For the first time in my entire life, I woke up on Christmas Day morning in an empty house. I’d never felt so lost and alone. It was shortly after 5 a.m. and, despite there being no rush to get up and start ripping open gifts, there was no chance of me nodding off again. How had it come to this?
I wasn’t due at Hedgehog Hollow until ten. That was a lot of hours to kill. I lay there for another hour then reluctantly rolled out of bed and padded downstairs to make a drink.
A text came through from Dad an hour later while I was watching a Christmas film.
✉︎ From Dad
Happy Christmas to my wonderful daughter. I’ve been awake for a couple of hours and suspect you might have been too. It breaks my heart that we’re not together today for the first time ever. I’ll miss you every minute of every hour but can’t wait to see you tomorrow xx
✉︎ To Dad
You know me too well! Yes, been awake since five. Happy Christmas to you too. I know it’s not ideal but please do try to enjoy yourself. My advice for the day: don’t mention my name! We’ll have an amazing day together tomorrow xx
‘Wow! Mr Thomas Mickleby, you look fantastic.’
He smiled as he ushered me in out of the cold. ‘I always used to wear a suit on Christmas Day and my Gwendoline would wear a nice dress so I thought I’d make an effort. She loved dresses. Such a stylish woman.’
‘I feel very honoured that you’ve dressed up for me.’ I placed a couple of bags on the floor and removed my coat. ‘And I’m glad I put a dress on although I’ll admit I went for a slightly casual interpretation.’ I’d gone for a muted red woollen dress accompanied with grey leggings and flat boots.
Thomas took my coat and nodded approvingly. ‘It suits you, Sammie. Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas, Thomas. Is the oven on?’
‘As instructed.’
‘Excellent.’ I picked up the bags and headed towards the kitchen. ‘Let me get the turkey in. Everything else is prepared. I was up ridiculously early this morning so I thought I might as well get the veg peeled and make the pigs-in-blankets.’
Thomas followed me into the kitchen and transferred the vegetables from plastic containers into pans of water while I placed the small turkey in a roasting tin and prepared it for cooking. With a cup of tea – not quite the usual prosecco tradition because I was driving – we moved into the lounge.
‘Don’t be mad at me,’ I said, placing my tea on a side table and heading back towards the hall. ‘I know we said we weren’t doing presents, but I have something for you. Back in a moment.’
I stepped out into the cold again, retrieved the two presents from my car and returned to the lounge.
‘You’ve been my surrogate granddad and such a good friend over the past few months and I wanted to give you a couple of special gifts to say thank you and happy Christmas.’
‘You shouldn’t have…’
‘But I wanted to so we’ll hear no more about it. As you can see, this one is pretty big so you might need to stand up to open it.’
‘A new tractor for the farm?’ he joked, taking the impossible-to-disguise canvas from me.
I laughed. ‘Combine harvester, I think you’ll find.’
Grinning, he tore the paper, revealing the back of the canvas. Turning it round, he gasped. ‘It’s our meadow,’ he whispered, pressing his fingers to his lips. ‘Oh, lass. How did you do it?’
‘I took some pictures of it in September and commissioned a local artist to paint a canvas so that, even when the wildflowers aren’t in bloom or it’s too cold or wet to sit on your bench, you can still gaze at your meadow.’
Thomas picked up the picture and gently propped it up against the wall. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ He hugged me tightly.
‘I’ve got something else.’ I handed him a small, flat giftbox. ‘Not quite as big but just as meaningful.’
He undid the ribbon and lifted the lid. His lip wobbled and tears pooled in his eyes as he silently read the poem on the silver plaque which I’d had perfectly sized to fit on his bench:
Though seasons have passed and years have flown
You’ve never really been on your own
For Hedgehog Hollow has held her heart
Her spirit’s in the meadow you both did start
Her laughter is in the whispering leaves
Her love is in the air that you breathe
Although you have been broken-hearted
A love so deep can never be parted
So sit a while, enjoy the view
Because Gwendoline’s here, enjoying it too
‘Did you write this?’ he whispered.
‘Yes. I might have gone through a whole box of tissues doing it.’
‘It’s the most beautiful…’ His voice cracked. ‘Oh, give us another hug.’
He mopped his cheeks with his handkerchief and blew his nose while I dabbed my eyes with a tissue.
‘It’s the best thing ever,’ he said. ‘Will you ask one of the young lads to attach it to my bench when they get back from their holiday?’
‘Of course!’
Thomas gently stroked the plaque then wandered over to the fire surround and rested it on the mantlepiece. ‘It can keep me company for now. And don’t be mad at me either because I’ve got you gifts. Have a look under the tree.’
‘Thomas!’
‘Don’t you start with me, young lady,’ he said in a mock-stern voice. ‘You’re not the only one who relishes the surrogate granddad and granddaughter friendship, you know.’
‘When have you been able to get me gifts?’ I asked, pulling out the pile from under the tree.
‘Rich and Dave sorted them for me then dropped them off, all wrapped too, so I haven’t seen them myself. I hope you like them.’
I loved all my gifts but the best ones were a classy silver chain with a hedgehog on it and a soft toy hedgehog. I took the chain out of the box and fastened it round my neck, feeling the cute little creature with the tips of my fingers. ‘I love it. I love them all. Thank you so much.’ I picked up the soft hedgehog and cuddled him to me. ‘I’ll call him Mickleby, after you and Gwendoline.’
Thomas’s eyes shone and he nodded. ‘She’d have liked that, Sammie.’
I fingered my necklace again.
He stood up. ‘I’ve got something else for you and I don’t know if you’ll like it or not so I didn’t wrap it. Hang on.’ He disappeared out of the lounge and, when he came back, he was holding a plastic suit carrier close to his chest. ‘This was my Gwendoline’s. She never wore it. She always said she was saving it for a special occasion. You’re a similar build to her and I thought this would suit you, for a special occasion, like.’ He unzipped the carrier and peeled it back to reveal a fifties-style peach-coloured dress covered in black net with tiny flowers. It had capped sleeves and several layers of the net were ruched at the waist and gathered over the skirt.
I moved over to him and lightly touched the fabric. ‘It’s beautiful. I couldn’t accept it, though.’
‘My Gwendoline would have liked you to.’
‘It’s too gorgeous for someone like me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I could never get away with something like that. It’s for someone beautiful and glamorous. Like Chloe.’
‘Like you,’ he scolded. ‘You shine, Sammie. You sparkle like a diamond and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.’
My hand dropped to my side and I stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘That was one of the last things my Gramps said to me. That exact same thing.’
‘Then you’ll know that it’s true. So do you want the dress or not?’
I smiled. ‘Yes, please. I’d love the dress.’
‘Good. Glad that’s settled. There’s a wardrobe full of dresses like this upstairs and she’d have wanted you to have them all.’
Thanking him again, I fastened up the suit carrier and draped it over one of the armchairs. ‘I’d better check on the turkey. Do you want another cuppa?’
‘Please.’
When I returned to the lounge ten minutes later, Thomas was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the plaque again. He turned and smiled.
‘Is poetry a hobby of yours that you haven’t told me about?’
‘Gosh, no. I know nothing about poetry. I’ve never written anything like that before. I was always planning to get a plaque for the bench but inscriptions are usually from the bereaved party to the one they lost and it felt wrong for me to try and write what you might be thinking. Then that poem popped into my head, pretty much ready-formed. It was almost as though Gwendoline was right beside me, guiding me as to what she wanted to say.’ I shook my head. ‘That probably sounds really daft.’
Thomas stared at me for a moment and I couldn’t read his expression. Had I said too much, suggesting the spirit of his dead wife had guided me?
‘Sit down, lass,’ he said eventually, returning to his chair. ‘I want to tell you something because, from what you’ve just said, I don’t think you’ll worry I’m losing my marbles.’
I sat down on the sofa, intrigued. ‘Okay. I’m listening.’
‘That day I collapsed, I saw… it was…’ He shrugged. ‘I saw my Gwendoline, as real as you are now. She was standing in the lounge, right over there, smiling at me. I reached out to her but she wouldn’t take my hand. I asked if she’d come for me but she said, “I will, but not today. It’s not your time yet.” And then she told me she was sorry she’d been gone so long but she was going to send me someone who could restore the joy to my life. She said, “We can’t be reunited until you’ve experienced pure joy again”.’ He picked up his mug and took a sip. ‘I thought she meant a new wife so, of course, I protested. Nobody could ever take her place in my heart. She laughed and said no, not a wife, but she was going to send me an angel who was going to need me as much as I needed her.’ He put his cup back down. ‘And that’s what she did. She sent me an angel. I know that I was rude to you many times and said some harsh things, but I want you to know that I’m grateful you saved my life that day. I’d had nearly twenty miserable years without my Gwendoline and, during that time, I existed but I didn’t live. Then she sent you to me and, for the past few months, I’ve remembered what it feels like to be alive. My Gwendoline was right. You have brought me pure joy.’
Tears streamed down my cheeks. Crouching down beside him, I took his hand. ‘I believe she was here. I think I saw her that day too.’
Thomas nodded, his eyes filling with tears. ‘I knew you were special. And she knew that too.’
‘I believe she’s always here, Thomas, just like it says on the plaque. And what she said about me needing you just as much was so true. You’ve been more like family to me than most of my real family have been and I don’t know how I’d have got through these last few months without your companionship. We were two lonely souls who both needed company. Remember I said, shortly after we met, that I thought there was a reason I needed you. That was it.’
He squeezed my hand. ‘Two lonely souls. Not so lonely anymore.’