Christmas at the Dog & Duck

by Jill Steeples

  I was conscious of not offending or patronizing Ima. Nothing in my life before had prepared me for something like this and I was struggling to find the right words. All I knew was that I wanted to reach out to her, one woman to another.

  Ima took the pack gratefully. ‘Thank you. You people are kind. We have plenty clothes, blankets. But here, living like this, it’s not right.’ She gestured towards the desolation behind her. ‘We are like animals, caged together.’ Her words delivered flatly tore at my heart. What if it was me standing in her place? My family living in these terrible conditions? I could only nod in agreement, as my gaze skittered around the camp. The pictures in the newspaper had been grim, but nothing could have prepared me for facing the reality of the situation. The harrowing sights alone were disturbing enough but with the sound of the place, everyday noises pitched against an oppressive stilled silence and the stomach-churning smell of the place, it was something no picture could ever capture. It was a human wasteland; cramped, filthy and cold, with litter scattering the ground and a rancid stench filling the air. I suppressed a sigh of frustration and a creeping feeling of shame. Had I honestly believed that I could turn up here in the van with some old clothes and think I could make some kind of difference? It was laughable. Whatever I’d been expecting it hadn’t been this.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  Ima’s dark eyes seemed to penetrate my soul. I needed to explain.

  ‘I’m sorry that this has happened to you, that you’re living like this. I wish I could do something more to help but…’ My words trailed away at the realization of my own impotency. ‘I really wish there was. I hope I haven’t offended you coming here, talking to you.’

  Ima gave a resigned shrug of her shoulders, her lips curling ruefully. ‘It is good that you come, that you see me. The person. Not animal. In my own country I was teacher. My husband, he’s engineer. We have good life, a home. We do not want to leave our country, but it is impossible to stay. Bombs, shooting.’ She shook her head. ‘It is too unsafe. For us, and our child. We must find new home in a new country where we can be safe.’

  I had to bite on my tongue to stop myself from saying, ‘Come with me back to Little Leyton. Bring your husband and your son. You can live with me in our house. We’ll sort something out.’ But I knew it wasn’t the answer even if it were allowed, and besides, Ima and her family, were only one of many such families. And this was just one of many such camps.

  ‘Well, I really hope you get to move on very soon,’ I said, feeling wretched with helplessness. My words sounded hollow. I reached out for her hand and she took mine with a small smile. ‘I wish you every luck for the future and for Samir’s future too,’ I said, squeezing her fingers tight, before letting go and turning to walk away, tears filling my eyes.

  With guilt threatening to overcome me, I quickly handed out the remaining kits from my holdall to the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered around us before going off in search of Max. I found him still chatting with Zak and another aid worker.

  ‘Are you all done? I asked, neutrally, when there was a natural lull in their conversation. I felt desperate now to get away, but didn't want to show it.

  ‘Yep sure. You’ve got my card,’ he told Zak. ‘If there’s anything else you can think of then just let me know.’ He shook hands with the two men and turned to me, the warmth of his expression providing a much-needed contrast to the stark realities of our surroundings.

  ‘You okay?’ He gave me a sideways glance as we climbed into the van.

  ‘Yep fine.’ I turned away, curling my body away from him, staring out through the window, yet seeing nothing.

  In truth, I was anything but fine. I hadn’t given a second thought to how our visit here might make me feel and I hadn’t expected to be so overwhelmed by the reality of the living conditions in the camp. Meeting Ima, I couldn’t help but compare her situation with that of Josie and her new baby. Josie was full of joy and hope for the future – what hope did Ima have and what chance in life her baby, Samir?

  Thoughts of Ima and Samir swam round in my head. I turned and looked across at Max, grateful for his presence.

  ‘What were you talking to Zak about?’

  ‘He was telling me that they intended building some permanent structures in the camp. I volunteered a couple of my guys to come over with the van and their tools for two weeks to lend a hand. The offer’s there if they need it.’

  ‘Really? That’s so lovely of you. Being able to do something constructive. Something that will make a difference. I felt so helpless back there. Talking to that woman with the baby, I felt ashamed that she was in that situation, as if it were my fault, and there was nothing I could do to help.’

  ‘It was certainly an eye-opener, that’s for sure. But you shouldn’t feel ashamed, Ellie. You came here because you recognized these people’s struggles and you wanted to help. That's a good thing. I’m just glad I came along with you too, Ellie.’

  ‘Oh me too,’ I said, gratitude peppering my words. ‘I’m not sure I could have faced this on my own.’

  Who was I kidding thinking I could have come out here alone? Max had no idea just how safe, secure and protected his presence made me feel. There were a few moments, when we arrived at the camp and when I was chatting to Ima, that tears pricked at my eyes and it had taken all my self-restraint not to have a major chin-juddering wobble. Knowing Max was there, and seeing the way Ima held and conducted herself, made me realize I had no right to give in to my feelings of pity and distress over the situation. My reason for being there was to be helpful, to provide some kind of support, however minimal. Not to turn into an emotional wreck. Besides, what right did I have to cry when I could go home to a lovely warm house. The refugees had no such luxury and were having to live like this every day, yet still managed to survive somehow.

  A little way down the road Max pulled into a lay-by, stopped the van and turned off the ignition. He undid his seatbelt and turned to look at me.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, opening up his arms. ‘You look as though you could do with a hug.’

  I hesitated a moment before I unclipped my seatbelt and shifted towards him, my whole body relaxing into the strength of his embrace. Feeling his protective arms around me, his warm sweet scent filling my nostrils, that was when I knew I could let go, that I couldn’t hold on a moment longer. Tears ran down my cheeks and the emotion buried tight inside me escaped in raw, heartfelt sobs. Max stroked my head, pulling me closer into his chest and it didn’t matter to me in the slightest, nor it seemed to Max, that I was leaving the dampest, snottiest wet patch on his lovely white shirt. I could have stayed like that forever, shielded from the horrors of what we’d witnessed earlier, but Max pulled away to look at me.

  ‘Look, I know that was tough for you. Me too, but you did brilliantly back there. There’s something about seeing the reality of the situation for yourself that is deeply humbling, but you can’t take on the responsibility for that woman, for all those people. We did what we came here to do and that has to be enough. For the moment, at least.’

  Max leaned across to mop up my tears with his thumb, before pulling out a tissue from his pocket and finishing the job properly.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. Thanks Max,’ I said, my breathing under control now. ‘For being here. At my side. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said, with a warm smile. ‘Let’s get you to the hotel.’

  Eleven

  Fifty minutes and a leisurely drive later we turned up at a small seaside resort and it was as if we were in another country entirely. Which we weren’t, of course, but this old-fashioned French town with its elegant architecture and olde-worlde charm was a million miles away from the harsh realities of the place we’d just visited.

  ‘I thought we’d stay away from the camps. I didn’t know what the hotel situation was like around there, and besides I know this area quite well.’

  ‘It’s fine by me,’ I said, mes
merized by the beauty of the landscape. Wide sweeping sands, the rolling sea and colourful elegant villas lining the promenade.

  ‘I should have mentioned, but we’re in a twin room.’ Max pulled into a small gravel park behind a quaint hotel. ‘I hope that’s okay? When I booked for you and Eric the hotel was fully booked apart from this one room, which I knew wouldn’t be a problem for you both. I should have said something earlier, but it completely slipped my mind until now. We could always have a look round to see if we can get into somewhere else?’

  ‘No, no, don’t worry about that, it’ll be fine. I’m okay with it if you are too.’

  Spending the night in the same room as the man I was currently nursing a major crush on – what could possibly go wrong? I mean, it wasn’t as if there was anything remotely romantic about this trip, despite the closeness I’d felt towards Max when he’d comforted me in the van earlier. Besides, I was definitely not at my best right now. My skin was red and blotchy on account of all the crying I’d been doing and I was nursing an almighty headache for my efforts. To be honest, I would be happy to lay my head down anywhere tonight.

  After checking-in at reception, which gave Max the opportunity to show off a masterful command of the language and demonstrate his most delicious French accent, we were shown to our bedroom at the top of some wide steep stairs.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ I said, dropping my rucksack to the floor as the door opened onto an oasis of calm.

  The room was high-ceilinged with a central chandelier, cool cream walls and pretty glazed doors that opened out on to a small balcony. The twin beds, pushed closely together to make a double, were covered in white linen with a rich gold eiderdown folded over the bottom of the bed and big white opulent cushions resting against the bedstead. It took all my self-control not to launch myself at it and land face-down spreadeagled on the sumptuous loveliness.

  ‘You like?’ asked Max, clearly amused by my open-mouthed reaction.

  ‘Oh, it’s lovely. So sophisticated, yet cosy and…’ I paused. Yep, romantic was definitely the word stuck at the back of my throat, but I quickly pushed those thoughts straight out of my mind.

  ‘We can push the beds apart, if you like,’ Max offered, sensing some hesitation on my part.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said, rather too quickly, waving my hand at him to put a stop to any such ridiculous idea. We could be grown up about this, surely. ‘Please don't go to any extra trouble. It’s just lovely as it is.’

  ‘Well, I aim to please,’ he said with a sidewards glance, his dark brown eyes sweeping over me. My gaze caught his and I gulped at his words.

  He dumped his bag on the floor and walked towards the French doors, opening them up. I followed him out on to the balcony and stood beside him in the cool breeze, looking out on the tree-lined avenue below. In the distance was the sea and we watched transfixed by the white waves rolling back and forth over the wide stretch of golden sand. The sight took my breath away. Max broke the silence by turning to look at me.

  ‘Would you like a shower?’

  My heart stopped for the briefest moment, a trickle of anticipation running down my backbone.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  The faintest hint of a smile played at his lips. ‘I wondered if you wanted to take a shower.’ There was a pause. A discernible pause. ‘I’m going to have one, but if you’d like to go first?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ I said, hoping the heat in my cheeks wasn’t visible to Max. I wandered back into the boudoir, I mean, bedroom. A shower was probably a good idea. It was beginning to get decidedly hot in here.

  *

  After we’d freshened up we ventured outside. I felt refreshed and with a new energy after my lovely invigorating shower. It was early evening but still warm enough for us to wander along the seafront in just our long-sleeved jumpers. The beach was a hive of activity with Segways whizzing along the sand, dogs lolloping into the sea, and other people, like us, just enjoying the last of the good weather for the day with a leisurely walk. Despite the beauty of our surroundings I still couldn’t erase from my mind the injustice of what we’d witnessed earlier.

  ‘It hardly seems fair that people are here enjoying their freedom in this beautiful landscape, able to do what they want, when they want without a care in the world, and yet down the road those poor people are herded into camps like animals, not knowing what their future holds.’

  Max nodded, his mouth turning up ruefully. ‘Yes, it certainly makes you stop and think.’ He took hold of my hand and squeezed it lightly, his touch awakening all sorts of sensations within me.

  ‘Poor Ima and her baby, and all those other people too are stuck inside that camp tonight without the freedom to come and go as they please. It makes me feel bad to think that they don’t have the same rights and privileges that we have. It’s all wrong.’

  ‘I know, Ellie, and I understand perfectly where you’re coming from, but don’t let it eat you up. You did what you came here to do and that’s a hell of a lot more than most people will ever do in their lifetime. Now, well we’re here, we might as well make the most of it.’

  Max spoke a lot of sense. Me moping around wasn’t going to change a thing and as he’d been kind enough to volunteer to bring me here in the first place the least I could do was try to be reasonably good company. After all, it wasn’t really a hardship being alone with Max, in a beautiful coastal location, with the sea breeze whispering against my skin. Actually, it was only then I realized that Max still had hold of my hand. I thought it had been the cool wind heightening my senses, causing goosebumps to ripple along my body, but looking up into Max’s eyes I sensed it was something else entirely.

  ‘You know we should go and get a drink,’ he said, holding my hand up, looking at it intently and giving it a little shake, as if he’d only just realized too that we were still holding hands. With a smile, he squeezed my fingers and let go, leaving me with an intense feeling of longing.

  We found a small bar tucked away down one of the cobbled backstreets, where we sat on high stools and drank cool long beers. Animated chatter rang around us, which was all the more enchanting for the fact that it was in French. My ears strained to catch the odd word or two that was recognizable to me from my days of GCSE French, but Max clearly had no such problems as he chatted away happily to the bar staff and locals.

  Back in Little Leyton I was more used to serving Max with a beer, exchanging idle small talk about the weather, his day, my day, the dogs, before moving on to the next customer, never standing still long enough to have a full conversation with him. Here, there were no such restrictions. My gaze travelled around his face, as he uttered something wholly incomprehensible to the barman. His features were achingly familiar and yet I realized I barely knew him at all.

  ‘Where did you learn to speak French so well?’

  ‘At school. And then I spent a couple of months grape-picking in the South of France, and a few months as a bar-back in Paris. It’s amazing how quickly you pick up the language when you’re living and working in a country. Et toi? Parlez-vouz des langues?’

  There was something about his French accent that spoke directly to the pit of my stomach, warming my insides.

  ‘Er.. um… un petit peu… je parle… le francais,’ I said, showing off my entire vocabulary in one fell swoop.

  He smiled a lazy smile, his eyebrows lifting in a way that suggested he wasn’t remotely impressed with my language skills.

  Later Max told me that he’d actually been asking the barman where the best place to eat was and after finishing our beers we made the short walk to the cosy bistro that he’d recommended, Chez L’Ami Pierre, which was tucked away in a back alleyway, somewhere we wouldn’t have stumbled upon by ourselves. It turned out to be the perfect choice as the small eatery was full of rustic atmosphere with Gallic charm oozing from every corner, and it had the most amazing smells wafting in the air.

  As I tucked into my cassoulet – well, when in France and all that – attempting to
stop the succulent juices from running down my chin, it occurred to me that this was the closest I’d come to a proper date in months. I couldn’t really remember the last time I’d been out with a man sharing a romantic meal together. My alcohol-fuelled nights with Johnny couldn’t be classed as dates or in the least bit romantic. Being here with Max though, across a candlelit table, sharing good food and wine, it crept upon me, slowly, surprisingly, what I’d been missing out on all this time.

  ‘So, how are you enjoying being back in Little Leyton? You always seem so busy what with all your dogs and the pub shifts.’

  ‘Oh, I am, but I just love it that way. It’s great. Much better than I could ever have imagined actually. I suppose for me it’s such a change of lifestyle – less demanding and stressful, and it’s a joy not being stuck in an office all day, having to deal with demanding clients. Nowadays, my clients are always so pleased to see me – I’m always greeted with wagging tails and the occasional lick too.’

  ‘I bet,’ said Max, with a chuckle. ‘Can you see yourself going back to your old career?’

  ‘Hmm, not sure. That was the plan, but now, I don’t know. It’s lovely having all my friends and neighbours nearby. Maybe when my Mum and Dad come home I’ll rethink it. I love them both dearly, but I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us all to live together again, it’s been too long. What about you?’

  I knew nothing of Max’s living arrangements; if he had a wife or a partner, or a brood of little Maxes running about the place. I could just imagine them now; dark haired, wide-eyed, and with mischievous smiles lighting up their faces. There it was again, that funny feeling I'd experienced when holding Stella in my arms. Most strange. My gaze flittered over Max’s handsome features and I hoped, with a selfish pang, that he wasn’t living out his own personal happy ever after up in that big country manor.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, are you in Little Leyton to stay or are you just passing through?’