Mrs Wilson doesn’t seem to be fazed. ‘A courier dropped this off for you. Couldn’t get it through the letterbox.’
‘Ah, thank you. Thank you very much indeed,’ Malcolm gushes. ‘I do believe that is the new electric shaver I ordered.’ Then wishes he hadn’t offered so much personal information. ‘I was thinking about getting a wreath for my door,’ he blurts, trying to give the one-sided conversation a different direction.
‘Good idea, if you ask me. It would give me the willies coming home to that ugly bugger each evening.’ She nods at the demon knocker, and with that Mrs Wilson is off.
Once inside, Malcolm breathes a sigh of relief. In here he is hidden from the world, which still at times leaves him feeling at a distinct disadvantage. He hangs up his burgundy wool coat and sets about turning on the lights – making his comfortable andelegant home cosy. It is not long before he is in the sitting room, settled on his woodland green sofa, Christmas lights lit, glass of whisky by his side and recipe books open on the ottoman in front of him. Seeing them scattered there reminds him of the evening spent with Jo and Ruth when they had sorted through the notebooks which detailed his research into the souls who had been buried in Highgate Cemetery. He had wanted to write a book in which the ghosts of Highgate Cemetery materialized on Christmas Eve. Yet however much research he did into those buried there, he couldn’t seem to start writing his story. It was Jo who came up with the idea of each taking two people and imagining a conversation that they might have on Christmas Eve. The night when all animals and – as Malcolm had decided – all ghosts could talk.
Well, look what had come from that.
On impulse Malcolm reaches for his phone and presses Jo’s number.
‘That’s spooky,’ comes the response. Which, in the light of his musings, he finds remarkably apt. ‘We were just talking about you.’
‘Were you indeed, Joanne?’
‘Yes, indeed we were,’ Jo replies, and Malcolm can hear the smile in her voice. ‘Eliot and I have been watching the film of the BFG and he thought he looked like you.’
‘Indeed,’ Malcolm responds, hoping this will make Jo smile some more. She knows it is one of his favourite sayings.
She laughs, ‘Yes,indeed.Eliot said you had long legs like the Big Friendly Giant, and his nose.’
‘It was very kind of him not to mention my big ears.’ Malcolm chuckles.
‘Well, he might have done,’ Jo admits. ‘What can I do for you, Malcolm?’
Malcolm explains to her about his idea for Rev. Ruth. ‘I do appreciate it is rather a long shot. But I felt it would be remiss of me not to invite you and your little family to join us, Joanne. I know Rev. Ruth holds you all in such high regard.’
‘That is such a lovely idea, Malcolm. I wish we could, but what with me the size of a whale, and Eric wanting to be at home with Eliot, as he’s now beginning to really get Christmas, I’d better say no.’ She brightens, ‘But I know Ruth loved the Christmas pudding I made for her last year, so I’ll make another one. And you will have to mix her your special Christmas cocktail.’
‘Thatisa good idea,’ Malcolm enthuses, adding ‘cocktail’ to the list he is making. How can he have forgotten that? The cocktail is based on a recipe devised by him and his mother. ‘And thank you for the offer of the Christmas pudding,’ he adds.
‘It’s a great idea, Malcolm. You and Ruth are going to have a wonderful time.’
After Jo hangs up, Malcolm stares for some moments at the Christmas tree lights until they become blurred before him, like floating snowflakes. So, Eliot is beginning to get Christmas. DoesMalcolm‘get’ Christmas? He thinks so. His mother and he had certainly made it special for each other. And what about that magical Christmas Eve in Highgate Cemetery when he had shared his Christmas cocktail with Ruth and Jo? He looks around his sitting room at the furniture, the lamps, even the books that had once been part of the house that he and his mother had lived in for so long. And above and around the fireplace are her botanical paintings. A woman who flew Spitfires who could also draw. She really had been a remarkable woman. No wonder, even now, he sometimes worries he may have been a disappointment. Then he recalls his book with the illustrated copper-coloured fox, and another fox who had once given him the confidence to feel that he, Malcolm, was enough.
His mind drifts to a different book:A Christmas Carol. He pours more whisky into his tumbler – a heavy cut glassthat, like many of the items around him, came from a different era. He chuckles quietly to himself as he remembers Mrs Wilson’s comment about the demon knocker. He sits back, feet to the fire. Well, he may not believe in God, or be celebrating the birth of Jesus, like his friend Rev. Ruth. But he likes to think that with the Christmas he is planning, Ruth will say of him (like they did of the reformed Scrooge) that Malcolm Buswell ‘knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.’
Chapter 4
The light of Christingle
Malcolm opens the window of the advent calendar that Padam has pinned up in the children’s section. He knows he should perhaps wait and let one of their young customers do it, but he can’t resist the temptation. The sixteenth of December. Folding back the window, he reveals a yule log. He recalls as a child being disappointed if he got this in his calendar; it seemed to him very dull compared to a reindeer, a sledge or a snowman. But septuagenarian Malcolm sees it as a sign. Another treat to add to his ever-growing list of Christmas food. Padam has entered into Malcolm’s Christmas plans with enthusiasm. Malcolm had hoped he would, as he knows Padam enjoys cooking. They have decided that Ruth would probably welcome a traditional Christmas lunch, but with some extra-special additions.
Today, in a break between customers, Padam pulls some cookbooks from the shelves, and now they are poring over them, chatting through Malcolm’s options.
‘My friend Joanne is making the Christmas pudding,’ Malcolm tells him.
‘I have a good recipe for brandy sauce with orange and cardamom,’ Padam offers. ‘And it might be good to have a lighter option. I think, after a big roast, Christmas pudding can be quite heavy.’
‘Lemon posset?’ Malcolm ponders. Easy to make and he has some nice crystal glasses he could use for them.
‘Perfect. With some shortbread maybe. You could add cranberries to the shortbread and dip them in white chocolate,’ Padam suggests.
‘Yes, that would be very tasty,’ Malcolm approves. ‘I always think it can be good to save the Christmas pudding for later on, after a turkey sandwich.’
‘Mmmm.’ Padam is turning over the pages of a new Christmas cookbook by a celebrity chef. ‘I like the sound of this recipe for stuffing. It has fennel and apple in it.’
Malcolm reads over his friend’s shoulder and experiences a rush of happiness. Who knew that so many good things could come from his simple idea? After work today, he is planning on buying some Christmas napkins that he has seen in the window of a local gift shop. Very simple, just small holly leaves embroidered on white linen. He already has a door wreath hanging on his front door; he bought it the day after his conversation with the demon-knocker. It is a large wreath made of pine and viburnum with cones, rose hips and dried orange slices. He made sure the brass ring-shaped door knocker is still visible; after all, he was serious about offering sanctuary to his overworked friend. But now the demon is half hidden by foliage. A long fringe of greenery turning the gargoyle into a comic rather than a scary presence. He thinks of Mrs Wilson and feels brave enough to tell Padam the story, laughing at himself for talking to the knocker.
