A Christmas Wish by Erin Green (5)

Flora

Above the doorway of The Peacock public house the aged painting, in cobalt and emerald, swings back and forth. The leaded windows and Tudor fascia are confirmed as authentic in daylight.

I gingerly push the frosted glass door as the church clock strikes eleven.

Surely it wouldn’t be open at this time on Christmas day?

A door chime announces my entrance. The door swings freely revealing a welcoming sight of aged wooden beams, soft amber lighting and a real fire in the grate. Thick garlands of holly and gold baubles decorate a large lopsided Christmas tree standing beside the jukebox.

‘Come in, lovey, Merry Christmas to ya,’ beckons the plump woman lifting the hinged bar top and scurrying through the gap. ‘They phoned to say you were on your way.’

I must look a right sight coming in from the snow, with my tartan blanket slung over my party frock, strappy heels and a silver clutch bag.

‘Merry Christmas to you too. I’m after a room for a few nights,’ I explain, as her chubby hand touches my forearm and guides me through the empty bar towards a back staircase positioned at the near end of the bar.

‘They mentioned that too,’ she laughs. ‘I’m Annie by the way… and you’re Flora?’

I smile and breathe. I like her motherly manner; her dyed mahogany hair reminds me of a friendly dinner lady from primary school.

‘I understand your car is parked opposite the church?’

‘The police mentioned so much in one call,’ I murmur.

‘The locals, even the police, don’t hold back around these parts, lovey. It’s free parking so you won’t get clamped. The room’s thirty pounds a night which includes your breakfast… I don’t charge much as we haven’t the facilities of a posh hotel but it’s clean and comfy. Anything you need, just ask.’

Within minutes I am guided up the staircase and settled into room five, a decent sized double with painted woodchip, Artex swirls covering the ceiling and a tufted bedspread. I push the aged voile aside and peer through the window overlooking the cobbled square, the church and St Bede’s Mews.

Who’d have thought I’d injure a copper just across the way? Similarly, who’d have thought of leaving a newborn a few extra steps further along?

‘Have a quick cat-lick and there’ll be a fresh brew waiting for you downstairs… I hear police tea only just fits the bill as wet and warm, but hey, so does bath water,’ laughs Annie, placing my room key on the dresser and closing the door.

What the hell have I done? This time yesterday I’d have predicted a hangover for this time today, but instead I’ve got myself a police record, a mug shot, and crossed a night in a police cell off my bucket list.

‘Flora, you naughty girl,’ I mutter, flopping onto the bed.

It’s a good job the injured copper confirmed we clashed heads by accident; that and my Baby Bede status, otherwise they’d have pressed charges for assault. I didn’t much fancy a court appearance on Boxing Day.

I need to contact Lisa and Steph. With my parents away enjoying themselves, they needn’t be told, it would only ruin their cruise.

I grab my mobile from my clutch bag; seven missed calls and numerous text messages from the girls. I don’t want to explain, but now I’ve decided to stay for a few days I’d best let them know. My fingers dance on the keypad sending a brief text.

I quickly press send as a wave of guilt flows from my innards.

My text to Mum and Dad needs careful consideration – how do I explain what I’ve done without worrying them silly? That text can wait. It’s not that I’m keeping secrets from them but they don’t need to know, just yet. They won’t truly understand, will they? It’s my issue… although its lingered deep within for years.

So, I might as well take advantage of my no job, no bloke and no home status and have a scout around while I’m here. I’d just left school the last time I had this low level of responsibility in life.

I look around room five: neat, tidy and spacious. Though at thirty pounds a night, can I afford to stay?

‘Not bad for a place at the inn,’ I chuckle. I probably won’t be smiling when my bank account enters the red or when my credit card hits the maximum.

I collect my mobile knowing their responses will be instant – it’ll give me something to fill the time if I begin to feel awkward seated alone in the pub. I could even text my parents if a decent explanation comes to mind.

After a quick once over in the mirror, I wipe a wet finger around my gums and tame my auburn hair with a quick ruffle, despite a desperate need for a change of clothes, I’m ready for a brew.

*

I bounce down the staircase, to find a tray of tea paraphernalia awaiting my arrival on the bar and Annie stacking the shelves with clean glasses from a wire rack.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi, lovey, help yourself,’ she points to the tea tray, ‘though mind the teapots, they dribble somewhat so don’t burn yourself. I won’t join you – I need to restock before midday.’

I clamber onto the nearest bar stool and pour my tea amidst a backdrop of tinkering noises.

‘Have you lived here long?’ I ask, stirring my cup, looking over the bar at her busy frame.

‘I was born and bred in this here pub,’ she says, looking round as she speaks and standing up to grab a tea towel. ‘I learnt to pull a pint before I could see over this counter top.’

‘You know everyone who lives here then?’

She smiles and nods, wiping down the wooden bar a short distance from my tea tray.

‘Every man and their dog…’ Annie stops working and faces me.

‘You already know why I’m here, don’t you?’

‘I told you, the locals don’t hold back. You’re the babe that was found over there…’ she nods in the direction of the door but I know she means St Bede’s Mews. ‘You’ll see how nosey the villagers are come midday!’

‘Surely not,’ I scoff. ‘It’s only just gone half eleven, how could anyone know I’m even here?’

‘Mark my words I’m in for a busy lunchtime, Christmas day or not,’ she chuckles and continues to work. ‘Is that why you’ve come back?’

‘It was a spur of the moment thing,’ I say, between sips.

‘A moment of madness, hey?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Don’t worry, I see plenty of those working in here,’ she sweeps her hand over the empty bar. ‘You’ll be surprised what takes our fancy in an instant only to be regretted hours later.’

I sip my tea watching Annie polish each pint lever and lay out the towelling beer mats at intervals along its length.

My phone vibrates indicating a text.

I instantly snatch it open and view Julian’s name.

Knob head.

I delete his message and close the phone. I have no choice. If I don’t I’ll probably reread it a million times and allow his sorry ass apology to dissolve my armour.

That git can wallow; this time I’ll call the shots.

‘So, you’re an only child, then?’ asks Annie, busily straightening glasses.

‘Yep, I think they’d have liked to adopt more but money was tight… and you know.’

‘Hmmm,’ mutters Annie, adding, ‘yeah, we thought of adoption once but… didn’t.’

I watch as her busy hands work quickly and her voice fades.

A silence lulls as I stare around the bar taking in the large stained glass window depicting another proud peacock, the stone fireplace, flashing fruit machines, plush upholstery, a silent jukebox and a swathe of Christmas decorations. Behind the bar the optics twinkle and shine amidst the large mirrors and wooden shelving, promotional posters offering ‘mulled wine at £3.50 a glass’ and virtual ‘Dog racing’ – families welcome! dominate the far wall.

‘I can do you a turkey dinner for later, if you want,’ says Annie, ‘You can join me and our Mick through the back or eat it in your room, if you prefer.’

‘Thank you… I’d like that… some company would be good.’

What a bizarre day this was turning out to be – alone, away from home and reliant upon strangers.

I pour another cup of tea and stir.

‘Anyway…’ calls Annie, adding coal to the open fire, ‘…are they dropping the assault charges?’