I'LL BE THERE FOR THE REPLAY

A Ghostly Christmas Tale

by

Tom Goymour

Dedicated to my family: For my children

and my Father to whom I am indebted for

the literary inspiration.

Copyright 2013 Tom Goymour

Published by Tog Marketing

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

First Edition: October 2013

Cover Design by Tog Marketing 

CONTENTS

Friday 14th December 

Saturday 15th December 

Sunday 16th December 

Monday 17th December 

Tuesday 18th December 

Friday 21st December 

Saturday 22nd December 

Christmas Day 

About The Author 

Just an ordinary family . . a mother  with a talent.

A ghostly but spiritually uplifting tale for Christmas time that will touch your emotions and make you think!

'Suddenly, she remembered hearing it, - someone else playing it years ago! As she played on into the melancholy passages of the Chorale section it was as if someone was there with her, watching over her, - reassuring her that everything would be all right.'

Sometimes in life strange things happen, and when they do it's usually for a reason.

As Paula Patterson's big day loomed ever closer ghostly things started to happen around her that affected her whole family.

Who was it playing the piano in the village church that foggy December evening?

What does Aunt Molly know that she is not telling.

And who is it that will be there for the replay? 

Friday 14th December  

Paula worked part time at St. Marlborough's Primary School and she loved Christmas time. Her class had participated in all the usual activities over the last week or so, - making the cards for mum and dad, decorating the classroom etc. but today was the Christmas play, . . it wasn't going to be the only big performance she would be involved with over the Christmas period either!

Dinner time was over and for the afternoon's rehearsal Paula was actually quite glad that she wasn't in charge of a class and that her colleagues Sarah and Jan were overseeing the entire concert. Now that she had turned part time it was kind of nice to not constantly have that responsibility, it meant that she could concentrate on her own goals for the future. . .yes there's the family, whatever happens they'll always come first, but she has a possible exciting second career looming and she wasn't going to let the opportunity slip by.

The children filed into the hall a class at a time.

“Fill up from the front row first.” called Sarah Smith the year one teacher.

“James. . . we don't want to see that thank you.” she retorted to a little boy sitting at the front.

Paula directed her year four class into the hall and they sat facing the front awaiting instructions. Ian Davidson entered with his form,- another part time teacher who was covering for a colleague's sick leave. Ian was a nice chap that Paula had got to know well the last few weeks.

“Hi,” she smiled across, “not long now, just four days to get through!”

“It will go so quickly.” Ian replied.

“I hope for you and me both.” she replied in a low tone as the children were now settled.

The children listened to Mrs. Smith who was busily organising people in different places. Paula felt she could take a moment here to just sit back and watch.

“When's you're performance?”' Ian enquired.

“What . . oh, its the 22nd at the Grosvenor Hall,” Paula stuttered with her reply almost flattered that Ian was asking,“ . . If you wanted to come . .”  she added nervously. 

“I'll try and be there.” His reply seemed definite.

“Well that's great.”

“Are you okay for activities for your class for the next couple of days ?. . it gets a bit daunting thinking up Christmassy things for them to do without just repeating the same old activities all the time.” she said, anxious to move the conversation away from the subject of her impending concert.

“Well, yes, actually I am,” he replied, again, very definitely, (he was a definite, confident sort of chap!)  “In fact, I've got hold of something that might be of more interest to your class, . . or even your own children.” he added.

“Go on . .” encouraged Paula inquisitively.

“Well, it's a Christmas book, by Enid Blyton, - written years ago.”

Paula gave him a patronising look as if she took it to be a joke. But Ian wasn't joking.

“It's actually a great book because it's all about how a family seventy to eighty odd years ago used to celebrate Christmas, - it could teach our kids a thing or two – might make them actually think!” Ian was enthusiastic.

Paula pondered the possibilities.

“So how's it written? What's the message?”

“Oh, loads of old quirky meanings to many of our Christmas customs all embroidered into a story about a family with four children. . .tell you what, - borrow it.”

“Well thanks” replied Paula starting to think it might actually be interesting for her own kids, - Annie who was six and Liam, eleven. (Jamie, at fifteen would be out of the equation, currently nothing traditional was cool enough for him!)

The two teachers were then distracted from their low level conversation by the shrill voice of Mrs. Smith who was having trouble with a child on the front row that wouldn't sit quietly.

“We're required.” chipped in Ian “I'd better go and sit down there I think. Talk to you later.”

With that, Ian moved down to the front leaving Paula to conjure up images of bygone Christmases and daydream of what the book might be like.

Later, just before leaving for home, Ian brought the book to Paula.

“Here it is” he said  handing her the small dark green hard backed volume.

She took it from his grasp, thanking him. Ian held onto the book for a second or two and looked Paula in the eye. “Read this book” he said. “It will trigger your deep rooted fundamental passion for Christmas, it will leave you wanting to find out about Christmases past.”

Paula gazed at the book slightly disconcerted by the strange words of conviction her friend had spoken. Her eyes fixed on the worn gold stamped mistletoe motif, so simple, so clear, and so symbolic of Christmas.

As she drove home a few minutes later she felt really happy about having this book in her possession, she was glad her friend Ian had given it to her, it would be good for the kids to learn a little about the past. It had been a long time since she was able to relax and sit them down and read them a story. Now, with a reasonable length of time at home before Christmas she would quite look forward to reading to them. It would be a great distraction to have as her big day loomed closer.

 Saturday 15th December 

It was Saturday and the children had now broken up from school. David was Paula's other half - her husband and her soul mate. Their family life was good and with David's job in graphic design they could afford to live in their large spacious house in the quiet village of Marlston not far from the small market town of Irminster they'd always felt was home. Even though they'd lived there quite some time there were still parts of the village they didn't really know.

On this uneventful bitterly cold Saturday David decided they should go for a walk out of the village, - the kids were bored and the afternoon was moving on.

“Come on,” he called “Liam, Annie . . get your coats and wrap up, we're going out.”

There was the usual slight resistance to putting down the Nintendo DS and having to be enticed away from the football half times, but five minutes later the three of them were heading off down the high street.

“Dad, it's cold.” Liam was shivering.

“Cold enough for snow I shouldn't wonder,” replied his father excitedly, “come on boy, where's your Christmas spirit?”

“This way you two.” Annie led the way.

They had some distance to walk down the high street before they reached the outskirts of the village. Past the Post office on the corner they went. Then, bearing left took them  past the shops. There was a mini supermarket, the Chemists and then the Bike shop which Liam had often visited. After a slight incline they descended passing the last few houses before the Blue Boar public house situated on the outskirts of the village known to many simply as The Tavern came into view. The light had suddenly faded and the wind was now stirring a little stronger. In the seven or eight minutes it had taken them to reach the pub the temperature had certainly dropped. As the three walked vigorously along their attention was caught by  something they could hear.

“Listen.” said  Liam

“What?” replied Annie.

“Ssshhh!”

“Oh yes, I can hear music playing.” replied their father.

As they were drawing level with the pub they could hear it was coming from there.

David could recognise 'Oh I wish it could be Christmas'  booming out once they were near enough to pick up more than just the base line. . . (you know how with loud distant music you can only ever hear the base line until you get close.)

“It's a Christmas party.” Annie  declared.

“I know that one, it's that old one from when you were little Dad, the one Mummy hates!” said Liam.

“Yes, that's right,” laughed his father, “funny thing is, it's a bit early in the day, and, I never knew they used the Blue Boar for parties!”

“Daddy, you've never been to the Boar pub have you. You always say you have better things to do with your time so how would you know they don't have do's and things going on?” Annie always had a way with words.

The trio moved on and flakes of snow started to fall. The sky was now black. The street lights were on but everywhere seemed suddenly dark as they started to move out of the village boundary. There had been the occasional car passing them but now, all was silent. Suddenly it seemed there were no cars, not a sound other than anthems blaring out from the public house that was now a hundred metres behind them. As they headed into the dark David could just make out the lilting voices chanting 'Mary's Boy child' to a very 'seventies' beat before it finally died away in the distance;

'Another oldie' he thought to himself.

They were cold, and it was strange as they headed away from the village into the dark, all was now completely silent. Only minutes ago it had seemed so different, now it was like being in another world. They were out in the countryside, the high street had become the remote road leading in and out of the village. Their father became suddenly unsure of where they were! It was so dark, and now snow was falling, and actually quite fast!

“Dad where actually are we? It's got dark so quick?” Liam was  a little frightened.

“We're on the edge of the village silly. Aren't we daddy?” chirped Annie.

David Patterson felt a little uneasy, in fact, even though perhaps only ten or twelve minutes.

from his own front door, if the truth be known he was lost!  However, he wasn't about to admit that to his children. Instead he brushed it aside and drew their attention to the snow.

The talk soon turned to the possibility of a white Christmas. Liam reckoned the odds were as high as 5 – 1, they'd been researching it at school. His dad reckoned it wasn't as high as that and he must have his facts wrong. David remembered only two really true white Christmases from his childhood, - either end of the nineteen seventies. He also remembered as a boy getting lost in the snow in one of them not a million miles away from where they were right now! 'We can go on a little further then I'll say we'll turn round and get these kids back for a late tea' David thought to himself.

Just then they could make out a faint shaft of light across the field to their left, then a distant spot light started to come towards them. There was an accompanying sound as another light in close proximity gave it away. They kept to the side as the vehicle approached and suddenly the noise became louder,  the throaty rattle converted itself to the sound of a roaring car engine.

“Wow' exclaimed Liam as an odd looking car thundered past them. “That looked old!”

“It was” replied his dad, you don't see many of them now -”

“ - Look!” shouted Annie interrupting her father as she peered into the distant snow now settling across the fields.

The others looked.

“Okay kids, we'd better head back.” David, realising what they were looking at was concerned, this wouldn't be very pleasant so close to home and he didn't really want the children to see any more of it.

“We gotta check it out dad, - you never know what might have happened.”

Such is human nature that these things become magnets for our curiosity and David Patterson soon found himself inching forwards.

As they got closer to the scene they could hear sounds,- sounds of car engines petering to a stop. They could see the build up of at first just a few lights, then as the undulations in the landscape gave way to a clearer line of sight through the blizzard, banks of car headlights building up. Liam could now make out a blue flashing light but he couldn't see what was next to it, he couldn't quite get the view that would give him the information he wanted.

“Come on, there's been an accident or something . . probably nothing too serious” David felt cold shivers run down his spine as he spoke the words, there now seemed to be something quite major that had happened perhaps a hundred and fifty metres or so in front of them and he, like his children felt the urge to find out a little more before they headed back. Now they could hear another siren, a different sound, - just the two note pitch 'An ambulance with the old style siren?' he thought.

“Come on you two, let's go back” he said.

Then, suddenly! They were startled by a voice in front of them repeating those last two words . .

“Go back . . yes, go back, you can't do anything here.”

The man was almost shouting at them as he walked swiftly towards them with animated arm gestures. He appeared  no more than twenty feet away. “The emergency services have it all under control, you mustn't go any nearer, turn back I tell you, please, go home.”

The individual in front of them spoke with such authority that all three of them found themselves turning to head home almost before the words had left his lips. The man wore strange clothes, a sort of sleeveless body warmer, and very odd trousers Annie thought.

“We're on our way back now anyway.” Their father spoke to the gentleman.

“Good . . good.” replied the stranger, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.

Nobody spoke for a second or two as they walked back towards the village. Liam broke the silence;

“How odd . .where did he pop up from?”

“I don't know,” replied his father, “suppose he must have been sent to clear the area!”

“If he was a policeman he would have had a yellow coat on.”  Annie pointed out.

“I didn't say he was a policeman.” replied her father. “Anyway, we need to get home.  The snow is settling and I'm cold even if you aren't.”

“It looked serious . . I hope no one is badly hurt . . or even . .”

“ . . Try not to think about it” interrupted her father. “There's nothing we can do now. Let's just get home safely”

“And, he had funny trousers . . did you see? They were all big at the bottom.”

Liam managed a grin at Annie's last remark.

As they strode back towards the lights of the village they could hear again the distant base beat coming from the Tavern. Once near enough they could tell what was now playing  . .  'So here it is Merry Christmas' rang out Noddy Holder's voice.

“Might not be a merry Christmas for someone if that turns out to be serious.” moaned Liam sympathetically.

“I know, but it's out of our hands.” replied his father. “Another thing . .” David continued . . “they don't seem to have any modern songs in that place? Everything we've heard has been from the nineteen seventies!”

“I thought you liked the old time songs?” said Annie.

“I do . . but . . oh never mind.” her father was tired, he  just wanted to get home.

“I like those old ones, they play them every Christmas because they are the best, - nobody writes any decent Christmas songs these days.” Liam had strong opinions about music, that side of him took after his mother.

As they passed the Blue Boar and found themselves heading back down the familiar surroundings of the high street all three noticed something quite odd!

“It's stopped snowing!” proclaimed Annie.

“Yes, in fact, it doesn't even look as if it's been snowing here!” her father was slightly puzzled as this seemed unusual to say the least.

“Yeah,” said Liam, “and you know what else . . it's actually getting lighter!”

“If you get your PJ's on nice and early I have a surprise for you all” announced Paula as the family's evening meal was coming to a close.

“Oh?'” enquired her Husband.

“Well not all of you perhaps, I was thinking this will appeal to Liam and Annie, and, maybe you my dear.” she smiled as she knew David hadn't a clue what she was talking about.

“Probably not your cup of tea though” she looked across at her eldest son Jamie who was already getting an inflated picture of being left out of something good yet again.

“Oh I see,” he began, already quite aggressively defensive, “you never consider me in these little surprises do you.”

Mother and son were not seeing eye to eye about anything at present, he was always the victim of everything in his eyes and as far as he was concerned any interests shared were always with Annie and Liam, particularly when it came to music in which he shared none of his mother's enthusiasm.

“You're quite welcome to listen dear” replied his mother.

“Listen? . . what is it . . listen with mother!”

The others giggled.

“Yes it's a story, a book I've been given about Christmas.”

“Oh get real . . I knew it, listen with mother . . well no thanks, I've got better things to do with my time.”

Jamie got up and left the table. It all went quiet for a few seconds, then Liam asked what sort of book.

“Tell you what,” answered his mum, “it's all about Christmas long ago, I've had a little peek I think you'll enjoy finding out about some of the old Christmas customs and how a family spent Christmas years ago.”

“I'll give it a try.” remarked Liam with the open mind he always held for such opportunities.

“I'd like to listen mummy.” chirped Annie.

“Well, two out of three isn't bad.”

David stood up, gave his wife a peck on the cheek and started to collect up the dishes.

The children enjoyed the first couple of chapters of the story an hour or so later. Mum enjoyed reading it too, it had been a long time since she had found the time to read her children a bedtime story, and, her colleague had been right, - she did feel an urge to know about Christmases past. The book had triggered her 'fundamental passion for Christmas' as Ian had put it.

“What you been up to then?”

“Oh this and that . . you know . . nothing much”

“You going up town on New Year's eve?”

Jamie had met up with his mates Carl and Danny and as usual they hadn't really got a lot on. They were strolling through the village talking about various possible Christmas activities but as usual, they were really quite bored. They walked down the high street laughing, joking and challenging each other as teenagers do until they came to the village green. The green was roughly the centre of the village. In the middle of the small triangular grassed area was a small shelter with a few seats and a pathway network that ran around the shelter and away from it. When you sat in the middle of the green the four pathways pointed out towards the North, South, East and West of the village.

The night was cold, but not as cold as it had been. All the same, it was Danny who suggested sitting for a few minutes under the shelter. The three boys sat on the bench looking around at the panoramic view of the village. Although it was dark and only lit by street lamps they could see fifty metres or so in every direction. They sat there for a moment looking around,- almost hoping that something interesting might turn up!

“Come on,” said Carl getting rather restless, “let's go for a walk out of this place. I say we go . . . that way!” - He waived his arm around randomly selecting when to stop it and claim the selected direction to be the one to take.

The three got up and followed as Carl led them down the eastward path.

“Not as cold tonight.” remarked Danny.

“No, but still pretty chilly.” came the reply.

They trundled past the first couple of houses on the edge of the green, the second of which was a small thatched cottage. With it's inside lights beaming Jamie couldn't help thinking what a cosy little abode it was and for a split second his mind wandered back to recent events at home, and he did just wonder what a cosy little Christmas story his mother might be reading his younger siblings . . perhaps it wouldn't actually have been so naff after all, - in fact, this was all actually a bit boring and he was starting to think he'd rather be inside. At that moment one of his friends brought the homely reminder thumping back to him by asking about his mother;

“Anyway mate, your Mum's giving this concert or something soon ain't she?”

Jamie's mum was becoming something of a local celebrity, nearly everyone locally whether into classical music or not knew about the forthcoming concert she was giving at The Grosvenor Hall in town in a few days time.

“Yeah, she's getting well worked up about it.”

“She's pretty good though isn't she? I know we ain't into all that stuff but I bet she's going to be loaded once she pulls them all in, that hall is big you know; - takes some filling.”

“Yeah I suppose.” replied a disinterested Jamie.

“Come on man it's good Brahms and all that.”

“You what?” interrupted Danny.

“Brahms, - that's one of them ain't it?”

“He means one of the old Maestros who used to write the stuff.” explained Jamie; “There's loads of them and she plays loads of stuff” he added.

“What's she actually playing on Saturday night then?” asked Danny.

“Dunno, some quite old piece I think.”

“Is she on her own or has she got a band with her?” asked Carl.

“It ain't a band, it's an orchestra in all that classical stuff isn't it.” stated Danny, confidently.

“It is, but she's just playing solo, - some big piece.” Jamie confirmed.“Tell you what. It's getting colder!” Jamie was happy to change the subject. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of his mum, it's just that it wasn't that cool and he knew any minute his mates would start having a dig if the conversation didn't move on.

As they headed down the dark street it came to Danny's notice that suddenly none of the houses here on the outskirts of the village  had their lights on, everywhere seemed dark. Only the little village church which was off to their left strangely had a light shining from within.

“Odd!” remarked Danny, he didn't have to explain, the others could see the strangeness of the situation. “Maybe there's been a power cut or something?” They looked back towards the centre of the village, they could still see lights shining there. They decided to keep on walking, once they passed the churchyard there should be street lights again for a while and anyway, the main road wasn't that far away.

Jamie actually felt a little uneasy, he couldn't put his finger on it but it was like that moment of anticipation when you just know something is about to happen that makes you think and challenges your sense of logic.  Suddenly that moment came to him as he lost his footing and momentarily slipped, he put out his hand to break his fall and although he was not hurt his hand became very cold when it hit the floor. At the same moment Danny exclaimed it had started to snow!  Sure enough, there was suddenly snow on the ground and in the air; - small but distinct flakes were falling.

“Snow is falling, all around us, merry Christmas everyone” Sang Carl at the top of his voice.

“Yeah, it's kind of strange, like its started really quickly and already settled!” Jamie exclaimed picking himself up.

“And another thing,” announced Danny “it's so quiet . . . shut up a minute Carl” - Carl stopped for a second, his friend was right, it was suddenly eerily quiet. Carl resumed his singing, and not wanting to dwell on things too much, the others joined in. The boys carried on down the road that took them eastwards out of Marlston, singing as they went as the snow fell all around them.

It was Jamie who stopped first.

“Hang on, stop” he said. The singing eventually petered out once Jamie had repeated himself. “Can you hear something? . . over there.”

They listened.

“It's coming from the church.” cried Danny already starting to head towards it. “So there is still life around here . . let's go and see what's cooking.”

The other two looked nervously at each other but then without a word decided to follow.

“Wait up.” said Jamie. They all stopped to listen again. They were now just sixty metres or so from the church door and could still see a  tiny light on.

“It's coming from the church!” exclaimed Carl “Someone's in there, playing the piano!”

The threesome started to make their way nearer to the Church porch. Jamie felt a sense of not being able to help himself' – something wasn't quite right, and, he knew what was coming next:

“I bet that's your mum. . . practicing for next week!”

Jamie knew that it wasn't, he'd just left his mum at home not twenty five minutes ago, he thought she might have practiced in the church before but it couldn't possibly be her now!

The boys crept closer.

“Let's go in and surprise 'em,” gestured Carl “we can leg it as soon as they know we're there . . . as long as it's not your mum, . . if it is your mum we'll just back off and you can go and see - ”

“- It's not my mum “ blurted Jamie. “Come on let's go, we shouldn't be doing this.”

“Oh get real Jamie, it's only a bit of fun,  and it is Christmas!”

Carl and Danny pressed forward. The light coming from the front of the church seemed to flicker slightly. Jamie listened intently as he hung a few yards behind. They were now quite close and he could hear the music clearly; - strange haunting arpeggios, the melancholy tone of a piano. There was a powerful base line that almost spoke to you, he recognised the music, - it was  the piece his mother had been practicing at home for so many weeks!

Danny and Carl were now in the porch. There was a distinct chill in the air and a smell of damp wood as their feet met the cold stone floor of the porch. The light was poor but they could make out the cast iron handle hanging solemnly against the panelled oak door. All they had to do was to lift and turn the handle and they'd be in. Then, they could attract the pianist's attention, then run! Jamie watched as Carl slowly lifted and turned the handle. His heart was pounding. There was a gentle clunk and instantly the music stopped! Jamie froze, he couldn't speak. Carl was shaking slightly but he couldn't resist the chance to follow this through. He pushed open the door. Everywhere was pitch black . . . there was no light, no music, and, nobody!

Sunday 16th December 

The next day was bright. There was a sharp frost and the sun was shining. Jamie had come home quite late and neither of his parents had seen him come in the night before.

“Come on, wake up.” called his mother as she banged on his bedroom door.

“What time is it?” he muttered.

“Time you were up, it's a lovely day.” came the reply. Jamie trundled down to breakfast fifteen minutes later.

“Cold last night.” he muttered “My room is freezing.”

“It wasn't that cold.” replied his mother  “They say there is snow on the way though!”

“On the way! . . it's already here. . .  plenty last night when I was out . . round by the churchyard.”

“It surely didn't actually snow last night, in fact it seemed to get a little warmer.”

Jamie gave his mother an angry but slightly puzzled frown. “Are you going to get a lift to town with your dad? If you want one you've got about fifteen minutes.” Jamie needed to get to town to finish his Christmas shopping and David had offered to take all three of the children.

With the family out for the morning Paula had time on her hands. She spent a little time in the music room practicing, going through her usual routine of scales and warm up exercises, then she had a look at the 'finale' of the piece she was practicing for the performance. She couldn't concentrate. However she tried she couldn't focus, there was something on her mind.

She had so much enjoyed starting to read the Christmas story, it embodied so much of what Christmas should be about. It was about a family, -  wasn't that always at the core of things? Shouldn't Christmas be very much about sharing quality time with your closest family?  The past was important, very important, that was the message she was getting.  Now, alone in the house her mind started to wander. She wanted to find out more. Suddenly she remembered all the Christmas stuff up in the loft. Should she wait for David to come home and go into the loft for her? . . . Should she hec!

Paula was on a 'Christmas high' – you know how it is when you just get an unshakable enthusiasm for something - for a moment nothing will stop you from putting it first! Well this is how Paula was feeling, she had to hit the loft and get down those old Christmas things, and she needed to do it right now.

The loft was musty, dingy and cold. Most of the decorations had been brought down but there were a few boxes and bits and pieces etc. that still contained unexplored remnants of past Christmases. She trod carefully as she crossed the loft floor, even with the light on it was dark and slightly eerie but she could see to her left a pile of boxes, this was what she was after. The first box was light in weight, and seemingly undamaged. Paula opened it carefully, - it was a set of six baubles, apparently unused. She carefully replaced the lid, this wasn't what she was after. There was another set of old Christmas lights draped over a loft beam nearby, but more interestingly,  just sitting beneath them on the loft floor was a slightly heavier box. Paula opened it, it appeared to be full of cards. As she thumbed through the seemingly random pile it was obvious  that they were saved Christmas cards from bygone years. Paula knew this was what she wanted. She quickly climbed down the ladder escaping the loftly chill, taking the box with her.

Once down and in the warm she opened the stout cardboard box and removed it's contents. There were Christmas cards of all types, she picked up one with a small cheerful Robin printed on the front, inside it read:

'To auntie Sue and Uncle Sam, a Merry Christmas from Simon and Jane'

Sue and Sam were her parents but she had no idea who Simon and Jane were! She delved deeper into the pile. There was a large Nativity reproduction card 'we don't see many of those these days' she thought. Next she came across a snow scene; - easy to see why someone should want to keep that, it was beautiful, probably the pick of the bunch that year! Then she opened up a small simple card that read:

'To my Little Lady, keep up the great work and have a lovely Christmas: Uncle Mark'

She vaguely remembered someone who  used to call her his 'Little Lady' when she was very small and just starting out to learn the piano.  She gazed into thin air for a moment daydreaming when suddenly it occurred to her; 'I'm just like the mother in the Christmas story we've been reading' In fact, she remembered a very similar chapter where the children looked at old cards that their Grandfather's printing firm had produced right in the early days of Christmas card production. 'It's funny but rather lovely how these customs are just as interesting today as they were years ago to others' she thought to herself.

Just then her attention was caught by a photograph that peeped through behind one of the cards she was holding. It was a colour photo but faded rather, a group of people she recognised as her Mother, Father and Auntie Molly were in the background with another man smiling at the camera in the foreground, (the picture was obviously primarily of him). She vaguely remembered him but couldn't place him there and then. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the phone rang. Paula quickly stuffed the contents back into it's box placing it on a shelf in the living room as she hurried to answer the phone.

Monday 17th December 

David Patterson had his last day at work before finishing for the Christmas break. He worked in Irminster as a graphic designer as part of a small team and his two mates Rob and Phil weren't really in the mood for work either. They had just one job to wrap up and it probably wasn't going to take more than the rest of the morning so thoughts were already turning to that lunchtime Christmas drink.

“What say you two to hitting the Six Bells for a few bevies at lunch?” asked Phil.

“Sounds like a plan.” replied Rob “It's your turn to drive mate.” His comment was aimed at David who looked up with a grinning sigh remembering how last summer break and at a colleagues leaving party Rob and Phil had driven allowing him to get suitably sloshed – (particularly so on one occasion!)

“Okay, but The six bells will be packed.”

“Good point.” added  Rob

“We'll find somewhere quieter I'm sure” said David “Anyway . .” he continued,

“. . thinking about drink driving, I wonder if that was anything to do with causing that accident the other night up on the main road into town? Did you hear?”

“Accident?” the two men looked at each other “Didn't hear anything about it.” said Rob.

“It was pretty bad, looked like a fatality, we were out walking and saw all the aftermath in the distance, I'd imagine the road was closed for some time, in fact, some bloke came over to warn us; - wouldn't even let us go any nearer, - not that I wanted the kids to see any more mind.”

“What night was it?” asked Rob, slightly intrigued.

“Saturday night, about tea time.” said David. Rob paused for a moment before answering.

“I went to see my sister that way on Saturday evening, I passed by there at about half past four and came back the same way about six, the road was fine, no sign of any accident!'

David looked puzzled.

“Perhaps it was caused by that freak snowfall and wasn't actually as bad as it seemed then!” exclaimed David, looking for some sort of an explanation.

“Snow?.. last weekend?”  Phil looked perplexed.  “Come on mate let's hurry up and finish here, I think you need that drink!”

A couple of hours later, over a pint in some pub or other the three were talking about their plans for Christmas. They had already gone through about how proud David must be of his wife Paula to be giving such a concert at the end of the week. They had shared with each other how they were spending Christmas day, who was coming over and who wasn't, what happened last Christmas and what wouldn't be happening this Christmas etc. But now the conversation turned to more serious matters . . the replay.

“It's a strange one, holding it so close to Christmas,” said Rob, “but I can see why, it makes sense, and anyway, it gives us something to look forward to.”

“Well both teams are happy, it's our ground that won't be available and it's not that far to travel, so might as well get it out of the way now before the break.” added Phil.

The cup replay between United and Wanderers was taking place on Saturday 22nd, (the same day as the concert) because of some problem with United's ground. The replay had been brought forward and was being played away. It was a local derby and not a long journey to make. The first game had been a thrilling 2-2 and all three men plus Jamie, David's eldest, had been there to see it. They all had tickets for the replay.

“I reckon we can nail them if only he gets his midfield to start passing it out wide. We do it in the hard league games but then somehow the guys seem to think it's different in the cup or something and we hold on to it too long. We should have won that first game easy . . shouldn't be having this replay really, it's an extra distraction we could do without” (Phil reckoned he knew his football.)

“Yeah but still, it should be a good game, they'll come at us. The biggest problem might be complacency.”

“I reckon we'll win about 3-1.” said Phil emphatically.

“Dunno,” put in Rob, “could be closer. What do you reckon David?”

David had been listening but he was not really taking it in. He was agitated, and if the truth be known felt a little silly and, somewhat puzzled.

“Oh, yeah, I reckon we'll do it” he responded, not really wanting to talk about football right now. It wasn't just the accident last Saturday that was bothering him. Before they wound up in this town centre dump for their Christmas drink David had cleverly decided to take them out of town back to his village to the local, - The Blue Boar. He'd thought it would be a nice quiet venue and certainly more pleasant than where they'd ended up. Okay, it had been a six mile round trip but he'd be able to show them where the accident had been. In truth, this charade was partly to satisfy his own doubts, but everything had somewhat backfired; - The Blue Boar Tavern was closed for renovations, it had apparently been closed since the start of December and wasn't re-opening until well into January! His colleagues were a bit annoyed that he hadn't checked that one out. To make things worse he'd tried to tell them that he'd heard some function or other taking place there last Saturday as well, - of course, this had gone down like a cup of cold sick. . . right now he was not flavour of the month.

“You are up for this one mate aren't you? I know Paula's got her concert and all the rest of it but you do still want to come don't you?”

David was now annoyed that his friends were even doubting him.

“Look, . . I'll be there for the replay.” he replied abruptly.

When David arrived home early, late that afternoon he was greeted by his wife who had made a quick arrangement she was hoping to full fill.

“Reverend Sanders rang this morning and he is opening up the church early this evening before the carol concert and says it would be a good time to get all my stuff up there . . shouldn't take long.”

David looked at Paula, he'd just got in and he wasn't reading her.

“Stuff?. . up the church? . . . don't follow.” he said.

“You remember. . I'm giving a concert there in February and I will be performing it on my Roland, I need to do that equipment sound check- shouldn't take long.”

(Her 'Roland' was her professional standard electric piano.)

“Do you have to go now? I've only just got in!”

“All right, if you won't help me I'll get Jamie to come.” Paula was a little cross with her husband. “Jamie.” she called.

“You can watch the kids, tea is on, I won't be more than an hour or so. Liam and Annie are upstairs making Christmas cards,  I'm sure you'll mange.” There were tones of annoyed sarcasm in her voice.

Some time later, after a brief moan and groan of an argument, the car had been successfully loaded with various pieces of equipment from the music room; keyboard, amplifiers, mixer, microphone etc. Paula had all the gear for when she needed it but the little church of St. Nicholas had weird acoustics and a sound check well in advance was of paramount importance. Jamie, resigned to the fact he had to help for half an hour or so and would probably have to help her hump it all back later, couldn't really understand why she needed it all anyway. Why couldn't she just play the piano that was there?

The car drew up as near as they could park to the porch at the front of the church. Jamie remembered the other night, how dark and cold it was. Everything now seemed very different. He hadn't mentioned anything of going into the church to anyone, he wasn't proud of the prank his mates had tried to play and they had all been rather freaked out by the outcome. Reverend Sanders came over to briefly greet them both and Jamie started unloading. He began to wheel in the equipment.

“Take it all as far as you can to the front end beyond where the congregation sit please dear and then you can go. The reverend and I will manage the rest.”

Jamie followed his mother's instructions whilst the two adults talked in the background.

“It's so exciting my dear . .” the Reverends voice droned on . . “We haven't had anyone in the village yet alone the town giving solo concerts for many many years, it's absolutely wonderful . . . I'm sure your family must be getting very excited about next week.”

It took three trips from the car to the church for Jamie to load all the gear as he did so  he couldn't help noticing something that bothered him. Where was the piano? It couldn't really be hidden away surely!

“Ok I think that's it now” he said as he walked past his mother with the last load. “Thank you love, - might need you later.”

Jamie decided he had to ask.

“This is all well and good, but why don't you just play an ordinary piano?”

His mother looked at him blankly.

“Well. . yes, but look around you, do you see one?”

The Reverend smiled, Jamie looked from one face to the other as if hoping for an answer that would explain everything, but it didn't come.

“But I thought . . oh . . doesn't matter.” he blurted, now rather shocked and embarrassed.

“We have a lovely Organ as you can see up there. . .” Reverend Sanders gestured towards the front of the church where Jamie could indeed see the tall grey pipes dropping down to an old quaint looking double keyboard peppered with stops to be pulled and pushed in and out as the instrument was played, - he'd heard it many times before, and it wasn't what he heard the other night! “. . . But we haven't ever had a piano here in my time.” finished Reverend Sanders.

Jamie ran home, He was actually a little scared. Had he imagined it the other night? Is it that he'd heard that piece being played by his mother so much that he thought  that was what he'd heard? Could it have really been the organ playing? and if so, where was the person responsible? None of it made any sense.

When he got in he found his dad laughing and joking with the two younger ones who were still busy making Christmas cards. It had developed into a bit of a 'silly session'; You know how kids get when they can't really be bothered to do something properly anymore, - they look for distractions or variations to try and make a situation more amusing in some way.

“What's that then?” asked David as his daughter Annie scribbled some detail onto her card.

“That's the funny man the other night with his funny trousers.” she laughed “He's wishing us a Happy Christmas.” Annie had drawn a man with enormously exaggerated flared trousers.

“Your weird.” said Liam. David laughed.

“Oh you do make me laugh Little Lady.” he said to his daughter.

“How about this then if you want a symbolic card.” Liam held up a simple picture he had done that showed two completely different scenes, one was a warm sunny day and the other dark with thick snow, 'Merry Christmas' was written across both in the reverse colours from how he'd coloured in the background.

“That's really good.” said his father.

“Still on the subject of the other night, that's when it was cold and snowing and that's how it was before, back at home” pointed out Liam.

“It wasn't as warm and sunny as that.” objected Annie.

“No, but you know what I mean, it shows the many sides of Christmas.”

“That's an unusual but quaint idea, it's also quite a comment on our British weather at this time of year.” said his father, also remembering the strangeness of the other evening.

The cards were finished and stood on the side. Tea was over and Paula came in with Jamie later that evening after bringing the equipment back home.

“Thanks for helping today. You're very quiet. Everything okay?' she asked of her eldest son who had been unusually agreeable and helpful.

“Yeah, I'm just a bit tired.” Jamie was far from tired, but he didn't want to talk about it.

They burst into the living room where the rest of the family were now watching television.

“Hiya guys,” David greeted them “did it all go well?”

“Yes fine. I think we'll be okay with all my gear just as it is, no need to get anything else in from outside.” Paula replied. “Now, what's this?”  Her attention was drawn to the side where the Christmas cards her two youngest had made earlier were standing.

Later that evening with the children in bed Paula and David relaxed with a glass of wine.

“Well compliments of the season to you,” David held his glass against hers. “and . . to celebrate in advance the fantastic performance my fantastic wife is going to give on Saturday.” he added.

“And to us all.” chimed Paula and they clanked glasses. “I mustn't have too much, I want to have a run through before I turn in tonight.”

“Oh must you?” David was a little disappointed he hoped she wasn't going to practice he wanted to talk to her.

“Not right now though, I haven't seen you all day, let's just talk for a while.” she added.

“I was talking to someone the other day who couldn't believe what piece you're playing. It is one of the most difficult piano pieces ever written”

“Yes, I know that's been said about it,” replied his wife, “I just hope I can do it justice, there are a few passages that are very difficult to play and generally everyone plays them a little differently. It's when the hands cross over, at one point you are supposed to hit notes at virtually the same time that are at opposite ends of the keyboard . . but . . I can do it, I'm quite confident.”

“Cesar Franck, Prelude, Chorale and Fugue. I must say it's grown on me just hearing you practice it, I probably wouldn't have taken to it otherwise.”

David liked classical music but he was not really any sort of musician, however he could appreciate his wife's talent and was in awe of how she could make the piano seem to speak to it's audience.

“Yes, written in the 1880's, Cesar Franck himself was unhappy with the piano repertoire as it was then. I'm not sure that anyone has really written anything as unique for solo piano since as far as classical style is concerned. It's a marvellous piece . . . hauntingly powerful, and you know, those opening phrases get me every time I play them.”

David listened intently to his wife's words, she was speaking passionately about her love for the piece and right now, he was right there with her on that same wave length. She continued: “It's as if sometimes it's not me playing the notes at all, - as if I know how it's meant to sound but I'm just the tool for producing it. As if . . as if . . someone is right there with me, guiding me every step of the way.”

“Well that's probably so, people with talent often say they are inspired by a power that's greater than themselves, even non-believers - people that don't have any faith or belief in God will still tell you that supernatural forces are at work when something awesome or amazing takes place that involves them.”

“It's true, it's like I can only do it because I'm meant to be doing it. I feel I know the composer's emotions when I perform it, I feel I know why he wrote it and what he wanted to give to the world. It gets to me like no other piece.”

“That's a wonderful compliment to the composer. I remember once reading that the composer Handel had tears in his eyes for hours on end as he wrote the 'Alleluia chorus' to his famous 'Messiah', saying that it was just so profound and was being sent to him to write he believed from God himself.”

“That's a lovely image and a very real feeling.”

The couple sat quietly for a moment or two absorbed in their thoughts.

“I'm going to go and have a run through now.”announced Paula after a little while.

She walked down to the music room. The room was sound proofed but not completely, you could still hear the music in various parts of the house. She switched on the side lights near the keyboard and limbered up her fingers as she always did with a few twiddles and stretches. As she sat at the piano she decided just to play through the piece, or at least the first section, no need for any other warm up. She hit the bottom B note and the haunting  arpeggios followed. Outside the door, Jamie could hear his mother play. He stopped and for once took some notice. It was quite a creepy sound he thought at first, but then, as he listened it dawned on him that this was the piece someone was playing in the church the other night and it was on a piano, - it sounded exactly the same!

Tuesday 18th December 

The next morning Paula was looking through her emails and noticed that there were a few from old friends wishing her good luck for Saturday evening. A couple of people sent their apologies but some folk she hadn't seen for ages were going to make the effort to be there.

“Ah, the Hendersons are coming on Saturday night David,” she called, “haven't seen them for about two years.

“That's good.” David replied

“And . .what's this one?” Paula was talking to herself now as she opened an anonymous email from an address she didn't recognise.

'Sorry I didn't make it, but you know I'll be there on Saturday.'

'That's strange' she thought, 'Doesn't really make sense!' but before she could dwell on it David called out that there was someone at the front door.

“I'll get it” shouted Annie running to open the door.

A postman  handed Annie a package, it wasn't very big, just a little too big to get through the letterbox though. Annie took the package and ran inside to give it to her father.

“It's addressed to your mother.” he pointed out. “Paula . . . Paula, parcel for you.”

Paula left her computer and came in from the living room and took the package. As she opened it the family watched. It appeared at first to be just a large Christmas card but when she fully extracted it from the Jiffy bag envelope she could see there was more to it. The card itself was a snow scene with a cheery Father Christmas  on the front. Silver glitter had been used to highlight the snow and the ball on Father Christmas's hat. The card was not of shiny print as we are now used to seeing. Paula opened it. Inside was attached a sheet of thick paper that opened out. It was a type of parchment paper, a little creased and handwritten. Onto it seemed to be some notes about the piece of music.

“Look at this!” she exclaimed

“It seems to be a sort of review of your piece” said David slightly puzzled as his eyes scanned the handwritten notes.

Paula read what it said:

'Cesar Franck: Prelude, Chorale and Fugue:

The Prelude . . .

. . . The Prelude's lingering melody is the perfect compliment to the mournful but majestic tones of the second subject, . . . . when the fugue enters with single notes it must make the hairs on the back of one's neck stand up! . . .'

It appeared to be a complete critical appraisal of the piece;

“But whatever it is it's not of your performance, why send it now!” exclaimed David.

“How odd, . . quaint, but odd!” remarked Paula. She lifted beneath the handwritten insert that had clearly been stuck over the top. Beneath were written the words;

'I know you will do this piece justice one day, to my Little Lady, have a great Christmas,  uncle Mark'

David and Paula gave each other a puzzled look. David picked up the packaging as if hoping to find some sort of clue as to who'd sent it or why. He was just about to toss the package aside when he noticed the post mark;

“17th Dec 19 . . something!” he said “I think that's a 7! it has an Irminster post mark.”

“David, what on earth is going on?” for the first time in a long while David sensed panic in his wife's voice.

“I don't know, but let's not worry, it's probably some old fuddy-duddy fan you don't even know you have trying to make a point, I'm sure it's well meant.” David was trying to be positive.

“Daddy calls me his Little Lady sometimes . . but we haven't got an uncle Mark.” Annie pronounced pertinently.

“My gosh, yes you do.” Paula looked at David.

“Well  it can't really be anything to do with you sweetie, and you're right, we don't have an uncle Mark.” replied her father.

“Little Lady . . someone once called me that I think.”

“Who?” asked David of his wife.

“I . . I don't know, I thought I remembered . . . oh I don't know.”

Paula got up and grabbed her coat.

“Where are you going?” called David.

“I don't know, - out . . somewhere.” Paula was clearly upset.

“You two,” (he was talking to Liam and Jamie), “look after your little sister, I'm going with your mother.” and with that he grabbed his jacket and bustled after her.

All she had wanted was just to be able to do the piece justice, to be able to give the concert without any problems. Why do odd things always have to happen that make you feel something isn't quite right? What had she done to deserve this? And something else, her family had acted most oddly when they came in last Saturday night, it hadn't meant much to her at the time but now she sensed something wasn't right. And, Jamie; what was all that about a piano in the church? Now she was getting paranoid. David caught up with her.

Suddenly she put her finger on it. The Christmas cards she got down from the loft, - one of them had that phrase, 'My Little lady' and said it was from an 'Uncle Mark'!

“David this is something to do with me.” She told him about the stuff she'd retrieved from the loft.

“Whatever made you go and look for those things anyway?”

“I don't know, you were all out and . . well I was thinking about that Christmas book and the cosy old customs it talks about, there's a passage in it very similar, all about a family member who'd kept some old cards, so I just remembered we had some old Christmas relics and went looking.”

“Where did you get that book from?”

“It was Ian, Ian at school, . . and that's another thing, you know he gave it to me with great conviction, it was a little odd.”

The couple walked in the morning sunshine. They were heading down the lane at the back of their house. There was a sharp frost and the day was cold in spite of the sun. Paula suddenly stopped and turned to her husband.

“I don't know if I can do this David,” she said,“something isn't right, I can't focus . .what am I going to do the performance is only days away?” She was close to tears.

David grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and reassured her. His head was spinning, he had questions of his own for which he also had no explanation, it had been a strange week and he knew there was something in what his wife was saying. Some strange events seemed to be taking place around  them, but, in that split second he made a very important decision. This was Paula Patterson he was holding, the great Paula Patterson the love of his life who was going to give a great performance of the piece she loved and he was going to support her one hundred percent. He was not going to let anything else bother her, his job was to reassure and build up her confidence, not to let her know anything of his own worries, - that wouldn't help. So, that is exactly what he told her there and then.

“Thank you,” Paula said to him a few minutes later as they walked back towards the house, “I feel much better now. You're right, I'll try and forget about all the Christmas distractions until after Saturday.”

“That's right, we're as good as ready for Christmas otherwise so forget all the old time stuff for now whatever it means. What matters now is you and the performance.”

Paula smiled and grasped his hand tightly.“When you talked  about the piece last night I know you meant it. I know how the music will have that effect on you and I know you'll pull off a great performance. Now, let's get home and see what those kids are up to.”

So, the next three days of preparation went well for Paula. She was able to concentrate on the final polishing practice sessions and ignore the distractions. Partly because of the support from her husband and partly because of her own inner strength and deep self belief in the power of what she was doing she was able to get to Saturday mentally ready.

For the rest of the Patterson family however, things were not so straightforward! The first thing David did on their return was to get the children in a room together out of Paula's earshot and explain to them that Mummy was feeling the pressure and there were certain things that might upset her because she needed to just forget about them. Nobody was to mention the walk last Saturday night or the name of uncle Mark. When he told them about the old Christmas things their mother had got down from the loft he realised that none of the children actually knew anything about this! All the same, best not to go there on that one either until after the concert. Jamie listened intently and as soon as his dad finished talking he asked his brother Liam for a quick word.

“What happened last Saturday night?”

“Oh . . it was a bit weird, we seemed to get a bit lost, the weather changed and we saw this accident . . -”

“- Tell me about it later” cut in Jamie as Annie burst in “We don't want Annie to hear.” he whispered.

“Snow, it's snowing outside.” screamed Annie with delight.

“I'll catch you this evening,” said Jamie to his brother, who nodded in acknowledgement “so it is, come on Annie let's go and get our coats.”

The snow was falling quite thickly and looked as if it would settle. The children went out and played in the garden for a full forty minutes. Their parents watched smiling from the kitchen.

“I'm just going into the study, I need to speak to Rob about this job we've got to get out of the way.” David said presently.

“Okay.” Paula started to get dinner ready.

David went into the study it was the adjacent room to the music room situated off  the large hallway. The kitchen was at the end of the house and the living room was the other side of the hall next to the spare utility room. If Paula wandered out of the kitchen she would be unlikely to overhear anything David might be saying. Once the door was closed he picked up the phone and dialled the number of Molly Fitzgerald - A.K.A. 'Auntie Molly'. Now in her senior years David hadn't spoken to her for some time but she was the only person he could think of that might be able to help. He needed some answers, and as a starting point he wanted to find out who this uncle Mark chap was. The phone call lasted a few minutes. Molly lived not far away so they arranged to meet that evening. He would make some excuse to get out to go and meet her. He wondered what he was really going to say to her, he would take the Christmas card with the handwritten review and that card from the loft and perhaps just maybe she if anyone could shed some light on it all.

By the evening the snow had formed quite a thick blankety layer, it seemed it could well be around for a few days. Unfortunately it became another thorn in the side for Paula as she couldn't help thinking what if the weather became a problem for people travelling to her concert. Never the less, there was nothing anybody on earth could do about it so why worry she thought.

Jamie had been on his mobile to mate Danny, they had talked about the other night. Danny tried to tell Jamie his mum was up there practicing. He wouldn't believe it at first that Jamie had since been up to the church with his mum and been told that there was no piano there, - and never had been! Neither boy had any explanation for what they had experienced.

Tea was over  and Paula and David were doing the dishes. In the living room Liam noticed the box on the side that apparently his mother had retrieved from the loft.

'That's what dad was on about' he thought. He walked over to the box and opened it. Sitting down on the wooden floor he started to thumb through it's contents. Here was the card from this uncle Mark chap whoever he was, and here were a few more old looking cards mostly written from other friends and relations. He could see why they'd been saved, they all looked different and most were quite old. What was this? His fingers caught the edge of a photograph, the same one his mother had seen. As he pulled it from the stack he thought he recognised the man in the foreground of the old looking faded photo, it took him a second for it to click and as it did so his heart missed a beat before starting to race as his face turned pale.

Annie looked up from her seat where she sat watching television, distracted by Liam's anxious gasps and change in body language.

“What you got there?” she asked scrambling down across the floor to join her brother.

As soon as Annie set eyes on the photo she exclaimed; “It's that man with funny trousers from the other night!”

For a moment Liam couldn't speak. He knew this photo had come from their loft, he knew it was old and from years ago, he also knew that Annie was right, it certainly looked like the chap that had spoken to them on Saturday night. Annie mustn't be scared by this he thought, he had to keep her out of it.

“Oh. . . yeah, so it is, . . . apparently he's some famous policeman or something so there's always lots of photos of him around.” (Liam felt rather pleased with his quickly thought out cover story.) “But don't mention anything to mum, remember she's under the cosh and we're not to talk to her about anything like this.”

“Wicked.” replied Annie “So we met a famous policeman, I'm going to tell all my friends.” Fortunately Annie, as a six year old was far more interested in this side of it all rather than homing in on the significance of just how strange it was to find such a photo in their house! Liam extracted the photo into his pocket without Annie seeing. He'd tell his brother about it later.

After tea Jamie and his brother went for a walk. Liam told Jamie about last Saturday and  Jamie told Liam about the piano playing in the church. Liam showed the photo to Jamie and, in spite of both being somewhat freaked out by the facts they tried to make a decision about  what they should or shouldn't tell their father. After arriving back home but not quite having finished their conversation they decided  to slip in through the back into the garden where they could continue their conversation out of everyone's earshot. The snow had started to fall again, the light from the kitchen window spread across the lawn until it just barely bathed the edge of the tree line. Their garden was a full twenty five metres front to back with tall trees at either end. There was a small copse of trees fairly central at the far end. Behind their garden ran the pathway that their parents had taken a walk down earlier.  All was silent apart from the noise caused by the  slight movement of tree branches every now and then when a smattering of snow would drop to the ground.

“One thing that's really odd which happened to you and me is the snow thing.” Jamie pointed out.

“Yes, because we definitely walked into some snow and then it suddenly stopped!” remarked his brother.

“Yes, and I noticed a dramatic drop in temperature as well, there was already snow on the ground that I didn't know was there.”

“What does it all mean?” asked Liam.

His brother didn't know, but he sensed it was something to do with his mother and he wanted to find out purely for her protection. What if this was all some sort of ghostly sign or something? . . they had to find out. The boys decided not to show the photo of the stranger to their father just yet. They were still talking when a voice called from the house, it was their father coming to join them.

“You two all right?” he called “It's cold and bitter out here now.”

David shuffled across the lawn to join them. Liam thought his dad was right, there wasn't much point in getting any more sodden with snow than absolutely necessary so he announced that he was heading in from the garden into the warm.

“Are you okay with all this Jamie . . I mean, these strange things that have happened?” asked David of his eldest  somewhat nervously. “I don't want any of this to spoil anything, we've got our big day aswell remember!”

“The replay” Jamie replied, “Don't want to miss that. We're going to be a bit tight for time though dad aren't we - getting back in time for the concert?”

“It's less than thirty miles away, shouldn't be a problem, we'll leave as soon as the match finishes.”

Father and son stood quietly for a moment. The air was still, stars could now be seen above them as the night was clear. The white of the snow on the tree tops a few yards in front of them looked fresh and bright as it glistened where it caught the distant light given out from the kitchen window. “It's a lovely out here, so peaceful,” commented David, “I might ask your Auntie Molly if she wants to come over and stay on Friday night.” he added.

“Auntie Molly? . . haven't seen her for ages, I thought Nan and Granddad were coming?” enquired Jamie.

“Well they were, I mean they are, it's just that they want to go to the concert and it's going to be too much of a rush, we need someone here to babysit the younger two.”

“Makes sense.” replied Jamie.

A blob of snow fell from the trees and, just for a second the wind seemed to stir. The two stood silent again for a moment.

“Dad,” Jamie wasn't sure whether to tell his dad what was on his mind, “you know the other night . . . I thought . . well I thought I heard mum playing -”

“- Yes you probably did.” interrupted his father.

“ . . No, I mean it wasn't here . . . I mean . . . .”

His voice tailed off as his father interrupted once more;

“Listen!” he said sharply.

The two of them fell silent for a few seconds. The wind was now blowing and something was rustling in the trees.

“Over there” pointed Jamie a little afraid to do so. There was certainly a noise.

“It's just the wind.” his father remarked. But as the wind blew gently over their faces there was another sound. Was it the wind? There was a definite pitch to the note, a whining sound, just a single note, a long, sweet note!

“What is that?” the two looked at each other.

“Listen!” said Jamie. He could hear the note was being interrupted by a broken sound, -  rumbling that seemed to be riding on the wind towards them over the trees, it was getting slightly louder and at the same time the single note was decreasing in volume. Now the rumbling became clear notes, music was playing somewhere, but Jamie wasn't sure where it was coming from. At the same moment his father too could hear that single note but underneath it was a beat, a sort of synthesized echo, then as the note died in volume there was a voice, - singing! Neither of them could speak. David could make out what it was now, he recognised the voice and he could hear the words; 

'The mood is right . . . the spirit's up . . .' but the sound was celestial. It was Paul McCartney's 'Wonderful Christmastime', - his favourite Christmas song!

“Can you hear that?” cried Jamie “It's mum's piece again!” he exclaimed. To Jamie the music sounded different, almost angelic.

“No, no, it's a song – 'Wonderful Christmastime.” His father corrected him.

The two of them looked at each other in disbelief, they could hear this marvellous sound effect that now seemed to be all around them coming from the skies, beyond the trees, everywhere as if angels were singing, but they weren't hearing the same thing as each other!

They stood rooted to the spot for several seconds until the wind started to gently die and the music faded as if it had never happened.

“What's going on dad?” Jamie was frightened. His father reassured him and explained that he had to go out and when he came back he was sure he'd have some answers.

“But where are you going?” called Jamie anxiously.

David didn't feel he could tell him, he wanted this visit to remain confidential for now, just until he knew who this uncle Mark chap was, then he'd be able to give his son a reasonable explanation. Besides, Paula mustn't get wind of any of this right now. So, he made his excuses and set off in the early evening snow to drive the other side of town to visit Molly.  As he drove down the high street he passed the Blue Boar Tavern, he could see that it was closed. Why hadn't he seen that the other night? Although the snow lay perhaps even thicker now than a few days earlier when he was walking through the village outskirts it didn't seem quite so eerie or as dark! As he stepped out of the car onto the driveway of Molly Fitzgerald's house some twenty minutes later clutching the small box he'd brought from home, he admitted to himself that he was actually quite apprehensive, - even nervous of what he might discover.

Molly was a wise sharp old lady who knew most if not everything about the family, it's past and anything of significance.

They sat down over a cup of coffee and after formal pleasantries and customary greetings of the season conversation turned to the concert and preparations. Molly was quite happy to come over and stay the night before, she hadn't seen the children for a while, it would make a nice Christmas treat. David was holding the small cardboard box full of old Christmas cards and the package they had received, he was hoping that while he was out his wife wouldn't discover they were missing! - he'd have to make up some excuse.  All the time they talked Molly was staring at the box in David's hand.

“What have you got there?” she asked presently.

David opened the box and started to explain the whole story right from his experience with the children last Saturday evening  through to getting the package in the post and the effect it had had on Paula, he didn't know whether to tell about what he and Jamie had experienced in the garden earlier.  Molly listened intently hanging on every word David said. Her eyes were fixed on him as if riveted to the spot. David couldn't quite read her from her facial expressions, most of the time he felt that she was almost expecting to hear what he was saying, at other moments she may have seemed mildly surprised. When David finished speaking Molly spoke:

“Well, that's certainly given you a bit to think about.” she begun. “I can tell you who uncle Mark was, he was quite a character in his day and Paula knew him quite well when she was very little.”

David's eyes lit up almost with relief, the one thing he hadn't wanted to hear from Molly was that she didn't know who he was!

 “He was quite a wonderful man, very musical, - and talented, always helping people, always concerned, in fact he gained the nickname of 'Angel.' He was  actually your father-in-law's step brother, - never married. I think Paula used to see quite a bit of him when she was four, five six, that sort of age. You see, he was a pretty good pianist and greatly into classical music so when the family realised the talent Paula had and she started to learn the piano, Mark was the one who was in the best position to encourage her. And, yes, he used to call her his 'Little lady'.”

“What happened to him, where is he now? Is he still alive?”

Next followed one of those moments when silence answers the question for you. Molly looked David straight in the eye and for a few seconds said nothing. David didn't really need the answer but he'd asked the question anyway. “Well, what happened?” Molly paused again, it was clearly going to be difficult for her to tell him and for a moment David wondered if he should even have asked.

“Something pretty awful I'm afraid, it was about this time as well, just before Christmas.”

“ . . An .. accident?”

“Yes. He was at the prime of his life, it was very sad. I shall never forget that Christmas for all the wrong reasons one doesn't like to remember.”

David wanted to know more but it seemed wrong to rush Molly, she was upset by the memory, she had known him well.

Molly peered out of the window as if trying to see something far in the distance. David followed her gaze. Then she spoke some more:

“It was Christmas 1979, there was snow around, it was a hard winter. He was driving back from somewhere, whether it was the roads, sudden ice, no one knows but the other driver was over the limit. Mark had no chance . . he was killed outright.”

“Where did this happen?” David asked after thinking to himself for a second or two.

Molly looked at him as if slightly worried by what his next reaction may be.

“David, listen to me when I tell you. . . sometimes . .  well. . . sometimes in life strange things do happen and they usually happen for a reason, perhaps we shouldn't read too much into this but . .” she stopped as if unable to finish her sentence.

“Go on” he urged almost guessing in advance what she was going to tell him;

“The accident . . it happened on the main road . . just outside Marlston December 22nd 1979.” Molly was frightened to tell David this, how would he react? It now seemed to both of them that he and the children had envisaged some sort of repeat of this fateful night a few days earlier, there really didn't seem to be any other explanation and Molly knew that David and the children had known nothing of these events of years ago. David was speechless. Molly continued:

“What Paula has found there . . ” continued Molly pointing to the cards, “. . are memories her mother kept. You know how it is when someone dies you suddenly want to keep any mementos, photos cards etc. - especially if you don't have anything to remind yourself of the person.”

“But what about this we received at the door the other morning?” he handed her the card that came in the package in the post with the formal written appraisal.

“I sent you that” answered Molly sharply.

“You sent it!”

“Yes, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have perhaps. Mark wrote it at the time- all about the Cesar Franck piece, I thought it might be a good omen for Paula, I should have said something . . I'm sorry.” Molly got up seeming a little flustered. There was hesitancy in her voice. David was puzzled but he felt he could understand some of what Molly had meant by it.

“So he must have seen someone else play the same piece?” David asked.

“Well, yes I suppose. Look, the best thing is for you to go now, and don't worry. I think. .”  Molly didn't know whether to say it. . . “. . I think you've seen some vision from the past of the accident happening . . I don't know why, we shouldn't try to work it out. What matters is Paula's performance. Look, go home now and I'll be round on Friday evening.”

“Okay, thank you Molly. I'll see you then.”

David left somewhat bewildered but felt a sense of relief. It seems they had seen a replay in time of a terrible family tragedy about which they could do nothing. There was no point in getting any more upset about this, his job was to smooth it out for the family. He had found out who uncle Mark was, that was something, and having Molly around on the day meant another adult to share it with, this would be a great help. Anyway, he had a replay of his own coming up. As he drove home his mind started to wander to the big day. Could United pull it off at Wanderers' ground? He certainly hoped so.

Molly watched David drive away. She stood at the window with a look of severe concern. Why had she said some of those things to him? She hoped bitterly she hadn't made things worse. Molly knew more than anyone just how important the performance was going to be to the rest of Paula and David's life. David was a lovely man, the perfect partner for Paula and he had so far, and always would play a big part in her career as a pianist. As she stood contemplating the recent events she couldn't help remembering how much like David Mark had been in many ways, or, to be more precise how much in Mark's footsteps David, without knowing it seemed to be following!  This was a massive event looming. Nothing must go wrong. That is why she had lied. That is why she hadn't told David everything.

She went to a drawer in her sideboard in the corner of the dining room and pulled out a scrap book. It contained newspaper cuttings and photographs etc.  She thumbed back through the pages as she looked back reminding herself of that fateful winter's evening all those years ago. There were a couple of cuttings about the accident  and a few photos of Mark. Molly could hardly bring herself to read them again, but she did, and then the memories came flooding back. With tears in her eyes she read through the articles. She stood rooted to the spot for a moment, it was as if she had just found out that Mark had just died again! It was so sad. She pulled herself together and put the book away. For the next couple of days however, Molly Fitzgerald would have it constantly on her mind.

Friday 21st December

It was just after tea when Molly arrived. She didn't drive and so she got a taxi from town. The children were pleased to see her. The temperature had risen slightly and the snow had started to thaw.

“Auntie Molly!” Annie ran out to greet her.

“Hi, and Merry Christmas,” called Paula, “I don't think it's going to be a white one after all.” she declared.

“Oh I shouldn't wonder,” said Molly, “as long as the weather is fine for tomorrow night, and I'm sure it will be.”

The party went into the house and talked enthusiastically for some moments catching up on old times. Molly loved seeing the children and had brought their Christmas presents.

“You're not to open them until Christmas day.” she said. She was looking forward to spending a bit of quality time with them.

“Auntie Molly, while mummy's busy getting ready, you can read us the Christmas book!” exclaimed Annie excitedly.

“Christmas book?” she enquired.

“Yes it's a story all about Christmas time years ago and things that happened in this family . . it's pretty cool really.” added Liam.

“Oh, okay.” For a moment Molly looked as if caught a little unaware, but she wasn't going to let them down. “Sounds good, I shall enjoy that.” she said.

Later that evening Molly read to the children, even Jamie listened in the background. Their mother was out making some last minute visit to her friend who was seeing to her dress fittings etc. for the big night, and their father David was pottering around the house trying to sort out a few things. It was a pleasant half an hour or so they spent listening to the story.

“I remember acting out a play at Christmas when I was very small.” remarked Molly as they finished the chapter about Carol singing and a Mummer's play.“It's always good fun to do things a little differently like that at Christmas.”

As they sat on the sofa her eyes caught sight of the drawings on the side.

“Who's been drawing those lovely Christmas pictures?” she asked. Annie and Liam handed them to her and explained about the pictures of the man in funny trousers and the very symbolic 'weather change' card that Liam had made.

“That's mine,” pointed Annie, “we've got a photo of that man in funny trousers haven't we Liam.” announced Annie. Liam looked shocked, Molly seemed startled by this remark also. Jamie, thinking quickly interrupted by saying;

“Come on Annie, it's time for bed now, and I need to have a quick word with Auntie Molly.”

Molly smiled as Annie grimaced.

“I'll talk to you in a minute Auntie Molly.” whispered Jamie, - (he now had the photograph in his possession.) 

A  little while later when Jamie showed the photo his mother had found in the loft to his auntie Molly it was as if she'd seen a ghost!

“Do you know who it is?” asked Jamie, .  . “It's definitely the man we saw the other night.”

“No . . no I don't know who it is dear. . . it's just so strange that you should have a photo of him and not know who it is of!” She seemed a little flustered to Jamie. “Has your father seen this?” Molly enquired;

“No.” Jamie replied firmly “I found it before he took the things to show you. I know he's been to see you, it's all right. With everything that's going on we didn't want to show him in case -”

“- In case it turns out to be someone from the past, - Uncle Mark perhaps!”  cut in Molly.

“Well, yes.” Jamie hadn't wanted to say it.

“Well it's okay, nothing to worry about there, but probably a good idea not to say anything for now.”

Saturday 22nd December  

Paula opened her eyes, the sun's rays projected shafts of light between the gap in the curtains and onto her face. The big day was here. The day that she had been awaiting for so long, the day that would change her life. There had been distractions but now she was ready. The older ones were off to football, she wouldn't see much of them but they'd be at the concert. Molly would take care of the younger ones so she could concentrate on getting herself focused.

After breakfast and a brief upbeat chat with the family she went into the music room for one last practice. The sunlight shimmered through the net curtains as she played those opening notes. Even now, at this late hour in the proceedings she felt it, - she could feel how this piece had seemed to haunt her from a very early age. Suddenly, she remembered hearing it, - someone else playing it years ago! As she played on into the melancholy passages of the Chorale section it was as if someone was there with her, watching over her, - reassuring her that everything would be all right. She suddenly felt confident and assured, 'Whatever happens, the music itself will give the concert' she thought to herself.

Meanwhile the older ones were getting ready to drive to the match. Kick off wasn't until 3.00pm but they were meeting up with Dad's mates Phil and Rob before hand for lunch.

“Dad, have you seen my scarf?” Jamie called.

“Yes it's a long thing that's red and white, made of a wool mate.”

“Oh very funny,” Jamie cut in, “I mean do you know where it is?”

Half an hour later, after bidding his mum good luck for the evening, Jamie was in the car with his father heading out of the village. They passed the post office then The Blue Boar pub on their left then out on to the country road and the main road. As they passed close to the the point where last week they had seen the remnants of an accident the same thought was going through their minds but both elected not to comment, almost knowing what the other was thinking. The journey there was otherwise totally uneventful. The main road ran straight to within a couple of miles of Wanderer's ground and they were able to park and rendezvous with the other two at the agreed meeting point in plenty of time.

Molly Fitzgerald actually seemed more nervous than anyone on this day. She was looking after the children while their parents were out. Liam had his friend round for a  while in the morning but now as it neared lunch time they were thinking what to do for the afternoon.

“Would you like to go for a walk after lunch?” Molly asked the children. She thought as the weather was fine it might be worth a try! The response was a little muted.

They got lunch out of the way and the children went into the living room. Molly stood in the kitchen and started to wash the dishes. As the warm water bathed her hands she lost the enthusiasm to continue and stood for a moment with her hands in the bowl, thinking. She hadn't been totally honest with David or Jamie and she did feel a little guilty about this but was it really a good idea to tell them everything right now?  Something was bothering her. She thought long and hard about  Mark Sullivan and the night he was killed in the accident. Then she remembered something else. She remembered the newspaper  article she had at home, the one she had kept when others hadn't because they had found it disturbing. - The article that had the title 'Fallen Angel has Premonition of own Death.'  It had been printed by the local press a month or two later after someone had leaked some diary or journal he'd kept. The family felt this had been disrespectful and were hurt by some of the information that appeared in print. The only thing was it was all true, she knew because she had the original journals in her possession. No one had ever asked for them back, and since and it had been Molly herself who led the march to the Newspaper's headquarters to retrieve them back in 1980, she had kept them ever since.

Mark Sullivan had spoken of how he'd felt that throughout his life he knew he was never going to achieve the highest level of performance and that he was there for someone else. His little niece – his 'Little Lady' was mentioned in his journal as being the one who one day would make it to the top, - the one who would one day show the world what he wished he could have been capable of doing.  He also said that he believed everything happens for a reason and if something that was really meant to happen was prevented from doing so for any reason the laws of time would allow events to replay in some way to accommodate it.  Even some family members had thought perhaps he was a bit of a crackpot when they heard this but Molly knew he wasn't. The bit the papers had got hold of and misquoted in many people's eyes were some words Mark wrote about his favourite piece of music:

'When I go to my grave I will take this piece with me to play in heaven so that everyone may hear it's powerful haunting beauty.'

He was talking about Cesar Franck's Prelude, Chorale and Fugue, and because he was on the way to see a performance of it that fateful night the media had interpreted this to be some cryptic premonition of his own death. As Molly moved her hands in circles through the warm dish water she remembered the other clipping she'd kept.

'The Great Alfonso Lamond cancels in respect of critic's Death.'

The crash had happened just two hours before the concert so it couldn't really go ahead, Mark knew the pianist Alfonso Lamond and on hearing the news Lamond was devastated and cancelled immediately. So, you see, she couldn't really dare to tell the family any more of these details at the moment, maybe after Christmas when the dust had settled.

Suddenly on impulse Molly felt concerned, worried . . what was it? What was it in those words she'd remembered? Then suddenly it hit her

'Time would allow events to replay'  There was an accident that night that was still part of events, and Jamie and David were on their way to the football match; - the replay!

“Liam” she called desperately. “Have you got your dad or Jamie's mobile number?”

She looked at the clock, it was just coming up to 1.00pm, they'd still be travelling. Liam came running in with a phone.

“You can ring on mine if you want, I've got credit.” Liam stood and watched slightly puzzled as Molly dried her hands frantically and pressed the call button. There was no answer, it just rang out.

“Probably no signal,” Liam said, “always happens with dad's number. Try Jamie's.”

Molly rang Jamie's mobile and was relieved to hear his voice.

“Jamie, Jamie . . it's auntie Molly, I'm just checking in that you've got there okay.”

“Yeah we're nearly there, everything's fine.” came the reply.

“Good, well when you're safely in the ground can you ring me again please.”

“We probably won't get a signal . . it's breaking up a bit now . . I'll text you the score later.”

“No Jamie, wait, you must ring me -”

“Auntie Molly! . . you're breaking up I can't hear you . . .” Then the signal died altogether. Liam had tried to reassure auntie Molly that mobile signals do often break up especially in vehicles and inside football grounds, but she was still very on edge. Liam couldn't really understand why.

“Come on” said aunt Molly “Let's take that walk.”

The boys had met for lunch and were now heading through the turnstiles. As they moved closer to the stands the noise grew louder. Jamie always loved this part, the anticipation of excitement before a big game. He likened the walk out to their seats when arriving in the ground for the first time to the sun coming out from behind a cloud on a summers' day. The crowd were cheering in more or less equal proportions for Wanderer's and United . A chorus would start with the pale blue and white over one side of the ground to be chewed up and spat out as a different version by the red clad United fans at the other end. Over the loudspeakers Christmas songs were playing. Jamie recognised ''Merry Christmas everyone' and then 'Oh I wish it could be Christmas every day' – one he'd heard playing from the pub when they went for that walk last week.

“You're other half all set for tonight then?” Rob asked of his mate David.

“Just about.” came the reply.

“Suppose you're going straight there after the game.”

“More or less, there might be time to nip into home but we may have to go straight from here to The Grosvenor.” David stated.

The match was minutes away and the crescendo of the crowd started to slowly grow as those nearest to the tunnel could see the imminent arrival of the players on to the pitch. The noise spread around the ground to a roar as the two teams came out. Everything was set for an epic replay.

The match began at a blistering pace. The first ten minutes was end to end before Wanderer's started to get the upper hand. They came close twice near the half hour mark and United were yet to have a serious attempt on goal.

“So far not the classic we'd hoped.” David remarked.

“It's early days yet.” replied Phil “Oh go on . . put him through . .  “ They stood up.

“He can't miss . . . yeeessss!

Suddenly, a deafening roar. Against the run of play their beloved United had taken the lead.

The men gave each other a high five and talked feverishly about how they should now go on and win the game.

“Brilliant if we go in at half time in front” remarked Jamie. Just then his phone vibrated, by the time he got it out of his pocket the signal had gone. It was his brother Liam. Should he ring back? . .

“Naah,” he thought, “It's cool, we'll get cut off and anyway they're only ringing to check we got here.”

United went on to win the game 2 -1. Wanderer's drew level but with ten minutes to go Bradley Burns (Beebee as he was know to the fans), popped up to head home the winner. The men and Jamie were well pleased and were in jovial mood as they left the ground.

Molly, Liam and Annie were walking through the village. The children were showing their aunt Molly the route they took last Saturday night. They had past the post office and the Blue Boar pub and were heading out of the village. They were heading towards where the apparent accident had happened.

“This is where we saw the funny man.” said Annie.

“No, I don't think it was here,” Liam said, “it was further up.”

“No it wasn't.” his little sister argued.

Molly had seen enough, a slight shudder ran down her spine.

“Let's turn back now she said.”

They headed back towards the village green. The sky was deepening in colour, the best of the day had gone and now, the evening, this special evening was nigh. Soon it would be dark, soon concert would be upon them. She felt excited but then, Molly noticed something else; The village church stood a hundred metres or so down the road from the Village green and as she looked she thought how long it was since she'd been inside that church. Then she remembered the time she had been there, when Mark Sullivan played for them.

'He was quite a pianist himself' she thought,'I'm sure that he used to practice on an old piano in that church from time to time. Yes, that's right, he'd come to the village to visit the family and then often slip in there for a quick tinkle on his way back, the church was never locked in those days. That would have been not long before he died.'

“Come on you two” she said “How about another chapter of that lovely Christmas book before tea!”

There was something about that book that gripped Molly. Paula had said the same. It seemed so right to be reading it tonight, it was as if it had already become an important part of the events, but didn't Paula say she'd just been given it this year by someone?

The football fans started their drive home. Rob and Phil said their goodbye's, they were making their own way back. Jamie and his father hit the road shortly after 5.15pm. The night was now dark and the evening was chilly as they started to drive away from the ground towards the main road back to Irminster.

Auntie Molly sat cosily with a child each side of her reading a chapter of the Christmas book all about Santa Claus. She was trying to take her mind off everything and not worry about the others. However hard she tried her mind was never fully on the task. Annie held her hand as she read: 'The story of Santa Claus'. 

“I do like this book”  whispered Annie as her auntie began the chapter in her low clear voice.

“Santa Claus looked into the fire for a moment or two remembering old, old days . . .” began aunt Molly.

A fairly tall gentleman, dark hair, around the forty mark was driving back to Irminster.

The weather was foul, the rain had stopped but now it was turning to freezing fog. At the same time, some miles in front of him a couple of young chaps were leaving the Blue Boar Tavern in the nearby village of Marlston. Over the din of Christmas music that was blaring out from the party at the Tavern they argued about who should drive home.

Back in the house the children listened.

“How kind Santa Claus is to secretly give presents at Christmas. No one ever sees him or knows who he really is but he's always there when you need him making sure Christmas

happens and everybody gets what presents they should do.” commented Annie.

“You do say some funny things.” added Liam, but secretly he knew exactly what his little sister meant. Auntie Molly smiled and put the book down for a moment.

“I'm just going to try Jamie and your father again.” she said going to get the phone.

David and his son Jamie were now on the main road that would take them straight into Irminster. They still had quite a way to go though, David looked at the clock.

“We should do it in time,” he said, “but we can't hang about.”

Jamie pulled his mobile from his pocket.

“I've had another missed call from Liam . .what is wrong with the reception this evening!”

Time was moving fast, he still had a way to go. It was now quite foggy. He turned on the radio, he usually had it on radio 3 but on this cold foggy December night the Longwave band reception was poor so he flicked the channels.

'Do me good to hear something a little lighter for a change' he thought to himself. Christmas hits of the seventies and earlier rattled through the tinny speakers. 'Had he got time to call in to St. Nicholas's for a quick play? It would be invigorating to play some of that piece tonight, - help put him in the mood' he thought to himself as he looked at his watch. He'd found himself popping in there to play quite a few times over the last few weeks. He loved to play, he loved to try and play the piece he was hearing tonight, - at least he could just about manage those opening passages! He wished he could play like the great Alfonso. But, each to his own, we can't all be concert pianists. 'No,' he thought firmly to himself  'My job is to be there, to appreciate and spread the word, and make sure others get to hear it wherever possible.'

He was excited about tonight. With someone in the family showing obvious talent he couldn't help thinking what might be in the future! As the glowing lights of Marlston village started to appear through the fog in the distant foreground off to the west, he struggled to make the decision, but no, there wasn't time to call in tonight!

As father and son headed towards Irminster they were not far from home. Their home village, Marlston, was off to the west in front of them. David was considering going home first but it now looked as if there might not be time, they just couldn't be late. They were both tired, and strangely, perhaps because of this, there had been little conversation between them during the journey in spite of the great excitement of the victory earlier that afternoon.

“It's getting foggy Dad.” remarked Jamie now slightly worried.

“Yeah.” said his Dad flicking on the radio in an effort to change the mood.

Suddenly the street lights started to flicker and some of them went out.

“Damn!” David checked he had his fog lights on and put his headlight beams on full. Almost as soon as he did so he was flashed by an oncoming driver who clearly didn't appreciate it. Jamie suddenly felt a tingle in his pocket, he thought his mobile was vibrating, desperately he tried to get it out. As he did so his hand felt something else, something smooth and shiny, it was the photo he'd taken from his brother of the stranger, - the stranger they'd seen not far from here! His phone wasn't ringing at all! Jamie gazed at his Dad and let out a gasp, because for a moment in the flickering light his father suddenly looked different!

Aunt Molly had decided she must continue with the Christmas story. She'd just manage to perhaps finish the chapter if she was lucky. It was a very well written story, the whole book seemed to contain so many relevancies. She read on;

“How queer old customs are, with their histories reaching so far back into the past,' said Susan. 'Our life isn't all in the present, is it, Santa Claus? It is made up of thousands of bits of the past, old things that happened, old names, old habits. The past and present and future all belong to one another'.”  Auntie Molly stopped in her tracks and looked up, her senses sharpened as if she'd just heard a pin drop miles away and it was really important!

“Carry on.” urged Liam.

Molly looked down at the page and read some more:

“ 'Of course.' said Santa Claus. 'And we ought to live in them all, not just thoughtlessly in the present. We ought to know our past, and we ought to plan for our future. Then the present would always be worth living.' ”

Molly closed the book suddenly. Annie gripped her free hand tightly.

“What's the matter Auntie Molly?” asked Annie, rather surprised and shocked at the elderly Lady's reaction.

“Come quickly. Liam, you and Annie get your coats on. Give me your mobile again please, quickly.” There was panic in her voice.

“What's going on, is everything all right?” Liam knew it wasn't – something was happening  . . something his auntie had perhaps just worked out.

“Just get your coats on and be ready . . we must be ready.” shouted aunt Mollie frantically dialing the number again on the mobile.

Jamie's panic subsided as his father turned and spoke to him. Everything seemed normal again!

“I'm struggling here son, what do you reckon?”

“What?”

“I mean it would have been nice to pop home but we haven't time. . Can you ring your a auntie and tell her we're going straight there.”

“And now with his latest offering . .”  came an enthusiastic voice over the radio. It was followed by a bouncy synthesized keyboard intro beat.

“Okay, what's up with the Radio . . sounds crap!” exclaimed Jamie as he took his mobile from his pocket.

'The mood is right . . the spirit's up . .' began the voice.

“Ahh! 'Wonderful Christmastime', Paul McCartney, 1979, I like this one.” David remarked.

Jamie got up Liam's number and pressed call, but all he got was the engaged tone.

“I'll try again, it's engaged.” he said. Just then the phone rang back, he could hear it was auntie Molly speaking but couldn't make out what she was saying, the signal died almost immediately. It rang again:

“What?” asked Jamie, he could hear panic in the old Lady's voice “You want us home . .?” . . again the signal died.

“What's the problem?”

“Something's up, she wants us home I think.”

“Damn!” said his Dad “We really haven't time.”

The turning for Marlston was now just yards away. The fog was slowing them anyway then suddenly they hit a patch of heavy fog and David had to slow sharply to avoid hitting the car in front.

“Goodness!” he shrieked as the lights flickered, and as he turned to look across his son yelled out;

“Dad!” His father looked different, his face was different. Jamie's heart raced and he yelled out again;

“Dad!”                                                                                                                                                      

“Okay . .” his father now seemed recognisable again!  “But we'll have to be quick.” He took the turning for Marlston village. David looked across at his eldest son who seemed to be in a bit of a shocked state.

“You okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost!” he said.

The music filtered through the radio speakers:

'A Wonderful Christmastime' the man thought, listening to the words of the song playing on the radio. 'Let's hope everyone can simply have a wonderful Christmas time' he said to himself. Once he had heard the great man play tonight his Christmas would be well on the way to seeming complete. There wasn't really much else that mattered that he had to do, he could relax and spend the days visiting family, - Molly and Roger's for Christmas lunch, - he looked forward to that.

Suddenly the visibility dropped dramatically. Freezing fog had built up rapidly reducing the distance a driver could see to just a few yards. For a second his mind went blank, then, in an instant he realised he only had a second!

The screeching sound was in front of him, right in front of him. He briefly saw two panic-stricken faces looking at him before a deafening clashing of metal and glass. In that split second he knew, he knew this was it, - before time. It should never have happened.

The ambulance paramedics were working furiously while firemen tried to extract the surrounding mangled metal. A few yards away a policeman was leading a young man away from a front-end crumpled car, crying.

Eventually the paramedics got to him, still just barely alive, he could hear it all around him but the others couldn't. He remembered where he was and still as he lay dying, he could hear it in his head. He spoke:

“One day . . . it will happen . . happen again, . . and I must be there. . . I'll be there for the replay.”

Then his eyes fell shut.

As they drove back through the village the fog started to lift. They could make out three figures running towards them. Jamie peered out of the window through the fog.

“It's auntie Molly, Liam and Annie.” he shrieked rather surprised.

David stopped the car, they were now at the edge of the green level with Marlston church still a little way from home. He climbed out of the car to greet them.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Molly ran up to David and flung her arms around him.

“Thank goodness, oh thank goodness you're safe, I was so worried.”  

“Hey . .what's this? . . we're fine. The fog was a bit dicey but we're safely here now.”

David gave his little daughter a hug and the five of them stood, relieved and silent for a moment in the cold night air.

“Listen to that.” Molly could now hear something, something that she almost expected to hear. She gazed towards the little church of St. Nicholas a few yards down the lane. One by one the others followed her gaze and gradually they could all hear it. It sounded so close, so fine, so haunting.

“Is that mum?” Annie asked.

“It's not your mum,” auntie Molly smiled placing her hand on the little girl's shoulder,“but your mummy will be very proud and pleased with the man who is playing.”

For a few seconds no one spoke, they were spellbound to listen. It was coming from the church and yet it seemed as if it was all around them. Suddenly David remembered where they were.

“We have to go.” he said urgently, seeming to instantly forget what had just happened.

“We're ready,” smiled Molly, “all locked up and ready to go.”

“You mean, . you're coming with us?” David seemed surprised, he hadn't realised Molly wanted to come.

“We have to come, no time to waste now let's get in the car. I couldn't miss this for the world, not now.”

The five climbed into the car.

*****

It was everything that it was meant to be. Paula was able to see her children briefly before taking to the stage,  Annie thought she looked stunning. From the moment her family took their seats there wasn't any doubt in Paula's mind that tonight was going to be special, - the night of her life!

Silence fell over the concert hall as Paula took her seat at the grand piano. It was almost a ghostly hush, as if someone very important was about to speak. Something very special was about to happen.  And, from the moment Paula Patterson delivered those soft mournfully haunting opening phrases the whole audience knew that something wonderfully important was taking place right there in front of them. It was as if she was playing to the whole world that night, it was that important.

Christmas Day 

Christmas day seemed to come so quickly once the night of the concert was past. Auntie Molly had decided to stay with the family. It had been a particularly special Christmas for all of them. Paula had become something of a celebrity, her performance was already receiving high critical acclaim amongst  the local, and national music fraternity.

The children had opened their presents and were happily occupied for the first half of the morning. The family attended the village church of St. Nicholas and it was as they were leaving the 11.00am Christmas service that The Reverend Sanders spoke to her stimulating Paula into thinking back over events before the concert. She had been so focused that she had put to the depths of her mind that something outside of their control, outside the realms of normality had happened. She knew it, and she knew that David knew it too, and yet, strangely, they hadn't really spoken any more on the subject. What The Reverend said to her was just how he'd wished he'd been able to come to the concert the other night and how there was such a buzz around; - everyone was talking about it. He went on to say that the most extraordinary thing happened to him, - he felt sure he'd heard the very same piece playing when he was leaving the church at about the same time Paula was performing. It was if it was being performed for him, in his church specially! Of course, he went on to say, it couldn't be played in his church . . there wasn't a piano!

Once they were home and preparations for Christmas dinner were in their final stages Molly walked into the kitchen with a tray of Sherry.

“I thought we could all use one of these.” she announced, handing David and Paula a glass each.

“Oooh, I think so, that's the spirit Molly.”

They raised their glasses:

“To a simply wonderful Christmas time!” said David and three glasses clanked up high.

“You know,” began Molly, “it really has been wonderful.” She paused, putting down her glass. “There's something I need to tell you both, it's time for me to perhaps fill in some of the blanks.” Molly looked from one to another seeking their approval before continuing.

“There's been someone else here with us hasn't there.” said Paula. David looked up but he was not surprised to hear his wife utter these words. Molly smiled gently.

“Firstly, I told you a little white lie.” Molly began. She called Jamie, she needed to entice him away from his computer, the new FIFA game  received as a gift that morning would have to wait, there was something more important at hand. “Do you have that photograph dear?” she asked him quietly. “It's all right, your Mum and Dad are fine with this now.”

Jamie showed them the photograph.

“This is Mark Sullivan, your Uncle Mark” she looked at Paula.

“Yes,” she gasped,  “ I remember him now, I was very small . .  but I do remember him . . . playing the piano!”

“I'm sorry I didn't admit this to you the other day,” Molly was speaking to a bewildered Jamie, “it was just all just a bit too much.”

David stared out of the window.

“He's been here with us the last week hasn't he? It's him we saw last Saturday!”

“What you saw, what you experienced is what Mark wanted; - needed you to see,” continued Molly, “you see, Mark was killed in an accident on 22nd December 1979 on his way to hearing The great Alfonso Lamond perform Prelude, Chorale and Fugue, by Cesar Franck. Paula was shocked. She hadn't known this.“Of course, it was such a bad accident, the road was closed, the performance was cancelled and Christmas was ruined for many of us. It all turned a bit bitter when certain things came out in the papers a few weeks later. That's mainly why it's been  a taboo subject over the years. But, you see, I know the real truth, and you must hear it.”

So Mollie Fitzgerald continued to explain to them all about Mark; Mark – 'The Angel', as he was known, and why the event of this week was so significant and how he knew one day his prophecy would be full filled. When the moment came he would be there to make sure things happened as they should, - as they must.

“So you see my dear.” she said to David “He was protecting you, guiding you away from danger. He said he'd be there but by being there he could have caused the accident to reoccur, - who knows.”

“In the car,” Jamie blurted out “In the car the music sounded strange and, Dad, you . . you-”

“- He gave you glimpses of the past when you needed them.” smiled Molly, interrupting Jamie before he could bring himself to say any more.

For a moment or two nobody spoke. A calmness descended and all four felt that now in some way their Christmas was complete. They had been saved by the spirit of Christmas, by an Angel watching over them.

“How did you know? I mean how did you realise that I was in danger?” asked David of Molly. She smiled at Paula,

“It was the book, the Christmas book. The words I was reading seemed so relevant to us right now and what might be connecting a past Christmas with this one. It said, we have to learn from the past. Besides, you are very like him in some ways and you have taken on his mantle, you are the one here on earth supporting Paula now.”

“The book that Ian gave me!” murmured Paula, realising how a simple action by her colleague at the end of term was probably, just simply, always meant to be.”

“So it's like sort of fate what's happened, - like everything was destined to be.” remarked Jamie.

“Not fate,” said his mother  “ . . but faith. We have to have faith. We have to believe in what we do, I'm sure that's why I can do what I do. You see, I think Mark Sullivan has been near me in some way all my life, I've always believed, no, felt, some other guiding force there in my music and in this piece especially. Now I know why.”

“Come on, It's Christmas.” beamed Molly deciding it was time to change the mood. “Let's go and enjoy.”

The afternoon moved on. Just before tea time there came a knock on the Patterson's door;

“That'll be Mum and Dad” called Paula. They had been at the concert but hadn't seen the family since. They'd made the short journey across town late on Christmas afternoon to bring the presents, . . and one special surprise present in particular.

“Hi, Merry Christmas”

The family greeted each other and the Grandparents were inundated with requests from the children to see their latest and greatest toys etc. Once the presents were handed out Sue, Paula's mum turned to her daughter;

“We have a special present for you dear, - hot off the press!” She handed her daughter a small hard rectangular package. Even before she had the wrapping paper off she'd guessed what it was . . a DVD of the concert.

“Oooh! . .  how have you got this so quickly? It's wonderful!” Paula was thrilled, no one had ever bothered recording her before.

“Your uncle Barry was there with all his gear recording it all, he's edited it and everything so you could have it today.”

Paula was speechless.

“Well go on then.” said her father “Put it on, I want to see a bit of Irminster's latest star in action.”

David switched on the DVD player and inserted the disc his wife handed him.

“He's done an excellent job with all the credits and graphics at the start , - really professional.” commented Sue.

They all watched the screen as Paula took to the stage, a deathly hush again fell as they listened with expectancy for those opening phrases. David smiled at his wife. He was so proud.

“There's us.” pointed Molly as the camera panned the front row.

“ . . And that's Ian from work at the back there . . he said he'd try and make it” Paula added.

“The Henderson's are there, just like they said,” commented David, “your playing was just so marvellous darling.” he added.

“And . . who's that?” Paula went closer to the screen to get a better look. The room fell suddenly quiet. Only the sound of the music could be heard as the family stared at the screen, for sitting on the end of the second row was someone else, .  . someone they now recognised . .

. . Aunt Molly smiled:

“He said it himself all those years ago, no matter what . . I'll be there for the replay.”

###

About The Author 

Tom Goymour is an author of short stories aswell as an exponent of many other art forms.

A rich life with a large family has given him many powerful experiences from which to draw inspiration. He came to writing relatively late in life after having spent many years exploring other art forms such as writing music for the piano and painting fine art. However, it is as awriter of short fiction, always with the strong message that he now pursues as a second career. Empowered to write by his many and sometimes strange life experiences, his stories nearly always contain a 'twist' or a strong moral message to make the reader think. If you enjoyed reading this story you can find out more by visiting his website:

http://www.tomgoymour.com 