by Pam Rhodes
“Heavens!” breathed Neil. “You old romantic, you!”
“Yes, I suppose I am,” smiled Frank. “I love her to bits. Just look at her now! I’m so proud of her.”
They both watched as Margaret climbed on to the stage and started to introduce the nativity play. Neil barely listened to what she was saying. His thoughts were still swirling around what Frank had said about the depth and quality of love he plainly felt for his wife. Did Neil feel that way about Wendy? The two of them had never uttered the “love” word, but he now wondered if that was because he was afraid to give his feelings a name. He knew that the spell he seemed to fall under whenever they were together was heady and intoxicating – but was that love, the kind of love with depth and meaning that Frank described? And what about Wendy? How did she truly feel? Did she think of him with a love that was deep and abiding? Was she expecting him to present her with a ring? Is that what everyone was thinking? Why had that notion not really occurred to him until Frank mentioned it? Why did he feel so unprepared for all this?
His attention was suddenly claimed by the miniature Joseph and Mary making their way across the stage towards a makeshift inn door. Sitting behind the door was a rather grumpy-looking four-year-old.
“Joseph took his wife Mary to Bethlehem because everyone had to be counted,” read Barbara. “Joseph was very worried because Mary was about to have a baby – so they found the local inn and knocked on the door.”
Neil felt his heart burst with unexpected pride, knowing that “Joseph” was Claire’s son, Sam. As he crossed the stage, he grinned broadly at the audience, and when the couple finally reached the inn door, he knocked so hard, the flimsy door-frame nearly collapsed. The innkeeper didn’t move, so Joseph knocked again.
“The innkeeper opened the door to speak to Joseph,” prompted Barbara – but the innkeeper plainly had no intention of doing any such thing.
Barbara tried again.
“The innkeeper opened the door and told Joseph there was no room in the inn – but because Mary was so tired and about to have a baby, they could sleep in the stable instead.”
“No!” shouted the innkeeper, rubbing his eyes furiously. He was definitely not budging from his seat behind the door.
“Come on, Darren,” encouraged Barbara. “Show them where they can sleep in the stable.”
“No!” shouted the innkeeper, even louder this time.
This was all too much for Joseph, who knew exactly how the story should go.
“Darren,” he said patiently, “we have got to stay here.”
“Oh no you haven’t!” wailed the innkeeper. “I wanted to be Joseph!”
The hall erupted with laughter. Barbara was instantly on the stage, leading the sobbing innkeeper off to find his mummy – whilst Sam, his arm still protectively around Mary’s shoulder, pushed open the precariously swaying door and led her round the stage to the stable scene with a swagger of triumph. From the cardboard box cunningly disguised as a manger, Mary picked up the Baby Jesus doll who was “swaddled” in what looked like a cotton nappy from head to foot, except for the mass of blond curls which escaped to frame his face.
The audience was completely hooked, consumed with every delightful moment, their eyes shining, perhaps from emotion but also from laughter, as the play continued in the best tradition of nursery school nativities. One shepherd forgot his sheep, and called out to his mum to get it for him. The youngest angel yawned all through the first verse of “Away in a Manger”, then curled up in a ball, stuck her thumb in her mouth and promptly fell asleep before the carol was over. By the time they got to the last chorus of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place – and that included Neil, who burst into cheering applause along with every proud parent and relative there.
It was some time later, as he was stacking up the chairs and putting away the staging, that Claire came over to say goodbye with an obviously exhausted but still excited Sam in her arms.
“You were great, Sam!” said Neil. “The way you sorted out that innkeeper was brilliant!”
“He’s taller than me, that’s why he thought he should be Joseph,” explained Sam seriously, “but I was four before him and I’ve got a bigger voice.”
“You certainly have, young fella,” said Harry as he came up to join them. “Time to go home, I think.”
“You’re coming to tea!” said Sam, pointing at Neil.
“Am I?”
“Would you like to? On Christmas Eve?” asked Claire. “Obviously you’ll be with Wendy on Christmas Day, but we wondered if you might appreciate a nice meal early on Christmas Eve to keep you going between the Crib Service and Midnight Mass?”
“That’s really thoughtful of you. I’d love to, yes!”
For a moment, Neil and Claire stood smiling at each other – then Harry broke the mood by saying goodbye and leading his family towards the door. Neil watched them until the door closed behind them.
Neil felt as if his feet rarely touched the ground in those packed days leading up to Christmas. It wasn’t only all the special carol services for schools, clubs and other organizations throughout the town. There were also the extra visits he and Margaret divided up between them, so that they could make sure they took Christian fellowship and practical help to the young, old, harassed, nominal, enthusiastic or fallen-away Christians across the area.
By Christmas Eve afternoon, with the Crib Service due to start at four, Neil decided he just had time to nip in and see Elsie in Dale Court Residential Home. He brought her a small plate of mince pies and a slice of Christmas cake made by Beryl, leading light of the cake rota group at St Stephen’s and Dunbridge WI Baking Champion, whose reputation for excellent baking was renowned. He’d also made a mammoth effort to wrap in Christmassy paper his own little gift of a book of Celtic prayers written by David Adam who, for many years, was based at the Holy Island of Lindisfarne off the north-east coast of England. Elsie had often spoken of her love for the simplicity and directness of David’s prayers, so Neil knew this new collection would be something she could lose herself in whenever her new home surroundings became too much for her.
He found Elsie’s mood calm and settled that afternoon, which bore quite a contrast to the quiet despair he’d seen in her so often since her arrival at Dale Court. She greeted him warmly, ringing the bell to organize a cup of tea for them both. As he’d popped in a few times in recent weeks, he’d already brought her many tales of the manic run-up to Christmas which she loved to hear. Today she nudged him into re-telling her favourites, especially the delights of the playgroup nativity play, which had her giggling like a schoolgirl. She listened in rapt interest as he brought her news of the preparations for that afternoon’s Crib Service, when the church would be full to brimming, just as it would be for the Midnight Mass, when those able to keep their eyes open would sing carols and worship together as they welcomed in Christmas Day with celebration and thanksgiving.
“I’ve always loved midnight on Christmas Eve,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever missed it. Lily and I used to set an alarm to make sure that even if we’d nodded off, we were awake together to mark that wonderful moment when our prayers of anticipation for the coming of Christ become our celebration of God’s greatest gift to man – Christ on earth, to live beside us and redeem our sins. Such a joyful time – almost like a homecoming!”
“Will you manage to be awake tonight, do you think?”
“I’m looking forward to it more than ever.”
“Well, my very dear Elsie, I will be thinking specially of you at just that moment. As all of us at St Stephen’s welcome in Christmas Day, you will be right there in my prayers, I promise you that.”
Neil thought for one moment that she was about to cry, and he sensed a sadness in the smile that touched her lips.
“I’m tired now, Neil. I think I’ll take a nap.”
“Of course,” he said as he moved his chair back and bent down to give her a hug goodbye. She
felt frail and small in his arms, and when she reached out to draw him closer to her, the two of them remained entwined for a while, neither wanting to break the circle.
“The Lord be with you, Elsie,” he whispered in her ear.
“And also with you, Neil, now and always,” she replied, her tears on his cheek.
Wendy and the music group were superb at the Crib Service. Being a school music teacher, Wendy had suggested songs and interlude music which were just right for the age group of children who came along with other family members for, what all agreed, was probably the most endearing of Christmas services.
“Debs and Graham are going to The Wheatsheaf for a Christmas drink tonight.” Wendy was talking to Neil over her shoulder as she collected up the music. “I’ve said we’d join them as long as we’re definitely able to leave in good time for the midnight service. About six thirty OK? We could have a meal there then.”
“I’m sorry, Wendy, I can’t. I’ve been invited to tea by Harry. We arranged it days ago.”
Wendy’s eyebrows lifted with suspicion. “You mean the Harry that lives with Claire and Sam?”
“That’s right.” Sensing trouble, Neil’s voice was deliberately casual.
“So what you’re really saying is that Claire has invited you for tea.”
“No, what I’m really saying is that Harry, Claire and Sam are my neighbours, and they help me out in so many ways…”
“I bet she does!”
“… and they were thoughtful enough to realize that because today is such a busy one for me, a home-cooked meal would be a bit of a treat.”
“Cooked by her own fair hand, no doubt.”
“Harry does the cooking, actually.”
“Well, you’d know. You go round there often enough!”
“Look, Wendy, my visit will all be over when Sam goes to bed, and with Father Christmas visiting tonight, my guess is that he’ll be snoring his head off by half seven. I can come and join you all at the pub, but I won’t need to eat, so you lot can start without me.”
“Neil, are we – or are we not – a couple?”
“Well, I suppose we are, but…”
“… but you think it’s all right, on Christmas Eve of all nights, to leave your partner while you spend time with some other girl?”
Neil laughed out loud. “Not some other girl! I don’t think of Claire in that way, and she certainly doesn’t see me in that light either. She’s an atheist, for heaven’s sake! How could that work?”
Wendy’s expression softened a little as she came over to wind her arms round his neck. “I’m sorry, darling. It’s been so busy leading up to Christmas, and now it’s nearly here, I just want you to myself at last.”
“We’ll be together all day tomorrow.”
“We will,” she said softly, her lips brushing his cheek. “And I have plans for you…”
“You do?” he smiled.
“I most certainly do.” She moved back far enough to look into his eyes so that he was in no doubt that he would enjoy her plans for him very much!
“I’ll be with you as soon as I possibly can tonight.”
“I’ll hold you to that…” she said, planting a lingering kiss on his lips.
“For heaven’s sake, you two, not here in the church!” Margaret’s voice cut through their magic moment, but she was smiling indulgently at them in spite of the telling-off.
“Are you ready to go then, Neil?” she continued. “You’ll be back by half ten at the latest though, won’t you?”
“I certainly will. And well done for the Crib Service, Margaret. The atmosphere was just right – involving and meaningful – and not just for the children. I reckon the grown-ups enjoyed it most of all. I certainly did!”
“That’s because you’re a big kid yourself, Neil,” teased Wendy. “My big kid! See you later…”
And Neil had no idea, as she walked away, that the seductive sway of her hips was deliberately calculated to ensure he was watching her every move.
“What do you think, Mummy?” asked Neil. “Can Sam have my present this evening while I’m here to watch him open it?”
Sam’s face was a picture of hope and excitement as he waited for Claire’s decision.
“Of course he can!”
Her face was flushed from the heat of the kitchen so she looked pink-cheeked in a way that complemented the soft rose-coloured roll-neck jersey she was wearing above her favourite grey jeans. She came across to kneel beside Sam in case he needed help with Neil’s rather haphazard wrapping, which seemed to involve more sticky tape than paper! Neil looked on anxiously to see the little boy’s reaction to his gift – but he needn’t have worried, because the bright red fire engine, complete with firemen figures, had Sam squealing with delight. When Claire looked across to smile at Neil gratefully, he beamed back at her with pleasure and relief.
In spite of his earlier conversation with Wendy, Neil realized that Claire was the cook today, so that Harry could sit with Sam and Neil in the front room, helping to get the fire engine out of its box. Soon the batteries were safely installed and the toy was racing around the room with its siren wailing and lights flashing. Sam loved it – and, honestly, so did the two men as they chased round after the vehicle, whooping and yelling like small boys themselves.
The delicious aroma floating out of the kitchen turned out to be homemade lasagne, which Claire served with spicy baked potatoes, garlic bread and crisp salad, followed by Neil’s absolute favourite pudding, lemon meringue pie with a dollop of ice cream. Afterwards he sat back replete and content, thinking how wonderful it would be simply to fall into their comfy settee and nod off in front of the telly for hours. Time was ticking on though, and once the washing up had been done, he realized he should start making tracks to meet up with Wendy, Graham and Debs in The Wheatsheaf.
“Have you seen this, Neil?” demanded Sam, grabbing his hand to drag him back into the lounge. Sam clambered unceremoniously on to Harry’s lap, then produced a rather battered piece of mistletoe. Holding it as high as he could, Sam placed a wet kiss on Harry’s lips.
“It’s for kissing under, isn’t it, Grandad?”
He scrambled off Harry’s lap and rushed over to push Neil on to a seat so that he could climb up to place the mistletoe over Neil’s head and give him a kiss too.
“Now we’ll love each other forever!” he announced triumphantly before giving Neil a big, sticky hug.
Laughing, Neil disentangled himself and stood up to take his leave. He shook Harry’s hand and wished him all the blessings of Christmas, knowing that the midnight service would be too much for the elderly man, although he would certainly be at the early morning service.
Following Neil out to the front door, Claire stopped beside the stairs and turned to face him.
“Thank you for making this evening so special for Sam. The fire engine is just perfect. He’s bouncing so much I’m sure he won’t sleep – even though he knows that if he’s awake when Father Christmas comes, he might miss out on presents!”
“It must be lovely being a mum on a night like this. I think you’re almost as excited as he is!”
“I am. He’s such a dear little boy. He makes every day special for me.”
Suddenly, Sam came running through from the lounge and charged up the stairs behind them. Then his chubby little hand came through the banisters to dangle the mistletoe above their heads.
“Go on, Mummy! Give Neil a kiss!”
Neil and Claire looked at each other in alarm.
“You’ve got to! It’s lucky!”
“We’ve got to,” said Neil with a shrug.
“It’s lucky,” agreed Claire.
And their heads tipped towards each other, eyes open as their lips met in the softest of kisses. Then, Neil’s eyes closed as the kiss deepened in touch and tenderness. For seconds they stood there, too stunned to move.
“Ooh!” The disapproval in Sam’s voice broke the moment.
“You’re being sopp
y. You’re not supposed to be soppy!”
And with disgust, he dropped the mistletoe on to the floor beside them and stomped off to his room, leaving Neil and Claire to step apart with guilty embarrassment.
“Yea, Lord, we greet thee, born this happy morning…”
It was with a sense of euphoria that the churchful of worshippers came to the last verse of “O Come All Ye Faithful”, singing the words which were only appropriate on Christmas morning itself.
After the service, although the time was approaching half past midnight, there was real warmth and excitement in the air as the congregation put on their coats and started to make their way home, hugging friends and calling out Christmas greetings as they went.
It was gone one before the church was cleared and reset ready for the first service on Christmas morning which, Neil remembered wearily, was due to start at eight o’clock. The main family service wasn’t until ten, and for that, once again, St Stephen’s would be full of worshippers, just as it had been on that day for all the centuries it had stood at the heart of Dunbridge. An image of his father’s face drifted into Neil’s mind, and he stopped for a while to think of the many occasions in the past when he and his Dad had shared the experience of the Christmas midnight service together. How he missed him – his wealth of knowledge and interest, his dry sense of humour, his quiet, solid love for his shy, sometimes gauche son.
His mind full of his father, Neil looked round to make a final check that everything was ready for the morning, a job he’d volunteered to do so that Margaret could go home as soon as possible once the midnight service was over. She would also have the pleasant duty of leading the two Christmas morning services, a role which he would not be able to fulfil until he was priested the following June. Next year, he may well be leading these important, busy services himself! His mouth felt suddenly dry.
