Christmas at Lock Keeper's Cottage

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘You ain’t gonna like this, Immi, but you’ll have to suck it up, m’dear. When I was in The Bullrush just now, they were all talkin’ about the kitty.’

  I stare back at Tollie, blankly.

  ‘What kitty?’

  ‘The engagement kitty.’

  It’s hard not to show my exasperation, but out of love and respect I simply shrug it off.

  ‘No party, no presents. Just a cosy Christmas Day lunch for a few people to raise a toast after Gray has officially slipped Grandma’s beautiful ring onto my finger.’

  ‘I’ll pass that on, but I doubt you’ll win this one, Immi. Folk want to club together to get you both a special gift, and me, too. So, I’ll be givin’ you a sum of money towards the new furniture.’

  That stubborn streak of his can be trying at times. It irks me, because it reminds me of when I first came here to live.

  Unable to restrain myself, I burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, my goodness. I hope I’m not as stubborn as you, Tollie,’ I reply shaking my head. ‘You might as well know that Gray and I don’t want to push you out of your home.’ My voice is firm, but the look in his eye is one of bloody-minded determination and his stance confirms that.

  ‘Most of the furniture in the cottage has seen its best years,’ Tollie continues, ignoring my input. ‘There are a few mementos aside from my personal things, which I’ll move into here when we swap over, but I don’t intend hangin’ onto stuff for the sake of it. I want my remainin’ years to be about enjoyin’ every single day as it comes, not buryin’ myself in the past. The memories I need to keep me goin’ are all in my head, where they don’t gather dust.’ He taps the side of his forehead with his forefinger.

  ‘Like you worry about dust.’ I give him a rather disparaging stare.

  ‘I’m countin’ on the two of you to make me proud, Immi. I want to see the cottage turned into a real family home. You two are goin’ to be makin’ new memories for us all, so remember that, because it’s quite a responsibility.’

  His little speech is heartfelt and honest. Tollie is right and I understand where he’s coming from, even if I don’t feel comfortable about it. Gray and I have been very happy in The Retreat and I can’t see why that has to change. I, too, don’t need to look at old photos to remember Dad, or Grandma. I will admit that I wish there were a photograph of my mother. She’s never seemed real to me because I have no memories of her, but if I could see her as she was when she married Dad, then after she had me, maybe I would be able to look at her face and instantly know why she didn’t want to stay with us.

  ‘Oh, Tollie!’ I step forward, throwing my arms around him for comfort, while my emotions continue to swirl around inside me.

  I know that I have no choice in the matter, because he’s just doing what Gray’s father is trying to do. Tollie is setting his life in order, so he can get back to enjoying each and every day as if it’s a bonus. As if he can hear my thoughts, Tollie continues.

  ‘Don’t dwell on the past, m’dear. Let’s focus on the future and makin’ the cottage as wonderful as The Retreat. At my stage in life I don’t have the energy to do that, or live through the mess, but I am willin’ to help you and Gray. There’s nothin’ to fear when change comes – you need to learn to relax and go with the flow. Your grandma would have been so excited about this next stage in our lives.’

  ‘You won’t throw anything away though, will you, Tollie?’

  He takes a step back, his eyes flashing over my face with concern.

  ‘Whatever you want of your grandma’s is yours, ’course it is. The rest can go to the charity shop – she would have liked that. Nell didn’t attach any meanin’ to things, only people. I had me instructions about the ring and there are a few other bits of jewellery in her trinket box that are yours, anyway. It’s just that I would like to have the pleasure of seein’ you and Gray settin’ up home in Lock Keeper’s Cottage. Then you can get on with buildin’ your new life together.’

  The look on his face is a picture. He’s happy; happier than I’ve seen him for a long time.

  ‘Relegating you to the house in the garden, as you did to me, a wayward teenager who was driving you mad.’

  It’s his turn to laugh out loud.

  ‘The Retreat is just that, isn’t it? But it’s not too shabby. It gave us the distance we needed. To be honest, I’m bein’ selfish. Spendin’ time in my armchair lookin’ out over that view of the fields is rather appealin’ at my time of life. You and Gray will be far too busy workin’ to turn the cottage into your perfect home, to sit and gaze out at that view – but I’ll be in my element. The cottage is too beautiful a place to let fall into disrepair and we would be lettin’ your grandma down. The bonus is that I’ll be well away from the buildin’ work. But I’d like to think at some point the two of you will buy a boat and spend a bit of time cruisin’ up and down the canal, as we did when you were a nipper.’

  I might not have had a mother, but I had a brilliant dad and two truly special grandparents.

  ‘Morning, Abe. Need any help?’

  I’m on my way through to the sales desk with a box of Christmas baubles that are on special offer. Abe isn’t a frequent visitor to the nurseries and, judging by the way he’s standing there, with one arm folded across his chest and rubbing his fingers up and down his chin, he has a dilemma.

  ‘It’s our wedding anniversary, my lovely,’ he replies, giving me a wink. ‘I usually buy the old girl an ornament or something. There’s not a lot here that isn’t Christmassy, this year.’

  ‘Ah, that’s nice. How many years?’

  He looks at me, screwing up his face. ‘I dunno. Lots.’

  It’s hard not to laugh as I stand next to him, box pressed firm against my chest, gazing at the display. He’s right. This year it’s a Christmas explosion for sure, as Martin has really ramped things up and it’s paying off.

  ‘What sort of thing were you looking for?’ I ask him.

  ‘Last year I bought one of those crystal paperweights. It had a butterfly etched inside. Beautiful. She loved it.’

  ‘Follow me. Let’s see what we can find.’

  Abe looks at me quizzically but does as I ask. After dropping off the box ready to set up the new display, I lead him on past the staffroom and into the stockroom.

  ‘It’s a bit of a squeeze,’ I admit as we negotiate the narrow gangways between the racking.

  There are boxes stacked everywhere and it’s a sharp reminder that this lot has to go back on display once the festive period is over. But before that will be the big sale, which will hopefully mean fewer Christmas things to box up and store until next year.

  ‘Mind out for Bert.’ I turn on my heel as I warn Abe not to catch himself on the antlers of the large cast-iron stag I have affectionately named as he squeezes past.

  ‘My, he’s a big one.’

  ‘Yes,’ I call over my shoulder. ‘We use the heavy-duty sack-truck to move him in here so we can make way for the Christmas trees. It’s a shame, as he’s so regal and Christmassy. I hate to think of him being hidden away in a dark room like this, when he should really be outside. But people are more likely to buy trees, trimmings and small gifts than large, very expensive garden ornaments.’

  ‘Can I take a peek under the sheet?’

  I turn around, lifting up the cover with both hands. Abe gives Bert a nod of his head.

  ‘What a fine fellow. Nice to meet you, Bert.’

  Abe turns over the little white tag hanging from Bert’s neck and his eyes widen as he sees the price.

  ‘He’s a statement piece. Martin is very attached to Bert, though, as he sees him as a good-luck omen. It’s funny, because Martin isn’t usually one to make an impulse buy and I wonder if Bert will ever find a true home. There aren’t many visitors who can stump up fifteen hundred quid just like that.’

  ‘If I had a garden, I’d be tempted, but the old girl would probably veto it.’

  I shake my head at Abe, raising an eyebro
w at the reference to the old girl.

  ‘I rather like the fact that Bert has been here as long as I have, Abe. He’s one of the staff, too,’ I joke. ‘Never mind, Bert. Not long now until we get you back out into the fresh air again.’

  I reach out affectionately to pat Bert’s majestic neck.

  ‘You have a friend there, Immi.’ Abe laughs.

  Carefully tucking the sheet back around the mighty beast, I head off in the direction of the racking at the back of the storeroom. As I scan the shelves, Abe stands alongside me with a slight frown on his face.

  ‘How do you know what’s what?’

  ‘Well, everything has a supplier code and this stack is mainly angel statues, then it’s glassware, and this is… what I’m looking for.’

  I grab one of the boxes and carefully lift off the lid, offering the dark blue box with the padded white silk insert to Abe.

  ‘My, that’s pretty.’ He studies the handmade, crystal glass hummingbird and a smile creeps over his face.

  ‘It’s a sun-catcher, Abe. When you hang it up this little cut-glass crystal attached to the tail acts like a prism. When it reflects the sunlight, it will really bring out the beautiful purples and blues in the wings. Rather special, isn’t it?’

  ‘Spot on, my lovely. Knew you’d sort me out. Ethel is going to love it. How are things with you?’

  I pop the lid back on and we retrace our steps out through to the till.

  ‘Good. I’m really looking forward to Christmas Day and having what, for us, will seem like a house full of people. That doesn’t happen these days and I do miss the old times. Ethel’s Christmas pudding will, no doubt, be the highlight of the meal, but I’ll be glued to the cooker doing the very best job I can with the turkey and trimmings.’

  As Abe walks alongside me he turns his head, giving me a knowing glance.

  ‘It’s the thought that counts, Immi, so don’t let it be a pressure on you. And besides, it’s a doubly special occasion this year. We’re honoured to be a part of it; that means a lot to Ethel and me. It was nice to meet Gray’s mum, Rona, last weekend. Big changes coming for her, next year, that’s for sure.’

  Involuntarily, I find myself frowning.

  ‘Well, hopefully things will work out.’ I’m not sure it’s a comment as much as it’s wishful thinking.

  ‘I’m sure they will. He’s a lucky man, is Gray, but he knows that.’

  15

  Friday Night Bliss

  ‘What’s this all about?’

  As Gray swings open the hallway door and steps into the open-plan area, I can’t hide a self-satisfied grin.

  ‘Surprise!’ I call out from behind him.

  He stands with his back to me, dripping a little from the heavy rain as he surveys the dining table laid out for two in all its finery. I even managed to get Tollie to go digging around in the attic to find Grandma’s prized silver candelabra.

  We slip off our wet coats and I go off to hang them up to begin drying out. When I return Gray is sniffing the air appreciatively, turning to me with his eyes full of mischief.

  ‘Please tell me that’s Sarah’s beef in red wine.’

  I nod and he walks around the holdall he dumped on the floor to wrap his hands around my waist. Planting a noisy kiss on my lips, he swipes a few raindrops off my cheek, but they’re quickly replaced as droplets are still running off his hair.

  ‘If you don’t let me go it’s in danger of burning.’ I smile up at him. ‘And you need to dry your hair.’

  He catches me up in his arms playfully, walking me backwards into the room.

  ‘Well, we can’t waste all your hard work, and you have one hungry man here.’ Gray deposits me next to the cooker, looking happy and relaxed. The weekend starts here.

  ‘I figured you’ve had a tough week and we’re overdue a romantic evening together. Sarah sends her regards.’

  ‘It’s just what I needed, Immi, and it’s the thought that counts. But where’s Tollie?’

  ‘Him and Fisher have taken Valerie off to an open night at the Middle Norton Brewing Company. We were all invited, and someone has to show local support, of course.’

  ‘Ah.’ He beams at me. ‘That’s an invite no one can refuse, so I’m astounded I won the toss-up. I wonder if Valerie is going along just to keep an eye on them; who’s the designated driver?’

  ‘Valerie insisted.’

  ‘Ah. That makes sense, then. But you got us out of it?’

  ‘I did. I wanted to start the weekend off in a relaxing way.’

  I wriggle out of his grasp to check the oven, calling out over my shoulder, ‘Five minutes, no more.’

  Gray heads off to the bathroom as I ferry plates and dishes across to the table. When he returns, he lights the candles then switches everything else off so we can sit side by side, staring out at the garden. Surrounded only by the soft, flickering light, this is bliss.

  ‘It’s rather dramatic in the rain, isn’t it?’ Gray reaches for my hand, clasping it tightly in his.

  The garden up-lighters illuminate little patches of shrubs right down to the boundary and it makes the slanting rain glisten in places. Beyond that it’s impossible to see any detail of the vast expanse of fields, but the backdrop of a light, opaque thread of sky on the horizon melts into the graduated darkness of heavy black clouds. The contrast is stunning; one of those dramatic skies that don’t look real.

  A sudden clap of thunder overhead makes me jump and my hand flies straight to my chest.

  ‘It’s like looking at a painting, seeing the sky like that, but I hope the storm passes quickly. Anyway, fingers crossed this tastes every bit as good as it smells.’

  Gray reluctantly releases my hand, but I can see from his expression how much he’s looking forward to eating.

  ‘Great-looking roast potatoes,’ Gray remarks as I pass him a serving spoon.

  ‘These are all my own work,’ I inform him quite proudly.

  ‘Well, I’m glad there’s plenty of them. Anything happened this week that we haven’t had time to talk about yet?’ he enquires, piling roasters onto his plate.

  Next, he lifts the lid on the casserole dish, holding up his plate so I can dispense a generous ladleful. Wafts of beefy goodness make even my stomach begin to grumble.

  ‘Well, Fisher has spoken to Valerie and she will officially take over my role after Christmas. I’ll go into the office for one final day to do a formal handover. To be honest, it isn’t really necessary, but Fisher and I are both a little sad about it. It’s the end of an era and we need to mark it in some way. Doughnuts and lunch at The Bullrush, I think, so not a lot of work is going to get done.’

  Gray’s mouth is full, so he nods his head in acknowledgement. I find myself toying with a cube of beef on my plate. It’s time to tell him about the conversation with Tollie.

  ‘Apparently, in The Bullrush on Sunday evening they were talking about clubbing together to get us an engagement present. I told Tollie to put the damper on that, as we don’t want a fuss – that’s the whole point of doing the ring thing on Christmas Day and not having a separate celebration. But—’

  I pause and Gray puts down his fork, sensing my apprehension.

  ‘He’s adamant, Gray.’ My tone is one of acceptance as I know it’s useless fighting Tollie on this one. ‘We’re doing the swap once you come to live in Aysbury.’

  Gray shakes his head, sadly, half turning to reach out and cover my hand as it languishes on the table.

  ‘I know we both feel awkward about this, Immi, but it’s a big deal for Tollie. He doesn’t see it in the same way that you do – it’s not about clinging onto the past. He’s passing on the baton and he’s counting his blessings that he’s still fit and able to see you run with it. Our job is to make him proud and to bring his dream for the cottage alive.’

  Gray’s eyes seek out mine and we sit for a moment, in silence. We both know that I’m the one here with the problem and I’m projecting that onto Tollie.

  ‘F
unny, he said more or less the exact same thing. Okay. We’re doing it. I can’t say it will be easy, as Tollie is going to begin clearing out all the old stuff. It will be hard on us both, Gray. And I still don’t like the thought that he wants to pass everything on to us now, as if there’s some sort of rush. There’s a lot of living left in him and I don’t want to think about the future in that way.’

  Gray shifts slightly in his chair.

  ‘You can’t look at it like that, Immi. He wants to experience it all alongside us, the joy of setting up our new life together. Tollie is eighty-six and a young eighty-six, at that. He’s fitter than a lot of men twenty years his junior, so let’s just be grateful and start making plans.’

  Gray cups my chin in his hand. ‘Now, cheer up. This food is getting cold and that’s a waste. And I want you in a happy mood for later.’ The look I receive is decidedly flirtatious.

  He picks up his fork again and I sit watching him eating with relish. Nothing knocks him for long; he has an indomitable spirit. I notice the fingertips of his left hand are tapping away lightly on the tabletop the other side of him. In his head there’s a melody playing and it’s what I love so much about this man.

  I begin eating too, resolving to stop hankering over the past – what was and what might have been. It’s time to focus on creating a new reality. I know Grandma would simply tell me to pull myself together and get on with it.

  ‘Country chic is a good look for the cottage,’ I begin. ‘What do—’

  Suddenly, everything goes black and, aside from the flickering candlelight emanating from the centre of the table. The room around us seems to get sucked into the shadowy garden outside.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ Gray moans, shovelling up the last forkful of food on his plate, then wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. ‘You finish yours, and I’ll check the distribution board. There’s nothing in the oven still, is there?’

  ‘No. I made the New York cheesecake this afternoon.’