Jonathan Dodd shares his 2016 Christmas story. Something to get you in the mood for next weekend. Ed
The winter afternoon was completely dark when Jane and Terry emerged from the last shop with multiple bag-handles cutting into their cold fingers. The street lights had come on, but all they illuminated was the thin rain being blown around by the gusty wind.
Terry grimaced and looked at Jane. “Blimey! I can’t believe we got everything. How about a cup of tea?”
Jane craned her head to look at her watch. “No. We’ve got to fetch the kids by six. Mum doesn’t want to miss her programme”.
Jane’s parents, Carole and Martin, were retired and rather stuck in their ways, and her sister Laura had moved to Australia years ago. Terry didn’t have any family, so their baby-sitting options were limited. Theirs was a late marriage. They had known each other at work for years, but only got together when they were moved to adjoining desks in a new office.
Terry was quiet and steady, but over the months Jane discovered his dry sense of humour and the unexpected depth of his feelings, and Terry loved the way Jane looked at him. It made him feel for the first time that somebody really saw him, as he was, and still really liked him. They discovered that they were made for each other.
They lived a quiet, self-contained life, until Jane became pregnant, twice, in quick succession. Then their world opened up like desert flowers after rain, and they became blissfully happy. Their two boys, David and Robert, were the centre of their world, and they were determined to give them as perfect a childhood as they could. That included the whole Christmas thing, with the presents under the tree and the mince pies and carrots by the chimney.
They trudged to the car park and loaded the bags into the boot. It felt good to be inside with the engine running and the windscreen clearing.
“I love this time of year”, said Jane, rubbing her hands and holding them over the air vents.
“You’re mad. How can anyone love this?” And he swept his hand out, indicating the rain, the dark, the cold. Basically everything out there.
“I know. But it’s Christmas!” Her eyes sparkled and he smiled.
Terry did a terrible American accent. “Well, if I can’t tempt you to a hot date at the Penny Farthing Tea Rooms, I suppose we’d better hit the road.”
Jane gently slapped him on the wrist. ”Go on then. And don’t spare the horses!”
Nobody was able to explain how it happened. There was a brief violent flurry of wind and rain at the top of the ridge. The car swerved off the road, down an embankment, and rolled over, spewing its contents across a muddy field. It was found with all its doors flung open and the windows smashed, and the air bags inflated. The wind had dropped, and it seemed unnaturally quiet, with the engine stalled and the ticking of cooling metal, and the headlights pointing across the field and away into the dark night.
Afterwards, Terry talked of a loud noise, and lights, and banging on the roof, and he remembered being pushed off the road, but not much more. Jane couldn’t remember anything at all. They were hardly injured, even though the car was a complete write-off. The doctors and nurses all agreed they were very lucky, and they were discharged from hospital a couple of days later, very bruised and stiff, but intact.
Jane’s parents were wonderful. They just swung into action, looking after the boys, fetching and carrying, and they brought Jane and Terry home from the hospital and came round to cook and clean while they recuperated. Jane hadn’t ever seen them like that.
“I almost wish we’d had a few more emergencies”, she whispered to Terry that night in bed, trying to get him to smile.
Neither of them slept well. Terry couldn’t stop going over and over the accident, trying to make sense of it, certain that it was his fault, because he had been driving and they had nearly died. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else, and he didn’t know what to say. And Jane knew all of that, and she was worrying about the boys, how frightened they would have been. And Christmas was ruined.
On Christmas Eve Carole and Martin arrived with their own presents, as well as some extras they had managed to buy. The Christmas tree was lit, and a plate of pies and carrots was left out, and the boys were finally cajoled into going to sleep.
“Don’t worry, you two”, said Carole. “We can’t do anything about this Christmas, but you’ll recover, and so will the boys. And you’re safe. That’s the main thing.”
They all slept better than they thought they would, and in the morning Jane and Terry were woken by excited shouts from downstairs.
“Mum! Dad! Come down! There are lots of presents! Can we open them?” They knew better than to start ripping paper off until their parents were there.
Jane and Terry gingerly got up and struggled into their dressing gowns and creaked their way down the stairs. They thought the boys were exaggerating about the presents, because they knew there were far fewer than usual.
But as they stepped into the living room their jaws dropped. The pile of presents under the tree had grown in the night. They sat down in amazement and looked at each other. Jane whispered in Terry’s ear. “You don’t think Mum did this, do you?” Terry could only shrug, while the boys tore into their presents in a frenzy of excitement.
Amazingly, all the presents they had bought were there, wrapped and brand-new, even though the originals had been ruined. And there were more, presents that they hadn’t bought or even seen in the shops. There were presents for Jane and Terry too – a lovely scarf, and a brooch, a bottle of Terry’s favourite whiskey, and treats they hadn’t been able to afford.
The plate by the chimney was empty, apart from a couple of carrot tops and some crumbs.
Jane picked up the phone and called her parents. She was halfway through thanking them for all the wonderful presents when Terry noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out from under the plate.
Inside was a beautiful Christmas card, and some ornate writing.
Merry Christmas to Jane and Terry, and David and Robert
I’m so sorry about the other night. We were having a training run with a new young reindeer, and we swerved in some bad weather.
I’ve done what I could to make sure your Christmas isn’t spoiled too much. I hope you like the little extras I added in.
I’m so glad you’re all right. And you will be all right. Trust me.
With Love, from
Santa
Terry passed the card to Jane and sat back, watching his lovely boys playing with their presents, and Jane, sitting beside him with her mouth open, and he started to feel that it wasn’t his fault after all. And a great weight lifted from his chest, and he smiled as he put his arm around Jane’s shoulder.
Carefully. Because of the bruises.
Image: flem007_uk under CC BY 2.0
