Ten minutes later, Ruth is back on the phone.
‘Yes,’ he says warily, not sure what to expect now. He knows he is going to have to mention the turkey. But he feels such a failure. All the online supermarkets are no longer taking orders. And he cannot get a goose for love nor money.
‘Malcolm, I have an idea, but I don’t want you to think I am taking over.’
Malcolm wants to cry out, ‘Please take over!’ but he just makes encouraging noises and waits politely for Ruth to continue.
‘I think we might need a bigger place for the lunch, and I wondered how you would feel about us holding it in the church? We have the space, and we can set up a big table at the back after the family service.’
Malcolm thinks of sitting in the church earlier that night: of the warmth and twinkling lights and of the comfort it had unexpectedly brought him. ‘I think that is a rather lovely idea,’ he replies. ‘But what about ovens and, oh my goodness …’ His mind feels overwhelmed by all that is needed.
Rev. Ruth cuts in. ‘That’s another thing. I didn’t mention it until Jim had said he could help.’
‘Jim?’ Malcolm enquires a little weakly. Did that make it ten?
‘Yes, Jim and Roddy.’
Eleven?
‘I saw Jim earlier. He’s a sergeant major with the Royal Yorkshires and he’s happy to bring a portable ovenand donate areallybig turkey.’
Malcolm sits down suddenly in relief.
‘And,’ she adds, ‘he says Roddy will help, as he’s a cook and has nowhere to go at Christmas. It seems no wants him around,’ Ruth continues just as cheerfully. ‘Jim says he’s a moody bugger, but a great cook, and that this is perfect as it will keep him out of the pubs and he won’t get called to collect him from a police station after he starts a fight.’
‘My goodness.’
‘Jim says Roddy won’t be persuaded to sit at the table with us, no matter what. Can’t be doing with it. But we can make him up a plate and he is happy to sit at the back in the pews.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Malcolm says hesitatingly.
‘According to Jim, that’s what he’d like. So, we are all sorted!’ Ruth says with a note of triumph in her voice. With this she hangs up.
Malcolm pours himself another generous whisky and wonders what the likely effect will be of plum vodka on Roddy. And who he would put money on in a fight. The unknown Roddy or Mrs Appleby.
Chapter 11
Christmas Eve
Yana is simply a marvel.
She has everyone organized. Malcolm has his own spreadsheet in green. He smiles when he sees that Ruth’s is in purple. His instructions seem to focus on all the things he wants to be in charge of and none of the things he doesn’t. His list includes cocktails; bringing crockery, tableware and glasses; Christmas puddings (care of Joanne); brandy sauce with orange and cardamom (recipe care of Padam); and many other tasty and festive contributions. This morning he only worked for a few hours in the bookshop, and as it had been busy there had been little opportunity for a proper conversation with Padam. However, Malcolm managed to tell him of the change of venue, about the army’s help, and of how amazing Yana is being.
Yana has even got Mrs Appleby making ‘Colin’s trifle’. An apparently delicious and secret recipe that her late husband used to prepare for special occasions. Plus, somehow or another, she discovered Mrs Appleby enjoys calligraphy, and consequently she is now preparing place cards for them all. Yana has also been in touch with the army and roped them in to collect the Three Disgraces – and anyone else who needs help through the snow. Yana confided to Malcolm that Sergeant Major Jim doesn’t drink and he likes to be busy at Christmas as he has no family.
Well, he’ll have a family tomorrow, Malcolm thinks.
The snow is now covering the town in a scattering of white. More of a frosting than a blanket, Malcolm decides, as he looks out of his window on Christmas Eve evening. The sky has been heavy and grey all day and more snow is forecast. In the hallway lie piles of boxes ready to take to the church. In one are the presents that he hasbought for the other guests. He feels a little anxious about his choice, but it seemed appropriate to the occasion. He also has Padam’s gift in his coat pocket. There had been no time for the exchanging of presents in the shop, plus Malcolm had held back, not knowing if Padam would buy him something and not wishing to embarrass him. However, when Malcolm left the store at midday, Padam had called that he was looking forward to seeing him at midnight mass later and that he would wish him a Happy Christmas properly then. One more reason to go to church, Malcolm thinks, smiling to himself. He sees a figure approaching his front door and is opening it before Taxi Stan has a chance to bang on the knocker.
Before long, Stan and the churchwarden, Glen, are helping him unload his goodies into the back of the church, where there are already other baskets and boxes. Yana stands over them, clipboard in hand. Malcolm thanks Stan, before turning to greet Yana and introducing her to Glen. Glen nods a friendly greeting, before moving off towards the altar, ‘Better get on, lots still to do.’ It is an hour before midnight mass and Rev. Ruth is due to arrive shortly.
‘You’re getting things done early too,’ Malcolm comments to Yana.
‘Yes, I thought I would make sure we have everything we need, that the fridge is clear, and chairs lined up ready to set out tomorrow. There is only a little we can do now but maybe that will be good for tomorrow,’ Yana says.
A tall young man with sandy-red hair and a beard emerges from the small church kitchenette. ‘I’ve checked, and the electrics are all ready for the mobile oven,’ he tells Yana. ‘Oh, hi,’ he adds, catching sight of Malcolm. He has a Canadian accent. Although Malcolm admits, he would probably have said ‘American’ – except he presumes this is the Canadian goose.
‘You must be Max,’ he says, stepping forward and offering the young man his hand.
