Chapter 11 Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve
Yana is simply a marvel.
She has everyone organized. Malcolm has his own spreadsheet in green.
He smiles when he sees that Ruth’s is in purple.
His instructions seem to focus on all the things he wants to be in charge of and none of the things he doesn’t.
His list includes cocktails; bringing crockery, tableware and glasses; Christmas puddings (care of Joanne); brandy sauce with orange and cardamom (recipe care of Padam); and many other tasty and festive contributions.
This morning he only worked for a few hours in the bookshop, and as it had been busy there had been little opportunity for a proper conversation with Padam.
However, Malcolm managed to tell him of the change of venue, about the army’s help, and of how amazing Yana is being.
Yana has even got Mrs Appleby making ‘Colin’s trifle’.
An apparently delicious and secret recipe that her late husband used to prepare for special occasions.
Plus, somehow or another, she discovered Mrs Appleby enjoys calligraphy, and consequently she is now preparing place cards for them all.
Yana has also been in touch with the army and roped them in to collect the Three Disgraces – and anyone else who needs help through the snow.
Yana confided to Malcolm that Sergeant Major Jim doesn’t drink and he likes to be busy at Christmas as he has no family.
Well, he’ll have a family tomorrow, Malcolm thinks.
The snow is now covering the town in a scattering of white.
More of a frosting than a blanket, Malcolm decides, as he looks out of his window on Christmas Eve evening.
The sky has been heavy and grey all day and more snow is forecast. In the hallway lie piles of boxes ready to take to the church.
In one are the presents that he has bought for the other guests.
He feels a little anxious about his choice, but it seemed appropriate to the occasion.
He also has Padam’s gift in his coat pocket.
There had been no time for the exchanging of presents in the shop, plus Malcolm had held back, not knowing if Padam would buy him something and not wishing to embarrass him.
However, when Malcolm left the store at midday, Padam had called that he was looking forward to seeing him at midnight mass later and that he would wish him a Happy Christmas properly then.
One more reason to go to church, Malcolm thinks, smiling to himself.
He sees a figure approaching his front door and is opening it before Taxi Stan has a chance to bang on the knocker.
Before long, Stan and the churchwarden, Glen, are helping him unload his goodies into the back of the church, where there are already other baskets and boxes.
Yana stands over them, clipboard in hand.
Malcolm thanks Stan, before turning to greet Yana and introducing her to Glen.
Glen nods a friendly greeting, before moving off towards the altar, ‘Better get on, lots still to do.’ It is an hour before midnight mass and Rev. Ruth is due to arrive shortly.
‘You’re getting things done early too,’ Malcolm comments to Yana.
‘Yes, I thought I would make sure we have everything we need, that the fridge is clear, and chairs lined up ready to set out tomorrow. There is only a little we can do now but maybe that will be good for tomorrow,’ Yana says.
A tall young man with sandy-red hair and a beard emerges from the small church kitchenette.
‘I’ve checked, and the electrics are all ready for the mobile oven,’ he tells Yana.
‘Oh, hi,’ he adds, catching sight of Malcolm.
He has a Canadian accent. Although Malcolm admits, he would probably have said ‘American’ – except he presumes this is the Canadian goose.
‘You must be Max,’ he says, stepping forward and offering the young man his hand.
Max grips it warmly, ‘And you’ve gotta be Malcolm. Great to meet you, sir.’
‘Oh please,’ Malcolm says, ‘less of the “sir”. I am delighted you could join our Christmas gathering.’
They are interrupted by the arrival of Rev. Ruth with Mrs Appleby.
‘Well, just do the best you can, Mrs Appleby,’ Ruth is saying, and Malcolm gets the impression that Mrs Appleby has been complaining about something.
Mrs Appleby makes a snorting noise like an angry pig and, ignoring everyone else, heads towards one of the cupboards muttering, ‘Make do without angelica, she says. No one will notice, she says. But my Colin always used angelica on his trifle. And what does she know about cooking anyway? I’ve seen her kitchen. ’
Malcolm follows Mrs Appleby to the cupboard, where she is now clattering about rearranging buckets and mops. ‘Might I be of assistance, Mrs Appleby?’
‘I very much doubt it,’ she says, turning round to face him.
He chooses to overlook this provocation. ‘I heard you mention you need some angelica. Perhaps I could bring some for you tomorrow?’
‘Well, it will be too blooming late then,’ she declares, looking at him like he is stupid. But as she turns away, he could almost believe he hears a quiet, ‘Thank you, though.’
As he moves back to the others, he catches Rev. Ruth watching him, grinning. ‘That’s nice. Getting to know Mrs Appleby, Malcolm?’ Not waiting for an answer, she continues, ‘I’ve just remembered, I’ve got a message for you from Padam.’
Malcolm tries not to appear as keenly interested as he feels. ‘Oh, have you?’ he says airily, and wonders why Padam hadn’t just sent him a text.
‘Yes, I popped into the bookshop just before it closed, and he said he’s very sorry, but he can’t come to midnight mass tonight as his nephew has organized something.’
Malcolm feels ridiculously disappointed, and it comes to him that he now knows the meaning of the word ‘crestfallen’. He had been so looking forward to seeing Padam later.
Rev. Ruth moves over to him and rubs his arm, and standing on tiptoe whispers to him, ‘But he would be delighted to join us for lunch tomorrow.’
She grins when she sees Malcolm’s reaction and, making a swipe with her hand like a table-tennis player scoring a point, adds, ‘Well, honestly Malcolm, were you ever going to get around to asking the poor man. I had to do something,’ then humming ‘God Rest you Merry, Gentleman’ to herself, she wanders off to change for the service.
Malcolm is more than happy for his dear friend to win that point, and he has to stop himself from slapping Max on the back, who has just appeared carrying a box of crackers to add to the pile.
As Yana seems to have everything under control, he offers his services to Glen, who is lighting the many candles around the church.
‘That would be a great help. I need to change the colour of the altar cloth, the hangings and the burse and veil, now it’s nearly Christmas,’ Glen says, handing him a long lighter.
‘May I ask what that signifies?’ Malcolm asks, wondering what on earth a burse and veil is.
‘Purple is the colour of advent; white or gold are the colours of Christmas. We’ve inherited rather a lot of gold. It all looks rather magnificent.’
At this point Rev. Ruth emerges, dressed in a long gold cloak-like vestment that shimmers as she walks.
Malcolm thinks his friend looks rather regal, even though the garment is a little on the large size.
As if reading his thoughts, she swishes it slightly.
‘All made for men,’ she informs him. ‘This chasuble was embroidered fifty years ago. I don’t suppose they ever imagined a woman wearing one.
’ She reaches in her pocket and draws out another lighter.
‘Come on, I’ve got a bit of time, I’ll help. ’
Together they move into the body of the church, lighting candles as they go.
‘Thank you for inviting Padam,’ Malcolm says a little awkwardly.
Ruth just throws him a cheeky look but says nothing.
‘Are you looking forward to midnight mass?’ he asks.
‘Goodness me, yes. I may be absolutely shattered, but there is something magical about this church filled to bursting as we greet Christmas Day. It really is what it’s all about. Despite all the …’ She stops, looking guilty.
‘All the what?’ Malcolm asks, intrigued.
Rev. Ruth laughs, ‘Shall we just say, there is always a bit to contend with.’
‘I believe, after that, you have to … er … spill the beans,’ Malcolm insists.
She is grinning now. ‘Well, Selwyn the organist will be especially grumpy playing the old favourites – again. Then Brian, who leads the choir, does like to showcase something no one will have heard of. He loves an audience, does Brian.’ She chuckles.
‘It might even be something of his own composition – which can be interesting. Then there is Norman, who is doing one of the readings. He is rather deaf and prone to fall asleep, so don’t be surprised if I suddenly start shouting just before his bit. Usually does the trick.’
Malcolm is chuckling with her now.
‘Then there are the drunks. On the whole very good-natured, but quite loud. That’s where the choir helps.
’ She pauses. ‘They still miss Polly Poole’s mum.
She had a wonderful voice. Although, when she was struggling with her speech after her first stroke, she would sometimes sing completely different words to anyone else.
’ Ruth stops, with her lighter in mid-air.
‘I wonder if the young man in tartan trousers will be back.’
‘Who was he?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. He came last year and took me aside, saying that my words had completely changed his life. That he would never look at the world in the same way.’
‘Well, that is rather wonderful, isn’t it?’ Malcolm says doubtfully.
Rev. Ruth laughs, ‘He then followed this up with a breezy, “Anyway, vicar, see you again next Christmas!’’’
‘So, the conversion of a “once a year” Christian.’