Christmas in the Cabin by the Lake

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Tuesday 1-2-2007 at 6:25 am, this retro classic Christmas Special was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
 

Author's Note: Hopefully, this won't be my last, but it probably will be for a while. Thanks all for your support and interest, but work (real work) beckons...

 
 

Andy Newmark, 35, bachelor and struggling author stepped out of the car and breathed deeply as the pine-scented, Monday afternoon air rushed at his nostrils. Mist was rising from the lake before him, shrouding the far end in ethereal mystery.

The scenery was stunning. From the car, parked to the right of the cabin, he could see down the sloping garden and across the huge, nameless body of water that covered acres, surrounded by evergreen trees. Sadly though, there were just fourteen days until Christmas and still no sign of snow.

Though the day was grey and cold, it did nothing to dampen Andy’s spirits as he hauled his suitcases and sundries from the boot of the car and took them across the gravel to the main cabin door, dropping them by his feet as he fished out the keys from his pockets to open up.

Inside, it was warm and welcoming and he took in the last of his possessions as the rain started to fall. Closing the door with a smile he went to the fireplace to build up the fire for the evening.

Sat in a comfortable chair in front of the cheery hearth with a steaming mug of coffee, Andy looked out over the lake at the rain-disturbed surface as tear-shaped droplets ran down the large French windows and daydreams overtook him with thoughts of the conversation that brought him to where he was...

He had delivered what he thought was a perfectly good manuscript to his friend and publisher Harvey Bloom some weeks previously and had followed that up a week after that with a visit.

It had not gone the way he thought it should.

He had expected to receive criticism, that was usual, but it was worse than that. Andy sat in front of Harvey’s desk, his slender frame dwarfed by the overstuffed chair, waiting for the ‘review’. Harvey hated it and tossed it negligently onto the desk explaining that it wasn’t fit to put anyone’s name to, let alone Andy’s.

“You’ve been writing professionally for how long? Five years? You’ve produced so much better.” he said.

It was hard love Harvey gave, pulling no punches and Andy didn’t take the news well.

“You’re trying too hard. Trying to force things and the flow’s not there.” said Harvey, seeing the state his friend was in. “You need to take a break.”

“I wish.” said Andy. “I just can’t afford to. I’m barely making ends meet as it is.”

“Use my cabin.” his friend replied. “You might as well. I don’t and it’ll be beautiful over Christmas.”

“I’d love to Harv’, but going away is just too expensive.” Harvey got up and sat on the corner of the desk opposite Andy.

“It’s not that expensive. Look, you’ll be getting the cabin free, so all you’ll need is expenses. Even you can stretch to that, can’t you?” Harvey said and beamed at Andy. “It’s an offer you can’t refuse and I don’t think you should even try. Go. Take a break. Christ, take a month; longer if you want. It’s quiet, secluded and has a view to die for. It could be the inspiration you need to get to that best seller. I know it’s in there somewhere.” he said tapping Andy’s head. “You’ve just got to let it out.”

Andy was brought back to the present as a log spat a glowing ember onto the floor at his feet, fizzling out almost immediately.

“A view to die for?” he said out loud, staring back at the view through the French windows. “You certainly got that right.”

The next day after a comfortable and restful night, Andy got his laptop out, plugged it into the mains and sat at a table he’d moved in front of the French windows. He stared out into the mists that once again rose from the lake’s dark waters and prepared to write.

By lunchtime, he’d written nothing.

By mid afternoon, the light outside was fading and still Andy found himself staring at a blank document.

“BLAST!” he shouted, clicked his laptop off and went to the fridge for some beer. That was that day gone.

The next day was the same and the one after that. By the fourth day, Andy had drunk himself into a stupor by late evening and had written nothing. In fact, everything he had written was swiftly erased, deleted and nothing but a blank document faced him on his computer screen.

The weekend was approaching and the weather had worsened. It was raining most of the time and the wind whipped through the trees. His trip into the local town for supplies was a case of running from his car to shops and staggering back as fast as he was able, getting wetter and wetter as the wind blew the rain almost horizontally across the roads.

Back at the cabin, his car full of purchases, he wrestled against the elements to get bag after bag inside and out of the weather.

Darkness fell early thanks to the heavy cloud cover and by about five in the evening after a hot bath, he was comforting himself in his dressing gown in front of the fire with a brandy, when a loud ‘CRACK!’ followed by a ‘FIZZ!’ was heard from just outside of the cabin as the lights went out.

The cabin was dotted with candles presumably for that very eventuality (Andy knew that Harvey wasn’t a particularly romantic person). He lit one and cupping his hand protectively around the guttering flame, sought out a torch. He made his way outside to find the electrical supply which was fixed in a box on the side of the cabin. Opening the door on the front, he peered around inside to see if he could see something obvious wrong.

There was a blinding flash and a roaring in his ears. His whole body stiffened and flew backwards through the air, slamming against the trunk of a tree some distance from the cabin.

---

He had no idea how long he was ‘out’, but when he awoke, he was in strange surroundings. There seemed to be a smell of perfume in the air; a perfume he didn’t recognise, though would find difficult — no, impossible to forget.

The door to the room was ajar and a weak sliver of light filtered through the gap. As he tried to move, he realised just how much he ached. The first time he tried to sit up, he passed out.

He awoke some time later with the smell of that same perfume strong in his nostrils and opened his eyes as a dark-haired woman dabbed his brow with a damp flannel.

“Where am I?” he asked weakly.

“You’re safe and well.” said the woman with a husky, sensuous voice. “Actually, you’re not so ‘well’, but you’re getting there.”

He almost berated himself for having used such a corny line to open with and nearly laughed out loud when the next question to filter into his befuddled mind was, “What happened?”

“I can only assume you were hit by a bolt of lightening.” she said gravely. “You’re lucky to be here.” she continued, applying the cold flannel to his brow. “I just happened to be passing when I saw the flash. You were lying unconscious on the wet ground so I brought you up here.”

He drifted back off to sleep as the woman continued to cool his brow and when he awoke, the silvery-grey light of daytime poked tentatively through the window. Once again, the woman was there.

She had a wonderful figure and her tight jeans accentuated the curve of her hips and that perfect bum. Her breasts weren’t large, but even the somewhat oversized and shapeless blouse couldn’t detract from her appeal. She was gorgeous and would have been even if she’d been draped in a tarpaulin.

“You decided to join us at last then?” she asked. Andy smiled ruefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed him staring at her and tried to sit up, but he still smarted in places he didn’t know could hurt and sank back down into the bed.

“H-how long have I been here?”

“Three days now. Seems that whatever happened knocked you for a six. It’s a good job I found you and brought you here. The road from town up beyond your cabin is impassable now. The river burst its banks the evening you were struck and by now, your cabin will be under about four feet of water. I managed to make it up over the bridge past the river when I got you, but it was a close call. Nothing else is going to get through and it could stay that way for days, maybe a week.” She smoothed the duvet and sat on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.” he replied weakly.

“Well, there was nothing broken that I could see, so you should be up and about soon.” she said. “And since you’re going to be my guest, perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves. I’m Sarah McKenzie.”

“Andy, er, Andrew Newmark.” he said smiling. They shook hands.

It wasn’t until she left the room that Andy realised he was naked under the duvet. She must have undressed him before she put him into bed, forgetting that he had only been wearing a dressing gown at the time of the accident. He went very red at the thought of being seen by her in nothing but his birthday suit.

---

Thanks to Sarah’s ministrations, Andy was much better within a couple of days, though the aches and stiff joints would have to be ‘worked’ out.

“It’d be nice if I could get up now.” he told her.

“Ah, there’s a slight problem there.” she replied.

“Which is?”

“You don’t have anything to wear.”

“What about what I was wearing?”

“What, that silly little dressing gown? It was pretty well buggered when you got hit by that lightening bolt.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Like I said, you got hit by lightening during the storm.” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive at all. Fortunately for you, it was only your dressing gown that didn’t survive.”

“Doesn’t seem that I can get out of bed then does it?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of it that easily. You’ll have to wear some of my stuff. I should have something that’ll fit you.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“I’m serious. You can’t stay in bed. There are things to do and I would appreciate some help doing them until you can get back into your cabin.”

“But, I can’t wear girl’s clothes.”

“Why not? Who’s going to see? There’s only me and you and hopefully it’ll only be jeans and underwear anyway.”

“That’s more than enough isn’t it?” he muttered and trembled as she bustled out of the room in a very business-like fashion.

Was she serious?

Did she really expect him to wear her clothes?

Would they fit?

What would he look like?

He didn’t have long to wait. Sarah was back in no time with an armful of clothes.

“You’re bloody serious!” he said incredulously.

“Of course.” she said smiling sweetly and handed him a pair of ladies briefs.

Andy grabbed the cotton briefs and giving Sarah a stern look, pulled them on under the bedclothes, grimacing all the while partly due to the residual discomfort and partly due to the fact she had no intention of leaving the room while he dressed. Sarah on the other hand found it all very amusing.

Still very much embarrassed, Andy slipped out from under the duvet.

“Er, you might want to put those on the other way round.” she said looking at his crotch.

“Have I got them on inside out?”

“Back to front actually — nice!” she said as he twisted to see the cheeks of his bum poking out either side of the narrow panel, which should have been at the front and was riding up between the cheeks of his bum.

You could have fried eggs on his crimson face and he quickly slipped back into the bed to rectify the situation, peeking frequently to make sure he was putting his legs through the right holes and had the orientation correct. Sarah meanwhile was laughing out loud at his attempts to do flips and twists to get into her underwear.

The attempt was made doubly difficult as the front panel of the briefs was, as the name suggested, brief. Compared to the back, there was far less to scoop his personables into and this took longer than he had expected. First he slipped out of one side, then the other and then the fact that he was putting on a pair of ladies briefs hit him and he had a harder problem to deal with — much harder.

With his hands over his nether regions, he slid back from under the duvet as Sarah was wiping tears from her face.

“It’s not funny.” he said pugnaciously.

“It is from this side.” she said, giggling. “Anyway, it’s not like you’ve got something I haven’t seen before.”

“Yes I have. It’s mine and you definitely haven’t seen that before.”

“Haven’t I?” she asked, one eyebrow rising dangerously.

He went beetroot again, realising that yes, she had seen him in the altogether.

“Ah.” he said.

She handed him a pair of worn but perfectly serviceable jeans, but as much as he struggled, he couldn’t get them done up and gave up after it was clear they weren’t going to fit.

“Try this.” she said and handed him a mid-length denim skirt. “I was a bit narrower when I used to wear the jeans, perhaps this will be more your size.”

“I can’t wear this.” he said immediately.

“It’s that or wandering around in knickers and much as I like the thought, I don’t see it as particularly practical or warm.”

He pulled it up and did it up around the waist, muttering all the while about things to do with indignities and what was ‘appropriate’. It was a touch tight, but it was fortunate he was as skinny as he was. A plain blouse went on last of all.

Standing there in her clothes, he didn’t feel as out of place as he’d imagined. True it wasn’t an outfit that was naturally matched to his gender, but it was in no way uncomfortable. In fact, the reverse was probably true, with the exception that it was now pretty breezy around the soft bits, well the softening bits anyway.

“It’s alright, but it lacks something.” she said and left the room.

When she returned, she was carrying a bra and some tissue paper.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Well, you don’t look right at the moment.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m a man in women’s clothes for Christ’s sake. What did you expect?”

“You can look better. Take it off.”

“What? All of it?”

“No silly, just the blouse.” He removed the blouse and she slipped the bra around his waist. The feeling of her touching his bare skin while he stood there in a skirt and her knickers, her body so close with the smell of her perfume, was sending him into a bit of a trance.

“Slip your arms in.”

Lifting his arms, she guided them into the straps, then pushed a couple of balls of tissue paper into each cup and held the blouse out for him to slip his arms into the sleeves.

He pushed one arm through, then turned to get the other in and met her face to face, their noses barely an inch apart.

He froze, wondering whether he should kiss her, smelling her fragrance filling his nostrils. He moved forward and touched his lips to hers; soft, full, inviting.

She pulled on the blouse, jerking him even closer to her and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him soundly and the longer it lasted, the more the passion rose in both of them, or in his case, as far as it could given the obvious constrictions.

She pulled away suddenly, leaving Andy stood, lips puckered and eyes closed.

“This is wrong.” she said, somewhat breathlessly.

“Why?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“It just is.” she replied and bent down to pick up the sandals she’d dropped on the floor. “Try these.”

Andy was bemused not knowing if he had done something wrong. Whatever, he felt a definite spark there and a noticeable ache in the fork.

He tried the sandals that had a very small heel and since they seemed to fit well enough, they left it at that and he followed her downstairs.

The first thing that struck him was the fact that the clothes he was wearing felt so good and made him feel good too. He had to confess to being less disturbed than he thought he’d be by what he was doing. He was in a strange woman’s cabin, well a woman he barely knew, wearing her clothes and actually feeling comfortable about it to boot.

The skirt touched him in a way that trousers never did as he moved and it was strangely intoxicating, feeling the freedom around the legs. The lightness of the underwear that seemed to caress him into place rather than strap him into the usual armour-plated prison he was accustomed to.

The effect went deeper though and he found himself changing his behaviour to try to be closer to that of a woman. Some of it was on an unconscious level, reinforced by the gentle constraints of the bra, the light feminine touch of the briefs and the smoothness of the blouse, whilst in other ways, it just seemed appropriate.

“See. It’s not so bad is it?” she asked him, noticing with a note of both amusement and no small amount of smugness too, that he wasn’t complaining about what he was wearing.

The next day, she brought him clean clothes and this time, he didn’t make any fuss about being dressed in a skirt and blouse, although he did get a tad turgid around the jollicals when putting on the knickers, which were pale lavender coloured and more difficult to keep within the confines of due to there being less of them than those he had been wearing the day before.

Again Sarah helped him with the bra. He had tried, but seemed to make a complete pigs-ear of it, so she stepped in and as happened the last time, he found himself almost nose to nose with her and okay, he hardly knew her, but knew he wanted to get to know her a lot better. He tried for a kiss, but this time, she turned away.

Day three since he regained consciousness was the best day weather-wise that they had had in the last fortnight. It was bright and the sun even made an attempt to come out once or twice. There wasn’t a lot that could be done outside as it was still really squishy underfoot, but there was a need to replenish the logs indoors for the fire and Andy was prime target for axe-wielding duties.

In a pale green cotton blouse and bottle-green corduroy skirt, Andy began chopping the wood and after some forty-five minutes of swinging the long-handled axe, he figured there would be enough to last a couple of lifetimes.

“Thanks.” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I think that job has already fallen to you.” he said smiling and leant forward and they kissed long and hard.

“You know, you do look very sexy in a skirt and I think it suits you, despite what you may think.” she said.

“Do you really think so?”

“Not many! It’s like having a girlfriend — with an added bonus, especially knowing what’s in my knickers.” she told him.

“I see. I never had you pegged for one who would like an effeminate man, but well, well, well.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh no?”

“No! I don’t see you as effeminate at all” she said adamantly. It was Andy’s turn this time to raise an eyebrow, wondering how he could be viewed as masculine in his current ensemble.

“Well, not really.” she added after a moments thought. “Maybe.” she said finally, adding a wicked little grin which caused them to laugh and Andy to chase her into the cabin.

He grabbed her, spun her round and glued his lips to hers. They kissed again, but it didn’t last as she pushed him away.

“You smell bad. You need a bath!” she said. “You go and get on with it and I’ll put some fresh clothes out for you.”

He went into the bathroom muttering about smelling when it was SHE that started it and SHE who had given him the wood-chopping duties.

She walked unashamedly into the bathroom with an armful of fresh clothing as he was undressing and he nearly broke bones trying to cover his privates. She giggled and left him red-faced, looking like a cartoon character on a saucy seaside postcard.

He scrubbed himself clean using her soaps and her shampoo, noticing the definitely feminine scent that they gave off. He sniffed deeply, thinking about how nice they smelt. His eyes went to the pile of clean clothes on top of the laundry basket where a shiny-looking pair of the briefest briefs in red with a scalloped lacy edging lay topmost on the pile and the earlier conversations came back to him…

“…you might as well look right …it’s like having a girlfriend, with an added bonus…” He looked down his body and saw the fine but unmistakeable hair that covered his legs and torso.

“If she wants me to look right…” he said to himself.

It had been three full days of dressing and to a lesser degree acting like a female and as he looked at his hirsute body he knew what was required. After shaving his face and with trembling hand, he began removing his body hair.

It took much longer than he thought. He never realised how many square miles of hairy skin he had and how difficult it would be to shave it off, as the razor kept clogging. It seemed to last forever and as much as he removed, it seemed as though there was still just as much left to do.

All in all, it took nearly forty-five minutes and Sarah was nearly hoarse trying to get him to come out of the bathroom.

He started getting dressed and was surprised by her choice of underwear. Impossible but true, the knickers were even skimpier than those he had been wearing and it was only possible to contain himself by tucking himself back between his legs, but when he finally looked in the mirror at the red satin-like material surrounded by smooth, hairless skin and flat front, instead of the manly bulge, he got a rather unexpected thrill.

The skirt she had given him this time was shorter too, falling to just above the knee and looking at his smooth calves, he knew he had made the right decision. The feeling too, was making his manliness somewhat uncomfortable in the tight confines, getting more noticeable by the second as the hem of the skirt swished this way and that against his more sensitive legs.

He finally managed to master the bra and finished off with a short-sleeved blouse Sarah had left. His hair he brushed into a spiky sort of style, which in his opinion was about as close to feminine as he could get without a wig and apart from the lack of makeup, he felt he looked quite the part, quite the young woman.

He left the bathroom after cleaning what looked like a Wilton carpet out of the bath and headed downstairs, marvelling at the feelings that were accosting his senses by the truckload.

She noticed almost immediately and her eyes went wide.

“You said I needed to look the part.” he said by way of an explanation.

“You certainly do now.” she said advancing on him, running her hands over his smooth arms and unbuttoning the blouse. She pulled each side of the blouse to one side, exposing his hairless chest, the bra rising and falling with his increased breathing rate.

“My heavens!” she said in a hoarse whisper, running he hands over him. “Is it all like that?”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” he said and took her by the hand leading her towards the bedroom where one thing led to another and the next thing they knew, they were at it like a couple of rabbits.

---

Laying there in the afterglow, Sarah asked what he was doing up at the cabin.

“Christmas break.” he answered simply. “My publisher sort of forced me into it.”

“Well, I’m glad he did.”

“So am I. What about you?”

“I live here. I’m not really interested in the hustle and bustle of city living, so I decided to get out of the rat race. I more or less support myself. It can be hard at times, but mostly it’s quiet and tranquil. The quality of life up here is so much better I think.”

“I envy you. This has been my dream for years, but I never seem to have to money to do it. It’s crazy. You need to have money in order to live without it. It doesn’t seem right.” he said.

“Why don’t you spend Christmas here, if you can that is?”

“Are you sure? You hardly know me.”

“I know you well enough to have slept with you.”

“It was hardly ‘sleeping’ now was it?” he stated, grinning and she giggled.

“No, not really, but there’s still time.” she said.

---

It was decided. He would spend Christmas with this beautiful angel.

They went to visit Harvey’s cabin and discovered that the road was still flooded. They had to leave Sarah’s truck about half a mile up the road and entry to the cabin itself was through water that came up past their knees.

Some items were floating, bobbing about on the surface of the cold water, while other things had clearly sunk. Much to Andy’s chagrin, there appeared to be no sign of his laptop and locating his clothing seemed like a lost cause.

“Looks like you’ll have to stay en-femme.”

“What?”

“Dressed in my things, er, as a woman. At least for the time being.”

That was the first time it hit him. The dressing up was something he found he enjoyed about being with Sarah — aside from Sarah herself that was. It had been less than a week, but he found that he had actually stopped even thinking about the fact he was dressing in her clothes; dressing femininely, or acting in a feminine manner.

“That’s okay.” he said with a shrug.

“You’re getting into it aren’t you.” she asked.

He blushed. “I suppose I am, but it doesn’t seem unnatural with you. I don’t suppose I could do it back where I live. I’d probably get grief all the time for a start. I guess there’s no-one here to do that is there?”

“See. Living out here does have its plus points.”

“I suppose.” he said and added “Aside from losing all my clothes and my laptop. Shit!”

“You haven’t lost you clothes. They’re just ‘unavailable’ at the moment.”

“No but I have lost the means to write.”

“Does that mean I get you all to myself?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. His stern face softened ending in a broad grin.

“Yes. Yes it does! I can’t call it a holiday if I’m doing what I would normally do all the time can I?”

“Good! Come on then. Let’s go and get some coffee. This place needs to empty out anyway before we can get round to sorting it out.”

They returned to her cabin and spent the lead-up to Christmas being like a domesticated couple.

She made mince pies and he put up decorations. The rest of the time they spent cuddled up before the fire talking or playing games, oh, or in bed!

When Christmas Eve arrived, they had a decorated tree, tinsel, holly and of course Mistletoe, which each of them spent far too much time chasing the other with and laughing heartily, before and after the kisses or whatever else the mistletoe led to.

They were like a couple of school children, with butterflies in their stomachs, waiting for the big day, even though neither had a present for the other and the only things under the Christmas tree were the mince pies, that combined their cinnamon and allspice smell with that of the small spruce that Andy cut to stand in the lounge.

It was perfect.

On the night of Christmas Eve, they went to bed as a couple and Andy was over the moon that he had been given the opportunity to come out to Harvey’s cabin and have the best two weeks of his life with a woman he couldn’t have dreamt of if he tried.

Never mind holidays, this Christmas ranked at the top of the ‘all-time best’ Christmas list too. Having the chance to spend time with such an extraordinary woman in such idyllic surroundings (despite the flood, being struck by lightening and losing his laptop) and to discover the joys of simple pleasures was just the best.

It had also been a voyage of discovery for him. He found delight in things he never thought he would and as far as the cross-dressing was concerned, that was just one of the best things ever. It had changed the whole concept of sex, putting things on an even keel. He spent just as long getting ready for her as she did for him.

Undressing each other, right down past the underwear, was something he would find hard to forget although he was already trying to think of alternative methods of losing his body hair as shaving seemed to take forever and Sarah was quite forthright about him keeping his skin smooth and not feeling like a scouring pad.

---

Andy awoke Christmas Day to find himself alone and disorientated in a bed that wasn’t the one he started in. Images of Sarah, her cabin, skirts, briefs and blouses flashed through his mind momentarily, as his dream-world of the unconscious melted away, leaving him grasping at memories that slipped through his fingers like smoke.

The door opened. “Ah, Mr. Newmark.” said an unfamiliar voice. “You decided to join us at last then?”

Those words sounded oddly familiar.

“I’m Doctor Lovelock.” he said, peering at him through half-moon glasses whilst taking his pulse.

“Where am I?” asked Andy.

“This is St. Mary’s Hospital. You’ve been comatose for about three days now. We weren’t sure you’d come around, but here you are.” said the doctor, checking things off on the chart. “Just in time for Christmas it seems!”

“Comatose? What happened?”

“There’s evidence you were struck by lightening in the storm a few nights ago. I should imagine you’ll feel a bit sore for a few days maybe as long as a couple of weeks, but you’ll live.” said the doctor. “I have to say, you appear to have healed remarkably quickly despite your injuries.”

By the time doctor Lovelock left him, the memories of the last two weeks at the other cabin, as so often happens with dreams, had washed completely from his mind and he was confused at the feeling of loss that had lingered even after the images were gone.

For two further days, they kept Andy in hospital for observation and on the third he couldn’t wait to get out of there. Even if he didn’t do anything and just rested as the doctors had suggested, the cabin offered better distractions and a cold beer sounded like pure nectar.

One thing that he found strange was the fact that his legs felt hairy and itched as though he wasn’t used to it, a feeling that also manifested when he scratched under his arm. He just wasn’t expecting there to be any hair there and he couldn’t work out why.

He was taken straight home from the hospital on the afternoon of the fourth day in a taxi and in a borrowed dressing gown. It should have been the morning, but in true hospital fashion, they seemed incapable of letting people go on time, which may explain why there are so few available beds. Anyway, away he went, back to the cabin, ordered to take it easy at least for the next few days.

With the taxi-driver paid and himself dressed (which for some reason felt oddly uncomfortable), Andy’s first inclination was for that cold beer and upon opening the refrigerator, he was hit by a wall of bad smells.

Everything seemed to be wearing furry green overcoats and he discovered that nearly all of the food he had bought on his previous outing had spoiled, needed to be replaced due to the power outage.

He remembered that he was supposed to be resting and that driving wasn’t one of the things that the doctor had put on his list of things to do, but what else was he to do? He couldn’t stay in the cabin without food could he?

As far as the power was concerned, it was a simple blown fuse and after replacing that, he drove to the local grocery store and bought heaps of stuff he thought he might want for over the Christmas period. He spent more money than he meant to, but having already shelled out a small fortune on the taxi, he was beyond caring.

It turned out that he was just in time, as the shop was about to close for the night and armed with a chicken and some fresh(ish) vegetables, drinks, sweets, sliced meats, snacks and other assorted nick-knacks, he left the store and started back to the cabin.

On the way, he noticed an old pick-up truck that was pulled up at the side of the road, its bonnet up and copious quantities of steam poured from the radiator into the headlight beams.

Slowing down, he noticed a woman who was stamping her feet, kicking its tyres and cursing at the vehicle, which didn’t seem to be responding to her in any way. After a particularly vicious kick to the hub-cap, the lights blinked and went out.

“Can I help?” he asked pleasantly. The woman eyed him warily through the open window as he made no attempt to get out of his car.

“You’re not going to offer to have a look?” she asked.

“What me? You’re joking. I don’t know anything about them. As far as I’m concerned, fixing them is up there with Pythagoras and his hippopotanuses! I’ll happily give you a lift though.”

She couldn’t help laughing and hopped into the car.

“Where to madam?”

“Well I was heading for the shops.”

“Uh-huh. They were closing up as I left I’m afraid.”

“Shit!” she exclaimed. “I knew I should have gone earlier.”

There was a smell of perfume permeating the interior of the car that seemed to stir something within him; memories, though he had no idea from where. In addition, it suddenly felt wrong to be spending Christmas alone.

He took a deep breath and said “I’d be happy to share.”

“What?”

“I have a boot-full of things for me, but I’m sure it’ll stretch to both of us.”

“I couldn’t…” she said, but Andy just put the car into first and headed up the lane.

She wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she thought she’d be and before she knew it, she was giving Andy directions to her cabin, which was further up the lane from Harvey’s, though in the dark, Andy didn’t seem to notice.

“I suppose it would only be fair to introduce myself.” he said looking at her in the near blackness of interior. “I’m Andy, er, Andrew Newmark.” There was a ‘DING!’ of recognition as if he’d said very thing that before.

“Emma.” she said then yelled “WATCH OUT!” and Andy snapped his head round looking out of the window as the car was veering off the road and heading along a grassy verge. The car swerved a couple of times as he regained control.

“Oops!”

Somewhat shaken, but nevertheless still in one piece, they got out of the car and proceeded to get Andy’s purchases into the cabin.

The cabin seemed familiar, but Andy didn’t pay too much attention, he figured that maybe there was little difference between the cabins along the shores of the lake.

The thing that did seem to have a profound effect was every time Emma was in the room, he was filled with a haunting sense of déjá  vu; the perfume affecting him on almost a spiritual level. It was starting to get to him; a tantalising memory that was almost there then gone.

“You’re a life-saver.” she said as she started to unload the bags of groceries. There was another silent ‘DING!’ in Andy’s head. Another one of those ‘heard before’ lines or the sense that he had been in this very cabin before, sensations that were starting to come thick and fast.

They sat together on a small cottage-style two-seater settee in front of the fire. The only seat on the cabin apart from a straight-backed wooden chair that wasn’t comfortable at the best of times. They drank a few beers and watched Emma’s portable television, a luxury that wasn’t available to Andy in Harvey’s cabin.

The picture started to break up as a drumming noise started to become more and more apparent above them.

“What the hell…?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s just the rain.” replied Emma, getting closer as a loud thunder-crack boomed overhead.

The rain increased and soon they were sitting trying to watch a television picture that more closely resembled a black and white cat in a snowstorm on a dark night, than a television programme.

“They said there’d be heavy rain on the forecast earlier. Didn’t you hear that?”

“I haven’t had access to a television, so no. I had no idea.”

“Last time there was rain like this, the river down the road burst its banks and there was an almighty flood. Nothing got through and it took over a week to clear.”

The ‘DING!’ sounded once again silently in Andy’s head as the drumming got louder.

Thunder was accompanied by lightening and Emma was getting tense, moving almost unconsciously towards Andy with every boom or flash. The drumming on the roof was so loud that it drowned out even their thoughts and the television had long since been turned off.

“Would you stay here tonight?” she asked in a small voice. “I don’t think I want to be here on my own.” Andy looked at her, her face pale as first a flash of lightening lit the room through the curtains followed by the boom of thunder that shook the place to its very foundations.

He didn’t want to tell her how uneasy he was feeling, the thoughts that he had just spent several days in hospital due to having been struck by lightening. He didn’t want to tell her that he didn’t want to be on his own either and he REALLY didn’t want to tell her that he was very literally scared.

“Okay.” he said and the look of relief on her face was obvious.

---

He slept on a makeshift bed on the lounge floor and woke up early the next morning cold and sore, though much of that was due to the residual aches and pains from his ‘accident’ a few days before.

Unsurprisingly, it was still raining and it had got much colder as the wind whistled through the trees and around the cabin. The fire had burnt itself out the night before and there was next to no wood piled by the side of the fire.

Having dressed, he went to the kitchen and put some coffee on, then used the back door to go to the woodshed and grab some split logs. He was half way through the door before he realised that he instinctively knew it was there, that he knew that there would (or should) be logs in there. There wasn’t a woodshed at Harvey’s cabin, so how did he know about this one?

The wind was blowing a freezing north-easterly chill into the cabin as he stood there with the door open. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to rattle out the confusion, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, slithering around in the sodden earth between the cabin and the shed.

Moments later, he emerged with a large armful of logs and was just about to open the cabin door when he slid and landed flat out on his back in the mud. It took four attempts to get back up and by the time he was vertical again, he was covered from head to toe in very sticky, wet mud, front, back and sides.

The sound of laughter didn’t impress him much either. Emma was standing in the doorway a smile that nearly went from ear to ear.

“It’s not funny.” he said pugnaciously and she just doubled up with laughter again as another ‘DING!’ sounded loudly in his head. Her laughter was so infectious, that he quite forgot his dilemma and started laughing too and behind the face of the woman in front of him, he could see a face that he recognised.

Sort of just behind the features of the beautiful face of his hostess, was another not unlike hers, but different enough to notice. In the eyes there was sadness, but joy at the same time. It was difficult to know that was the case, but Andy could feel it, he just didn’t understand it. Before it faded, the face seemed to mouth something. Was it “goodbye”?

“It is funny, but we’re going to have to get you out of those clothes.”

“And into what?” he asked, blinking and shrugging the vision from his mind.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of something. In the meantime, get out of those wet things, shower off that mud and put this on. I’ll not have you dripping that stuff all over the cabin.” she said, handing him a pale-yellow towelling dressing gown. “You go and get on with it and I’ll put some fresh clothes out for you.”

‘DING!’

There was something going on here, something very familiar he thought. Not all of it, but a lot of it was starting to ring bells in his head. He couldn’t escape that feeling of déjá  vu and it almost scared him that other face in Emma’s.

There was something else too; the perfume. Where had he encountered that before?

He stood in the shower as bits of mud and general detritus slithered down his body into the bath, thinking about the last week and where it had gone. It felt like it had lasted much longer and whose was the face he had seen?

Andy switched off the shower and stepped out of the bath, drying himself and pulling on the dressing gown. Before he left the bathroom, he looked into the bath and saw something that looked like a carpet on the bottom of the tub.

‘DING!’ went that little bell again and he shuddered. What was going on here?

He padded barefoot into the lounge and sat down on the settee, his eyes focussed on nothing, staring blankly into space and his head awash with part visions, part memories and the feeling that whatever was happening wasn’t over yet.

“I don’t know that I have anything of mine that will fit, but I did find these.” called Emma from the bedroom. “They’re not meant for you, but I can’t see an alternative until you stuff is clean and dry.” she said as she walked to the lounge. “They belonged to my Aunt Sarah, but they look as though they’ll fit you.”

‘DING!’ That little bell in his head went off and suddenly, the whole episode with Sarah came back into his head. Perhaps it was the mention of her name or maybe it was the culmination of all those snippets he felt he’d heard or seen before, but there it was, right in the forefront of his mind, live and in colour.

He wondered whether or not he should tell Emma about Sarah, but if he did, would she believe him? The phone rang before he had a chance to make up his mind anyway.

“That bad?” she said down the phone. “Past the bridge… Uh-huh… Impassable? I see… Okay, thanks for that.”

Emma sat in front of him on the wooden chair.

“I have some bad news.” she said. “It looks as though the river flooded last night and everything below the bridge is under water.”

‘DING!’ went that bell one more time and Andy knew what was coming.

“The authorities have suggested that we stay put as they don’t foresee the water level receding for the next few days, so it looks like you’ll be spending Christmas here.”

Andy was able to put Sarah’s name to the other face he saw on Emma’s and somehow he started to understand as he sat, his blank expression replaced with a smile. He looked at the woman before him and wondered just how much of his dream would be repeated — so much already had and as if to answer that unasked question, she handed him a bottle-green corduroy skirt and a pale green cotton blouse.

THE END.

Notes:

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