The Winter We Met

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘I’m afraid there is,’ said Glenda with a feisty tone. She folded her arms after pushing herself up. ‘I know Nik means well but it’s going to be a load of frivolity and nonsense at the very time we should all be focusing on the serious business of planning our futures.’

  ‘Perhaps organising a party is just what Willow Court needs to lift everyone’s spirits,’ said Nik and not for the first time I admired his appealing tone. It was like comforting cocoa on a stormy night, or a hot water bottle warming a bed.

  ‘Glenda’s got a point,’ piped up Fred, a former firefighter with, appropriately, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. ‘I’ve given no thought to the theme of our bash because all I can think about is where am I going to live in the New Year.’

  ‘But couldn’t an earlier party double as a way of saying goodbye?’ I said.

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Nancy. She sat at the back, in her wheelchair. Her voice wavered. ‘I’m going to miss everyone so much – staff as well. If we don’t have a party… a formal date where we all come together… I’m worried everyone will disappear in dribs and drabs and I won’t get a chance to tell the people that matter how much they’ve meant.’

  ‘That’s an excellent point,’ said Nik. He stood up and looked around the room. ‘It’s a last chance to celebrate your friendships. And getting the local press involved, I’m sure, would bring in lots of help. It’s a way of… of giving you closure, over this closure.’

  ‘We should do our bit,’ said Gran. ‘I read the papers. More care homes than ever are closing because of lack of funding. If we spoke to the local rag about our knees-up, they could tell the personal story behind what’s happening to the rest of folk like us, around the country.’

  Some of the residents perked up at this. Good old Gran, knowing that appealing to the higher cause might raise more interest.

  ‘But what would the theme be?’ asked Alf. ‘I’ve not thought about it much either – not with fielding calls from my son and daughter insisting I need to move in with one of them…’ He tutted.

  ‘Problems some of us would be glad to have,’ mumbled Glenda.

  Nik shot her a sympathetic look and she turned away as if she’d been caught off guard.

  ‘All I came up with,’ Alf continued, ‘was a Vegas Christmas. We all dress up fancy. Have a roulette table. Poker. Cocktails.’

  ‘There’s little Christian sentiment in gambling,’ said Glenda in a stiff voice.

  ‘It’s an excellent starting point,’ I said brightly. ‘I’m sure we’ve all got different ideas about the meaning of Christmas… anyone else?’

  Silence.

  ‘That’s it… I’ve just remembered my idea,’ said Pan eventually. ‘How about a dazzling 1920s Gatsby Christmas, with gold foil curtains, ostrich feathers and champagne glasses?’

  ‘I don’t feel especially glamorous at the moment,’ muttered one woman. ‘Drinking champagne? That feels like taking the celebrations too far this year.’

  Pan looked crestfallen.

  ‘Wouldn’t that make for a fun birthday party?’ said Nik and gave her a thumbs-up. He looked thoughtful for a moment as the air held nothing but the Michael Bublé Christmas album Lynn had put on. ‘In fact… the idea of basing your get-together on a movie and something Betty said about her children has given me inspiration, along with my trip to the Cenotaph this morning. We want to celebrate your friendships but… the party, what with everything that’s happened, I’m guessing you guys want a kind of… a comforting feel?’

  ‘Cut to the chase, lad,’ shouted out Fred.

  Lynn came in and sat down at the back.

  Nik came up to the front, next to me and Gran. He shot me a look and I nodded. ‘Okay. What about a party based around… It’s a Wonderful Life?’

  Gran’s face lit up. It was one of her favourite movies.

  ‘Jimmy Stewart?’ said Alf.

  ‘It was nominated for five Academy Awards, you know,’ said Pan. ‘It was super, that line about an angel getting its wings every time a bell rang.’

  ‘Donna Reed was certainly easy on the eye.’ Alf sat up straighter.

  ‘Never seen it,’ said Fred.

  ‘Goodness, how is that possible?’ said Pan and her jaw dropped.

  ‘That’s a sad state of affairs,’ said Gran, shaking her head with disapproval.

  Nik rubbed his hands together. ‘Okay. For those who haven’t, here’s a quick synopsis. George Bailey is feeling unfulfilled with his life in Bedford Falls, having never been able to pursue his glamorous dreams of travelling but staying to run his father’s building and loans business instead. He’s also thinking of ending it all because of a misplaced loan, so an angel is sent from heaven to show him, with flashbacks, just how much worse off local people would have been without him – just how much his life has mattered. Clarence, the angel, succeeds and duly earns his wings. He’s shown George that…’ He looked around all the residents. ‘Despite all the hard times and disappointments, it’s still a wonderful life. And at the end the community comes together to help George with his money worries.’

  ‘We could make decorations in the shape of, well, angels for a start,’ I said.

  The residents looked at each other.

  ‘It’s such a perfect idea,’ said Gran, eventually. ‘We could play Forties music.’

  ‘And snow. We’ll need lots of icy decorations,’ said another voice.

  ‘Glenn Miller,’ said Betty, lucid for a second before wandering out of the room again.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Pan dreamily. ‘There’s nothing quite like Big Band tunes to get people in the mood…’

  ‘There’s a theory that Glenn Miller never died in a plane crash, you know,’ said Alf. ‘Strong evidence suggests he was captured and killed by the Nazis.’

  ‘Alf, really.’ Glenda rolled her eyes. ‘Why are most of your theories so unpleasant?’

  Gran returned to her chair whilst Nik and I circulated the room. It seemed to be a universally loved movie that made residents feel nostalgic and secure. Even Glenda approved of the sentiments behind the story. Several times I stole looks at Nik as he chatted easily to the residents.

  What a genius!

  Liver-spotted hands rested on his arm. Behind thick lenses, wrinkled eyes returned his smiles. The familiarity and warmth of It’s a Wonderful Life was just what Willow Court needed. It even got approval from the contingent of movie-goers, amongst the residents, who loved the modern Marvel comic films and romantic comedies. Nik had brought a notepad and wrote down people’s initial thoughts.

  ‘As you might know,’ he said, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life was released in the mid-1940s. Visiting the Cenotaph this morning really makes my generation think about how everyday life must have been for ordinary families during the hard war years. It must have felt fantastic, in the late Forties, to go to the cinema and escape into a film.’

  ‘What did you think to the service?’ asked Gran.

  ‘Very moving.’ Everyone stopped to listen. ‘I’ve never seen a queue like it. We got there early at eight. Time flew until the service at eleven, soaking up the atmosphere, talking to people.’

  ‘I imagine with your height, lad, you got a great view,’ said Alf.

  ‘It was great seeing the veterans’ parade. I couldn’t see Prince Charles lay the wreath, but the Queen, William and Kate were on the balcony at the Foreign and Commonwealth office. I took some photos I’ll eventually show to my neighbour, Wanda, back in Sydney. She loves The Duchess of Cambridge – has her on a mug, a plate, a tea towel and even her phone cover.’ His voice softened. ‘Seeing those veterans, it really makes you appreciate what people went through in both of the world wars – losing comrades, family and friends…’

  ‘I was four when the Second World War ended,’ said Glenda. ‘Never saw my dad – and he never saw me.’

  I didn’t know Glenda and I had that in common.

  Nik reached over to her chair and squeezed her shoulder.

  ‘That’s
the way it was for many children,’ she continued. ‘Mum did her best afterwards and eventually married his closest friend.’

  ‘I remember Dad going off,’ said Alf. ‘I’ve always liked St Martin’s Remembrance Service and it didn’t disappoint this morning – it gives me the chance to really think about him.’

  ‘Didn’t he come back?’ I asked.

  ‘His body did,’ Alf said gruffly, ‘but his mind was never the same. He was forgetful, suffered from tremors and headaches, and he couldn’t stand loud noises. For years he’d suffer a panic attack on Bonfire Night. Shell shock they called it back then. I wish I’d understood better, when I was a lad, but I found it scary and just kept out of his way.’

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ said Pan. She studied her nails. ‘I remember my grandmother. Determined she was, that the war wasn’t going to stop her love of fashion. She always wore nail polish – it was the one affordable cosmetic, at that time, and she said it helped ease the horror of having to wear her overalls in the munitions factory.’ Pan smiled. ‘She’d paint on her nylons using gravy juice. As a little girl I couldn’t think of anything more disgusting, but as I got older I understood.’

  ‘Like Jimmy Stewart’s character in It’s a Wonderful Life, Wanda’s dad couldn’t do service in the Second World War due to deafness in one ear,’ said Nik. ‘She said the feeling of inadequacy never left him. A little girl once gave him a white feather – she’d heard stories about a white feather campaign where women gave them to so-called cowards who wouldn’t go off to fight.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ said Pan.

  ‘But It’s a Wonderful Life is a celebration of all the ways people are brave and kind and help each other – often without even realising,’ said Nik. ‘I can’t think of a better theme for a Christmas party.’

  ‘This is all very well,’ said Glenda. She’d been consulting her phone. ‘But has it fully sunk in with everyone that today is the 8th – the 8th – of November? When are you thinking of holding this party? I’ve just been looking at an online calendar. We’ve been told to move out by Tuesday the 15th of next month. This get-together can’t be at the last minute. That means Sunday the 6th would be the most sensible date. That is only four weeks from today.’

  Everyone looked at me and Gran, even Buddy.

  ‘She’s got a point,’ mumbled Alf. ‘And some of us are bound to have left by then.’

  ‘I… I hadn’t really thought about that,’ I said. Of course. It was Bonfire Night weekend. Remembrance Sunday. I should have been more aware of the actual dates.

  ‘We’ve got application forms to fill in. Phone calls to make. Meetings with relatives or social workers and occupational therapists. All of that on top of our usual appointments with health professionals.’ Glenda smoothed down her jumper even though there were no creases. ‘That last week or so will be spent packing. It’s just not possible,’ she said with a satisfied smile.

  ‘Willow Court is doing everything to see if you can all be transferred somewhere together,’ said Lynn, dark circles framing her eyes.

  Glenda gave one of her snorts. ‘Over thirty people live here. Any residential home with that amount of free places can’t be very good.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ swept around the room like a slow Mexican wave along with comments like ‘there’s just no point celebrating this year’.

  Nik and I crouched by Gran’s chair.

  ‘Perhaps it’s best to forget it,’ I said. Gran’s eyes looked watery and I passed her a tissue. ‘I hope you aren’t coming down with the cold that is doing the rounds.’

  She sniffed and took it. Nik and I stood up.

  ‘Perhaps we’re expecting too much,’ I said to him.

  Nik stared at Gran. ‘I hate to see Alice so upset.’

  Her watery eyes were due to a bug, weren’t they? Gran never cried. Not over her arthritis. Not over losing her home here. Not over the fact that her only child – my mother – never contacted either of us anymore. She certainly wouldn’t cry over a Christmas party. I glanced down and my eyes pricked as she dabbed hers. Pan had come over and stood the other side, patting Gran’s shoulder. I thought back to previous Decembers and the jollity of the yearly celebration. It was always the one time of year Gran seemed to completely forget her stiff joints, dancing if she got the chance, albeit with a walking stick, handing out buffet food and clapping vigorously as everyone sang carols.

  Who the hell did Glenda think she was, trying to ruin our plans just because she hated Christmas? Before she’d launched in with her calendar comments the residents were getting excited. I glanced back up at Nik. He looked right into my eyes and I experienced that sense again that we understood each other completely.

  ‘Four weeks isn’t long,’ I said in a loud voice, and a hush fell. ‘But look… the legacy of It’s a Wonderful Life… I know it’s only a movie, but art – doesn’t it reflect life? That film’s about how we keep going and make the most of our situation.’

  ‘Jess is right,’ said Nik. ‘Surely what we can take from the story is that however tough life gets, it’s worth battling on? This party has always meant so much to Willow Court. Let’s put up a fight. Let’s make it one to remember. I mean…’ His cheeks flushed. ‘That’s if you’ll let a particular Australian bloke muck in. I’d be happy to help with the organising, in between the occasional business meetings, and sightseeing trips to London.’

  ‘You’d really help out?’ stuttered Gran.

  ‘Sure – the alternative would only be to sit alone in my flat. And you know what? It’s kind of fateful, the idea of having a Christmas party early and choosing the theme of It’s a Wonderful Life, because that very snowy, wintry movie was actually filmed in the summer. It came about early too!’

  Surprised faces looked at each other. Alf sat scratching his head and staring at Nik.

  ‘Any residents who’ve already moved out could come back for that day. I’m sure we could arrange that,’ I said and looked at Lynn who nodded.

  Nik grinned and draped an arm around my shoulder, his long fingers curled around the top of my arm. Sparks of electricity travelled down to my fingertips; I wasn’t expecting it and for a second, I felt a little giddy.

  ‘Let me help make this an awesome party, one that no one will ever forget,’ he said. ‘Now… where are those mince pies?’

  9

  Days off, I was discovering, weren’t exactly that when you moved into management but I wasn’t complaining. I knew how lucky I was to have a job that made getting out of the bed every day easy. There was something magical about walking into Under the Tree. The ring of the door’s bell was like a click of the fingers that transformed the problematic adult world into a little happy oasis, with the bright colours, the squeals of delight from children and cheerful background music. I was grateful for the extra responsibility – even though, with Christmas approaching, it gave me sleepless nights.

  It was Monday and I’d be showing Nik the sights of the capital. We’d had to delay meeting up by an hour or two to later this morning as Seb had messaged first thing to say his car wouldn’t start. He’d be an hour late due to having to take the train. Not that I minded. I loved work plus the prospect of spending time with Nik added an extra dimension to the day ahead. Oliver put his fingers in his ears at my whistling that not even the boiling kettle could drown out, but that only made me whistle louder.

  What’s more, it was a special time, first thing in the shop, a bit of tranquillity before Springhaye sprang to life and I could wave to the card shop owner on the left, as she pulled up her blinds, and the greengrocer who often threw me a free apple. I’d savour my second coffee of the day whilst putting money in the till and refilling any shelves we hadn’t had time to re-stock the night before. A small thing, but I also really enjoyed being the one to turn the shop sign around, from closed to open. The thrill never left me. That one act symbolised that I was providing a service and that mattered. I wasn’t wasting my life, I was getting out there and earning mone
y, I was helping people and spending my days constructively.

  A woman passed by outside and I held my breath for a second. She looked just like Mum with the slumped shoulders and wild curly hair. She was the same height, the same build… I went closer to the window as she crossed the street and caught a clearer look of her face, confirming she was a stranger. For some reason I always felt the need to do that.

  The bell went as the door opened and heavy breathing entered the shop.

  ‘Jessie, you’re a star. I managed to get here quicker than I expected. The train service has really improved since the last time I used it.’ Seb took off his coat.

  ‘I have a dilemma,’ I said.

  ‘Happy to lend you my wisdom. Shoot.’

  ‘Do I or do I not tell you that you’ve put your jumper on inside out?’

  We grinned at each other.

  ‘So, you’re meeting up with Nik today? Business or pleasure?’ he asked as he put it on the right way around.

  ‘Business, I’d say – it feels right, being hospitable towards a fellow member of the toy industry. And he’s been so kind to Willow Court’s residents.’

  Seb snorted and was about to talk when the bell went again and he hurried to hang up his coat. A man around the same age as me came in with a toddler, probably just having dropped off an older child at school. We had a run of parents come in after nine who’d browse the shop and perhaps read a couple of books, before heading to the coffee shop opposite. He yawned and lifted up a bottle of water, wedged into the collapsible cover of the buggy. The toddler kicked her feet, screaming to be let out. Her dad had deep black circles under his eyes. I nipped behind the till and came back with a cow puppet on my hand. I bent down in front of the little girl.

  ‘Mooooo,’ I said and wiggled my fingers. ‘And what’s your name?’ The girl stopped crying, choochie cheeks red and blotchy, before giving a toothy smile.

  ‘Tilly,’ said the man.

  ‘Well, Tilly, would you like to read some books with Mrs Cow?’ I said and looked up. Her dad gave a tired smile. Interacting with customers was my favourite part of the job. There was nothing more rewarding than seeing a child’s face light up. Seb tapped my shoulder and, out of sight of the girl, pulled the puppet off my hand.