate,’ Jacob agreed, as he stacked the dishwasher and wiped the counter with a cloth.

  The newspaper which had been left on the table wasn’t one Rebecca would usually read, but she’d gone into her bag to take out her e-reader and then realised she had left it charging at home. Damn! Oh well, at least she could read the paper. She took a tentative sip of her hot chocolate, as steam was still rising from it. Mmm - lovely.