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progressing, and the probable date on which the new owner would be
moving into the house.
The interior work was finished first because the bad weather made it
impossible to do the outside of the house. A constant stream of workmen
came and went: plumbers, electricians, plasterers, painters. Matt was
apparently sparing no expense.
Christmas was cold that year. There was a promise of snow on Christmas
Eve, but somehow it held off, although the leaden sky sagged like a feather
bolster over the town and the wind had that bitter nip to it which usually
presages snow. The streets were bright with Christmas lights. Outside the
church a pine tree was strung with brightly coloured electric bulbs which
flashed on and off all night. The shops were crowded. Window displays of
toys attracted little knots of excited children. The greengrocers were
suddenly redolent of pine and fresh green branches from holly trees, the
spicy tang of oranges and the crisp coldness of apples.As Lisa shopped at the
last moment for a few forgotten little things, the local brass band were
playing Christmas carols outside the church and the people moved briskly,
smiling with that special brightness which magically transforms faces at
Christmas.
Walking home, she made a resolution to make this the happiest Christmas
ever. She would not once think of Matt Wolfe during the whole holiday. She
would be gay and busy, sinking herself in the fun of the season.
'Even if it kills me,' she said aloud, laughing at herself. A neighbour stared in
curious amusement, and Lisa grinned at her. 'Good morning! Merry
Christmas,' she called across the road, and was given the greeting back.
Her arms full of little parcels, she struggled into the kitchen and sank into a
chair. There was so much to do before tomorrow! She liked to get as much
of the cooking done on Christmas Eve as she possibly could so that she
could enjoy Christmas Day without all the worry of work on her mind. This
year Fran had volunteered to help if she could get away, but of course
Christmas was as busy a time on the local newspaper as it was at home.
There were the usual Christmas stories to pursue and fewer staff to follow
them up.
Looking round the kitchen, Lisa sighed and smiled. Although there was so
much more work, Christmas brought its own compensation. It was all
worthwhile, in the end. For those few days the world seemed to vanish and
home seemed an oasis of joy and peace.
CHAPTER NINE
CHRISTMAS DAY was bright and cold. The sun had struggled through the
clouds which still hung up there, threatening snow, but the wind was keen as
it blew down the narrow, winding streets of the old town and tossed the
branches of bare, black trees in the gardens.
After a late breakfast they exchanged their gifts, exclaiming and admiring as
they unwrapped perfumes, socks, scarves, books, and all the many personal
little items each had chosen. Lisa had bought Timmy a tiny pocket transistor
so that he could listen to the radio as he did his paper round in the morning. It
had an ear plug attachment so that no one else would be disturbed by the
blare of pop music at an unearthly hour. Timmy was enchanted and lapsed
into sleepwalking obsession, his ear permanently blocked.
'He'll be deaf by the time he's thirty,' disapproved Doctor Baynard.
Lisa kissed the top of his head. 'All his friends have them, Dad. Timmy
wants to be in the swim.'
'You spoil him,' her father grunted, then a smile broke on his face. 'You spoil
us all. Thanks for the book, Lisa. I was longing to read it, but the library
edition is booked up for months in advance.'
'I saw you mooning over the reviews,' she teased.
'Now you can soak yourself in your favourite subject all Christmas.'
After church they walked back to the house, their cheeks glowing with the
wind, exchanging seasonal greetings with everyone they passed. Saintpel
was a small place. Everyone knew the doctor's family. They had a special
position in local life. It made Lisa feel suddenly happy to be alive, warmed
by the warm friendliness of Saintpel.
Lunch was served later than usual, as it was every Christmas, but just in time
to sit down with coffee afterwards and listen to the Queen's speech. The
sitting-room dripped with gay tinsel and was festooned with swags of
red-ribboned holly and ivy, coloured paper chains and frilly Christmas bells. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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