The Advent Calendar

by Steven Croft

  The girl stepped away from them and for the first time stood in the pool of light at the centre of the room. She stretched to her full height, threw back her shawl and shook out her long dark hair. Her eyes flashed with the reflected starlight.

  Alice gasped. She was so beautiful. So brimming with life. So full of joy and sadness finely woven together. Young yet full of years. Her voice was rich and full of pleasure and her smile lit up everything around her. Alice was sure she had seen her before.

  ‘Welcome, Sam Brown. Welcome, Alice Carroll. You are my guests. My name is Mary. You have tasted the food prepared for you. Now you must listen to my song.’

  Without waiting for any reply or answer, Mary began to sing. Her song filled the home and spilled over to the waiting world. Alice had never heard anything more beautiful in her whole life and knew she never would.

  The first part of the song was lament. There were notes of longing and of waiting. As she sang, Sam had visions of darkness over the face of the earth; of cruelty and wrongdoing; of war and hatred; of a world weary for change. Alice felt herself caught up in hope and expectation, longing for something somewhere to be different, waiting for something but not knowing what it was.

  The note of lamentation died away and for some moments there was silence broken only by the rhythm of Mary’s foot tapping faster and faster. And then Mary sang once more, a sharp cry of joy and wonder, a joy which celebrated life and hope and wisdom and love taking human form. As she sang, Sam’s mind was filled with the flash of angels’ wings and blinding light, of moments of fear and danger, of long journeys to far places, of escape in the night. Alice saw visions and felt the wonder of a child conceived in Mary’s womb, of hope and joy after years of waiting, of fear conquered, of the proud and powerful put down, of poor and humble people lifted up, of all that was wrong now beginning to be put right, of promises which had been kept. She caught the wonder and the mystery of life taking shape, wrapped in human flesh, formed within a young girl’s body, light itself caught, distilled, made visible, at rest.

  The song spoke of all that was familiar in the story: of shepherds and wise kings; of stables and the donkey. Yet she saw it now through different eyes: eyes which had been watching and waiting for generations, longing for this moment, eyes which understood, a little, the great cost and promise locked inside a tale which is often told yet seldom understood. And she saw, or thought she saw, a child: growing, playing, learning, laughing, crying, settled at his mother’s breast, pulling at his mother’s arms, hiding from his mother’s eyes, resting in his mother’s love.

  For Sam, the final part of the song spoke to him so deeply of the wonder of conception and the precious gift of life: the essence of two natures, the spark of gift and grace, the slow formation of a child, the solemn charge to love and give and share.

  As Mary’s song ebbed now to gentle lullaby, both Sam and Alice closed their eyes and rested.

  Alice was the first to wake, at home again, the room lit only by the fire. She shook Sam gently. ‘Wake up. We’re home.’ The song had left an echo of wonder and stillness in the room.

  Together they stood and turned back towards the calendar. The new door was fully open now, swung back on its hinges. Inside, hanging in the vastness of a dark sky, as Alice knew it would be, was the brightest of all stars. Glimpsing its light, Alice caught echoes of Mary’s distant song.

  20 December

  Megs had the day off work on Thursday. She and Alice had planned to finish the Christmas shopping.

  To Alice’s great relief, there was no sign of Andrew Watkins and Megs seemed to be in a very chirpy mood. They buttoned up well against the December weather and caught the bus into town. The shopping mall was a sea of people.

  ‘Strange,’ said Megs. ‘That new laundry has disappeared. I thought they were very good.’

  Alice smiled, half expecting to see Mr Gabriel somewhere in the new Fair Trade gift shop which had opened just in time for Christmas. There weren’t that many people inside – not compared to Boots or Smiths. There was no sign of a bowler hat – but one of the women waved at Alice and Megs and beckoned them to come in.

  ‘It’s Brenda,’ said Alice. ‘Brenda Fisher from the church.’

  She dragged Megs inside by the hand. Brenda was standing behind one of the tills. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘The vicar had a telephone call last week,’ said Brenda. ‘The company which had rented the shop before Christmas pulled out with only a few days to go. They suggested we might like to run it for charity. We already have a Fairly Traded Shop at church once a month and we managed to get hold of some more stock. What do you think?’

  ‘It’s brilliant,’ said Alice. ‘But what’s Fair Trade?’

  ‘It’s where the farmers and producers in poorer countries get a fair price for their goods,’ said Brenda, showing them her stock. ‘The food is over there. Clothes are against that wall and the craft things are in the middle.’

  ‘There aren’t many people here,’ said Megs.

  ‘It got busier yesterday,’ said Brenda, defensively. She busied herself rearranging some of the chocolate bars and didn’t meet Megs’ eyes. ‘Especially around lunchtime. People are looking for something a bit different these days. The only trouble is, we’re really short of help. I don’t suppose either of you could lend a hand?’

  ‘Well, I’m not …’ Megs began to make her excuses.

  ‘I will,’ said Alice. ‘I’d rather do something useful than trail round the shops.’

  ‘What about your own Christmas shopping?’ said Megs. ‘Last chance?’

  ‘I can buy what I need here.’

  Megs looked less than enthusiastic. Alice was unsure whether it was the thought of her daughter helping out in the shop or the prospect of an African wood carving as a Christmas present.

  ‘Won’t you be in the way?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Brenda. ‘There’s plenty she can do. Just leave her here for a couple of hours while you whiz round the shops, then we can see how it’s going.’

  ‘OK then. If you’re sure that’s OK. Call me if you get bored or anything and I’ll come back to get you. Bye.’

  ‘Mum!’ said Alice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Aren’t you going to buy anything? These tea towels would be just right for Grandma.’

  Megs grimaced and got out her purse. ‘How lovely, darling. I’ll take two.’

  ‘Four pounds please,’ said Alice, holding out her hand.

  ***********

  After Megs had gone, Brenda introduced Alice to the other two volunteers in the shop: Wendy and Carla. Alice’s job was to look after the food area. The morning was extremely quiet and Alice had plenty of time to look at the stock and read the posters on the wall. It all seemed so obvious really: giving people a fair price for the goods they produced. The only trouble was, people streamed past the shop without seeming to notice it was there. She even saw Alex and waved desperately but he never looked inside.

  The shop doorbell rang at a quarter to twelve and a familiar figure in a bowler hat came in.

  ‘Mr Gabriel,’ said Alice. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘How do you do, Miss Carroll,’ said Mr Gabriel, lifting his hat. ‘Delighted to see you again. Who are your companions?’

  ‘This is Brenda from the church,’ said Alice. ‘These ladies are Wendy and Carla.’

  ‘Delighted,’ said Mr Gabriel again. ‘Is business good?’

  ‘Not brilliant,’ admitted Brenda. ‘We could do with a few more people.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Mr Gabriel, mysteriously, and winked at Alice. ‘In the meantime, Miss Carroll, I simply called to deliver this.’

  He took a large, crisp white envelope from inside his coat and placed it in Alice’s outstretched hand. ‘Good morning!’
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br />   Wendy held the door open for him as Mr Gabriel walked out into the shopping mall.

  ‘What is it, Alice?’ said Brenda. Alice examined the outside for a moment. The envelope was embossed with gold with a very fancy crest on the back. She opened it carefully and took out a white card, again edged in gold.

  ‘To Alice and Sam,’ she read aloud. ‘He’s my uncle. “You are invited to a wedding. On Thursday 20 December. The car will collect you at 4.00 p.m. Wear your smartest clothes.’

  ‘That seems short notice,’ said Brenda, looking over her shoulder. ‘Is he alright, that Mr Gabriel?’

  ‘Yes, very much so,’ said Alice. ‘I think you might find he was the person who phoned the vicar about the shop. But strange things happen when he’s around. Is there a phone I can use?’

  Wendy pointed to the payphone at the back of the shop. A few more customers were drifting in now so the three women were needed at the counter. Alice went and rang Sam to tell him the news.

  ‘Fascinating. No problem,’ he said. ‘I’ll come home after lunch. It’s dead here anyway. I can tell Richard I need to do some work at home.’

  When Alice returned to the shop floor she had to rub her eyes in disbelief. The store was now packed to bursting point with more people coming in every moment. More than that, they were not just looking but buying. For the next hour, Alice worked flat out on the food section. Wendy was on clothes and Carla sold the ornaments. Brenda brought out the boxes of stock from the back room. Everything was selling as fast as they could put it on the shelves.

  By half past one, they had sold their entire stock and Carla turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. Even so, they saw a stream of people coming up to peer in the window only to turn away disappointed. The two old tills were full to bursting with cash, cheques and credit card slips. The three women and Alice sipped cups of tea and drew breath.

  ‘Whew!’ said Brenda. ‘Our best day so far. Fantastic.’

  ‘We’ll have to get some more stock for tomorrow,’ said Wendy.

  ‘What’s the money for anyway?’ said Alice. ‘Does it go to the people who made the stuff?’

  ‘They’ve already had a fair price,’ said Brenda. ‘We’re going to divide the profits between the shelter for the homeless and the church roof appeal. Looks like both will get a special Christmas present. I’d better ring the Vicar.’

  There was a tap on the glass and Carla went to let Megs in, burdened with plastic carriers. ‘Had a good morning, darling?’

  ‘We sold everything,’ said Alice pointing to the empty counters.

  ‘Strange,’ said Megs. ‘Everywhere else was really quiet after about eleven. I got all the shopping done. Ready to go?’

  Alice nodded, hoping that no one would mention the invitation. Brenda was on the phone but waved. ‘Thanks, Alice,’ she said. ‘See you at the Carol Service?’

  ***********

  Megs had no time for questions all afternoon. She had to wrap the presents she had bought. Alice hoped there were some good ones. Andrew was taking her up to see the grandparents in Luton again. He came round at three and Sam was home about the same time. Alice was in the bathroom when they left so there were no awkward questions.

  ‘You look very smart,’ she said to Sam, dressed in his best suit, white button-down shirt and tie.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sam. ‘You’re still wearing jeans.’

  ‘What’s wrong with jeans?’ said Alice, defiantly.

  ‘No one wears jeans to a wedding,’ said Sam.

  ‘Well I do,’ said Alice.

  ‘Message’ sang the mobile phone. ‘Here’s the code,’ Sam said. There was a new arched door on the right-hand side of the calendar. ‘Five, five, colon, one.’ Alice pressed the buttons and looked out of the window. An enormous stretch limousine was making its way down the road.

  ‘Look at this, Sam!’

  They watched as the car pulled up outside and their three escorts got out of the front seats dressed in sharp suits and sunglasses. Mel was driving and he stayed by the car. Caspar and Bal came to the front door.

  ‘Wedding party ready for collection?’ asked Caspar walking through into the hall.

  ‘Ready and waiting,’ said Alice, holding out the white card.

  Bal took off his glasses and inspected them both. ‘Very smart, Sam,’ he said. Then all three of them looked at Alice.

  ‘No one wears jeans to a wedding,’ they said, simultaneously.

  ‘I do,’ said Alice, weakly.

  ‘Not this time, young lady,’ said Bal. ‘Change. Quick or we’ll be late.’

  Alice sensed it was not the time to argue and sprinted up the stairs. With great reluctance she put on her one smart dress and smart black shoes and tied up her hair in matching ribbons.

  The three men were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, looking at their watches.

  ‘Spectacular,’ said Caspar as she came down the stairs. ‘Worth waiting for, young lady.’

  They escorted Alice out of the house, standing on each side like bodyguards. Mel opened the rear doors of the limousine and Alice climbed inside. It was the height of luxury. Sam and Alice sank into the soft leather seats. There was room to extend your legs right out, a television, even a minibar with soft drinks.

  ‘Fasten your seat belts,’ said Mel through the intercom. Both of them complied as the car slid smoothly away from the pavement and out onto the main roads. The glass was tinted so Alice and Sam could see out but no one could see them. Alice sipped a fruit punch cocktail and looked out of the window. It was great to see heads turning as they passed, everyone wondering who was inside.

  It was growing dark outside now and the streetlamps were on as well as the Christmas lights. The car sped out of town and onto the motorway which (for once) was almost clear of traffic. The television news came on and Sam and Alice watched the headlines: another famine loomed in Africa; record crowds in the shops pre-Christmas... When Alice peered through the smoked glass again they were on smaller country lanes but still moving at a worryingly high speed.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Mel from the front. Sam could see a great stately home ahead, at the end of a long driveway, full of light and colour. ‘The party’s in full swing’

  The limousine came to a stop on the gravel drive in front of the house entrance. Caspar opened the door, Bal held an umbrella over Alice and Mel held one over Sam. They parted at the door. ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ they called.

  Sam and Alice joined the party. The ladies were all in dinner gowns. The gentlemen wore suits. Alice was glad, for once, that she had followed instructions. It was like something from one of Megs’ celebrity magazines.

  A waiter came up balancing a tray of elegant glasses. ‘What’s the choice?’ asked Sam.

  The waiter coughed and looked embarrassed. He spoke with a thick French accent. ‘Tonic water or orange juz?’ Alice took an orange juice.

  ‘Nothing stronger?’ asked Sam (now in a party mood).

  ‘I’m very sorry, m’sieur,’ said the waiter. ‘Zer ‘as been some sort of mix up.’ He beckoned to Sam who bent his ear close to the waiter’s mouth. ‘Ze wine ‘as run out. Zis ‘as never ‘appened before, you understand.’

  ‘At a wedding?’ said Sam, stupefied.

  The waiter nodded and raised his eyebrows. ‘‘Eads will roll,’ he mouthed and shimmied to the other side of the room.

  ‘What’s the big panic?’ said Alice, sipping her orange juice. ‘Look at this yummy food.’ There were more people serving now, bringing in platters of food for the guests. Alice helped herself to a mini Yorkshire pudding with a sausage inside. Sam had a tiny prawn in batter with a couple of chips. They made their way slowly through the great hallway and into what looked like the main ballroom. Over on the far side, Alice could see the bride and groom making their way through the c
rowd. There was a string quartet on the stage. Every so often they caught a snatch of conversation from one side or another:

  ‘Have you heard? The wine’s run out.’

  ‘Did you ever hear of anything like it, my dear?’

  ‘I’m not one to complain but, honestly. What about the toast?’

  ‘The best man looks distracted, darling.’

  ‘The bride’s mother has had to go and lie down, poor thing. They say she has a heart condition.’

  Alice was beginning to feel more and more sorry for the bride and groom, whoever they were. Nobody had spoken to Sam or herself since they came in. They gradually moved back to the side of the room.

  ‘There you are,’ came a familiar voice, in a soft whisper. ‘How do you like the wedding?’

  ‘Very nice, thanks,’ said Sam, his mouth half full of mini-pizzas, which he managed to spray over Mary.

  She looked older than the last time Alice and Sam had seen her but unmistakably the same: the life shone within her eyes. She was dressed as one of the waitresses and carried a tray of orange juice. Even so, if you looked into her eyes, she was the most beautiful person in the room.

  ‘How do you like it, Alice? Have another orange juice.’

  Alice took a glass. ‘It’s a lovely party,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting us. It’s a shame about the wine running out though.’

  ‘Wait and see,’ said Mary, laughing. ‘Here’s the head waiter now. I’ve just suggested how he might sort it out.’

  A very anxious head waiter came over to where they were standing. He spoke to Mary, ignoring Sam and Alice.

  ‘Did you do as I asked?’ Mary said. ‘Did you speak to him?’

  ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I know you zaid ‘e was special – but the advice is –‘ow you say – very strernge.’

  ‘Will you do as he asks?’ Mary asked.

  ‘I werll,’ said the head waiter. ‘We ‘ave nothing to lose. It will be an ‘our before the supplies arrive from the ware‘ouse. If it is not solved by then, I will lose my job.’

  ‘These are friends of mine,’ said Mary, ‘Alice and Sam. Can they come downstairs and watch?’