To celebrate Christmas, here is a seasonal scene from my latest book. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all
Summertown is a little like a village in its own right. Residents talk about going ‘into town’ when they go into Oxford, as if they don’t actually live in Oxford at all. I suppose once it probably was a village, a couple of miles from Oxford. Although why they called it Summertown I can’t understand. It’s not a town and it never seems to be summer, but maybe it’s a bit like Greenland, which was so-called to sound nicer than Iceland, whereas in reality the climate is so much worse.
Anyway it is no surprise that we have our own Christmas-tree lighting ceremony, where two large conifers on the main drag are lit, usually in contrasting colours such as one in red and the other in blue. There is always a brass band and a children’s choir from St James’s, the local primary school. The ceremony today is at 7pm and at ten to I am struggling to get the boys into their jackets, gloves on strings, hats and boots. During winter just going outside is a major operation, with all the paraphernalia they need.
“William, are you coming with us?” I ask as he passes me on his way to his studio.
“The Christmas tree lighting, on the Banbury Road.”
“No thanks, you can keep your middle-class traditions,” he hisses and stomps up the stairs. He really has been unusually grumpy recently, which is odd, as he has even sold some paintings. I’m looking forward to being able to put more in the boys’ stockings this year than a Brazil nut and a clementine.
“OK, we’ll go ahead then,” I smile. Nothing is going to spoil my Christmas cheer.
The boys and I arrive at the trees around the same time as the brass band. There is already a crowd gathered, and the choir is ready to sing, dressed in the red and white school uniforms and carrying songbooks. At the moment though there is Christmas music coming from the amplifier, I recognise Frank Sinatra’s voice. In fact I think my mother has this album.
It is a crisp, cold evening. The stars are already up, adding to the feeling of Christmas magic, and there is a feeling of snow in the air. We stop as equidistant as we can in between the two trees. I know Eddie will want to be closer to whichever one is blue, if indeed one of them is going to be blue. The colour of the trees is a closely guarded secret, only the sponsors know what combination we will be looking at for the next few weeks.
Frank is suddenly interrupted mid-sentence and a woman takes the mike. I think I’m supposed to know who she is, but I have no idea. She is dressed in a suit that looks much too big for her and sounds very bossy; maybe she’s the headmistress of the school.
I zone out slightly and look around. Most people have a ruddy-cheeked expectant air about them. Opposite me there is a young family; the mother is carrying a tiny baby in a Baby Björn and the father is balancing a toddler on his shoulders. He has one arm around the mother. They look blissfully happy; it must be the baby’s first Christmas. I can imagine the excitement and the preparations going on at home; there is nothing as intimate as those early months, the feeling of being a family, the togetherness, almost like you’re alone in the world, like you don’t need anyone else. It occurs me as I look at them that we didn’t ever have that closeness. William was resentful that I was pregnant and he never seemed to get over that feeling, so there was really never a time when we felt complete as a family. He was always angry and I was always nervous about making him angrier.
Next to the model family are a couple of teenage girls clearly looking around for some boys they have arranged to meet there. The choir starts signing Away in a manger. I always remember my father telling me to pronounce the word ‘little’ with an almost silent ‘t’. The ‘littel’ Lord Jesus sings the St James choir, oblivious to my neurosis. Both boys are transfixed by the singing. I continue to scan the audience as Away in a manger comes to an end.
The choir has just started on Once in Royal David’s City when I spot him. He is standing on the other side of the choir to us, wearing a dark coat, scarf and hat. But even in the get-up I recognise Kit. I think he could be wearing a full burka and I’d still know those eyes, even in the half-light we’re in now. Of course as soon as I catch his eye, I know for sure. I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach that hovers between excitement, lust and fear. With a little bit of confusion thrown in, because what the hell is he doing at the Summertown Christmas tree lighting ceremony? And what do I do now? I can’t acknowledge him in front of the boys. What would I do if William were here with us? Kit smiles at me and nods a hello as the choir sings ‘he came down to earth from heaven’ and I nod and smile back. Our eyes convey countless messages over the singing crowd. The fact that he will see the boys suddenly strikes me, and for some reason it makes me inordinately happy. We keep our distance though, just glancing at each other every few seconds. It is lovely to have him there. I last saw him over a week ago when I managed to escape from school at lunchtime with the excuse of a dentist’s appointment. My whole body yearns to touch him now but instead I sing the carol and squeeze my toes in frustration.
At the end of Once in Royal David’s City the badly-dressed bossy boots is back and it’s time to light the trees.
“Now then…. can you all help me to count backwards from 10?” she says in her irritating sing-song voice.
“I think we can just about manage that,” I mutter to no one in particular.
She raises her arm and obediently we all start counting.
“Why is everyone counting the wrong way?” asks Eddie.
“It’s called a countdown,” I explain. “When we get to nought the Christmas tree lights will go on.”
I glance over at Kit who is looking up at the sky. I follow his gaze; the sky is deep blue-black, the stars in sharp contrast. There is Orion, looking majestic.
“Nought,” says Miss Bossy-Boots and the lights on the trees come to life; one gold and the other silver.
“Where’s the blue one?” wails Eddie.
“Pretty,” says Tom, kicking his legs enthusiastically.
We all stand in the glow of the Christmas trees for a few moments and breathe in the feeling of Christmas. I glance over at Kit who gives me a little wave and a wink before walking off towards town.
“Come on boys,” I say, watching the clouds suddenly roll in, looking extremely ominous. “Let’s go home and have some dinner.”
Eddie seems to have got over the lack of a blue tree. “Can we have mashed potato?”
“Yes darling,” I say, with one last look in the direction Kit went off before turning for home. “Of course we can.”
“Snow, snow,” shrieks Tom as tiny white flakes start to fall into his lap.
I look up to see the snow falling from the sky like minuscule weightless stars.
You can order The Arnolfini Marriage on Amazon kindle https://goo.gl/g81A1m