She gave it some thought. ‘It sounds quite nice, actually. Where’s your car?’ she wondered.
‘Oh – it’s fallen ill, the silly thing. I left it with the garage on Friday and have been stranded ever since.’
‘Oh dear. That sounds horrible. You can’t have had a very nice Christmas.’
He smiled in the dim light, a few front teeth shining white. ‘Not as much as you have, I’m sure. It’s a time for children, after all.’
‘Is it? You mean the presents and all that?’
He took a deep breath, and looked over at the church. She could sense a sort of sermon coming on, and found herself oddly eager to hear it. This, she dimly realised, was what had been missing from the day all along. Mr Shipley did not disappoint. ‘More that it’s a time to celebrate the mystery of birth. Not just the birth of Jesus, but every new child. I mean, it’s extraordinary, don’t you think? Where do those new souls come from? All those different personalities and talents and eccentricities. They just arrive from somewhere. I think that’s the real message of Christmas.’
Stephanie felt a small thrill that a grown man should be discussing where babies came from with her. It was very slightly scary, in fact. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Well, I probably haven’t explained it very well. And it’s probably not what I should be saying to you, either. I can’t guarantee that I’ve got the orthodox theology of it right. In fact, I obviously haven’t. You’re supposed to focus on the Word made flesh, in just that one instance. In my own heretical view, the same goes for every instance of a new birth. Every single human being embodies the Word, if you ask me. That’s the Quaker line. I am something of an old Quaker, when it comes down to it.’
‘The Word?’ Stephanie queried, starting to feel that she was being exceptionally privileged to hear Mr Shipley’s views. It was, after all, something she had been hankering for.
‘The line is “There is that of God in everyone.” That’s the modern version, anyhow. In the Gospel of St John, he calls it “The Word”, which is vague but nice, don’t you think? Covers a multitude of spiritual stuff. But it’s a bit exclusive, if you ask me, giving it all to just one man. That’s my main point. Christmas should be reminding us that every single person is worthy of dignity and value and respect, and all those things. Instead, we all just eat too much, and sing carols without attending to their words, and buy more plastic rubbish that nobody really wants.’ He sighed.
‘It is a mystery about babies,’ she agreed. ‘Where they come from. And where we go to at the end,’ she added, thinking of Drew and funerals and her mother. ‘My mother died, you know,’ she said, with a sense that this was central to what they were really talking about.
‘And for that discussion, we really ought to wait for Easter,’ he said gently. ‘Meanwhile, enjoy yourself, my dear. It’s what she would have wanted.’
For once, Stephanie felt that this was absolutely true, and not just something people said. ‘Thank you, and have a happy Christmas as well. Oh – and do you play chess?’
He laughed. ‘Like most people, I know the moves, but can’t claim any great skill at it. Why?’
‘Well, I got a lovely chess set for Christmas from Dad and Thea. Now I need somebody to play with.’
‘I’d be more than happy to give it a try. In fact, it would please me inordinately to refresh my mind in that way. I shall be here until next weekend. Perhaps we ought to make a date now?’
‘Well, we’ve got visitors until Friday morning. What about Friday afternoon?’
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘And now you should get home. Your people might be worrying about you.’
With a bounce in her step, humming ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ to herself, she returned home, and walked in through the unlocked front door.
It was suddenly half past six and Timmy was drooping. ‘It was rather a short night,’ said Thea. ‘Although they both slept like logs – didn’t you have to wake them up for their stockings?’
‘I did,’ said Drew. ‘But we’ll have to keep them going for a while longer. They’ll wake at some unearthly hour tomorrow otherwise.’
‘Which wouldn’t really matter, would it?’ Thea had never calculated hours of sleep, even when her own child had been small. There had been no regular nap times, and no hesitation about taking little Jessica out in an evening, if that suited her own wishes. Drew’s anxieties about bedtimes and adequate sleep and imaginary social rules only irritated her. ‘People sleep when they’re tired,’ she insisted. ‘It’s not something to obsess about.’
‘I’m not a bit tired,’ said Stephanie.
In any event, Timmy’s exhaustion overrode all discussion and he sank into a deep sleep on the sitting-room sofa. ‘We’ll wake him up in an hour or so, give him some food and put him to bed properly,’ said Thea, which seemed to satisfy Drew.
It was time for a summing-up of the day. Stephanie began by thanking the adults for her presents – again. ‘I love my chess set, and Mr Shipley’s going to play it with me on Friday,’ she said. ‘He says he’ll be more than happy to.’
‘Here or there?’ asked Thea. ‘I mean – his place or yours?’ She giggled.
‘I don’t know.’ Stephanie was aware that both Jessica and Drew were entirely unamused at the line that made Thea laugh. ‘It’d be quieter in his house, I suppose.’
‘We’ve all had a lovely day,’ Drew asserted, a few minutes later. ‘It’s been an excellent team effort, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Jessica. ‘Although I suspect I didn’t pull my weight as much as I should have.’
‘You were excused on account of being the honoured guest,’ said Drew.
‘You did quite a lot of washing-up,’ Thea acknowledged. ‘And entertained the children.’
There was relative silence for a minute or two as everybody looked back over
