Chapter 36 #2
Can you make my joints go fluid
So I glide like Darcey Bussell
Can you plump my cheeks again
So they aren’t flat and flaccid
Can you sort out my digestion
Stop me burping up that acid
Can you rip away my muffin top
And make my boobs all perky
And tighten up this flappy neck
Stop me looking like a turkey
Can I have a bowel movement
That comes straight out the gate
One of those that feels
As if I’ve halved my body weight
So Santa, if you’re listening
I hope we are agreed
My list for you is crystal clear
These are the things I need
I’ll leave you out some proper grub
As wage for you conforming
The best on Marks and Spencer’s shelves
… But here’s my solemn warning
If you bring me cheapo chocolates
Or a bottle of mulled wine
A mug, a throw, a calendar
Or owt that smells of pine
Bubble bath or hand cream
A jam and spoon gift set
Bedsocks or a photo frame
Or something flannelette
Or a rough and scratchy scarf
In all colours of the spectrum
I’ll chase you up that chimney
And I’ll stick them up your rectum…
‘… I thank you.’
Jane led the applause. She was wiping the tears from her eyes as she did so.
‘Bravo, Roo, that was wonderful. How insightful you are. I must have a copy of that.’
‘You absolutely should be on a stage, love,’ said Vincent. Roo waited for a jokey piece of sarcasm to follow but there was none. Roo beamed at the response she’d received. They all seemed to genuinely enjoy it and Jane definitely wasn’t faking those tears of mirth.
‘Next up we have our wonderful chef, Frank,’ she said.
Frank got to his feet. It was a long time since he’d done this and he tried not to let when that was bleed into his mind.
‘Welcome to the magical world of El Franko,’ he said, and took from his pocket a packet of cards he’d borrowed from the on-board games cupboard in ‘Old Tom’.
He shuffled them and asked Jane to pick a card and show it to everyone but him, then he put it back in the deck, averting his eyes.
He shuffled them again and picked out a card, announcing that was hers.
It wasn’t, and she felt a tad awkward saying so.
He looked confused, put his hand in his pocket to pull out a hankie with which he proceeded to wipe his brow but a card fell out of it.
Jane’s card. None of them had a clue how he’d done it and there were impressed gasps aplenty.
Then he displayed his empty hand and waved it past Elizabeth’s ear and seemingly produced a coin from it.
Grace remembered Frank pulling coins from Billy’s ear, his squeals of delight mainly because he ended up with them all and thought they were in limitless supply.
When the ice-cream van came, Frank would say that if Billy had a coin in his ear, he could use it to buy a cornet – and there always was one.
There was a lot of laughter in their little family of three.
She’d grown up in a joyless household and was determined that it would be different for any child of hers.
Billy had the best childhood, he was happy and loved and treasured.
Father and son were joined at the hip when he was little; Frank was never too busy to read him a story or play games with him or do the ‘which cup is the ball under?’ trick that he was performing now, and thrilling them all with his sleight of hand.
He was the same Frank now that he had been back then, though his sadness showed in the lines on his face and the volume of his smile never quite hit the levels it once did.
Jane was up next and worried that her contribution might be pale compared to the rest.
‘Many years ago I realised that most of my life seemed to be regretting the past and worrying about the future and I was ripe for discovering a coping mechanism to deal with those anxieties. And so I forced myself to attune to the present, relish the here and the now as it happens and I find it has helped me so much in life. Especially when I encountered heightened moments which I used to liken to bubbles because that’s what they felt like to me, little bubbles popping and releasing a fleeting hit of intense joy.
Then I read about someone relating the same thing and calling them ‘glimmers’, which is a perfect word for them.
Don’t miss them, they’re special. Remember yesterday when we were all sitting around the table with our Christingles, did you feel that flash of connectedness, that sublime synergy, because I did? ’
Jane noticed the reaction to that in the faces of her audience and she knew they had too.
‘Or that “mmm” moment when we walked onto this part of the train out of the snow and sat in the bar? Or when we first put on the white robes and felt the material snuggled against our skin. I savour these bubbles, these glimmers. The more open you become to them visiting you, the more of them you will experience. A mere microsecond of bliss, and yet, once acknowledged, their effect upon you will last much longer. They are reminders that whatever we are going through in life, there is always light to be found. I promise you, they will change your mindset so when one shows up, allow yourself to respond to it, let it ground you, calm you, hold you in the wonder of it.’ Her eyes swept over the seven people in front of her, lingering a moment longer on Grace.
‘I stand here before you as someone who is testament to their healing power.’ Jane smiled. ‘You can thank me later.’
Their applause was rapturous because Jane had been fascinating and they all felt as if they had taken on board something extraordinary.
If they could have seen into each other’s heads, they would have discovered they were all thinking of such a moment they would consider a glimmer.
Frank found one almost immediately when Grace stood up to take her turn – and he saw she was wearing her locket.
He had thought he knew what her act would be because she had brought a towel into the lounge with her.
She was very accomplished at folding them into different shapes to put on the guest beds in the inn.
But she left it on the arm of her chair, said ‘Excuse me’, dashed off and then came back with one of the two large nutcracker soldiers that stood at either side of the bottom door.
Grace dragged a chair over and sat on it, with the soldier standing at her knee.
‘Sorry about that, I changed my mind at the last minute,’ she said. ‘I’d like you all to meet Sergeant Nutty.’
And Frank felt a glimmer that was the size of a weather balloon pop inside him.
She’d remembered a lot of that old routine, even after all those years.
It was no surprise, given how many times she’d done it because Billy wanted the dear familiarity, dissolving early into giggles, anticipating her lines to come.
Grace made Sergeant Nutty ‘talk’, working his jaw with the lever at the back.
She was still good at doing the alphabet without hardly moving her mouth and deflecting attention when she had to tackle the difficult ‘b’s and ‘p’s.
Someone’s squeal of laughter – she couldn’t work out whose but most likely Roo’s – reminded Grace of Billy’s in those early Christmases.
He was so young, so very young, wrapped in the protection of her wings, she always thought she could protect him, would give her life for him if she had to.
It was as she carried the soldier back to his post that she realised she’d blamed Frank for something that was her fault all along.
It was because of Sergeant Nutty that Billy started playing soldiers, wanting to dress up in a uniform.
She’d been the one who planted the seed in him, not Frank.