by Tony Spencer
Relationships, he thought despairingly, they are so difficult to understand. Even his own family didn't get on well with him and they had become strained over the last few years. He couldn't help it, he felt it wasn't his fault that he was unable to work on Pop's farm. He knew why his father was so disappointed in him. It was natural for Pop to want him to take over the operation so that eventually Pop could enjoy his retirement but Mickey found that he was ill-equipped to step up to the plate for him. Mickey could barely remember his Mom, she passed when he was only a baby and his father had brought him up alone. For some reason that was difficult to discuss with Pop, he never had a step-mom to fill that huge void in his life. Mickey felt that, by holding out a candle to his dead wife his father also missed having another partner in his life.
Mickey found out long ago that he had been born with brown thumbs, with not a single green finger evident on either hand. You could guarantee if he put the most virulent weeds in a flower pot and kept them fed and watered they'd wither and die on him in days. So he had gotten away from the farm as soon as he was old enough to escape and took the job in the lighthouse, keeping the lamps alight. Even a complete ignoramus should be able to switch the lights on when it got dark and switch 'em off again when it got light! Those lights turned out to be only bulbs that ever thrived under his handling.
The stupid thing was that he found he was excellent with his hands and could make things out of any old scraps. He had made the lighthouse fully automatic seven years ago and only had to flick a switch and he would never have to lift another finger. The electrician doing the annual safety inspection remarked that it was the neatest set-up he'd ever seen and why didn't he use it all the time? Mickey had pointed out that then he'd be out of a job, wouldn't he? The electrician had smiled broadly, gave him a knowing wink and signed off the required safety certificate.
Mickey was glad to take on the additional seasonal job at the post office while the Christmas mail rush was on. He had done so every year but only Bella had recognised that he had some talents in the area and had allowed him to expand his role. He found he enjoyed it so much that he was actually considering taking it on full time as well as live in the lighthouse, after all, the Coastguard would never know. Bella was urging him to do so, logistics came so naturally to him, she had said. He was given a few days to consider it, Bella wanted a decision in January before the casual staff were laid off after the backlog of Christmas and New Year mail had been cleared. He could still live at the Lighthouse and still turn the lights on and off, as well as build a respectable and enjoyable career for himself.
***
The news Nicky had just received from his father was not good. No help was forthcoming and he was definitely going to have to cope on his own. Dad was pretty brutal about it and told him to grow up; this was his destiny. Damn! As far as the old man was concerned Nicky was to put his trust completely in the Magic of Christmas and everything would be all right on Christmas Eve. Nicky felt let down and was becoming increasingly depressed about the whole situation. The old man had apparently thought over all the options available to him including helping Nicky out himself or sending up Bella to help, and he had decided for now to do absolutely nothing and trust to fate. Bella could not be spared, Nick had said, as she had her own career to concentrate on and she was clearly doing superbly well in her chosen field. No-one from outside the family could possibly be brought in, so Nicky was basically on his own.
Actually, things were not as bad as Nicky felt they had been a couple of days earlier. The word from the Toy Workshop was that production was now much more advanced and would almost certainly be complete in timely fashion, plus they had started wrapping presents and this task was also getting back on target.
Nicky suspected the hand of Bella may have been behind this dramatic turnaround in his fortunes. He found that he loved her even more than he thought his heart could take. If only he could speak to her and thank her in person, to touch her, hold her, but it was impossible, for both their sakes.
Things were still touch and go, though. Nicky knew that the family business wasn't any way out of the woods yet. Nicky wasn't confident that he could do the job on the night without the help of either his father or Bella because he couldn't see how the magic could work for him alone. Last Christmas Eve, they had managed to do the deliveries simply because of Bella's presence. Nicky was there in the sleigh helping to drive the reindeer through the skies, but he felt he was only along as a passenger. He didn't suddenly grow the white whiskers and engorged midriff girth as the books and Nick had said he would. He wasn't stupid, he recognised that the Magic resided only with Bella, not himself.
The reindeer training had continued apace although the fat buggers still couldn't get off the ground. Nicky desperately wanted to get down to California to speak to his dad in person, to express the gravity of his father's decision, but he wasn't going anywhere until the reindeer were able to take off.
The Naughty List had turned up somehow from wherever it had been mislaid and was being updated as Nicky ordered. The usual culprits were as prominent as ever, except the number one entry for the last couple of years had mysteriously been moved to the Nice Book, a remarkably unprecedented about face. The elves had at first been reluctant to bring it to his attention, but at least now he knew about it and could come to a decision concerning it if he considered any measure necessary.
The elf secretariat had been shaken up, too, and were updating the main book with children's requests, although it was an uphill task with record levels of letters for Santa still coming in. At least elsewhere in the world the Magic of Christmas was still alive in the hearts of children everywhere.
Just you then, Nicky boy, he thought miserably, it's only you that doesn't believe in Father Christmas.
***
Mickey received a call from his father, Pop. They had a major panic on at the winery, the new wine was ready to bottle but it was awful. Although the colour of the red wine was good, it was low in alcohol, quite acidic and tasted of nothing special. Just dipping your tongue in it made your face screw up as if you'd sucked a couple of lemons. It was a disaster, probably because the grapes that had been grown and harvested were so poor in the first place.
Mickey's father was concerned that there seemed to be a fungal infection in the over-wintering vines as well as in the cuttings and new rootstocks in the greenhouse and that there may be no blossom in the spring and therefore no grapes. They faced the loss of the winery's good name and that would certainly mean financial ruin.
Mickey felt so helpless, his Pop was crying out for help and he wasn't able to come up with any suggestions that would provide succour.
***
Manny Bertoni was at his wits end, too. Not only was his head cold not getting any better but disturbing symptoms had started to move onto his chest and stomach, plus his right hand girl Cherry and all her kids were so sick that she was unable to come into work the week before Christmas. Hell, he thought, if it goes onto her chest it could be really serious. He'd have to look around for another replacement secretary and they wouldn't all be as amenably accommodating as Cherry was.
Even more serious was the fact that every batter on his highly selective team had declared themselves out of the game because they had all gone down with the same virulent strain of Italian Flu. Even Atlantic City were considering closing down for a few days. You couldn't get a pizza for love nor money in virtually any town on the eastern seaboard.
For the people removal business it was a case of bada bing bada bum and Manny could see his chance of getting his hands on an original G.I. Joe submariner limited edition with spare flippers rapidly going down the toilet. The gastric element of his Italian Flu had started to kick in by then, so the analogy was not lost on Manny as he shuffled with clenched buttocks down the dimly-lit corridor to the john.
It was much later that day, not long after he had hung up the receiver following the phone conversation from Gisella, his niece, that
he had a thought. He started his flu-numbed mind working along lines towards some kind of a compromise solution to his immediate staffing problem. Ella had initially called to check if her favourite uncle was alright, having heard that most of her family back east had succumbed to the flu bug. Manny assumed she had expected to speak to Cherry and was surprised when Manny answered the call himself.
Meanwhile the flu strain hadn't reached where Ella was still in college, way up in Seattle, Washington State, so she was completely unaffected by the virus, which apparently preferred warmer, drier climes. Manny knew her ulterior motive for the call was not simply to enquiry about his general wellbeing, but an unvoiced sounding out as to the possibility, however remote, of an unassigned hit in the offing during the college holidays due to the spreading infection which had inflicted so many generic Italians.
Manny had been pestered by his lovely niece almost continually in those days after she left High School and before she went to College. To Gisella's way of thinking it was natural for her to want to follow the family tradition, which extended all the way back to their original roots deep in the Sicilian countryside, but to Manny she was just a woman and the family tradition did not conventionally involve the maternal line. Ella should really be concentrating on finding a nice Italian boy, settling down making anti pasta and banging out at least a handful of screaming bambinos, so they could in due course take out apprenticeships in the family relocation trade or other related business enterprises. Yes, he thought, it's only proper that its the guy that takes the goirls out, he didn't want no goirls doin' the takin' out.
Manny sighed heavily, unconsciously starting off a coughing fit. He had brought several handkerchieves in with him today and held one over his mouth and nose until the spasm subsided. He wished he had brought some other spare linen into work too, that coughing fit had left him some uneasiness which needed checking out in the john sooner rather than later.
He couldn't deny that Ella was very keen, and he understood how it was probably hurting her, phoning Cherry regularly to check if they were all right and knowing she was probably never going to be allowed to break her cherry by busting a cap in some redundant asshole's ass. Manny remembered how keen and nervous he had been when it was his first time on the job, it gave him a warm fuzzy feeling at the time knowing he was fulfilling his heritage. How was it then for Ella not to have her chance to show what she could do? Manny got his opportunity while he was still in his late teens, a wet-behind-the-ears pup too overconfident to recognise the dangers. For him the operation felt natural and had done so ever since. He had been pleased that first time that the cement in those concrete overshoes set perfectly and that he had used that same consistency of quick-drying cement and sand with satisfactory results ever since. For the last couple of decades, he mused, he had naturally moved over to the organising of hits for others and found satisfaction in this too, only occasionally keeping his hand in with some direct action of his own, reassuring himself that he still had what it took to get the job done.
Ella was so much like her mother Isobella, Manny's feisty young sister. Izzie was medium height, with dark chestnut hair, big brown eyes, broad open face, quite literally beautiful, mother and daughter so alike. At just 16, Izzie had married Benito Colombo, who was a two-bit racketeer in Pittsburgh. Benny was a weasel, so there's no accounting for taste. Benny was a bit of a small time player, hassling pimps and drug dealers both day and night, taking his percentage in goods or favours from the girls as well as hard cash. He had disappeared about ten years ago and wound up in an alley, victim of a small calibre weapon in the head and heart. Classic marks of a professional hit, probably by a weapon suitable for a woman.
The Pittsburgh Police Department were looking to finger Izzie for the hit at first, how unlikely was that? Manny "persuaded" cousin Detective Mario Giordinardo, that cursed black sheep of the family, to lose the paperwork on the case, so that eventually it all went away. Izzie was very attractive and slim as a young girl, although she had allowed herself to become a little fuller-figured over the years, bringing up two boys and a girl in addition to Ella, all born before she was 21. Manny made himself a mental note to go visit Izzie after New Years, or maybe spring, early summer, even. Manny didn't do so well in the Pittsburgh snow, especially with this cold....
Manny knew Ella was a very bright cookie, she was doing well in school, after all she went to class nearly every day for a start, every other Bertoni only went to school when the horse track was closed. Maybe she deserves her chance, thought Manny. I'll give it another day, though, in case anyone recovers, after all the guys had families and mistresses to support, Ella was still just a goirl.
In the halls of residence, Ella had replaced the phone on the receiver and went back down the corridor to her single room. Of course she realised this would be a slow time of the year for the family business, illness notwithstanding. Folk everywhere were getting in the mood for the holidays not thinking about wasting rivals or fitting recalcitrant spouses with concrete bedslippers. Of course, those feelings would come back to the fore again almost as soon as the actual festivities commence, but not in the last few weeks immediately prior. Ella only knew that she had to be ready, poised to both pop a cap as well as her headcount cherry and go on from there to have a distinguished career in the business she felt she was born for. She just had to get that first chance and Manny was the only man who would come through for her. He just had to come through for her. Patience, Ella thought, she needed to be like a crouching tiger, she would hold her council and wait for her opportunity. She was confident it would come and when it did she would be ready.
***
Betty was just finishing her night shift in the geriatric ward and decided to pop into the maternity ward for a wistful look round at the baby room, remembering those few good happy days so long ago that were soon drawing to a close. When she got home to their tiny apartment, her husband Stanley was just finishing breakfast before going off to work at the local airfield. Her eyes were red and Stan picked this up straight away.
"What's up sugar?" he asked as he poured her a coffee from the fresh jug he had filled a few moments earlier. "You look a little down, tough night, huh?"
"No, the shift was ok, we only lost a couple or three old timers. I just dropped in to look at the babies, knowing that we missed out on havin' our own. We tried so hard, honey and it never worked out."
"I know we tried as hard as we could, baby, you near wore me out for a while!" Stan grinned, "We were making love four or five times a day during your most fertile period. We were regularly tested and I even registered a higher than normal sperm count. The doc even said he was surprised I didn't knock you up as soon as look at you. It was just never gonna happen. Not your fault, sugar." He held her tight. "You even took them fancy Morning After pills regularly so that the baby couldn't be affected by morning sickness and still you didn't fall. I still love ya though, sugar."
"Yeah, me too, loads, honey," Betty agreed, sniffing and sitting down at the table and raising the coffee cup towards her lips, taking a refreshing sip, "I'd forgotten that, I guess we did try everything and I suppose we were just never destined to have a little baby all of our own, honey."
***
"Hi honey," Ella's Momma was calling her, the disembodied voice floating over the phone lines, mocking Ella's resolve to remain on campus for as long as possible in case of a favourable summons from her uncle. Ella knew that she would be pressed for an answer and she didn't know what to say. On the one hand she would love to see her mother and brothers and sisters, on the other she still held out a slim hope of a target that Uncle Manny would find for her to launch her eagerly-anticipated career finally under way. "How are you honey?" her Momma continued, "You still enjoying school?"
"Yeah, Momma, it's cool here."
"I know it's cool, honey, you live in Seattle, it's about as far north as you can get without living in Alaska!"
"Oh, Momma, it is cool and wet sometimes, but t
he winters are pretty mild here, close as we are to the ocean. It is not as cold as Pittsburgh!"
"When you coming home for Christmas, baby?"
"Don't know Momma," she replied, hating that she was lying to her mother, "I wanted to stay on campus as the Christmas break is so short and ... I've hopes of getting a job for the vacation."
Momma was on her own and had been for over a year since Gisella, her youngest and favourite daughter had left to go to college in a distant state. Izzie missed her daughter frightfully, the only one who had been bright and clever enough to win a scholarship to university and would be somebody someday. All her other children had long ago fledged and fled the nest, leaving their mother very much alone. She hoped that she would have them all home for the holidays but they had all cried off individually for one reason or another, including the flu, over the past few days and now Ella, who she had relied on to be home for the holidays, was stalling. The hesitation seemed as though Ella was being economical with the truth, the possibility of a job didn't quite ring true.
