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This
delightful and enchanting story was chosen to appear in
Bright Light Multimedia's latest anthology,
“Speaking of Love”.
For your pleasure and perusal, we present an extract
from ...
The Snow Angels
It had been an amazing year,
a life changing year, a year never to be forgotten, beginning with love at first
sight and ending with a miracle.
It all began, of course, as all years do, on New Year’s Day. You might think
that very little occurs, let alone starts, on New Year’s Day as everyone is
either nursing a hangover or is just too tired to even contemplate participation
in anything very much at all. Now, that may well be true for some, but not for
everyone.
For me, New Year’s Day is no different to any other day of the year … after all,
isn’t every day the first day of another year? You might deduce from this that
if I have such disdain for the first day of the year that my feeling for the
last day of the old year might be likewise, and you would be right.
I am, and always have been, a Christmas person, I love every aspect of that
season … but New Years Eve has always left me cold. In fact, I dislike every
thing about it. I hate the crowded pubs, the noisy house parties, “old lang syne”,
first footing and, of course, the bloody fireworks.
I always spent the evening with likeminded people, namely, my younger brother,
Greg, eating Chinese takeaway and watching DVDS. We would prefer to go out to
eat but, to go anywhere decent, you have to book at Easter.
On the other hand, my friends, Dave and his wife, Emma, loved New Years Eve but
didn’t celebrate it for quite different reasons. Dave worked shifts as a porter
at the local hospital. He’d been there since he left school, which was nearly
fifteen years. It didn’t pay well but he really loved it. As a family man he
always managed to trade shifts so he had Christmas off but, subsequently, he
always had to work New Years Eve.
Emma was a housewife or homemaker or domestic goddess, or whatever the pc speak
is. She had worked at the hospital as well until she fell pregnant with their
first child. Now they had three boys, all under 5 years old, so she never had
time off.
So, with all those in mind who do not participate in the Old Year's Night rituals
either by design, as in my case, or by circumstance, as with Dave and Emma, I
set the scene for this tale. With all that said, let’s get back to the beginning
of the story, the start of that amazing year.
It was New Year’s Day and I was invited to spend the evening with my good
friends, the Parkers, for one of Emma’s wonderful dinners … a culinary
experience for which I would have gladly paid a king’s ransom but for which the
only charge was my attendance. Well, as the saying goes, “there’s no
such thing as a free lunch” and that goes for dinner as well.
I was a bachelor and happy to be so. I was comfortable in my own company. I
liked my life, I could do what I wanted when I wanted and I had a good job
which paid well and allowed me to indulge myself, if I wanted to.
This, for Dave and Emma, was an alien concept. They were a couple and were
happy, ergo I was single and therefore must be unhappy. So every time they had a
dinner party, a picnic or BBQ, there was always some poor, unfortunate,
unattached female guest who was propelled towards me. Even at their wedding they
tried to pair me up with the matron of honour’s younger sister.
They were relentless and never gave up but it was always to no avail. It wasn’t
because they were horrible or unattractive young women. In fact, they were
normally very nice. It was just that they were not for me … we didn’t connect.
So the price for a very excellent dinner was to be aimed at yet another
single/unattached/divorced woman. Still, it was a price worth paying for a very
exceptional meal, with good company.
I arrived late afternoon so I could spend some time with the kids before they
went off to bed. It was sufficiently dark for the Christmas lights to be on, and
Dave did like a good Christmas light. His house was in no way as gaudy as many
were but he did like his lights.
I was greeted at the door by a very bleary-eyed Dave, who had clearly just risen
from his pit.
“Oh dear,” I said, as I looked at his sleep filled eyes and the unmistakable bed
head, “Night shift?”
“Yeh,” he replied, then yawned.
I had known Dave from infant school and we had been best friends for most of the
years since. I had been best man at his wedding and godfather to his first born.
I followed him into the kitchen where I was greeted by Emma who, standing on her
tip toes, drew her self up to all of five feet four, hugged me and kissed my
cheek. I breathed in her scent, a mixture of heady musk and baby sick. Noticing
the bemused look on my face, she pointed to the milky stain on her top and
laughed.
I hadn’t known Emma as long as Dave, just over 10 years, but we became friends
instantly. She was one of that rare breed of humans who are just impossible to
dislike. You feel instantly at ease with them.
“Happy New Year,” she said, still chuckling.
“Ditto,” I replied.
“You won’t even say the words,” she said incredulously,
“I can’t believe you dislike New Year that much.” She left the room laughing.
While all this was going on, Dave had boiled the kettle and made drinks. He put
a steaming mug of instant coffee on the kitchen table and I sat down on the
chair nearest to it.
“What are you doing here so early anyway?” Dave asked.
“I thought I could help out by entertaining the ankle biters while you two got
yourselves ready.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Bernie,” Emma said as she came back into the kitchen
and sat down next to me, ”But Jake and Kenny are at Karen’s until tomorrow and
Molly is asleep.”
Jake was my godson and almost five years old. Kenny was three and Molly was
barely six months.
“Your sister, Karen?”
Emma nodded.
“I thought you didn’t get on with her.”
“I don’t, but I made a New Year’s resolution to get closer to her,” she said,
without enthusiasm. ”She’s the only family I have so I thought I should make an
effort.”
I was going to ask Dave if he had made a similar resolution but thought better
of it. I knew there was too much bad blood there.
“Well, as my entertainment skills are not required I will ...” I was about to
suggest that I would finish my coffee and come back later when Emma interrupted
me.
“I can use you in other ways.”
“Oh,” I said and raised my eyebrows slightly as I considered the erotic image
in my mind of my best friend’s wife, naked and smelling of baby sick “using me”,
when she placed a potato peeler in front of me.
“Ah.”
The next three hours passed by in the same way as so many of the hours we had
spent together. Good, old fashioned fun. I could imagine nothing better than
spending time in their glorious company.
As I said, I liked my life.
By seven thirty, everything was done that could be done. Dave and Emma had made
themselves presentable though, in truth, Emma scrubbed up better than Dave. So I
took my self upstairs to change into a clean shirt which I swiped from
Dave’s wardrobe.
Just as I was coming downstairs, the doorbell rang. Dave headed for the door and
I ducked into the lounge. I didn’t want to be hovering in the hall when the
desperate, single woman arrived, in case I gave her the impression I was keen to
meet her ... although, I confess, I was curious to see what the latest offering, in
a long line of potential life partners, looked like ... but not curious enough to
hover in the hallway.
The
complete story can now be found in Bright Light
Multimedia’s latest publication
Speaking of
Love
-
positive and uplifting short stories and poems about
romance, marriage and true love -
Click here for more information
Editor: "The Snow
Angels" is a wonderful story – in fact, we like it so
much, we chose it to go into our book about the joys and
wonder of love – “Speaking of Love”. If you know someone
who enjoys feeling good all over, then this is the
perfect present for them. Remember you deserve to feel
happy too. Why not give yourself the gift that keeps on
giving – “Speaking of Love”.
Guardian Angel
Art Print
Amrhein, Elvira
Buy at AllPosters.com
Reviews
(applause received) 
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the first to review this story - click here.
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