Christmas Medley, page 12
Contact Jen:
jenjsilver@yahoo.co.uk
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Visit her blog: https://jenjsilver.wordpress.com
Other books that Jen has written include:
Changing Perspectives
Running From Love
Christmas at Winterbourne
The Circle Dance
Starting Over
Arc Over Time
Carved in Stone
Short stories:
There Was a Time
The Christmas Sweepstake (Affinity’s 2014 Christmas Collection)
Beltane in Space (It’s In Her Kiss – Affinity Charity Anthology)
The Little Helper
JM Dragon
Chapter One
With snow falling lightly, my shoes crunched on the virgin crispness of the glistening white ground as I arrived at my destination. Staring at the Georgian-style, bow-fronted window, I was reminded of a card one might send at this time of the year. Snowflakes falling softly through the air like a snow globe in its full glory, there appears the shimmering image of a Christmas tree in a window, with brightly bubbling lights flowing from each branch, and all sparkle with the many decorated ornaments adorning them. It was the illusion of Christmas you have in your mind and dredge up once a year, and which, in my opinion, rarely satisfies the child that remains within everyone, just as the season of goodwill seldom meets one’s expectations. I ascended the lightly snow-covered concrete steps, five in all, and pressed the bell.
Having spent most of my life in institutionalized environments, I can only sketchily recall a family Christmas. I was probably four or five at the time, and roasting chestnuts on the fire and marshmallows in hot chocolate were the aromas I recalled, and laughter—lots of laughter. Perhaps, if I searched my memory, I might even remember the first present from under the tree I opened. However, that was a long time ago and now my Christmas festivities were about as enriched with laughter and traditional celebrations as those of the beggar on the street. Well, perhaps that was a little harsh. I was always invited, along with the four other employees, to my boss’s home for a few drinks with a buffet a few days before Christmas. Everyone always attended, for our boss would be upset if someone from the office didn’t show up without good reason. Then, in his jolly way, he’d wish us all a wonderful best wishes for the season and, in true Dickens style, goodwill to all men. He even sent us all home with a small gift to be opened on Christmas morning.
I was the personal assistant to Darren Nicholby who had started a small insurance company twenty years earlier that had grown steadily over the years. He was never going to give the big guns a run for their money, but he had never had any intention of being in their league. He wanted to remain a small family-run company with people who cared. And, it was exactly what he accomplished. In our town, he was looked on with great admiration by many. His generosity and compassion for people’s plights were the telltale signs that he’d never be a millionaire this time around. However, that wasn’t what life was all about for Darren. He was a solid, upstanding citizen, with a wife he adored and who adored him. Their two children must have been bestowed with their dad’s kindness of heart because I’d never seen them do anything but smile whenever I’d meet them over the years.
My musings ended as the door opened and I looked up into the face of a stranger. Where is Darren, Elsie his wife or the twins?
“Hi, welcome, you must be Laura.” The voice was melodic, almost singing the words as happiness flowed from it without effort. It made me wonder how many festive drinks she’d already had, because no one was ever that cheerful normally.
Flicking the snow that had drifted into my eyes with the light wind, I smiled briefly and answered, “Yes, I’m Laura. Since you know my name it can only mean one thing…I’m the last to arrive.” It happened to me every year. I always meant to get there at seven, but somehow my feet dragged and I ended up arriving at least an hour late.
After I entered the home, the woman, who was smiling broadly, motioned for my snow-flecked coat. “Let me take that. I’ll put it close to one of the radiators and it will be dry and cozy when you leave.”
“Mommy, Mommy, you’re never going to believe what Uncle Darren is doing now!” A small girl, who was perhaps five or six, arrived in a hurry from the sitting room.
“I’ll be there in a moment, sweetie. Will you take Laura inside to the others?” The stranger winked at her daughter and left us alone in the hallway.
When a small child stands in front of you and looks at you with those innocent, yet aged eyes, for a split second you’re afraid, and a question pops into your head. Usually the question is of what and the answer is simply everything. Then, when the small person speaks and, in a gesture that is somewhat surprising, places her small hand in yours, and begins dragging you toward the sitting room, you’re even more afraid.
“Laura, I’m Clancy. Come on, hurry, or you’ll miss my uncle doing his party trick.”
Seconds later we were inside the sitting room that appeared to be teeming with people—happy people at that. Fortunately for me, but disappointing to the child still holding my hand, Darren had completed whatever the party trick was.
“Laura, at last. We all thought you were never going to get here,” Darren’s jolly voice boomed out. I received some knowing looks from my colleagues, especially David Fisher, who rolled his eyes in boredom. He was a loss adjuster for the company, and I didn’t care too much for him in the best of times, and found him particularly obnoxious at this time of year. I suspect if Miranda, Darren’s secretary, hadn’t told him on his first day that this invitation was mandatory he wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t mandatory exactly. Usually the look in Darren’s eyes if there was even a whisper that someone wasn’t attending broke any defenses you put up. Talk about brown puppy-dog eyes.
“Sorry, everyone, I had to make a few calls.” I crossed my fingers when I said that because it was a bare-faced lie. How could I tell them that I really didn’t want to be there?
Elsie crossed the room and hugged me warmly. “Thank you for coming, Laura. It means a great deal to us all.” You’d take that remark with a pinch of salt when some people said it, but there was never any doubt that Elsie meant every word.
“I think you know most people here, it’s the usual crowd.” The group included the office staff I worked with and a few of the Nicholbys’ close friends. However, there were noticeable new entrants to the party. Notably the woman who’d answered the door, the child named Clancy, and a couple seated in the far corner of the room with the Nicholbys’ children.
“Most but not all,” I said, glancing discreetly over to the sofa where the strangers were sitting. At the same time, Darren came over with a huge drink of…well let me say such a concoction of a drink that made his special merry punch as he called it—and merry and punch did ring true. It certainly makes you merry and whacks a punch in the morning with a headache.
“Here you go, my favorite seasonal drink. We have some special guests joining us this year.” With a smile that seemed to envelope his whole face, Darren made some quick introductions.
“Over there with the twins are Mark and Amelia Turner. They are close friends of my sister, Jean, who answered the door. Now where is she? Ah, there she is, lurking in the doorway.” He motioned for the woman to join us. “Laura, this is my baby sister, Jean Nicholby.” He smiled fondly at the woman who seemed to cringe with the baby comment.
“Jean, this is my right hand at work, Laura Ramsey.” His eyes twinkled. “The one I told you about.”
The one he told her about? My mind was doing somersaults. Now why would he talk about me to his sister of all people? I should have known they were related. Just like her brother, she had those sparkling eyes and that ready smile.
“Jean here is thinking about finally settling back in town. She’s been threatening that for the last four years and I’m hoping this will be the year. She’s been living in California for the last ten years. My sister is the clever one of the family,” he said proudly. “She’s an orthodontist and has made pots of money in the sunshine state.”
There was a significant groan from my left side as Jean held out her hand. “Hi, Laura. Take no notice of him. He’s only jealous because I have a tan all year round and he doesn’t.”
“Hello again, pleased to meet you. I guess you’ll be feeling the cold here. Somehow rusting is more the norm than tanning at this time of year.”
David Fisher, who was now on my right side, gave a yawn before he interrupted. “Laura, when did you ever attempt to make a joke before? I didn’t realize you had it in you.” He sarcastically laughed before loudly asking, “Hey, has anyone in the room ever heard Laura make a joke?”
The people in the room all looked in our direction, rolled their eyes at David and then returned their attention to whatever they were doing.
I flashed my grey-blue eyes to his and it was enough to silence him. I never had liked him much. He was far too arrogant with the customers, but Darren said he was good at what he did. I dismissed the sorry ass from my mind, ignoring his crass comment completely when I felt a tug at my hand.
“I’m Clancy Nicholby-Turner. This is my mom, and sitting over there is my dad.” The child pointed out her parents with childlike pride.
I bent slightly and shook the tiny hand that was in my much larger one. “Hello, Clancy Nicholby-Turner, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Laura Ramsey.”
The child’s eyes shone brightly as I spoke. I must have done something right because she kept hold of my hand and dragged me toward the food. With a wry glance behind me to the indulgent adults who watched our departure, I allowed myself to be escorted to the buffet. Then, remarkably, the precocious child filled a plate and led us to two empty chairs where we shared the variety of delicacies.
Even when you don’t want to be at a party, the happiness and joy some people exude simply overwhelm you and, for whatever reason, you find yourself enjoying the few hours spent with nice people. This year was no different from the previous fifteen I’d spent in the Nicholbys’ home. I knew I’d go home a little bit happier after the event. Except tonight was different! I actually was trying to make an effort, and not because it was polite to do so, but because a tiny hand kept grasping mine throughout the evening and pulling me along into anything and everything that was going on. In the past, I would be content to sit in a chair and observe what was happening and never join in. It was interesting and fun to view the events through the eyes of a small child. Often, I would search out the child’s mother who would smile and nod her head in approval. There were many times when the little hand led me to where the woman was standing or sitting, and I guessed she wanted the security of her mother.
When Clancy was told it was time for bed, she gave a scowl that was somewhat reminiscent of one I knew I had as a child. Interestingly enough, I hadn’t thought about being a child for months, perhaps years. Yet, in the space of a couple of hours, memories had arisen. I guess that was the miracle, if you could call it that, of Christmas.
I was dragged from my meandering thoughts when I heard my name being mentioned. “I want Laura to take me!”
She wants me to take her where? As I frantically locked gazes with the child’s mother, I received an apologetic expression.
The pleading on the little girl’s face had me at a disadvantage. I’m not soft hearted or anything like that—most would call me the exact opposite.
“Ok, where do you want me to take you?” I asked quietly as I peered into the child’s friendly, trusting eyes.
A gleeful grin and chuckle were my answer as she once more tugged at my hand and dragged me toward the staircase. I was hesitant. Though a willing captive I was certain that this kind of thing had never happened to me before. How could it? I rarely interacted with children. In fact the only young people I knew were the Nicholby twins. At the top of the stairs, Clancy pointed to the door that was supposedly her room. We entered and once inside I could clearly see that two personalities—young and old—vied for supremacy in the room. I checked out some of the items strewn around. There were posters depicting what must be the latest craze in rock and movie stars, along with toiletries, creams, and the like on the dresser, belonging to a more mature person. On the king-size bed were some well-used, soft children’s toys.
“That’s my favorite rabbit. Want to know what I call him, Laura?” The child ran over to the bed and flopped on top of the coverlet as she reached for the ragged object. It had one eye missing and, by the look of the left ear with different colored cottons used for the stitching, had been sewn up several times.
“Sure. Clancy.” I decided that this fascinating interlude in my life was just that, fascinating and never likely to occur again. Therefore, why not go with the flow and see how it all panned out.
Clancy chuckled. “He’s not called Clancy. That’s my name.” She giggled loudly. The child was clearly tickled by the thought.
I smiled at the retort and a part of my heart melted toward this child, for she was very endearing. “Ok, sorry about that. I think you’d better introduce him to me properly, along with his friend of course.” My eyes drifted to the bear that looked even worse than the rabbit and a lot older.
With more giggles, she grinned and reached for the bear. “This is Tubby, he belongs to Mommy, but don’t tell her I told, will you? She said it’s our little secret.”
The grin that split my face was accompanied by a deep chuckle from the person in question who had appeared at the door. With a bland expression on her face, Jean stood there, presumably waiting for my reaction. “Really, well I have one just like it too on my bed at home he’s called a…a…Ralph.”
There was another giggle from the child, as she rolled her eyes. “Ralph? That’s a funny name for a bear. My rabbit is called Jack. Get it, Laura? Jack Rabbit.” The item was thrust in my face and I recoiled slightly.
Jean Nicholby stepped into the room at that moment and chastised her child. “Clancy, that’s enough. Laura needs to get back to the party, not play with you. Say goodnight and thank Laura for her company.”
What happened next was another first for me. The child, with a petulant expression that quickly changed to a huge smile, threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. Then she kissed the side of my cheek and whispered, “Thank you, Laura, Merry Christmas. Will you be coming over for turkey too?”
“Go brush your teeth and wash your face for bed, Clancy,” Jean said with gentle authority. Her daughter slipped by us out of the room with pjs in hand.
Jean Nicholby gave me an apologetic glance as she pulled back the coverlet on the bed that she presumably shared with her daughter. “Sorry about all this. Clancy is a friendly child…too friendly sometimes. It takes eyes in the back of your head to watch her. I’ll take it from here and you can go back and enjoy the party. Darren is in full swing with one of his Christmas anecdotes.”
I must have groaned out loud as Jean looked up from her labors and smiled.
“Hmm, yes, he can go over the top, can’t he? He means well and Elsie manages to stop him before people want to kill him.” She grinned indulgently as she spoke of her brother.
“He’s a good man. He just wants people to be happy,” I answered softly.
Once she had finished her work on the bed, Jean directed her total attention to me. “If you wait a few minutes while I settle Clancy, we can hide in the kitchen and have a decent drink before Darren realizes we aren’t in the main room.” Her voice was alive with warm mischief.
Strangely enough, I liked this woman. I didn’t know her, but just like her daughter, she was endearing. “I’ll go to the kitchen and find those drinks, any preference?”
The look she gave me seemed to be summing me up. “Great, anything you’re having will be good…except the punch.”
I left with a smile of approval and headed for the kitchen with a spring in my step that was making me feel quite light-headed. It must have been those three glasses of punch I had.
†
In the kitchen were two of my other colleagues. By the conspiring whispers, I think they were closer than any one of us in the office suspected. Or it could be one of those Christmas office-party types of affairs. They both stared at me in what looked like annoyance and guilt. Breaking the embrace, and with a hasty explanation that they both needed a cigarette, they opened the outside door and left me alone in the room. I didn’t mind, it was better that way. What happened in the time outside of the office had nothing to do with me and I wanted to keep it that way. I knew Darren always had other drinks available so I opened the refrigerator, took out two bottles of beer, and placed them on the counter. Frowning, I realized that although I enjoyed the odd beer the other woman might not. Perhaps she was more a wine person. I looked in the bar cooler where several bottles of white wine chilled, and on the table beside the cooler several reds were opened and breathing. Choices, choices, choices, I didn’t have a clue about wine at all.
“Too many to choose from,” a voice drifted across my shoulder.
I turned and looked up, a little embarrassed that I hadn’t been confident enough to choose. I shrugged and pointed to the beers on the counter and then to the bar where the wine was waiting. “Yes, I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer.”
A speculative glance caught my own embarrassed one and, as she gazed at me, I felt trapped but in a nice way. Then she smiled and I was reminded again of how alike she and her brother were when it came to facial expressions, except she was much better looking.
“Anything other than Darren’s punch is good for me. What do you prefer?” She reached for a bottle of beer and opened first one and then the other before she had my answer.
I stood there surprised and annoyed for not having that assurance myself. “Beer is good.” I accepted the proffered bottle and we went silent as we took our first drink.
