Authors Note:
This is a story that I started intending it to be my entry for the BCTS Christmas 2021 Contest. In the end, I decided that it was not ‘Christmassy’ enough so I didn’t submit it.

[07:30 at a riverside house just outside Bridgnorth, Shropshire]

Two vans marked with the names of a Removal & Storage company were sitting outside the house of a client who was moving house that day.

“Ok guys, Pat, Phil and Greg, you get all the items marked as going into storage. The boss was here yesterday working with the client on labelling everything so it should be a doddle.”

Pat, who is a great hulk of an Irishman, looked at me in the way that only he could.
“Doddle? Fat chance Doug. Remember the last time you said that? We ended up getting stuck with a boat to move and no trailer.”

My team of removers all laughed. That was one job that I'd, and probably everyone at the company wanted to forget.

"The boss said that it was going to be a doddle, so who am I to argue eh?"

“What are you going to do? Drink tea all day with the client?” asked Greg.

I shook my head.
"Sorry, Greg. I've got the valuables and breakables that are to be moved to the new place in Much Wenlock to deal with. I have no idea what that entails, as the boss was very circumspect. That gives me no confidence at all. From his words, I could well have drawn the short straw on this move."

None of them said anything but their expressions told me that they didn’t believe a word of it.

"Let's get on with it guys, Villa are playing at home tonight, and I'm taking my kids to the match."

Phil smiled.
“What? Your ex is letting you have them in the middle of the week?”

"Today is their last day at school before Christmas, and this will be it for me until the new year. Her new hubby is taking them to his timeshare in Minorca for the holidays."

“Bummer,” chimed in Greg.

“Yep, Christmas alone… again.”

---

I introduced my team to the client, a very curvy blonde woman called Melanie Johansen. Once I’d pointed them in the direction of the clearly labelled boxes and went in search of the unlabelled items.

“Ok, Ms Johansen, what are the items that are going to your new home?”

She smiled at me.
“Melanie, please.”

The alarm bells started ringing in my head right away.

“Ok Melanie. Please call me Nick.”

She smiled.

"Apart from my clothes and the kitchen things, everything is in there," she said, pointing at a door. From my earlier viewing of the house, I guessed that it was the garage.

"Please lead the way," I said, trying to be polite.

She opened the door. Right away, I could see that this was no longer a garage.

I followed her inside, and it was as if I was in a shoe museum. There were hundreds of pairs of shoes. The thought of getting to see my two boys that night suddenly seemed an impossibility.

She saw my disappointment.
“Is there a problem?”

I cursed myself for showing my disappointment in front of the client.

"Sorry, but seeing the amount of work that I have ahead of me, it is highly unlikely that I’m going to be able to take my sons to the football tonight.”

She chuckled.
“That’s almost what your boss said yesterday. I guess that he hasn’t told you about the change of plan?”

I was at a total loss.
“He hasn’t.”

“Here, let me show you the text he sent last night.”

She fiddled with her phone for a few seconds. Then she showed me a message that was from my boss Jerry Thomas.

It said,
“I agree. I’ll tell Nick not to rush the packing and that he can return tomorrow for the loading and move.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Give him a call if you doubt me?” said Melanie.

“I’d better do that. As far as I know, I’m with my guys on another job tomorrow in Stafford.”

---

Five minutes later, I returned from a phone call with my boss. He'd confirmed the text. The team would be doing the job in Stafford but with the boss in charge. I knew that would not go down well with the guys, but I was going to wait until lunchtime to drop that bombshell.

“Ok Melanie. The boss confirms it. We have today and tomorrow to get you moved.”

She smiled back at me. She gave an air of confidence in both herself and her actions, but not an overly domineering one which pleased me. So many women think that they have to dominate any man they come into contact with, just to hammer it home that they are equals. In my opinion, those women have lost or never had any of the charms that their sex was famous for.

"How many pairs of shoes are there, if you don't mind me asking?"

“One Thousand and sixty-three,” replied Melanie in a very matter of fact way.

I looked around. The row after row of shoes were all in their very own spot in the custom-built cabinets.

“Are these cabinets coming too? My job sheet only mentioned the contents.”

Melanie shook her head.
“No. I’ve had some new ones made. If you look at the bottom of these, there is evidence of flood damage.”

I looked, and sure enough, there was a stain about 3ft from the floor.

"The floods that hit us almost two years ago now is the reason I'm moving right now. I can't get insurance for my collection. I had planned on moving about Easter time but having no insurance sealed it."

“Insurance companies, eh? They are only too quick to take our money but so slow to pay us for a claim.”

“Exactly. I received the final part of the claim only two months ago. Now I’m going to live near the top of a hill. At least there, they can’t refuse to give me flood cover.”

‘Sensible woman’ I thought.

"Good. Now, where do you want to start wrapping? I think I have enough boxes in my van."

For a moment, I thought that I'd have to wrap them all myself, but Melanie came to my rescue.

“I wondered about that. Your boss left a huge roll of bubble wrap with me yesterday. I’ll go and get it then we can start.”

---

Three hours later, we broke for lunch. I left Melanie to get something for herself. I went to join my team to break the bad news to them about the next job.

“How are you getting on?” I asked when I saw the removal van nearly full of neatly labelled boxes.

“We should be done in an hour then we can get off back to the depot and get it unloaded,” said Phil.

“That’s good. The bad news is that the boss will be running the job in Stafford tomorrow.”

As I’d predicted, there were groans from all of them.

“Why? Where will you be?” asked Pat.

“Finishing up here.”

“How long can it take to pack some shoes?” he asked.

I grinned.
“There are more than one thousand pairs in her collection.”

Their collective mouths dropped open.
“Talk about a shoe fetish…” remarked Greg.
“That seems to be excessive.”

"I don't think it is a fetish. From some of the styles, I think that she is a collector. Some of the boots date back to Victorian times. You know the sort that you see in period dramas on TV."

There was no reply to that, but I could sense that my explanation was not altogether acceptable. It was just ‘too left field’ for them to fully understand.

---

The guys left Melanie’s home just over an hour later. As they drove off, I wondered why she was putting so much furniture and stuff into storage rather than taking it with her. That would have to wait as there were many, many more shoes waiting to be packed.

Just before 15:00, I said as I looked at the large number of full boxes that were now stacked in her hallway waiting to be loaded into the van.

“I think that there is a full load now. Would it be possible to take them to your new home? Then, we could see just what is left for tomorrow?”

Melanie stopped wrapping some silly height shoes and looked at me for a second.

“Thinking about this evening?”

“Yes. I won’t get to see my children until the new year after tonight. Their new father is taking them to Minorca for Christmas.”

“Then we’d better get this lot loaded then!”

She was growing on me. She was willing to muck in unlike, most other customers. Admittedly, she had an interest in seeing her collection moved properly but even so…

---

"Take the road on the left that is signposted to 'Homer'," said Saskia less than an hour later.
I suppressed any thoughts of ‘Homer Simpson’, the countdown to kick off at Villa Park, was rapidly running out.

"There is a steep hill before we get into the village. Carry on through, and my home is on the other side just before the first ploughed field."

A few minutes later, I turned into her new home. It wasn’t that remarkable in terms of architecture but seemed quite large.

"I'm renting this place furnished until I can move into my own home," she said as I turned the van so that the back doors were nearest the front door.

Her statement had answered my as yet unasked question about why so much was going into storage.

The furniture in the dining room at the back had been piled up in one corner. Occupying almost the rest of the room were four large wooden racks. Right away, I could see that these had been made by a proper craftsman. The jointing looked to my almost very uneducated eye just about perfect.

“Those are impressive cabinets.”

"Thanks for the compliment. It took me ages to find a furniture maker who was good enough to do it and willing to take the commission. In the end, I used a company that makes bespoke kitchens in Hereford. These were delivered a few days ago. When I move from here, they will fit perfectly into my new home."

"You said that you were renting this place until you found one of your own. They seem awfully solid to me?"

"I did, but they do come apart. That was part of my problem in getting them made in the first place. Most of the people I spoke to about the project just couldn't grasp what I was going about."

"Well… they look that they are worth every penny of the huge pile of cash that they most certainly cost you."

Melanie laughed.
“I’m beginning to like you. Do you know that you have a weird sense of humour?”

I smiled.
“So, I’m told by people who don’t like me very much,” I quipped.

Melanie laughed.
“We’d better get the van unloaded or you won’t get to the match on time!”

She was right.

We both pitched in and it didn’t take long for us to get the van empty.

“That’s it for today,” she pronounced as she shut the doors to my Transit Van.

I dropped her off at the bottom of the Cliff Railway in Bridgnorth. It was about a ten-minute walk from there along the River Severn to her current home. As I drove away, I felt a tinge of sadness for two reasons. Firstly, because I’d enjoyed working with Melanie. She was so unlike any other client that I’d ever met and secondly, after tomorrow, I’d never see her again. That is a fact of life for someone who works in the removals industry.

---

“Ok boys, here we are,” I said as I parked my car near the stadium that is the home of Aston Villa. Villa Park is and always has been one of the best stadia in the country. Things have been looking up for the team since the arrival of Stevie Gerrard as their manager so taking them to the home fixture against Burnley was my Christmas present to them. There were other presents for them that I’d dropped off with their mother when I arrived to collect my sons Adam aged 12 and Martin aged 10 to go to the match.

The look of disdain on her face told me that she was not happy to see me but there was nothing she could do about it because this was my court-ordered access. She'd been the one to commit adultery and want the divorce but I was destroyed in court because her lover and now her husband had the money for a good lawyer whereas I had virtually no money and very little legal representation. Thankfully, the court denied her claim for maintenance because, on the last day of her evidence, she arrived wearing a large diamond engagement ring. That was her downfall and although she was awarded custody which I wasn't contesting, I won a pyrrhic victory when he awarded her the grand sum of £1.00 per year in maintenance.

When I’d given her the presents for our sons, I wondered if they’d ever see them. I planned to mention their existence at halftime.

What I wasn’t prepared for was an announcement to come over the Public Address requesting me to go to the information centre. We’d only just taken our seats so I was rather confused as to why someone wanted to see me.

“Stay here boys, I’ll be back as soon as I have found out what is wrong.”

“Ok dad,” they replied in unison. Both of them were watching the players warming up right in front of us so I was confident that they’d not wander off.

I found the information centre and gave them my name.

"Ah, Mr Powell. This is your lucky day. Someone has reserved an executive box for you and your sons," said the man in charge.

He handed me a copy of an email. I didn’t know who it was from.

“I know nothing about this or who this email is from. There has to be some mistake?”

“There is no mistake Mr Powell. The owner of the box is the sender of the email.”

“I still don’t understand why?”

The man smiled.
"I understand that a trip to the match tonight is part of your Christmas present to your sons? Someone with some money just like you."

He’d got me there.
“I’d better go and collect my sons.”

The man shook his head.
"They are being collected by one of my staff. Why don't you meet them at the lift just to your right? They will be there in a minute or so. I'm sure that they don't want to miss kick-off?"

“Thanks,” I replied still slightly shocked and puzzled by what was going on.

A steward arrived a couple of minutes later with my sons in tow.
“What’s wrong Dad?” asked Adam.

“There is nothing wrong. We are being treated to an executive box for the match.”

They both looked at each other and smiled.
“Cool!” was all they’d say.

---

I watched the match still dazed from what had happened. My sons just lapped it up. That made me happy, no, very happy.

Before we left after the final whistle, I said to both of them,
“I don’t know who organised this but we all owe them a big thank you. You both have the email address of the person whose box this is so if I were you, I’d send them a thank you email tomorrow.”

“We will dad and thanks. This is the best present we could have hoped for.”

Then I took a deep breath.
“When your mother asks about tonight, tell her the truth. Tell her exactly what happened and show her this email. It won’t stop her having a good rant at me but I don’t want you telling lies to your mother, understand?”

“We understand Dad,” they said in unison.

“Good. Now I’d better get you home before she sends out the search parties.”

---

“Dad?” said Martin as I drove them to their home in Bewdley.
“Do we have to go to Minorca for Christmas?”

“What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to go?”

“It is our step-dad. He hardly knows that we exist. He’s always working.”

I tried not to but I failed miserably and chuckled.
“That’s why your mother and I separated. When I was working as a truck driver, I was never home so I gave that up and became a removal man but it didn’t work.”

“He’s there in body but his mind is always on his next deal.”

"That's no way to talk about your step-father. Your mother clearly loves him and he's in your life for better or worse. I can't be there for you every day. That's not what your mother wants."

“No one ever asks us what we want?” complained Martin.

“In a few years, you can do whatever you want with your lives. Whatever you decide, I’ll be right behind you. When you are of age, I’ll have your back. Until then boys, just go with the flow and try not to make your mother even more angry at me.”

"Thanks, Dad," said Adam.

---

I drove home after dropping the boys off. Their mother only berated me a bit for being five minutes later than I’d promised. I wasn’t in a mood to argue other than to say,
"It isn't a school night and I'm not going to see them for three weeks so it does not matter in the long run. If there hadn’t been a burst water main then we would have been on time."

“You promised that they’d be back by a quarter past and you failed. Can’t you do anything right?”

"Obviously, not," I said as I turned away.

She said something as I got into my car, but I wasn't listening. I'd learned to her tune out when she started ranting some years ago.

---

The next day, I returned with my company Transit van to Melanie’s home in Bridgnorth for the second and final part of her move.

She was waiting for me at the front door. Seeing just how beautiful she was, put the incident with my ex-wife the previous night out of my mind, in an instant.
“When she finds the right man, he will be one lucky sod!” I thought to myself as I parked the van.

We packed and loaded the last of her collection of shoes plus some kitchen items into the van. Then and to my surprise, ten large cardboard boxes contained a lot of clothes on hangers.

“If I had known about these, I’d have bought a garment frame with me,” I said as I carried the first of the boxes to the van.

"That's not a problem. They are all packed, and it is only for a few hours. I'll get them hung up while you unload the rest of my things at the new house."

“Ok Melanie, if this is good for you, then I'm happy."

We completed the move with just one load. The Transit was full to bursting, but I was glad that I didn't have to come back to Bridgenorth just for a few things.

Unloading went well, and we were all done just before 2 pm.

“Let me treat you to lunch,” suggested Melanie.
“Your stomach has been rumbling for over an hour…”

That was true. I'd not wanted to get out of bed that morning, and by the time I did, it was too late to get any breakfast.

“Ok, but nothing boozy as I’m driving.”

“That’s fine by me. There is a nice place in Bridgnorth near the top of the Cliff Railway.”

I groaned inside. So much for my hopes of not having to go back there today.
Melanie must have seen my disappointment.
"I'll drive us there. I still have my resident's parking permit."

---

Lunch was very good, and the fact that Melanie was paying for it helped.

We talked about all sorts of things then she dropped the bombshell.
"I hope your boys enjoyed the executive box at the match? The person who used the box was away, and they owed me a favour."

I sat stunned for a moment before I could get my thoughts together enough to answer.

“That was your, doing?”

She nodded her head.
"Guilty, I'm afraid."

"Why? We don't know each other, do we? After today, we might never see each other again?"

“You seemed so down when you told me that you were not going to see them until the new year that I thought that the trip to the match should be made that bit more memorable. It didn’t cost me anything other than a phone call. As I said, he owed me a favour and honouring that debt didn’t cost him any money either. That’s a win-win in my books.”

"Well… Thank you for thinking of me, and the boys like that. I know that they enjoyed every minute of it. They should be sending a thank you email to him today."

“That’s good of them. You are clearly trying your best to raise them properly.”

"I do try, but with having limited access to them, then it is not easy."

---

She drove me back to her new home so that I could collect the van. I needed it for another job the following day. The month of December is probably the busiest part of the year for us. Everyone wants to move before Christmas. January is just about treading water for the company by comparison. I knew that I'd be lucky to get home before 9:00 pm on the 24th. Then all I had to look forward to was Christmas alone in my small flat that was not far from the site of the former Leyland car factory in Longbridge.

“Don’t look so depressed,” said Melanie as we neared her home.

I sighed before answering.
“This is our busiest time of the year. I’m going to be flat out until late on the 24th.”

“Then what?” she asked.
“What are you doing for Christmas?”

Her directness surprised me.

"Nothing much. Sleep a lot, eat too much, and get slightly pissed watching TV shows that were recorded last June complete with fake snow. So, nothing out of the ordinary."

She grinned.
"Then come and spend it with me. I'll have my place organised by then, and I need an excuse to try out my new kitchen."

She saw that I was uncertain.
“Cat got your tongue then?”

“I don’t know what to say,” I mumbled.

"Say yes. It will be fun, and I love dressing up."

Fun? Dressing up? I had all sorts of horrific visions, but in the end, I said,
“Yes. But I’m not the sort of person who dresses up. I wouldn’t know where to start. I look awful even in a made-to-measure suit.”

Melanie just grinned back at me.

[to be continued].