Fiction Serial: A Truly Magical Christmas (Part 1)
WRITTEN BY DELLA GALTON
We’ve picked out some of our favourite Christmas fiction serials from the archive to share with you. This is the first one, a really warm-hearted Christmas tale. We’ll publish the remaining 3 parts, one a week, every Wednesday
A few seconds ago it had been chaos in the village hall, but now it was dark, save for a single spotlight over the stage. Katie Willis glanced at the rows of children, sitting on the low benches in front of her. She loved this bit, the hushed expectation, the calm before the storm. First impressions and timing were everything and Jimmy was a master at his craft.
The spotlight grew brighter, then came the drum roll getting louder… louder…. LOUDER… and Jimmy Juggle exploded into the light in a cacophony of colour and juggling balls and noise. For the first ten seconds he filled the stage. His talent was dazzling. Balls flicked upwards, sideways, downwards with impossible speed.
His scarlet hair and vibrant clown’s outfit were a whirligig of colour, seeming to spin this way and that, and all the while his clown’s mouth smiled and his eyes sparkled with humour.
Then he dropped a ball.
Then another, then another, then another, all of them in perfect timing with the music. But something curious was happening. The balls weren’t just rolling across the wooden stage; they were disappearing. Vanishing into thin air and each time it happened Jimmy gave a wail of dismay. His face grew sadder and sadder and as the last ball, a glittering golden orb, vanished, he arrived at the front of the stage.
“Oh… hello, children.” He put his hands on his hips and bent low to peer out into the audience. “How long have you all been sitting there?”
Katie smiled. The show had begun. Every child was engaged. She glanced at the mother of the child whose party it was. She was smiling, too. That was a relief. Jimmy had very nearly cancelled this booking.
“There’s absolutely no need,” Katie had assured him on the phone a couple of days earlier. “I’ll come down. I can be your driver.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” he’d said, trying, not very successfully, to disguise the hope in his voice. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve.
“You didn’t, honey. I’m offering.”
“But what about Marcus?”
Marcus can manage without me for a couple of weeks. He’ll be winding down for Christmas anyway.
And so it had been arranged. Although Marcus hadn’t been as enthusiastic about the plan as she had, it had to be said.
“Can’t he get a taxi to his bookings?”
“No. There’s quite a bit of equipment to lug about, which would be tricky for him, and it would cost a fortune.”
“Well, it’s not exactly going to be cheap for you to drive down there,” Marcus had flicked an impatient hand through his white blond hair and blinked. “And you’ll have to take time off.”
“I’m between jobs,” she reminded him. “Don’t worry about your correspondence. I can do it from Dorset just as easily as I can do it from Bristol.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” She had dropped a kiss on to his slightly disgruntled lips. “But he’s my brother, Marcus and he needs me. I have to go.”
Marcus was obviously missing her quite a lot, Katie thought, with a surge of affection. When she checked her phone during the interval, she saw that he had sent her another three texts.
Later that evening, sitting on the sofa in the cosy sitting room cum dining room, which was lit by the warmth of the wood-burning stove, Katie glanced at her brother’s face. Stripped of his clown make-up, he looked a little pale.
“Are you all right? Are you in pain?” “Nah – course not. I’m as tough as old boots, me.” He winked at her. “If it wasn’t for the insurance, I’d be driving myself.”
She knew this was true. The hospital had agreed to put the kind of plaster on his foot that meant he could still walk. He could even still do his show – the plaster was hidden beneath baggy clown’s trousers – and only the most perceptive of observers would have spotted that he wasn’t quite as nimble on his feet as usual. But driving was a no-no.
“I don’t want you to overdo it,” she murmured. “You need to heal.”
“I won’t overdo it, Sis.” His eyes softened in the firelight. “I really, really appreciate you being here. Have I mentioned that to you?”
“Several times,” she said, batting him on the arm. She glanced around the little room. So far the only concession to Christmas was the row of cards on the mantlepiece and a rather battered looking felt robin beside the clock – she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure it hadn’t been there since last year. “Are you going to put any decorations up?”
“Sure. I’ll get the tree out of the loft.”
“I can do that.” It was falling off a stepladder that had messed up his ankle in the first place. She rose to her feet.
“Tomorrow will be fine,” Jimmy assured her. “Don’t do it now.” Clearly Christmas wasn’t very high on his list of priorities. “How’s Marcus coping without you?” he added.
“Marcus is great.” This wasn’t exactly true. Marcus had in fact been quite grumbly when she’d spoken to him earlier. There was a Christmas party he wanted her to go to, but it clashed with one of Jimmy’s bookings.
“Surely he can spare you for one Saturday?”
“You know he can’t. That’s why I’m here. Saturdays are his busiest time.”
This is really important to me, Katie. It’s a big client and he wants to meet you.
This was the first she’d heard of it.
“What time is it?” she’d said, wondering whether there was any way she could manage to do both. It turned out there wasn’t – and her boyfriend had not been happy.
She forced her mind away from Marcus, aware that her brother’s gaze was on her. The last thing he needed was any more stress.
Before he could question her further she said, “So what’s on for next week? Have you got any days off?”
“Monday and Wednesday. But on Wednesday evening I’ve got an appointment in Crichton, with a man who wants to talk to me about his daughter’s birthday party.
“He booked it a while back. But he’s a bit of a pain. He keeps moving the goalposts. So I’ve arranged to go over and see him.”
A bit of a pain was a bit of an understatement, Katie thought on Wednesday evening.
Aiden Baker was a nightmare. Critical, controlling and picky in the extreme, he had done nothing but change his mind back and forth since they’d arrived – which had been an hour ago now.
She should have been alerted to the fact that he wasn’t your average kind of guy by the lights, Katie thought. She was all for a bit of festive cheer, but you could have spotted the Bakers’ house from space.
There were red, gold and blue lights on every available outside surface, the guttering dripped with silver icicles and there was a full-sized Father Christmas Sleigh plus six reindeer on the roof. To get to the front door they’d had to weave their way between three blue fir trees and a glittering silver snowman.
Now they were sitting at Aiden’s kitchen table. Jimmy had a notebook which was full of crossings-out. The venue, the number of guests, the timings – all had been changed more than once.
Katie had no idea how her brother could be so patient. Maybe that’s why he’d escaped to the bathroom. In fact, right at this moment, he was probably gritting his teeth, and trying to resist the temptation to throw himself out of the window.
Aiden had been silent since he’d gone. Clearly he was only prepared to deal with the organ grinder, and not the organ grinder’s monkey. Nevertheless, Katie decided it couldn’t hurt to make polite conversation.
“I bet Holly’s really looking forward to her birthday,” she said, giving him a cheery smile.
He returned her gaze, stony-faced.
There was an awkward pause.
I don’t know. It’ll be the first one since her mother passed away.
On the word “away” his voice broke a little, and Katie felt a surge of compassion for him and his daughter.
“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry. Yes, that must be very difficult.”
“It is. We lost her eight months ago.” Another pause. “I’ve never had to arrange a party before.” He bit his lip. “I want to get it right. I really do.”
For the first time, Katie could hear what lay beneath his desire to control everything. She could see the terrible insecurity in his eyes. The fear that he was going to make a mistake. No wonder the poor bloke was finding it hard to make a decision.
“You will get it right,” she blurted out before she had time to censor the words or really think through what she was saying. “You’ll get it right because you love her. And you’re her dad. And she’ll know you’re doing your best for her…”
“Do you really think so?” There was a wary hopefulness in his voice.
“I do, honey, yes. And my brother’s brilliant. The best in the business. Kids love him. They all love him. I’m sure if you leave the details up to him, it’ll be a superb party.” Impulsively she reached across and touched his arm and received a tentative smile in return.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “In fact, it’ll be a huge relief. Thank you.”
Ten minutes later they were out of the house and driving back along the winding coast road to Jimmy’s.
“What on earth did you say to him?” Jimmy asked her. “I couldn’t believe it when he told me he was totally happy to trust me with it all.”
Katie told him. “He looked so relieved it was humbling,” she added.
The poor guy. What a horrible situation for him.
Jimmy nodded. “Yes. You never can tell, can you? It explains the lights too,” he added after a moment’s pause.
“It does?” She glanced at him in the heated warmth of the car.
“Yeah – he probably thinks more is better. If he makes the display super-sparkly and super-big, she’ll undoubtedly think it’s way more Christmassy.
“It’s a man thing,” he added. “If a few lights are good, then more have got to be super good.”
“I see,” Katie said.
Over the next couple of days she wondered, a little wryly, if the same thing applied to relationships. Since she’d been at Jimmy’s – just over a week – she had received about fifty texts and/or emails from Marcus. Granted, there were a few that said things like Sweet Dreams and Sending a big hug. But mostly they said things like, I don’t suppose you could email me the phone number of Higglebury’s Wholesalers could you? (Marcus ran a PR agency) or Is there any chance you could type me a letter to Ellis Peterson?
They’d talked on the phone too, but even then their conversation centred more around his work and the input she had into it than anything personal.
He hadn’t said anything else about her missing the “Important Party” which was this coming Saturday. Perhaps he’d decided not to go after all. He’d been so adamant that it wouldn’t be worth it unless she went with him.
She felt a little guilty about that. But it couldn’t be helped. Jimmy actually had three parties this Saturday. One at ten, one at two and one at six. By the time they were driving to the last party Katie could see he was flagging a bit.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” she said as they drew up outside the destination, a vanilla cottage on the outskirts of town. “I’m feeling a bit Christmas crackered out, myself.”
“I’m fine, Sis.” He gestured towards the house. “I’m not doing the full show – as you can see. There’s no stage. Just some fancy juggling and a couple of magic tricks in the back room. Not too much leaping around. It’s easy-peasy. I don’t suppose you want to be sawn in half, do you? I’ve got my box.”
“No, I don’t.” She frowned at him. “I like being in one piece. You’ve been here before, then?” she added as they started to unload.
“I have yes. Third time this year actually. Mrs C is a good customer. I do her my ‘favoured clients’ rate.” He grinned. “Partly because she makes such delicious cake.”
Mrs C was a surprise. Perhaps because of the mention of cake, Katie had expected someone matronly or at least a bit older than they were – she and Jimmy were thirty-four and thirty-seven respectively – but Mrs C was a brunette, beautifully dressed, very slender, and didn’t look a day over thirty.
The front door opened before they had the chance to ring the bell and Mrs C stood smiling at them. “It’s lovely to see you again, Jimmy.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Do you need a hand with anything?” Suddenly she spotted Katie.
Oh hello – sorry. I didn’t realise Jimmy had company.
After that, she seemed more reserved, Katie thought, sensing a very slight atmosphere. There was clearly more going on here than first met the eye.
She followed Jimmy through a hall that smelled of warm mince pies, cinnamon and cloves and her mouth watered. Their snatched lunchtime sandwich seemed a long time ago.
What a lovely place, she thought, taking in the beams and a window seat. Passing the kitchen, she glimpsed an oak breakfast bar and a range oven.
Illustration: Mandy Dixon
The hall opened up into a lounge which was deceptively large and wonderfully Christmassy. A fir tree, strung with a cacophony of coloured baubles and tinsel stood in one corner. Presents were piled high beneath it. Home made paper chains hung haphazardly over doorways, snow
globes and Christmas cards jostled for space on every flat surface.
Katie saw the furniture had been pushed back to allow a big enough area for Jimmy to perform.
“This is an extension,” Mrs C said, obviously sensing her surprise. “I loved the place so much I didn’t want to move. So I had them build on. Great, isn’t it?”
“Yes it’s gorgeous.” Katie turned to see that their host was smiling at her.
“Can I offer you coffee and a mince pie or maybe a glass of mulled wine? Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly,” She offered a delicately pretty hand, which Katie somehow expected to be manicured beautifully, but wasn’t.
“I’m Lindsey Campbell. Mother of Dean and William.” She rolled her eyes as there was a thunder of boys somewhere above their heads.
“I’m Katie Willis. Jimmy’s sister.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Lindsey’s eyes warmed up several shades, although it wasn’t until the interval of Jimmy’s show that Katie realised the significance of this.
“Your brother is amazingly talented,” Lindsey said, as Katie helped her unwrap plates of party food that were on the breakfast bar. “Lovely, too.”
And you really like him, Katie thought, seeing the wistfulness in her eyes
“He is,” she agreed, wondering if Jimmy had noticed. Probably not. He had no idea how attractive he was.
“Is there a Mr Campbell?” Katie enquired idly.
Lindsey shook her head. “We were divorced a couple of years back. It was messy. I haven’t dared dip my toe back in the water since.” She paused. “Is there a Mr Willis?”
Katie shook her head.
I have a partner. But I don’t think he’s the marrying kind.
It was strange how women could launch into such intimate details about their lives, she thought, when they hardly knew each other. Yet there was something about Lindsey that she really liked. She was like her house – warm, and a little bit chaotic, but authentic.
It was a surprise to find out she was a life coach. “I’m much better at sorting out other people’s lives than my own,” she told Katie with a wry smile.
“Aren’t we all.” Katie returned it.
“I like Mrs C,” Katie told Jimmy later that night when she was making them both a mug of hot chocolate before bed. “Do you?”
“Yeah – she’s a really good customer.” He yawned expansively.
I mean, do you ‘like like’ her?
“She’s quite cute. Why?”
Was it just brothers or were all men this dim? She shook her head. She could follow that up another time. At least she’d planted the seed about Lindsey. “I thought I might go and see her actually.”
She fingered the business card in her pocket. “On a professional basis.”
“You?” Jimmy turned from the sink where he was still scrubbing off the last vestiges of his clown make-up. “I thought you had the perfect life. Job you like. Nice fellow. And you love city life.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as loving it,” Katie said thoughtfully. “It was just where I got a job. Which ended three weeks ago. Remember?”
His eyes were curious.
But you and Marcus are OK, aren’t you?
“I thought we were,” she said, feeling the emotions churning in her stomach.
She had thought Marcus really cared about her – perhaps even loved her – she’d thought they were working towards some kind of shared future. But being away from him for a week had given her a lot of perspective. She was beginning to think he missed her for her PA skills more than her company.
She glanced at her phone. He’d been curiously quiet tonight. She wondered if he’d gone to the party without her. It was an odd feeling, realising that she didn’t mind if he had. And hot on the heels of that realisation came another.
“I don’t think he’s the marrying kind.” She had said it to Lindsey earlier. But she hadn’t known it in her heart until now. Six months ago when she moved into his house – it seemed pointless keeping two places – they’d talked about their future. Not in a down-on-one-knee kind of way – that wasn’t his style, but they’d talked about being together long term. It was rather shocking to realise that she wanted that less than she had back then, not more. She liked Marcus. She liked him a lot. But she was no longer sure that she loved him…
