Edie had enjoyed seventy-six Christmases, all of them surrounded by family.
The earliest ones were spent with her parents and elder brother Michael, in the terraced house in Norwood. Her father worked in the market and brought home a tree on Christmas Eve, when he could get one that was leftover for free. The whole family would gather to decorate it with baubles and tinsels from the old apple box, where they were stored all year. Young Edie liked the predictability of it. She even liked the fact that her father always had to fiddle with the string of lights to get them to work, because it made the moment when they did, and the tree glowed magically, more special.
She loved waking to the weight of the stocking at the end of her bed and the fact that she knew it held nuts, a satsuma, a bag of sweets and a sugar mouse. Under the tree, there were more gifts. Edie wrote a letter every year to Father Christmas to tell him what she would like – a baby doll, a harmonica, a hula hoop – until the year that Michael disillusioned her.
‘He’s not real, stupid!’
‘Then who brings the presents?’
‘Mum and Dad.’
Edie had spent the next few days trying to come to terms with the loss. Then, instead of a letter, she wrote a Christmas list, because it didn’t matter who was buying the presents, it was sensible to ensure they got her something she wanted.
But even as a child, Edie would have given up all her presents, as long as they still had the food. There was bacon and egg for breakfast and a chicken for dinner. One year her father brought home a duck that her mother called ‘suspect’, but none of them liked its strong taste. There were roast potatoes, carrots and cauliflower, stuffing, bread sauce and gravy. Then there was the pudding that her mother made in early November, and Birds custard to go with it. When she was small, Edie didn’t much like the taste of the pudding, but she always had some in the hope of finding the sixpence. And she always did. Later, she realised that her mother must have
arranged it that way.
When Edie married Peter, she moved to Croydon and her parents came there for Christmas. She started her own traditions, like putting up the tree the week before. She would have liked to put it up at the start of December, but Peter vetoed this idea.
‘We have central heating, Edie. If you keep the tree inside that long, all its needles will drop off.’
Peter’s family hadn’t bothered much with Christmas and he couldn’t understand why Edie made such a fuss. It wasn’t only the tree; they disagreed over presents too. Peter earned good money but he was always saving for their retirement. When Caroline came along, Edie wanted to spoil her daughter. Peter thought it was more important to teach Caroline the value of money and to be happy with small things. So, Edie saved money all year from the housekeeping budget to buy Caroline a bicycle, a Barbie doll, one year a Walkman. They ate turkey, with all the trimmings, and she made the pudding with plenty of fruit and dropped in a handful of sixpences, so everyone would get one.
Later, there were years when Caroline was away travelling at Christmas, or chose to spend it with friends, and it was just Edie and Peter in the bungalow they moved to after she left home. Edie bought an artificial tree and a turkey crown instead of a whole bird, but she still made the pudding. One year, they spent the day with Michael and his wife but the house was so hot it made Edie feel faint and Peter complained that the food gave him indigestion.
When Caroline moved in with Tom, Edie jumped at their invitation to spend Christmas in their tiny flat. Caroline cooked an extravagant meal of turkey with chestnut stuffing, potatoes roasted in goose fat, pigs in blankets, sprouts pan-fried with pancetta. Edie had offered to make the pudding but Caroline had turned her down and Edie was disappointed to find that the pudding was bought from a supermarket. But when Tom carried it in, glowing blue from the burning brandy, the smell took her right back to the pantry in Norwood and the taste brought tears to her eyes. Reluctantly, she admitted it was better than the ones she made.
Caroline and Tom moved into the big house in Clapham and the children arrived, first Sebastian, then Tasha. Edie always thought it was the perfect house for celebrating Christmas, with its bay window at the front where the tree fitted perfectly and its large kitchen diner, where everyone could congregate. And best of all, there were the children to make it magical again. Those were her best Christmases – her and Caroline chatting in the kitchen, Tom helping the children play with their new toys, Peter reading the Radio Times and insisting they listen to the Queen’s speech.
Then Peter died. It was sudden and Edie was shocked. After forty years together, there’s bound to be a hole when someone leaves, but secretly she also felt a sort of liberation. At Christmas, now Peter wasn’t around insisting on sleeping in his own bed, Edie could stay at Caroline and Tom’s for the whole holiday. These days, Sebastian spent half the day in his room playing video games and Tasha disappeared after dinner to chat with her friends on the computer; but they still ate together and the meal was much the same, though Tasha had decided the previous year that she was vegetarian, and they both liked ice cream instead of custard with their pudding.
Edie had expected Christmas to be the same this year, until Caroline came round and delivered her bombshell.
‘You remember me talking about Ed and Lisa, don’t you Mum? Their daughter, Astrid, is at school with Tash and Lisa’s on the PTA. She organised that spring fair we went to.’
Caroline’s overly jolly voice was already making Edie nervous.
‘Well, they have a chalet in the Alps and guess what? They’ve invited us to spend Christmas there, with them. How amazing is that? The kids are so excited. Not that I’ve agreed to go yet. I wanted to talk to you first….’
Edie tried to work out if the invitation included her. Would she enjoy Christmas in France? Or maybe the chalet was in Switzerland? As a little girl, after reading Heidi, she’d always wanted to go to Switzerland.
‘We’ll only be away for a week and you can come round on New Year’s Eve, if you want.’
So, the invitation did not extend to her. Edie was being left behind. She tried to imagine Christmas without family. Caroline was looking at her.
‘How lovely! Of course you must go!’ Edie organised her face into a smile.
‘Really, Mum? You don’t mind? Perhaps you could go to Uncle Michael’s?’
Edie remembered the too hot house and the dry turkey and soggy vegetables. ‘No, I’ll be fine at home.’
‘You’re not going to stay here on your own? Haven’t you got a friend you could invite round?’
Edie thought of the people she knew. Maureen had moved to Kent to be closer to her daughter, Pamela’s family had put her in a home when they’d found her trying to dry her clothes in the oven, and Theresa had a husband that Edie couldn’t stand.
‘I’ll be fine. There are plenty of things on television and we can talk on the phone. We can do one of those Skype things, so you can show me the place.’ Edie imagined Christmas lights shining on snow, icicles sparkling on roofs. A part of her was excited for them.
So, she listened as Caroline chattered about whether to borrow ski clothes for the children or buy them, and how much luggage allowance they would need to take all the presents. Only after Caroline had gone, did Edie allow herself a few tears. Then she made a cup of tea and gave herself a talking-to. She had seventy-six Christmases worth of memories to keep her going. Many people were not that lucky.
Gloria had survived sixty-two Christmases. She didn’t remember the early ones, when her dad had been around. After he left, it was just her and her mum and there was never much money, but they had a little tree that got balder every year and there was always a present under it for Gloria – something useful like a new duffel bag or something home-made like a woolly hat and scarf. Her mum wasn’t a great cook and dinner was usually sausage and chips, with ice cream for pudding.
Gloria spent fourteen Christmases with Ray. In the early years, she tried hard, spending hours searching the shops for his present and cooking a full Christmas dinner. Ray always rushed out to buy her something on Christmas Eve – usually a piece of underwear she never wore – and told her that she couldn’t make roast potatoes like his mum. But Gloria also tasted her first Christmas pudding and decided it was the best thing about Christmas: something sweet and spicy, that transported you to grand houses and past times.
After Ray, there was Jim, who said buying each other gifts was a waste of money and who didn’t like turkey, so they had lamb. Last was Tony, who always got so drunk on Christmas Eve that he spent the day in bed. Since Tony died, Gloria had spent Christmas alone and enjoyed it much more.
Gloria worked three days a week, making sandwiches in a café in the shopping arcade. Their range didn’t include any sourdough bread or avocado; just ham and cheese or egg mayo on sliced bread. The owner, Marjorie, said there was enough fancy food around and some people still wanted plain stuff. There was a waitress called Sammy and Marjorie’s daughter, Maddie, helped out when she wasn’t at college. On Christmas Eve, Marjorie always bought two bottles of wine and some crisps, and they closed the café early and had a little party. Then Gloria went home to the bungalow and it was just her and her cat, Buster.
Gloria quite expected to spend Christmas alone again this year. She knew exactly what she would do. She would cook some mash, frozen peas and gravy to go with the steak pie she’d bought. She would drink the bottle of Chardonnay Marjorie always gave her and allow herself two, or perhaps three, glasses of Scotch. The only traditional Christmas fare she would consume was Christmas pudding.
Caroline and family had gone to France. A small part of Edie had hoped that bad weather or a strike by air traffic control might scupper their plans, but it hadn’t happened and she knew that if it had, she would have spent the holiday feeling guilty. Now, she’d resigned herself to being alone. She’d bought a small chicken, potatoes, parsnips and sprouts. She had a bottle of Cinzano left from last year and some lemonade to go in it. And she had a tin of Quality Streets. And that, she thought, would be enough.
But on Christmas Eve, she was watching television when a famous chef started talking about how the taste of Christmas pudding brought back memories of his childhood, and Edie remembered her mother picking over the fruit for the pudding, finding a clean sixpence to go in it and letting them all have a go stirring it. And suddenly, Edie had to have a pudding.
She put on her coat and headed over the road to the Co-Op. Janet was on the till wearing a Santa hat. The bells on the hat jingled as she greeted Edie.
Edie hurried up and down the aisles, scanning the shelves. She saw mince pies and yule logs, but she couldn’t see any Christmas puddings. She went to the till.
‘Where are your Christmas puddings, Janet? I need a Christmas pudding.’
As she said it, she realised it would seem strange that she was buying a pudding, when everyone knew she went to Caroline’s. She hadn’t told anyone that this year was different, and she certainly didn’t intend to tell jingling Janet. She didn’t want sympathy.
She crossed her fingers in her coat pocket. ‘Caroline has some extra people coming over and asked me to buy another one.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to share what you’ve got,’ said Janet, shaking her head and setting the bells off again. ‘We ran out of puddings on Tuesday.’
The door opened and someone else came into the shop but neither of them took much notice as the newcomer picked up a basket and disappeared up one of the aisles.
‘No puddings? None at all?’
‘Sorry, Edie. Why don’t you buy some ice cream, or some Ambrosia custard to go with the pudding?’
Edie felt her fortitude dissolve. The lack of a pudding was the final straw; being alone at Christmas suddenly seemed unbearable. The tears spilled down her cheeks and she let out a gasp of misery.
‘Edie, what is it? I’m sure your Caroline will understand!’
‘Caroline isn’t here!’ wailed Edie.
Janet pulled the chair round from behind the till and Edie sank into it. The bells quivered questioningly.
‘Caroline and her family have gone skiing. I’m on my own!’
‘Oh, Edie. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have saved you a pudding,’ said Janet.
Edie took a bunch of tissues from the box Janet offered her. ‘I thought I’d manage without a pudding; I thought it was wasteful just for me. But now……’ She couldn’t explain the feelings the chef’s words had set off in her.
‘You could try Aldi on Park Road,’ said Janet.
The person who had come into the shop earlier came to the counter.
‘Or,’ she said, ‘You can share my pudding if you like. I never eat it all!’
Edie looked. It was Gloria from number two. Gloria had introduced herself when she moved into the cul-de-sac, but they’d had little to do with each other since then. Edie knew Gloria worked in the café in the shopping centre because she had seen her there. It was hard not to spot Gloria, with her dyed-blonde hair, her brightly coloured clothes and cheap jewellery. She reminded Edie of some of the women who had worked in the market with her father. Peter would have called her ‘racy’.
‘There you go Edie, there’s an offer you can’t refuse!’ The bells jingled as Janet nodded with satisfaction.
Edie realised she needed to say something. ‘I…I can’t take your pudding but thank you.’ She wiped her cheeks and then her nose with the ball of tissues.
Gloria shrugged. ‘Up to you. But I’ll only eat too much and feel sick! You’d be doing me a favour.’
Edie felt the tears threatening again at the kindness. ‘Well…if you’re sure.’ And then she said something that she hadn’t known she was going to. ‘Why don’t you come to dinner? I’m on my own and there’ll be plenty of food.’
On Christmas morning Edie woke early. She enjoyed a moment of excitement when she realised what day it was, followed by misery when she remembered Caroline was away, and alarm when she remembered the invitation she had so rashly issued. You couldn’t spend Christmas with a virtual stranger! Surely Gloria would realise that and back out.
Edie had her usual tea and toast, then peeled and parboiled the potatoes, washed the chicken and rubbed it with some butter. Then she sat down and opened the present Caroline had dropped off before they left. It was a digital photo frame. There was a note with it, saying that Tom had already set it up with pictures and she just had to turn it on. When she did, she was treated to a parade of Christmas images, from when Caroline was small to one from the previous Christmas, in which they all had on cracker hats and Sebastian was scowling. Edie watched the sequence of photos through several times, then put the frame on the bookshelf and carried on with her preparations.
At twelve o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Edie opened it and there was Gloria, wearing a tight red dress and earrings that were little Christmas trees. She was holding the pudding and a bottle of wine and looking as though she visited Edie every day. Edie stood back and Gloria sailed in.
‘These halls are so cramped, aren’t they? They should have made the kitchen smaller and this a little wider.’
Edie led the way through to her kitchen.
‘Yours is much lighter than mine,’ said Gloria. Then, looking at the chicken sitting ready on the side and the washed and diced vegetables, she added, ‘Probably gets more use too!’ and gave a laugh.
‘Would you like a Cinzano?’ asked Edie.
‘Cinzano! Haven’t had one of those for ages,’ said Gloria. ‘Lovely. Not too much lemonade.’
Edie poured two Cinzanos, strong for her guest, weaker for her. With a little help from the drink, she thought, she could get through dinner, and then she would say she had to Skype Caroline and hopefully Gloria would take the hint and go home.
When she’d put the chicken in the oven, Edie put the television on. There was a TV chef on one channel, but Edie was afraid she might get nostalgic again and instead found a silly quiz show with a festive theme. The contestants were not very good and Gloria started calling out the answers.
‘Eggnog!’ she shouted, in answer to a question about a traditional drink.
‘Good King Wenceslaus!’ said Edie, when the host asked who went out on the feast of Stephen. She was, she realised, having fun.
When the show finished, Edie found a channel with some Christmas songs and went to see to the potatoes. Gloria sang along with a voice that was throaty but surprisingly tuneful.
‘I wanted to be a singer when I was young,’ said Gloria. ‘What about you, what did you want to be?’
‘I never really had any dreams,’ said Edie. ‘I worked in the telephone exchange for a while, then I got married and stayed at home to look after Caroline.’
Gloria drained her second glass of Cinzano. ‘I never had kids. Would have been nice but none of my fellas wanted the hassle.’
Edie took out the chicken and put the vegetables to boil. Gloria asked what she could do, and Edie gave her the gravy to stir. When everything was ready, Edie filled two plates while Gloria poured the wine. They sat at the small table in the corner of the lounge.
As they ate, Gloria told Edie how one Christmas, Ray had given her underwear in the wrong size, and was so flustered that she realised he’d bought it for another woman and muddled up the packages. They spent the day not talking and by New Year’s Eve, she’d kicked him out. Edie told Gloria how one year, she hadn’t managed to save enough money for all the things she wanted to buy at Christmas, so she took some money from Peter’s wallet and let him think one of the office juniors had stolen it.
While the pudding boiled, they listened to the Queen’s speech and agreed what a fine lady she was. Then Edie served the pudding and they ate in silence, savouring its taste and all that it brought with it. And they agreed that this year’s pudding was one of the finest.