Mary

Mary loved her job. She spent some days taking fitness class- es, or helping residents with mobility and physio plans. She came up with group activities, arranged outings and social events as well as transport to medical appointments and meals for those who needed them. It was all done with en- thusiasm and genuine fondness for the elderly people she dealt with on a day-to-day basis.

But most of all she was super-excited to organise the annual Christmas party, because Christmas to her was the most magical time of the year. She was full of ideas and good cheer changing out of her togs after aqua aerobics and head- ed to the clubhouse to discuss her plans with her boss.

Knocking on Andrew’s door, she peered in, expecting to see his usual messy red curls and instead found a lanky stranger with a mop of salt and pepper hair, pacing back and forward across the paisley carpet.

“He’s on paternity leave, can I help?” the man asked, turn- ing to look at her, then doing a funny little jolt and dropping the glasses that had been hanging from the corner of his lip. “Oh, it’s you,” he said cryptically.

“It is,” she said, smiling broadly. “Are you Albright Nicols? Andrew mentioned you would be in but I thought it was next week.” He was quite a nice-looking guy, if a bit scowly.

“It’s Bright. Only my mother called me Albright. Andrew’s wife is on bed rest, so his leave had to be brought forward.”

“Poor Nat, I can’t even begin to imagine the horror of hav- ing twins,” Mary said with a grin. He didn’t smile back. “Any- way, I’m Mary, the activities coordinator. I was coming in for my Monday morning debrief, but it can wait if you’re busy?”

“I couldn’t fit it in my bike basket,” she joked. He looked at her for a long time, his face impassive, until her smile dimmed and she slunk into a chair in front of his desk.

“Yes, brilliant, I have so many fun ideas. Decorations, and the food. A magician. I was thinking maybe a fun cocktail, some games. Who doesn’t love Christmas after all, and I had an idea for—”

“Love Christmas,” he said, taking a seat himself, his long legs banging into the desk. From the look on his face he was serious. She imagined him to be serious a lot in fact.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Mary tried to look contrite. “I love it myself so I’m more than happy to sort the bulk of the party if it’s not your thing?” He looked a little relieved, she thought.

“That would be helpful.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “There’s just the matter of the budget.”

“Right, yes, I had a look at last year’s budget and it was a little bit of a stretch, wasn’t it? There’s also the fact that we do have more residents this year, so if we could—”

“I’m cutting it by a third,” he said, interrupting her. Surely he wasn’t serious?

“It’s not a joke, Ms ...? Sorry, I don’t know your last name?” “Star, but Mary is fine.”

“There’s no money in the budget for frivolous things like Christmas, Ms Star,” he said. “As it is I’m borrowing from the maintenance fund, so you’ll have to make do.”

Mary did some mental calculations in her head. No matter how she worked it, she was struggling with how to provide a Christmas meal and entertainment for all the residents. It was a bit of a dick move. Still, she was sure she could think of something. She could be resourceful, and maybe she could

make some of the decorations? She was still mulling it over when Lois knocked on the door.

“Hello there, Mary love, fabulous earrings. I was looking for Andrew. The jukebox in the common area has died again. I was hoping he could call that nice man to come back and fix it.”

“Hello, Lois, this is Bright, he’s taking over for Andrew for a bit while Nat has the babies.”

“Well, hello, young man,” Lois said, looking at Bright coy- ly, head tilted and lips pursed. “Aren’t you a handsome one. I’m sure you can help me with the jukebox.”

Mary laughed under her breath. Was Lois actually batting her eyelashes? Wasn’t that just an expression?

“I doubt it’s worth fixing,” Bright said curtly. “The thing’s about sixty years old.”

“A spring chicken then?” Mary pulled a whoops-that’s-a- bit-awkward face at him to imply that Lois was a lot older. He said nothing, merely looked at her like she was a bit mad. “Now if that’s all?” He looked down at his phone. “I have

“Well, he might be dishy but I’m not sure he’s an improve- ment on Andrew,” Lois muttered. Mary had to agree. Nor- mally, she could find good things in anyone, but there was no way of sugar coating it, even for her. Bright Nicols was a Grinch. He may have even heard her say it as she walked out the door.

‘Silent Night’ is the most recorded Christmas song in history. It’s had more than 733 different versions copyrighted since 1978.