Epilogue Christmas Night
Epilogue
Christmas Night
Rev. Ruth is curled up in the armchair by the fire, fast asleep.
Malcolm doesn’t want to disturb her, but he knows when the time comes her bed is ready, and he has just popped a hot-water bottle between the sheets.
In a pile beside the bed is a stack of books.
Some childhood favourites, some novels and a book of Christmas poems. They are tied together with red silk ribbon and a big bow.
Eliot is already tucked up in Malcolm’s second guest room, and has been asleep for hours.
On their way back from the church, Padam had detoured into the shop to collect the soft toy elephant that lives in the children’s section.
Malcolm has been checking on Eliot every so often.
Every time he finds him, arm flung around his new favourite animal, lost to the world.
Eric had packed some clothes but had forgotten pyjamas, however Malcolm thinks much can be excused a man whose wife has just gone into labour early.
Eliot is sleeping in his vest and new Christmas reindeer pants, and thinks this is very exciting.
He does not know yet that he has a sister.
Orla Ruth Sveinbjornsson.
Jo is well and also resting, and Eric the Viking will come to collect his son tomorrow.
Malcolm sinks deeper into his chair, listening to the sound of the clock and the crackling of the fire.
It really was a wonderful meal, and although they hadn’t been able to persuade Roddy to join them, each had taken turns at sitting with him for a while.
Eliot being his most frequent companion.
Roddy had even let Eliot try out his bagpipes.
Malcolm hadn’t told them of his discovery that around the table were the twelve days of Christmas, but he fondly recalls their faces when he stood up, just before they all departed, and started to sing the song, pointing at each in turn to take their part.
Their expressions showed amazement at how apt some of it was, and part confusion when it came to the partridge and five gold rings.
Well, they didn’t know all that the lord a-leaping knew.
Walking home, he had looked out for the fox, but he hadn’t seen him; only Yana and Max enfolded in an embrace under a snowy yew tree.
He didn’t think he would see the Christmas Eve fox again.
Rather like the fox that visited him in Highgate Cemetery, he had come when he was needed.
Maybe a sign from his beloved mother. Who knows?
All Malcolm does know is that he is a happy man, and that he is hopeful.
He and Padam have made plans to meet for a walk between Boxing Day and New Year, when his visitors have gone.
Malcolm eases his position once more and stretches out his long legs, resting them on the ottoman.
He reaches for his glass of whisky and studies the tumbler in the firelight, running a finger over the etching on the glass.
A deer and a boar. Thistles too. A small smile lingers on his lips.
How apt ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ turned out to be.
A Christmas gift from his mother? He shifts his leg to ease his knee.
A smile spreads more broadly across his face.
So very apt. Far more fitting than anyone would ever guess.
He has never used his title, far too bleak a reminder of the father he lost so young, and hardly appropriate for his hippy soul.
But there it was, etched on the glass – the family coat of arms.
Lord Buswell takes a sip of whisky, and a deep chuckle escapes him as he kicks off his crimson and orange slippers to better warm his toes.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Twelve drummers drumming
Eleven pipers piping
Ten lords a-leaping
Nine ladies dancing
Eight maids a-milking
Seven swans a-swimming
Six geese a-laying
Five gold rings
Four calling birds
Three French hens
Two turtle doves
And a partridge in a pear tree
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