Despite the whole of November now being referred to as ‘Black Friday’, on the eve of the real ‘Black Friday’ I am taking this opportunity to turn things around – I am GIVING AWAY instead of buying or selling.

I very much hope that you enjoy my free Christmas short story – let’s buck the trend and turn Black Friday into a SALES FREE day!

 

A LITTLE TALE OF CHRISTMAS MAGIC 

The woman stared at the cardboard box. I was about 30cms square and as light as a feather.

‘Order today and have the magic of Christmas delivered to your door,’ The advert had said. Well, they could all do with a bit if Christmas magic in this modern, harum-scarum life, couldn’t they? But what was it exactly? She shook it gently. Nothing. However, the red and white label on the side clearly proclaimed in large black letters, ‘The Magic of Christmas’. At least it hadn’t cost her a lot.

‘Not more on-line purchases?’ Her husband had spotted her standing uncertainly in the hall and sounded annoyed.

‘I just want it to be the best Christmas ever, Jim, after – you know – what has happened.’ Their granddaughter and son were coming to stay with them for the festive holiday, the first since their daughter-in-law’s death in a car accident.

‘Yes, but money is tight this year after all the lockdowns and furloughs of this wretched pandemic… what’s it supposed to be anyway?’

‘I… I don’t know.’ The woman looked bewildered and defeated.

‘What?’ her husband’s face took on an expression of angry incredulity.

Suddenly, his wife burst into noisy tears as her legs folded under her and she sank down onto the bottom step of the stairs.

‘Oh, Ruth, I’m sorry!’ the man hunkered down in front of her and tentatively slid his arm around her heaving shoulders. ‘You’ve been trying to do far too much, old girl,’ he chided her gently, ‘Come into the sitting room and put your feet up. I’ll put the kettle on.’ Clinging shakily to her husband Ruth rose to her feet. ‘What about asking Debra Rawlins from across the road to join us for Christmas dinner? She’s a jolly good cook and I’m sure that if you ask her, she’d give you a hand… she’s all on her own this Christmas, too, and would probably appreciate the invitation instead of being all alone…’ The harassed couple disappeared into the next room and the door closed softly behind them…

…………………………

At nearly eighty years of age, Mrs Twemlow thought that nothing could surprise her anymore, but watching her next-door-neighbour sneaking up her front path carrying a cardboard box with a large red and white sticker on the side had definitely intrigued her. By the time she had slowly risen from her chair and got to the front door, the woman had vanished, but the box stood on her front step.

“’The Magic of Christmas’. What on earth is this?” she muttered in consternation. Mrs Twemlow tenderly bent her rheumaticky joints and retrieved the box from the floor. Goodness, it was as light as a feather. She shook it gently. Nothing. How odd! The elderly woman didn’t like to open it. One heard such dreadful tales these days. Suppose it was a bomb?

I know, I’ll take it to Dennis at the library. It’s one of his volunteering days. He’ll know what to do with it, she thought. Hastily, the elderly lady prepared to leave the house. The winter sun was shining weakly and a little walk in the fresh air would do her good; the library was only at the end of the next road.

Dennis didn’t really take much notice of the box. It stood forgotten at one end of the library counter while he and Agnes Twemlow became engrossed in a whispered conversation about their various Christmas childhood memories. Being of a similar age, they discovered that they had a surprising amount in common.

‘Sssssh!’ Natalie, the regular librarian admonished the couple.

‘It’s almost lunchtime.’ Dennis grinned mischievously, ‘How about I take my break early and we go to that café around the corner for a nice bowl of minestrone soup?’ Mrs Twemlow looked a little startled but then her eyes began to twinkle.

‘Why not?’ she chuckled.

‘I have been meaning to ask you,’ Dennis reached for his coat, ‘I usually take a walk on Christmas afternoon – just around the park – give the ducks their Christmas tea! I wonder… dare I ask… Agnes, (I may call you Agnes?) would you possibly care to accompany me this year?’

Mrs Twemlow turned to her companion in some astonishment. Bright intelligent eyes set in a kindly smiling face stared back at her.

‘Didn’t mean to offend, Agnes, j…just a…a thought.’

‘Not at all,’ the woman eventually replied as they left the building. She had been fairly dreading being all alone on Christmas Day. ‘In fact, I have a particularly delectable little Christmas Cake squirrelled away in my pantry – and some of that spicy Christmas coffee from Forshaw’s supermarket… Why don’t you join me for a spot of coffee and cake after our walk?’

The two people walked off down the road happily making their simple celebratory plans, completely forgetting the box which they had left behind.

…………………………

‘Is this yours, madam?’ Natalie, the librarian asked the harassed young woman who was waiting to take out a book of children’s fairy tales and another one entitled ‘Foolproof Recipes For the Perfect Christmas Dinner.’ A little brown-haired boy with a persistently running nose dragged at her arm.

‘No.’ she answered, briefly peering at the label, ‘But I could certainly do with some Christmas magic! My neighbours have invited us to join them for Christmas Dinner and to make it easier for everyone, we are all supposed to take a contribution to the meal… but I can’t even cook water.’

Natalie looked at the young woman with growing interest. ‘What are you supposed to be making?’

‘The pudding and the sauce and the brandy butter to go with it,’ the young mother replied weakly.

‘Well, it’s a bit late to make your pudding now. It wouldn’t have time to mature,’ Natalie commented, and the young woman looked crestfallen. ‘Why don’t you just buy the pudding? And I might be able to suggest someone who can help you make the sauce and brandy butter.’

That afternoon, Cheryl and her little son found themselves in Margaret’s warm kitchen, both with tasks to complete as they made not just white sauce and brandy butter but sugary Christmas biscuits in the shape of snowmen and snowflakes too. Margaret had brought up five children, all of whom had moved away and now had busy families of their own. She was overjoyed to have youngsters, (as she referred to both the young woman and the boy), busy in her kitchen, especially at this time of year. These days, Margaret often felt quite lonely and superfluous.

Cheryl had finally been persuaded to take the box of Christmas Magic away with her, but in her excitement at going to visit Margaret, she had completely forgotten about it. Now it sat on the floor by the front door of her little flat, forlornly lost amidst a pile of discarded shoes and boots.

On Christmas morning, Cheryl was preparing to take her edible contributions over to the Dawson’s when she spotted the box and on impulse, decided to take it along too – she had no idea what was inside it but it might be something they could all share and enjoy – it would be a surprise.

…………………………

Ruth blenched when she saw the Magic of Christmas box reappear on her kitchen worksurface.

‘Surely, it can’t be the same one!’ she hissed at her husband who was quietly chuckling.

However, the box was once again forgotten as everyone began to arrive and plates, pots, pans and bags of delicious food were gradually assembled. Ruth reflected that it had been a bit of a squeeze to fit them all in as she gazed around her small festive table. Her beloved son was bravely managing his day and was smiling occasionally at the animated remarks of his dining companions. Debra had been a tower if strength in the final run up to Christmas – Ruth didn’t know what she would have done without her and was thrilled to think of their growing friendship possibly deepening in the new year. She was also glad that Debra had suggested that they include Cheryl and her little son, Jake. The lass, now laughing uproariously at one of Jim’s cracker jokes, was a single mother with no family of her own. Jake and her granddaughter, Tamsin, were of a similar age and seemed to be shyly getting on well together

The room was softly lit with candles and fairy lights. The table groaned beneath the weight of so many good things to eat. Everyone wore their paper crowns pulled from their glittery crackers. Conversation flowed, laughter frequently broke out. Yes, it had all turned out for the best, it was all good. Ruth smiled to herself. In fact, it was one of the very best Christmases she ever remembered having. The woman hoped that neither Debra or Cheryl would rush off after the meal – perhaps they might even stay for tea…?

‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ Debra looked around the sitting room where they were now all devouring frostily iced pieces of Christmas Cake and drinking cups of tea or glasses of sherry. ‘I found this box in the kitchen – perhaps we should open it?’ So saying, Ruth’s neighbour ripped the tape from the top of the box labelled The Magic of Christmas and pulled open the cardboard flaps. The woman peered inside while Ruth and Cheryl both held their breath.

‘Why, it’s empty!’ Debra declared with a laugh, and just to demonstrate the truth of this she shook the box upside down. No one noticed the small white feather which floated out of the box. Nobody was aware of a lonely old woman a few streets away, smiling to herself as she planned what to make when Cheryl joined her in the new year to begin her cookery lessons. Nor could they see Agnes and Dennis sitting by the fireside next door, enjoying their cake and coffee and each other’s company. Nobody even noticed the scrawny stray cat who later crept into the discarded cardboard box and thankfully curled up on that cold Christmas night. Little did she know it then, but Ruth was about to acquire a new pet.

No, nobody realised just how much the Box of Christmas Magic had changed their Christmas, but it had certainly done it’s job…

…And the angel on top of the Christmas Tree smiled.