extra batteries to power the children’s toys on Christmas morning.
In the warmth of Mrs. Lloyd’s home on Rosemary Lane, as Florence closed the curtains against the encroaching night, Mrs. Lloyd looked up from her copy of
“I don’t know why we should have to entertain an old lag like that Jimmy fellow tomorrow,” she grumbled. “Just because Penny Branningan asked us to have him over doesn’t mean we have to.”
Florence switched on the Christmas tree lights and then sank gratefully into a wingback chair. With only an hour or so off for a nap, she had been busy all day preparing the sausage stuffing for the turkey, peeling vegetables, setting the table, creating an attractive centrepiece, and ensuring that every aspect of tomorrow’s Christmas lunch would be perfect. She planned to attend church in the morning with Mrs. Lloyd, and then hurry home to see to all the last-minute details. Reverend Thomas Evans and his wife, Bronwyn, had accepted their invitation to join them for lunch, and Florence wanted everything to be exactly right.
“He’s coming over for a couple of hours in the afternoon after lunch because he wants a little visit with us,” Florence explained with exaggerated patience. “You know he lives in that dreadful senior’s home in Llandudno, and according to Penny he’s been looking forward enormously to this Christmas Day outing. It’s a special day for him.”
Florence took off her glasses and contemplated the smudged lenses. “Really, Evelyn, I’m surprised at you. You have a big, kind heart, and to begrudge an elderly man who’s confined to a wheelchair a bit of pleasure on Christmas Day is just not like you.” She put her glasses back on and peered at Mrs. Lloyd over the top of them.
“Yes, Florence, you’re right. We must do everything we can to make him feel welcome. I wonder what he likes to drink.”
Victoria tied a pale green bow around a small parcel covered in shiny paper and tucked it under the small tree in Penny’s living room. “There,” she said, “that’s the last of them. Who’s it for?”
“It’s for you,” Penny replied with a grin.
“You didn’t!” Victoria exclaimed. “You’ve just had me wrap my own present? What kind of person does that?”
“It’s just a little something for the flat. It’s not your main present. You’ll see tomorrow. And anyway, you offered to make yourself useful, and the wrapping needed doing, so…”
Victoria took a sip of wine, sighed, and sat back in her chair.
“I must say, I thought you’d be spending Christmas Eve with Gareth, not here on your own.”
“I’m not on my own. You’re here.” She shrugged. “He did ask me if I fancied going away with him for Christmas, and then the murders happened, so we’re staying in town. He’s spending this evening with his son and daughter-in-law, and we’ll see each other tomorrow.”
She looked at her friend. “What about you? Do you miss having someone special in your life at this time of year?”
Victoria thought for a moment. “In a way, yes, I do. It can be difficult on your own. But you were alone for a few years before you met Gareth, so you’d know all about that.”
Penny nodded. “There was someone once, a long time ago. Another policeman, in fact. Tim. I still think of him, but it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.” They fell silent, each remembering the lovers’ ghosts of Christmases past. A few minutes later Victoria brought them back to the present.
“Are you all ready for the big day?”
“I think so. I’ve got everything in that Gwennie told me to get. She’s coming over early in the morning to put the turkey in the oven and start on the vegetables. She said she’d be here about eight. I gave her a key so she could let herself in. She said it would be very helpful if I could peel and parboil the potatoes and set the table tonight.” She raised a hopeful eyebrow.
“Right. You set the table, I’ll start on the potatoes,” Victoria said, hauling herself out of the chair and heading for the kitchen. “I hate these winter nights when it gets dark so early,” she said a few minutes later as she picked up another potato. “It always feels so much later than it is.”
Beside her, Penny reached into the cupboard and with her fingers counted out the number of plates she needed.
“How many?” Victoria asked.
“You, me, Gareth, Bethan, and Jimmy. Five.”
“And Gwennie. Six.”
“Gwennie said she’d walk to church with me but will sit with her sister and brother-in-law. And she said she won’t eat with us. She prefers to eat afterward in the kitchen, by herself.”
“Yes, I can see that. It’ll be what she got used to at the Hall.” Victoria dropped another peeled potato into the pot.
Penny awoke Christmas morning to the sound of someone moving about downstairs. At first panicked, thinking she was being burgled, she started up in bed. When she realized it must be Gwennie, who had let herself in with the key Penny had given her, arriving to start work on the lunch, she shrank back into her comforting bedclothes. She checked the time on her bedside clock. The luminescent numbers winked back at her: 7:34. She would enjoy a few more minutes in her warm bed, going over all the things that still needed doing, and then…
An hour later she groaned and sat up, just as Gwennie knocked on her door.
“You’d better think about getting up, Miss Penny, if you want to make morning service on time,” she said, opening the door slightly. “I’ve just put the coffee on. Would you like a boiled egg?”
“That would be great, thanks, Gwennie,” Penny replied, and then added, “Happy Christmas.”
“And to you,” called Gwennie from halfway down the stairs.
The damp fogginess of the last two days had dissipated, replaced by a crisp, sunlit morning.
Frost glittered on the stone fences and added sparkle to the holly bushes in the hedgerows, bursting with red bright berries displayed against their backdrop of glossy, pointed leaves. There had been an abundance of holly berries this year, and the townsfolk who had strolled along the country lanes over the past few days, taking small cuttings off the holly to adorn their Christmas puddings, had made not the slightest dent in their numbers.
Warmly dressed against the cold, Penny and Gwennie walked together through the quiet streets. Smoke from wood and coal fires curled from the chimneys, wafting skyward and drifting up and away, then disappearing into a bright blue sky. They parted company on the steps of the church, as Gwennie left to sit with her sister and brother- in-law and Penny, meeting Victoria, made her way to a pew on the right side of the church. At Penny’s suggestion they chose a pew near the back, Penny turning occasionally to see if Davies and Bethan had arrived. She smiled as Mrs. Lloyd made her entrance, Florence trailing along behind her like a doleful bridesmaid.
She waved to Davies when she spotted him with Bethan and Jimmy at the entrance to the church and then slid along in her seat so they could squeeze in.
Everyone seemed to arrive at once, and soon the church was as full as Penny had ever seen it. Bronwyn Evans took her place in the front row and Reverend Thomas Evans appeared in front of them.
“
The service began with voices raised in joyful song as the familiar words of a timeless carol rang through the church.
When the rustling of the congregation settling into their seats had subsided, Reverend Evans began his Christmas sermon.
“I was browsing the Internet the other day,” Reverend Evans began, “and I came across a website that promised to help me write a Christmas sermon in just a few minutes that would sound as if I’d spent a lot of time on it. And that got me thinking about how we do things today. Everything has to be fast. We want a recipe for a five-minute meal made from three ingredients that looks as if it took a Cordon Bleu chef all day to prepare. If we can find the time to read at all, we are looking for a book with well-developed characters and a complicated plot that still promises to be a fast, easy read. We have learned to be multitaskers. We talk on the phone while we draft
