Previously…

‘Down ‘ere on holidays then?’

‘Erm no, I’m just visiting my aunt.’

‘’Who be that then?’

‘Abigail Silverton.’

‘Abby, you ‘er niece then?’

‘Yes, do you know her?’

‘Everyone does. She owns the pottery, downalong.’

‘Where does she live?’ I asked eagerly.

‘You should know bein’ kin an that.’

‘I er, lost her address and anyway I want to surprise her.’

It sounded a bit weak to me, but there it was.

The girl looked at me slightly suspiciously and then shrugged.

‘Well I don’t think a little thing like you is an axe murder or somethin’ so I’ll tell you. The pottery is closed till after Christmas, so’s the art gallery where Sam works, so you best go to Jellicle Cottage upalong.

‘Where’s Upalong, is that the name of the road?’

She laughed.

‘Silly biddy, it’s the way we speak around ‘ere. I mean up the hill, near the top, turn left, the last cottage on the right. You can’t miss it as the place is crawling with ‘er and Sam’s cats.

‘Thanks.’ I said.

‘No prob.’ She replied smiling and walking away to serve other customers.

I finished my tea as soon as I could and looking at my watch, I could see that it was now nearly 2.30.

‘I’d better go,’ I thought.

I left a tip and did the finger wave thing to the waitress and left the café.

I soon found the lane that I was after and went up it. I wondered who this Sam was. Could she have married this Sam?

It was no good speculating, as I would hopefully know soon enough.

Five minutes walk and I was there. I stood at the gate of Jellicle Cottage, a cat rubbing up against my leg and kindly depositing hair on my skirt.

This was the moment that I had been dreading since I had the idea of going there.

I pushed the gate open, and with the cat running ahead of me, I walked up the path and knocked on the door.

And now the story continues…

I waited for a moment and knocked again. The cat brushed up against my leg, no doubt in the hope that the door would magically open.

It didn’t.

Then I noticed a note pinned up on a rustic wooden post to the right of the door.

Mrs P, gone to L.F’s for the night, as agreed, please feed the cats.

See you tomorrow.

Abby and Sam
XXX

‘Bum,’ I said under my breath. The cat decided to take matters into her or his own hands and disappeared around the back, where no doubt a strategically placed cat flap was used to gain lawful entry, as the say in police shows.

I sighed and wondered when my luck was actually going to change.

Turning away, I made my way back down the path, pondering what I should do now.

Looking up at the sky, I frowned. I may not be a weather expert, but the clouds up there looked like they were just about ready to break and I would bet a pound to a penny, it would come down as snow; it was cold enough.

As all the action, such as there was, was down at the quay/seafront, I decided to go back and have yet another cup of tea and work out my options.

A woman with a buggy was coming up the hill. The baby was barely visible under a pile of woolen clothes, blankets and other assorted warm stuff.

‘Hello, m’ducks,’ said the lady.

‘Hello,’ I replied, my teeth chattering slightly.

‘’You’m be Abby’s niece then?’

‘Erm yes,’

‘She’s away upalong at the big house with Sam.’

‘Upawhat?’

She smiled.

‘Gone away, luv.’

‘Oh right; erm, are you Mrs. P.’

‘Missus who?’

‘P.’

‘No ducks, me name is Harris. Anyway, can’t hang around, Harriett ‘ere needs ‘er bum changed.’

‘Oh right.’

With a nod, she was gone.

I walked several yards before it dawned on me that she knew about who I was and I could have asked a few questions about where “Upalong” was, maybe it was the name of a house? Then I remembered that it was the term for up the hill or something. As there were any number of hills in the area, I had no idea where Aunty Abby and the mysterious Sam and L.F, whoever that was, would be.

I shrugged and then shivered as blast of cold air wafted up my skirt. Dressing girly wasn’t always practical!

I carried on down the hill, one eye on the gathering clouds. It was funny, on the way up to the cottage, it was bright and sunny, if a bit cold. In the twinkling of an eye, the weather had changed and it looked like we were in for a bit of rough weather.

It was starting to get dark now, partly because of the heavy cloud cover and also the fact that it was that time of year when the sun gives up the ghost after four o’clock.

A lot of the cottages and houses had Christmas lights and it all looked very festive. I passed some people going up the hill and most people gave me a smile and a nod. It seemed a very friendly place.

An oldish man looked a bit confused as he was standing by the kerb, obviously wanting to cross the road.

I was a bit on the shy side but, being a Good Samaritan, I went up to him.

‘Let me help you.’ I said.

He replied with something intelligible in the local dialect and I walked him across the road. He was struggling a bit, no doubt shaky in the legs, but I finally managed to get him across in one piece.

‘There we are,’ I said, satisfied that I had done my good deed for the day.

He looked at me with rheumy eyes.

‘Silly biddy, didn’t want ter cross t’ road,’ he said toothlessly and shaking his stick at me. With one last disgusted glance over his shoulder, he went off muttering to himself.

I just couldn’t win today!

Then a snowflake landed on my nose.

Snow is very pretty when you are inside in a nice warm house looking out. Also it can be fun to play in and with when you are small. However, that first snowflake didn’t stay single for long. In the time it took to spell snowball, the white stuff started to come down heavily and if you add that to the fact that the wind got up and was blowing snow in my face, you can see that it would be a good idea for me to find some shelter.

I huddled in a doorway as the weather did its worst. There wasn’t anyone around now. Most sensible people were inside in the warm.

I saw a few hardy seagulls trying manfully or even womanfully to fly into the wind, but they were making heavy weather of it.

I needed to get somewhere warm and fast.

The snow briefly lessened somewhat and I made a dash for it. A bit difficult that, as the ground was getting a bit slippy underfoot.

Then another blast of Siberian weather forced me to shelter in another doorway.

‘Oops, sorry.’ I said as I cannoned into a woman who obviously had the same idea as me and was sheltering in the same doorway.

She was dressed rather strangely in a mixture of clothes from several eras, from the 50’to the 70’s I would say, but I was no fashion expert.

She was wearing a long linen skirt, that was once white, but looked a trifle grubby now. Some black woolen tights, several multicoloured jumpers, a nylon mac, a bobble hat with a clear plastic rain hood over that, done up under her chin. She had multicoloured makeup on her face that looked like it had been applied with a trowel.

Fashion diva, she was not.

She looked at me and smiled.

‘Beware, the strange dark man.’

‘Pardon?’

‘A storm is coming.’

‘It’s here now.’

‘Epiphany is nearly upon us. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Have you seen the light?’

‘Sorry, I don’t have a torch, bye.’

I wasn’t going to stay there with someone who was off her trolley.

After dodging in doorways several times, I found my way back to the quay, feeling cold and damp, with a sprinkling of snow on my clothes and hair.

Then the snow stopped suddenly and the wind dropped to nothing as if turned off by a switch.

The sky miraculously cleared and the moon shone brightly and the stars did their twinkling thing.

Strange weather they had around there!

There was no one about, and I just stood there, taking in the scenery.

The quay was lit up with thousands of coloured lights. The tree in its alcove was decorated with hundreds of tiny blue lights and the whole scene looked like something out of Dickens.

Brightly lit angels and other decorations hung between lampposts and across the road, swaying slightly in the now gentle breeze. The snow on the ground and on the roofs of the buildings all helped to add to the festive and Christmassy look of this very pretty seaside village.

I could really understand why my aunt lived here.

I heard some music in the distance and a glow. I headed towards it.

I turned a corner and gasped.

There were people there and an ice rink!

Children and adults, all warmly dressed in heavy jumpers, scarves and hats were attempting to skate, some very well and others falling on their bottoms every few minutes. Also there were many people just watching the antics of those trying there best not to look daft on skates.

I had two left feet on skates, so I wasn’t tempted to try. What I was tempted with was the wonderful smell coming from the fish and chip shop on the corner. I didn’t know when I would be eating again and that was my excuse to go and buy some food.

It was nice and hot in the shop as I walked up to the counter. The girl serving looked up and smiled.

‘Yes love?’

‘Haddock and chips please.’

‘Sorry, haddock is off, you can have cod if you like.’

‘Yes please,’ I replied.

In a few moments it was ready and after liberally sprinkling with salt and vinegar, I went over to the side, sat at a table and ate my meal out of the paper, looking out of the window at the ice rink. It was warmer in there and I needed to thaw out a bit.

After a minute or two I took my coat off, as it was very warm in there and I was beginning to glow as we girls say.

As I ate the wonderful food, I pondered as to what I should do next.

I hadn’t foreseen the possibility that Auntie Abby was not going to be home. I needed a plan as to what I could do next.

I switched on my phone, hoping to have some sort of signal, so I could go on the web to find out about accommodation in the area.

There were 3 messages and a voicemail.

The messages were from him.

Come home now and we will forget about everything.

The second was briefer.

Your brothers are missing you.

‘I bet,’ I thought as I opened the final one.

It’s all been a misunderstanding. Your mum would want you here.

So it had been a misunderstanding when he hacked off my hair and hurt me?

My eyes were leaking a bit now, for some reason, but I took a deep breath and I pressed the button for voicemail.

In second I was listening to John’s voice.

‘Andy, what the hell is going on? You won’t answer my text or calls. Look, I was angry and shocked when I saw you dressed like that after I told you not to. I’m still upset about losing your mum and I sort of flipped. We need to talk and you should be home with your family. Don’t do anything stupid. Call me and let me know where you are. Your brothers are really upset about what happened. Call me please. Erm, I love you.’

Suddenly the fish and chips felt like ashes in my mouth and I was no longer hungry.

It was a good thing that I was sitting away from the counter, over in the corner or people might have wondered why I was crying my eyes out.

He didn’t love me, nor did the boys. He wanted me to go back so that I didn’t report him to the authorities. I felt my arm where he had gripped me tightly. It still hurt and felt bruised. Under my wig, my hair had been hacked away by him. I couldn’t forget that and the way I had been treated by all of them.

If I did go back, it would be on his terms. I would have to pretend to be a boy and I couldn’t do that. He wasn’t my dad and never would be. I realised that he only tolerated me because of Mum. Now she was gone, all the pretense of “happy family” had gone with her.

I wondered if Mum and Dad were looking down at me. I wasn’t overly religious and nothing that had happened to me since Dad died had me feel that I should believe in God. Maybe there was someone up there looking out for us, but I could see precious little evidence of it at that moment.

I wiped my eyes and blew my nose on a tissue. This was no good; I had to look forward not back. John and his kids were in the “back” category. I was nearly sixteen and I had to make a go of it for the sake myself and my parents. They wouldn’t want me wallowing in self-pity.

Although I wasn’t really feeling hungry, I carried on eating my food and sipped at the cup of tea that I had bought. Then I looked at my phone again and saw that I couldn’t get 3G as the signal was too weak. So the idea of looking on line for accommodation was out. I would have to ask someone.

The girl behind the counter looked nice, so in a lull of customers I got up and went over to her.

She looked up and smiled.

‘Yes love?’

‘Erm, do you know of anywhere I could stay tonight?’

‘Got no-one ‘ere ter stay with then?’

‘No.’

I didn’t want to say that I was Auntie Abby’s niece because she had no idea that I wasn’t her nephew, if you know what I mean and I wanted to break that fact to her personally rather than through the village grapevine, which I suspected was pretty strong around there.

‘Bit young ter be ‘ere by youself.’

“Young”, that was rich coming from her. She couldn’t have been much older than me. Mind you, I was short for my age and I suppose looked about twelve or in bad light maybe thirteen.

‘Not really, I’m sixteen,’ I fibbed.

‘Yea, right,’ she said rather dismissively.

‘I am.’ I said rather loudly.

‘Sorree!’ she replied holding up her hands and smiling, ‘Look, all the hotels will be full; what with the visitors an that, but old Ma Potts takes in lodgers, she might have room.’

‘Where is she?’ I asked forgetting her remarks about my age in an instant.

‘Left outside here, down the lane for fifty yards,’ she stopped for a moment and then counted off on her fingers, ‘then first right, go down that lane; it’s one, two, three, no fourth cottage on the right. Can’t miss it; red door, brass bell outside, called Dun Roamin.’

‘Thanks.’ I said, slightly confused.

‘No prob, ducks,’ she replied as several customers came in at once.

While I still had the directions in my head, I left the warmth of the chippy and made my way towards Dun Roamin.

I would have liked to stay on the quay and watch some more people falling about on the ice, but I had things to do and my case seemed to get heavier and heavier as I made my way up the hilly lane. Carrying my ruckie didn’t help much and I now knew what a pack mule felt like. Reading wasn’t as hilly as this and despite my tender age, I think that I was a wee bit out of condition.

Counting off the cottages, I finally arrived at my destination, which for the sake of clarification, was the fifth, not the fourth on the right.

I rang the door bell, or rather I clanged it using the knotted rope. It was made of brass, quite large and would have looked in place on one of those big sailing schooner thingies.

The bell was so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin and the noise scared about a thousand seagulls who had been minding their own business on the roofs there abouts.

A few moments later the door opened and an old lady peered out at me.

‘Go on then,’ she said.

‘Pardon?’

She tapped her foot impatiently.

‘Sing yer carols, I ‘aven’t got all day.’

‘I’m not a carol singer.’

‘Yer look like one.’

‘I’m not though.’

‘What yer clanging on me door fer then?’

‘You have some rooms?’

‘Plenty of them.’

‘Erm, the girl at the chip shop said that you do B&B.’

‘B and what?’

‘B.’

‘Yer mean bed and breakfast? Why didn’t yer say so? Can’t stand all these initials for things. In my day yer didn’t use initials. N.H.S, D.H.S.S, a woman gets confused. And don’t talk about this texting lark. My Harry got me one of those new fangled mobile phone things. Told me ter text’ im when dinners ready. ‘E goes down the Toad and Tart for his three pints evry night and he knows when dinners on table without ‘avin te bloody text ‘im. Now I ‘ave ter text the bugger, Din on Tbl. It aint right and its not natural.’

This was going nowhere and I was beginning to lose the will ter…I mean to live.

‘So can yer, I mean you take me in then?’

‘Ow old are yer?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘Yer look about twelve. When I was your age I was working as a land girl. None of yer easy ways then. If yer didn’t work, yer didn’t eat and yer got the strap from Father.’

I turned away.

‘Where are yer goin?’

‘To find somewhere to stay.’

‘My place not good enough then?’

‘But…’

She just motioned me in and then shut the door.

‘Don’t mind me dear. It’s me lumbago playin up.’

‘How much is it?’

‘What.’

‘For a room for the night.’

Suddenly she had cash register eyes, as she looked me up and down.

‘Twenty and five fer breakfast; can’t be farer than that.’

I gulped, I only had forty pounds left and I wondered if they would have a bank machine somewhere.

Being a runaway was an expensive business.

The thought of trying somewhere else was a bit daunting and I remembered what the girl in the chip shop said about the place being packed with festive holidaymakers.

‘Okay.’ I said.

She held out a wizened and gnarly hand that shook slightly. I took that to mean that she wanted the cash up front and I opened my purse and gave her the required sum. She carefully checked the bills were genuine and the stuffed the money in her nylon pinny.

‘Right at top of the stairs, first door on the left.’

She gave me two Yale type keys, one for the front door and the other for the room and then went off into her lair and left me to go up to find my room. I had a feeling that customer care wasn’t at the top of her agenda.

I struggled up the steep stairs with my case and ruckie. Where was the bellboy when you needed him? But this girl was made of stern stuff and I wouldn’t let those flaming stairs get me down.

I found the door in question and the door opened with the key. I was expecting a grim type room with pealing wallpaper; an uncomfortable, lumpy bed and furniture obtained by skip raiding. I was pleasantly surprised that it was clean, the furniture looked plain but newish and not too bad at all. The bed, when doing the bouncy test, showed that it was comfortable and would be nice to sleep in. Altogether, I was pleasantly surprised.

Looking at my watch, I noticed that it was now 7.00pm; where had the time gone?

Another surprise was that the room had an en-suite. Not very big, just a shower, wash basin and loo, but it was enough for little me. On the dressing table was a kettle with tea and coffee things. This was good and I was now thinking that my luck might have actually changed a bit. I had somewhere to stay for the night that was rather nice.

I took off my coat and hung it up on one of the hangers in the closet. My boots came off next and I sighed contentedly as I had an ecstatic moment where I could rub my aching feet through my tights. My boots were nice and quite fashionable, but the heels did things to my arches that would make a foot doctor grimace.

Eventually, I laid back on the bed and it didn’t take long for my eyes to close and I slept a dreamless sleep.

Something woke me up and I rubbed my eyes and sat up. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was now 8.30. Looking out of the window, I could see some flakes of snow falling.

Stretching, I stood up and went over to the window. It was dark outside; well it would be at that time of night, but I could see down onto the quay with its twinkling lights. To the left was the brightly lit ice rink with some hardy people still falling over.

I felt better for my sleep. It had been a long and eventful day. I made myself a cup of tea and noticed on the table by the bed, some leaflets about what was on in the area. There were a few events on Boxing Day, including the Christmas Pudding Fun Run. I wasn’t sure if that was the prize or just a way to get rid of over indulgence over Christmas!

Picking up a rather plain leaflet I saw that it was from the local church.

An Evening Carol Service at 9 O’clock on Christmas Eve ~All Welcome.

It brought back memories of my parents and me going to church and singing carols.

The church, I had noticed was at the top of the hill; it would be! I decided that I didn’t want to be alone tonight and that this might be something nice to go to. I didn’t need to change as my clothes were smart enough and I would have thought that most people would rather dress up warmly than make some sort of fashion statement in weather like this.

I brushed my hair, touched up my makeup and lippy, then put my boots and coat on. Glancing out of the window, I noticed that the snow wasn’t very heavy, just a few flakes drifting gently down.

After picking up my purse and putting it in my shoulder bag, I picked my key and let myself out.

I crept down the stairs, as I didn’t particularly want to disturb Ma Potts for some reason.

All was quiet as I let myself out onto the lane. It was easy to see where the church was at it was floodlit and I could see the spire peaking up beyond some trees. I just needed to carry on up the hill and it was at the end.

A few people were walking up and I was given a cheery greeting. Most people seemed to be very friendly around there. True, there were a few crackpots about, but nothing’s perfect.

Just then the church bells peeled out and the sound reverberated around the bay, echoing off the hills and cove and sounding very festive.

People came from side roads as we went on and soon there was a stream of adults and excited children making their way to the church.

In no time at all, we were in the grounds of the church, with its ancient gravestones dotted about. We filed into the church and it was already nearly full.

There were flowers everywhere and a lovely Christmas tree by the side of the font. It was such a pretty church and looked well looked after. It was nice and warm as ceiling heaters were going at full blast.

I found a pew that was free, about three rows from the front and I sat down, nodding to my neighbors as I did so.

The organ was playing a medley of Christmas tunes and there was the constant chatter of people catching up on one another’s lives.

Just then, there was a hush from the talking as an imposing old woman in an unfashionable fur coat and a hat with birds’ feathers came in; she was on the arms of a pretty young girl. The old lady looked formidable and I wouldn’t have liked to meet her on a dark night. Behind her came two beautiful women, who were smiling and nodding to the congregation as they passed.

I assumed that this was the local gentry and wondered if I should touch my forelock or something; maybe even courtesy, but as others hadn’t done it, I didn’t bother.

They made their way majestically to the front and sat in the ringside seats.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the bells stopped pealing and the organ finished playing; then the bells tolled nine o’clock. After the ninth chime, the organist started playing and from the back I could hear the sound of the choir singing Once in Royal David's City.

A few seconds later, the vicar came in, followed by the surpliced choir of girls and boys carrying long candles.

On the second chorus, according to the order of service booklet, we were all to join in.

As I started singing, all of the tension that had been building since early that morning left me.

There was a couple with two youngish children next to me and as we finished the hymn, the lady leaned over and whispered, ‘you have a lovely voice dear, you should be in the choir.’

I just felt myself blush and whispered back, ‘I’m only visiting.’

I did have a nice voice and the pills had stopped my voice breaking. I had been in the school choir at my old school and had been the soloist several times. It was funny, I was quite a shy person really, but singing seemed to overcome that.

The vicar stood at the lectern and fiddled with his glasses and then looked up.

‘Thank you all for coming on this rather chilly night. Lets hope we can all warm up with some nice carols. We are here to celebrate the birth of Christ and the wonderful gift of life. We must also not forget those who are less fortunate than ourselves and need our help, support and prayers. Anyway, I can see that the little ones are eager to start singing and so let’s get the ball rolling with Hark The Herald Angels Sing.’

The service was lovely and all the old favorites were there, including a lovely rendition of Away In The Manger performed by infants from the local school and Silent Night beautifully sung by a member of the choir.

The service was short as the vicar was obviously aware that it was late and that there were little ones in the congregation who were dying to get to bed so that Father Christmas could weave his magic.

All to soon, the carol service was over and everyone filed out. The vicar was there to shake hands with everyone. I waited until most people had left and then made my way to the exit.

I shook the vicar’s hand.

‘Thank you vicar, that was lovely.’

‘As was your voice my dear.’ He replied, smiling.

‘Y…you heard me?’ I stammered.

‘I think that everyone did. Even Lady Fairbairn remarked about it.’

‘Lady Fairbairn?’

‘Ah, you are not a local, I believe? She is what passes as local royalty. Are you staying long?’

‘I don’t know. I am here to visit my Aunt.’

‘well if you do stay you must come along to choir practice. Where are your parents?’

‘Erm, not here, In Reading.’ I fibbed.

I was worried that if my circumstances were known, I might be sent back to the place that I laughingly called home. Until I saw my Aunt, I didn’t want anybody to know anything about me. Lying to a vicar might be a cardinal sin, but I had to take the chance and hope that I would not get struck by lightning; but knowing my luck…

‘Well have a nice stay,’ he said smiling and then he turned to greet the last few stragglers coming out of the church. I was glad that he didn’t ask who my aunt was as I would have had to tell another fib.

Just then, a huge Rolls Royce, glided out of the cark park at the side of the church. With a real life chauffer in the front, with the young girl I had seen with the lady. In the back were the two beautiful women and the formidable old lady who looked piercingly at me as the car passed and I shivered. She scared me witless, for some reason!

Going downhill from church was easier than going up and it didn’t take long to reach Dun Roamin. There were still quite a few people about and as it had stopped snowing, I decided to go down to the quay for one last time before going to bed.

As I went along, I hoped that Auntie Abby would be home tomorrow — Christmas Day. I wondered who this Sam was and I also wondered if she was married to him? I had noticed a sign just inside her garden gate that said,

Santa’s sleigh park, keep clear.

It had a picture of Santa on his sleigh with a big red bag of presents in the back. This made me wonder if they had kids. There was so much I didn’t know about my aunt and I wondered, not for the first time, what had happened in the past that stopped her keeping in contact with us.

It was quieter down at the quay as people started to wend their way home and the few shops that were open had put up their shutters for the night. The fish and chip shop had closed by then and the ice rink had just a few hardy stragglers left standing. I walked along the prom to the pottery, which was obviously closed, but the windows were lit and I could see in there.

I knew that Auntie Abby threw pots and she was very good. I wondered how many of the items on display had been created by her. I had a feeling that it was most of them and I marveled at her skill. The colourful plates, pots, vases and figures were wonderful and vibrant. After a few minutes I moved on to next door, which was an art gallery. I could see various paintings exhibited and according to a sign on the wall, they were all painted by local artists. Whoever owned the gallery had taste and I liked virtually everything on show.

Looking at my watch, I turned away and glanced out to sea. The moon was low on the horizon and its light was reflected off the sea. It was all so pretty and totally different from where I used to live. Don’t get me wrong, Reading was nice, well the part where we lived was anyway, but things had changed and I no longer considered it home.

I could see myself living here in this magical place but it all depended on my Aunt and what, if anything she could do for me. I had no idea whether she would accept me as a girl. Lets face it, the world is full of bigots and my heart would break if she were like that. Maybe she found out that I was a girl now and wouldn’t accept me for who I was?

It was all a guessing game and it was getting me nowhere. I turned away from the sea and made my way up to Dun Roamin.

I started as someone grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.

I gasped.

‘Hello Andy.’

It was John.

---

To Be Continued…

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue