Jim lets out another blast of laughter, but Malcolm finds he no longer minds. In fact, he decides he likes the man. He also likes the fact Padam has left his hand on his arm. And he is undeniably thrilled by the thought that he is being held by a warrior.
‘Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll give Roddy a hand in the kitchen.’ Jim leans in and says quietly, ‘He don’t say much, but the lad is dead pleased to be here. And he’s got a real treat for us later,’ and with this he holds a massive finger against his nose.
Malcolm is left with Padam, still holding his arm. Padam then reaches out and touches his own wrist, and Malcolm is reminded of the time in the bookshop when Padam had started fiddling with his cuff. They look at each other for some moments. Then Malcolm thinks of the Christmas Eve fox’s advice … ‘The rest is up to you.’
‘I am so glad you could come today, Padam. I had meant to ask you, but I am afraid I have never been a brave man, and I was afraid you would say no.’
‘There was never any fear of that, Malcolm,’ Padam replies, and Malcolm watches his eyes glow a deeper shade of hazel.
Flustered, Malcolm reaches for his coat which is lying over a chair. ‘I have a gift for you,’ and – breaking away from Padam – he rummages in his coat pocket, still aware of the residual heat from Padam’s hand on his arm.
Padam seems genuinely delighted with his scarf, and in turn he hands Malcolm a small scroll tied with red ribbon. ‘It is a poem that I wrote for you about a Yorkshire winter. The last verse in particular reminded me of your book.’
It is beautiful poem, and Malcolm has to fight tears that seem to be doing battle with the swelling happiness blossoming in his heart. When he reaches the last verse, he gives in and reaches for his handkerchief.
The fox buried deep in winter’s hedge,
Will watch with unblinking eye,
As the sounds scurry into the silence,
And the owl’s wing brushes the sky.
‘I hadn’t meant to make you cry, Malcolm,’ Padam smiles. ‘Now, help me here. I have brought copies ofA Christmas Carolfor everyone. Do you think I should put them in their places?’
‘My goodness!’ Malcolm exclaims. ‘We are meant to be laying the table. What was I thinking!’
‘Yes, what were you thinking, Malcolm?’ a laughing Rev. Ruth says, as she comes up behind him, dressed in a grey cashmere dress and a pair of sparkly red shoes. She wraps Malcolm in a massive bear hug. She then does the same to Padam. ‘Happy Christmas,’ she sighs happily. ‘And now I need a drink!’
Malcolm leaps into action, leaving Padam and Rev. Ruth to lay the table as he heads off to mix his Christmas cocktail. The little kitchenette is a hive of activity, Yana, Max and Roddy chopping, stirring and mashing. Yana shows him a small area, back inthe body of the church, where she has set up a makeshift bar. ‘There you go, and better make plenty of your drink. Jim has gone to collect the Three Disgraces.’
A few minutes later, he is handing cocktail glasses to Ruth and Padam, and admiring the table setting. In each place is a small, gilded copy of Dicken’s Christmas classic, along with a place card. Malcolm is delighted to see that Padam has put them sitting next to each other. He picks up one of the cards. ‘Mrs Appleby has done a lovely job. It is just a shame that she has spelled Polly’s name wrong.’
‘Says who?!’ comes a bark from behind him and, swinging round, Mrs Appleby is glaring at him. She is wearing a smart navy dress. ‘More hair than wit,’ she mutters. ‘I was right the first time.’
He cannot believe this is the same woman he danced with last night.
‘What have I got wrong?’ she demands.
Malcolm thinks there is no help for it, but to explain. ‘It really doesn’t matter Jean,’ he says placatingly, ‘It is just you have spelt Poole with a “u”.’
‘Idio—’ but Mrs Appleby is cut short by a cry from behind her.
‘Auntie Jean! I didn’t know you were coming!’ and the small woman is lifted from her feet by Polly Poule’s enthusiastic embrace.
Malcolm watches the two women hug.
‘Told you someone would be pleased,’ Rev. Ruth whispers jubilantly in his ear.
‘What? How come? I mean is Jean Appleby her aunt?’ Malcolm is completely confused.
‘No, but she was Polly’s mum’s best friend. She’s always called her Auntie.’
The two women all but tumble onto a nearby pew, chatting all the while. Malcolm is astonished to find that Mrs Appleby can be so animated. He thinks of Polly, here on her first Christmas without her mother. He now understands why Ruth had been sokeen to include Jean Appleby in their party, knowing that this would bring comfort to two grieving women.
‘I do believe you should mix a couple more cocktails,’ Padam suggests.
When Malcolm returns with the drinks, he rather nervously interrupts the two women. Polly greets him with a delighted, ‘How lovely, thank you Malcolm, and a very Happy Christmas!’ Today she is wearing an even more vibrant lipstick and a silver-coloured jumpsuit. Her earrings are tiny Christmas puddings. Mrs Appleby grunts her thanks, and Malcolm apologizes, ‘I now see you must have the name correct, having known Polly and her mother for so long.’
