by Lucy Coleman
Poor Mum, she’s trying so hard. Fisher is totally oblivious to what she’s putting herself through because she’s determined to overcome her issues with nausea and dizziness, rather than disappoint him.
‘Have you thought about hypnotherapy?’ I suggest. ‘There’s a woman in Stroud who practices various holistic therapies, but she began as a hypnotherapist. I only know of her because one of the guys who used to work in the boatyard was telling me about his wife. She had a fear of spiders and I mean a debilitating fear. If she saw one in the house she’d begin screaming and, even after he took it outside, she could barely sleep for a week as she’d imagine it crawling between the sheets on her bed.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘I know. He said this lady traced it back to a prank that his wife’s brother had played on her as a child when he put a plastic spider under her pillow. But after three sessions with the hypnotist, while she still doesn’t like spiders, she doesn’t freak out any more. And she can even put a glass over one, slide a piece of paper underneath and release it into the garden herself.’
‘Hmm. That might be worth a try.’
‘I’ll get the number for you. There’s no point suffering in silence if there’s something that can be done about it. Although, you could just be honest with Fisher, as it’s not your fault.’
Mum looks down in the mouth. ‘I do enjoy being on the boat, I just don’t like what the constant movement does to my stomach and my head. It’s lots better if I’m wearing the bands and if I start to feel really nauseous, then there are other pressure points that give almost instant relief.’
‘Is this wedding talk I’m interrupting?’ Neither of us were aware that Abe was heading in our direction.
‘Of course,’ I reply jovially. ‘We were wondering if you were going to turn up in your penguin onesie.’
He grins at me. ‘Nope. That’s for the kids only. Anyway, this year I’m coming as a Christmas pudding.’
Both Mum and I burst out laughing as I place my hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. ‘Oh, Abe, I can’t wait to see that! Did you know that we’re having a fairy this year, too? The twins are going to take it in turns as we only have the one costume. I think there’s something special about a magic wand, isn’t there?’
‘Ah, the little ones are going to love that. Anyway, the stove is pumping out the heat – what do you want me to do next?’
‘Well, we’re nearly finished clearing up here, so if you’d like to dig out the boxes of baubles for the trees, Mum and I can begin unpacking them. How are the lights going?’ I whisper, leaning in close.
‘Not well. You know what it’s like checking every single bulb, and it’s always the one you miss!’
Abe heads off to the lock-up and as Val wipes down the kitchen worktops Ethel calls out, ‘I’ve got the pinecones, Immi. Shall I leave the basket on one of the tables?’
‘Perfect, thank you, Ethel.’
‘I assume we’re not going to trim up the outside in the dark, so is it an early start tomorrow?’ she asks.
‘Eight thirty. That gives us two and a half hours until it all kicks off, which should allow time for Tollie, Gray and me to change into our outfits.’
‘Great, I’ll see you in the morning. I’m off to bake the cupcakes and gingerbread men, then. Sleep well, all.’ Ethel heads off for what promises to be hours of non-stop baking.
‘Have you picked the greenery?’ Mum asks.
‘No. Gray and I are getting up tomorrow at six thirty to head over to the copse. Last year we were a little more organised.’
‘Make sure you both wrap up well and wear some gloves.’
It’s funny, but Val would never have said that to me, but my mum is beginning to open up and show her true nature. I always wondered why I was such a worrier and now I guess I know. It’s in my genes.
24
That Christmas Thrill Is in the Air
When the alarm goes off, Gray throws his arm around me and snuggles in. The heat of his body is comforting and in such contrast to the empty longing I feel whenever he’s away. I’m always a little on edge until he’s back here with me, as if he’s the last piece in the jigsaw puzzle that is my life and it’s not complete without him.
‘It’s time to get up,’ I whisper, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘We need to go foraging.’ I am excited, but the thought of going out into the cold makes me pull the duvet up over my head.
Gray follows suit and we lie, side by side, in the darkness.
‘How are we going to be able to see what we’re cutting?’ he points out.
‘By the time we’ve had a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, showered, thrown on our clothes and traipsed over there, it’s going to be seven thirty. The sun will be waking up and we’ll get to savour the magic of a brand-new morning. Aren’t we lucky?’
‘If you say so. Does that mean we can have another five minutes?’
‘No. Come on. Everyone is going to be waiting for us at eight thirty sharp, as there’s a lot to be done. Stir your lazy bones,’ I instruct him as I hop out of bed.
‘Is the heating on? It’s f… freezing!’
Gray pulls the pillow over his head as I yank on my dressing gown and go downstairs to check the thermostat.
‘It’s on eighteen degrees,’ I call out, scandalised.
‘Well, it was hot last night lying on a blanket in front of the log burner. You said you were sweating, and that’s why I turned it down.’
I ramp it up and head off to make breakfast. Gray is not a morning person, whereas the moment I open my eyes I want to get up and get started. Twenty minutes later he appears and joins me, as I stand looking out into the gloom.
‘I told you it would be too dark.’
‘It’s getting lighter by the minute,’ I point out, my eyes glued to the horizon. The narrow band of opaque sky is beginning to grow, and it looks as if it’s going to be a bright day. Hopefully the sun will quickly melt the frost, as it climbs in the sky. But for now, it’s going to mean layers of clothes and padded coats if we don’t want to freeze our socks off.
‘You love it, don’t you?’ Gray turns to look at me, his hands wrapped around his coffee.
‘Every second of it. From picking the greenery, to decorating the trees, to seeing Abe announcing that Santa has arrived. What’s not to love?’
‘There’s a little kid inside each of us, but sometimes we forget that,’ he murmurs, leaning in to kiss my lips and lingering for a moment. ‘Come on. This is going to be fun.’
As we scurry around getting ready, Gray demolishes an entire pile of toast while I start my day with just a coffee as food is the last thing on my mind. I know I’ll probably be ravenous by eleven, which will spoil my lunch if I then start snacking; I really do need to get back into a proper routine. Tollie wouldn’t have let me get away with it, and I miss his eagle-eyed, razor-sharp reproaches.
‘Here are your boots. I’m wearing two pairs of socks,’ Gray warns, looking down at my ankle-length trainer socks.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not wearing these. Give me a minute. The jute sacks and the secateurs are under the stairs if you can dig them out.’
There’s something magical about stepping out into a frosty, bright morning when your body, head and toes are toasty and only your face is exposed to the chill. We stop for a moment to adjust each other’s scarves, to cover our mouths. Gray winds mine around me like I’m a bobbin and as it’s one of Ethel’s never-ending, hand-knitted ones, he finds it amusing. It is a bit claustrophobic, but it’s a gift I treasure and enjoy wearing.
‘Don’t make fun of me,’ I whisper as we head out through the gate.
There are no lights on in The Retreat, I notice. There aren’t even any dog walkers, which is unusual. A few of the regulars are usually out and about this time of the morning, even on a Saturday.
As Gray helps me over the stile, I jump down the other side and take the sacks and the tools from him. Looking around, I notice there’s a grey mist, wh
ich is threaded like a ribbon through the large oak trees at the far end of the meadow, where the cultivated fields begin.
‘You’re right, it was worth getting out of bed to see this,’ Gray comments as we stand in awe of the myriad colours reflecting off the rays of the watery sun. With the panel of pale grey sky now turning a muted gold, it’s like a little line of fire far off in the distance. ‘Let’s do this.’
The grass beneath our feet crunches and we leave a trail of footprints as we trample over it. The wild summer flowers are long gone, but dried stems poke up out of the earth like straw-coloured sticks and, here and there, clusters of dried wild thistles sparkle where the frost has settled on the spiky heads.
‘Do you hear it?’ Gray turns to look at me, pulling his scarf away from his mouth.
‘What?’
‘The sound of peace and quiet, of stillness. Well, if you strain your ears, I can hear something rustling over in the hedges, but it’s probably a bird. But no cars, no voices, no planes, no tractors.’
‘Everyone’s in bed. Except for us.’
‘They don’t know what they’re missing.’ He leans forward and I begin to loosen my scarf until it slips down around my neck. Tilting my chin upwards with his fingertips, Gray smiles down at me. ‘I love you, Immi Tolliman, soon to be Mrs Immi Adams, or maybe you’d prefer Mrs Immi Tolliman-Adams,’ Gray remarks, frowning as he considers it.
‘Maybe I’ll change back to Imogen once I’m married. Mrs Imogen Adams sounds rather posh, doesn’t it?’
He shakes his head. ‘You’ll always be my Immi – Imogen just isn’t you!’
I push my hands against him, urging him to walk on. ‘Come on, we don’t have a lot of time. I want some of these feathery branches, but don’t cut them all from the same bough,’ I instruct him, reaching out to snag one and pull it closer. ‘The fragrance these pine needles give off is simply beautiful.’
‘Hold still.’ Gray begins snipping and when he moves on, I quickly scoop them into one of the sacks. It doesn’t take long to fill it to the brim, with long trails of ivy, clippings from a cluster of overgrown laurel bushes and a few cuttings from a blue spruce.
‘We need some holly,’ I remind him.
‘Hand me the sack and I’ll hang it from this branch. We’ll pick it up on the way back. It might take a while to find some with a decent number of berries on it, so we’d better start walking a little faster.’
I follow on behind him, revelling in the way the sun’s low rays filter like little orbs of light between the leaves and boughs of the trees around us. You can almost feel nature waking up and the silence is now broken with the raucous calls of blackbirds squabbling and the snapping of twigs, no doubt by rabbits scurrying away as we approach.
When we were here foraging last Christmas, we were looking forward to our engagement, and now the wedding is almost upon us. I will no longer be a Tolliman, and it will truly be the end of an era for me, and for my family. I wonder if that thought has occurred to Tollie.
The atmosphere on board The Star Gazer is one of frenetic activity. Ethel, Rona and Mum are inside sorting out the little snack boxes for the children and I’m outside with Fisher and Tollie, tying on the greenery to make the magical transformation from The Star Gazer into The Santa Ahoy Special. Gray has gone off to fetch the toy sacks to store them temporarily in the lock-up.
‘She looks a treat every year, doesn’t she?’ Tollie says to Fisher.
‘I like to take good care of her,’ he says with pride.
‘The decorations won’t get in your way for your evening jaunts up and down the lock?’ Tollie remarks.
‘We could rig it differently so it will come off in long lengths. It wouldn’t take long to whip them off and put them back on again in the morning,’ I offer, feeling remiss that I didn’t even give that a thought.
‘It’s fine, perfect, in fact. Gives it a bit of atmosphere and Val will want to be adding mince pies to the savoury platters, no doubt,’ Fisher replies. ‘Every trip is a bit of a learning curve for us both.’
I bet it is. ‘Right, would you guys mind if I head back to shower and change? Mum has kindly offered to help in The Bullrush whenever the girls are here. They’re busy already and the car park is full. Is there anything either of you need?’
‘No, we’re fine m’dear. Get off and have a warm-up.’ I stand on tiptoe to kiss Tollie’s cheek and he seems amenable.
‘I’ll finish up here with Tollie, then stoke up the log-burner as Santa will be wanting to get himself ready.’ Fisher and I exchange smiles.
‘See you in a bit, guys.’
Pulling my bobble hat down over my ears and yanking the gloves out of my pocket, I step off onto the towpath and stand for a moment looking at our handiwork. She’s a proud vessel and immaculate. Fisher spends hours and hours polishing the brass rails and is constantly touching up her paintwork. And now, decked in her Christmas finery, she looks like a floating sleigh. Once the gangplank is in place and the lock-side Christmas tree is standing alongside her, the only thing missing will be Mum dressed in her fake white fur coat and jaunty red beret, taking the tickets. She always looks like a cross between Mother Christmas and a polar bear, which the kids love.
I turn and hurry back in the direction of Lock Keeper’s Cottage when Patrick falls in beside me.
‘I won’t stop you as I know you’re busy, but I was expecting a cheque from Harrison and it still hasn’t arrived.’
‘Oh. That’s strange. Check with Fisher. I don’t suppose the Linden Hotel paid it directly into our account? They have the details because they did an afternoon tea fundraiser back in the summer.’
‘Ah, right. No problem, I’ll double-check. Is everything all set up? It certainly looks the business.’
We’re weaving in and out of people, as word has spread that the playground is open and everyone seems eager to check it out.
‘Thanks, it’s hard work, but worth it.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, but if you need anything, you only have to shout. Maybe see you later at The Bullrush, then. Bye for now.’
It’s such a relief knowing that Patrick has his finger on the pulse.
‘Oh,’ he says, turning back around. ‘The non-uniform day raised a total of four hundred and twenty-two pounds. The teachers dressed up, as well.’
‘Ah, that’s wonderful, Patrick. Thanks for letting me know.’
My toes are tingling with cold as I stride off, and all I can think of is standing in the shower under that flow of warm water and grabbing a hot chocolate, before I transform myself into Santa’s chief elf.
This moment always makes my heart sing and I’ll never tire of savouring these precious memories. Mum is standing next to The Santa Ahoy Special, beaming from ear to ear, as she begins to work her way along the queue, clipping tickets and handing them back. The children grasp them in their hands as if they won’t be allowed on board if they lose theirs, and even the children-in-arms reach out with glee, not wanting to be left out.
Mum is the warm-up act and when her task is done, she addresses the small crowd of children and their parents.
‘Good morning, everyone! We’re so excited as we’re expecting some special visitors this morning.’ She moves closer, lowering her voice just enough to make the children draw nearer. ‘But to get on board, we need to ask the captain’s permission first and I can’t see him anywhere.’
Eager eyes search around and even the adults turn their heads.
‘Oh dear! Do you think he’s fallen asleep? We must wake him up immediately!’ Heads start to nod. ‘After the count of three, repeat after me, as loud as you can – “Wake up Captain Gray!” One… two… three!’
The chorus of voices is wonderful to hear and suddenly the doors to The Santa Ahoy Special swing open and Gray appears.
He looks so official in his navy-blue uniform, decorated with gold buttons imprinted with an anchor, and four bright yellow stripes embroidered onto the cuffs. The white cap really suits him wit
h its navy peak, gold braid and anchor badge, but my face drops. While he does look every inch a seafaring captain, where is that long, curly hair of his? I have never known Gray to tie it up and I glance at Mum, frowning. She simply shrugs her shoulders rather guiltily. He’s standing at the entrance to the gangplank now, with his legs firmly planted on the towpath and arms linked behind his back.
I hurry forward to the head of the queue, sporting my bright-green fitted tunic and woollen trousers, black belt, red and white striped hat, holding a clipboard firmly in one hand.
‘Permission to come aboard, Captain!’ I boom out, theatrically, trying not to look as though I’m fixating on the lack of hair around his shoulders.
‘Permission granted,’ he replies, saluting me, and as I encourage the children to filter inside he salutes each and every one of our arrivals in true nautical fashion. The kids are absolutely loving it.
Next, they are greeted by Jude. Today Jude is on the elf team, wearing a green elf dress with a red pointy collar and a red bobble hat. Kurt and the girls made them last year and, while it was knee-length back then, she’s grown a good couple of inches in twelve months. Her red and white striped leggings are reminiscent of candy canes and she offers everyone a warm welcome. She ushers us all inside quickly to keep in the heat, taking coats and handing them to Ethel to hang up in the stern.
‘This is Jude, everyone,’ I call out. ‘My assistant. We work very closely with Santa. Now slip off your coats and make yourselves comfortable.’
All but two of the children sit down on the handmade rug donated by Ethel and Abe. It took them two winters to make it, using small strips of fabric pulled through the base material, which is a heavyweight hessian. It’s seven feet by eleven, and the kids love the textures. I often spot them running their fingers back and forth against the various fabrics as they sit watching Santa. It covers the open area in front of Santa’s bench seat.
Ethel steers the parents over to the banquette seating booths, so that the tiny ones can run up and down in the gangway if they get restless. Gray turns to shut the doors and keep the heat in and my jaw drops for a moment. So it’s true – his lovely hair is gone and the back has been shaved, right up to his cap. Only a few curls show beneath the peak as he turns back around. He does look achingly handsome, but my heart is pounding as I turn back to face my audience.
