The Lonely Crowd will feature a new short story by a different author each month throughout 2025. For December, we are delighted to publish a new story by Jane Fraser.

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It wasn’t a white Christmas in Gower as they’d promised on Wales Today. Lynne and David looked out over the ocean – frothy-white and agitated as far as the horizon, the wind coming from the south-west, forcing spume up through the blow-hole at the end of the limestone promontory of Worm’s Head.

“Bloody let-down,” said David.

“Even the weather forecast has to be all drama, these days,” said Lynne

“Nothing but fake news.”

Though most of her virtual friends were taking a break over the holiday season, Lynne still picked up her mobile from the bedside table and checked her Twitter account. Nothing. But there was a text from her daughter, Anna.

“She’s wondering whether we might go over a bit earlier than planned as what with her leg, she’s having trouble organising things for lunch,” said Lynne.

David wondered why it was necessary for Anna to involve her mother in such problems when she had both an able-bodied husband and brother on hand. It wasn’t as if they were even having turkey, for God’s sake. They couldn’t be bothered with all that palaver, they’d said. But he didn’t say anything. Not on Christmas Day.

“Tell her we’ll come a couple of hours early to give her a hand with everything. And get her to organise that brother of hers to pick up his gran and grandpa instead of us,” said David. “Why does he think he can lie spread-eagled on the sofa doing nothing all day over there?”

“Don’t start. Not today,” said Lynne.

It was only a couple of minutes before another text came through saying, thanks but no thanks, it wasn’t necessary and that they’d manage without the help. Back to plan A.

David told Lynne that he didn’t think it wise for her to wear her new, purple silk Christmas skirt, and that they should pack some old T-shirts just in case. They’d promised to do the dishes after Christmas lunch even before Anna had gone over on her ankle in her Manolo Blahnik stilettos, torn her ligaments and broken her patella on a night out in Mumbles. Lynne had warned her to go easy. But that was kids. Even when they were forty-two. Anna had needed A & E when she’d sobered up on Christmas Eve. You can imagine what that was like, she’d told her mother. Alcoholics, druggies, battered women. All sorts. But they’d given her crutches and the three girls had loved the drive-thru burger they’d had on the way back. They’d been starving, poor dabs. Six hours they’d waited to see the doctor after being triaged. Targets, my arse.

Lynne looked out of the window again at the greyness and wondered if they should have gone to the cheap condo in Florida as they normally did. Running their own business, it was the only time they could have a break. “It’s for the kids,” she said, lost in thought. “That’s what it’s all about.”

 

*

 

Not long after, they got out of bed and went downstairs.

“It smells of Christmas, though,” said Lynne, as she looked at the Christmas tree.

As they’d decided to stay at home this Christmas, she was determined she’d make an effort, she’d told David when they were wedging the tree in the terracotta pot earlier in the week. They’d had a real one delivered, right to the door, by John Lewis. The online form had asked whether they wanted a fat or a thin one and they’d gone for the fat. David had decided against going to get a tree himself from the local farm-turned-forestry because of the mud and the fir needles in the back of the Q7. And his back. Lynne had felt a bit guilty about this what with going green and supporting the local rural economy. In fact, she’d felt cheated too when she’d seen the six o’clock news on the BBC with a whole five-minutes allocated to a Gower Christmas tree sourced from this very same farm, being put up outside Number 10. There’d been a camera zoom in on a beaming Theresa May at the side of the tree.

They decided against scrambled egg and smoked salmon for breakfast because they needed to get a move on and open their presents. Just the two of them; quietly, by the tree, on which there were three sets of twinkling, soft-hued lights, and the same gold baubles, butterflies, mock icicles and the fairy with a broken wand strapped to a stick at the top, that Lynne’s two children had used to decorate the real tree they always used to have back then, thirty-five years ago.

For a moment she thought of all those Christmases past holed-up with husband number one, and she hoped that Anna and James would have spoken to their father on the phone before she and David arrived. She worked out that Christmas was almost done in South Australia and she breathed a sigh of relief that since he’d emigrated she no longer had to share the same hemisphere with him.

David interrupted her thoughts when he brought out a green, recycling bag ready for the rubbish.

“What a waste all this wrapping paper and ribbon and bows are,” he said.

They took turns in opening their presents. They’d done that since they’d been married. It didn’t take long, but they both agreed that the gifts were thoughtful and just what they both wanted. David said he’d put the painting up soon; but not at the moment. He’d live with it first and so he propped it up against the settle.

“You’d better put it somewhere safe if you’re not going to put it up at the moment,” said Lynne, making quote marks around at the moment. “The kids just might come to visit tomorrow. You never know.”

They sat there in their dressing gowns, surrounded by the glow of fairy lights and the smell of scented vanilla candles, Norwegian Spruce and the cinnamon that had been sprinkled on the pot pourri, and agreed that it was very Christmassy.

“You shouldn’t have gone spending all that money on me,” said David.

“I know,” laughed Lynne.

Outside, a solitary robin perched on the handle of the garden spade which had been left in the raised beds. A rabbit sheltered under the chassis of the Q7. A ram was in the back field, right up against their fence. Lynne thought it looked forlorn on its own like that. She could have sworn the farmer’s red branding was smudging and running down its fleece in the rain, and was convinced it was maintaining eye-contact with her.

“Hello? Anybody there?” said David, looking at Lynne with concern.

“Sorry, don’t know where I was for a minute.”

By then, they were running late and agreed they’d better get a move on.

Lynne rang her mother and father, who David called Ray and Evelyn, to say that they’d be there by 11.30 as per plan A. But her mother didn’t hear: her new hearing-aid wasn’t in the shop even though she had been told it would be. Her mother shouted down the line in a cacophony: We went all that way to pick it up, and you know how your father doesn’t like the traffic. Not at his age. That’s Christmas for you. Lip-reading, I am at the moment. I’ll hand you over to your father.

“Happy Christmas, Lynne, love,” he said.

He was ninety this year, but when he wished Lynne Happy Christmas, she thought he sounded just the same as he had done when she was a child.

“We’re just having a quiet cup of tea after our breakfast, but we’re all set,” he said. Lynne warned him about Anna’s leg and he laughed and said that it must be difficult for her with her OCD or whatever else they called being neurotic these days.

 

*

 

There wasn’t a soul around as Lynne and David drove through the village of Llangennith, not even any cars outside the church. But the community tree was lit-up outside the surf shop on the green. It was tethered down with ropes and stakes.

“Hope it holds fast,” said David. “Seventy-mile-per-hour winds forecast again for round here. If they’re to be believed.”

“Well, that’s nothing new,” said Lynne. “Funny how it’s only when London and the South-East have storm-force winds is it mentioned on the national news. It’s as though we don’t exist here.”

The road was flooded again at Muzzard despite the council having worked there sorting the pot-holes for weeks, and if it hadn’t been for the fact they had a 4 x 4 they probably wouldn’t have been able to get through. Lynne thought for a minute that might have been a good thing in view of what had transpired over the last couple of days.

At Burry Green the cars were parked both sides of the road, up on the grass verges outside the chapel.

“They always manage to draw a good crowd there,” said David, as they drove past Bethesda.

“Strange how we don’t get anyone in our village church,” said Lynne.

“Won’t catch me in either of them.”

“No?” said Lynne. “I sometimes feel I’d like to start going again. Just now and then.”

The telegraph wires bounced and Lynne said that she hoped for everybody’s sake that the power didn’t go off. David said that if Western Power Distribution had been interested in investing in underground cables as they had in Scotland then it wouldn’t be an issue. What was wrong with this country? Ruddy basket case.

Before David turned down towards Ray and Evelyn’s for the pick-up and to help them up into the truck as they called it, he issued a plea to Lynne, in the hope they could all have a good time at Anna’s.

“For once,” he said. Let’s not mention Trump or Brexit or #Waspi or #metoo. In fact, let’s not talk about anything political, or open anything up. You know what James is like.”

Lynne could see his face turn the colour of vanilla and he took two puffs of his Ventolin, so she agreed, repeating what she’d said earlier, that Christmas was all about the kids. And her Mum and Dad. “They probably won’t have many more Christmases. Not at their age,” she said.

“It’s not them I’m worried about. They’ve been retired for over thirty years,” he said. Look at the state of you. Almost sixty-four and you’re still slogging. After all you’ve been through. Does anyone ever think about that? You’ll never even get your Pension if you go on like this. Bloody government. Pension theft it is for you women. Blokes would never put up with it. Mind you, they’d never have done it to blokes.”

Lynne said that now wasn’t the right time for all this and she didn’t want to be confrontational. She said that for one day she’d be the daughter, mother, wife and grandmother everybody wanted her to be.

As David went to collect Ray and Evelyn and help them along the path, Lynne sat in the car and thought momentarily of her brother and wondered if she’d hear anything from him. She’d sent him a card as she always did; but hadn’t had one back. Perhaps he’d text. If he didn’t, then she wouldn’t either.

David gave Evelyn a leg-up into the back of the Audi and Lynne turned and told her mother that she thought she looked nice, and asked whether it was a new top she was wearing.

“She can’t hear you,” said Ray.

“I can’t hear you,” said Evelyn.

David reminded Ray that they should all avoid the politics this year. Be better for everybody. Evelyn turned to Ray and asked what he had said and Ray repeated it loudly while Evelyn watched his lips. She said that was a good idea after last year.

“I know James is your son, Lynne, but he’s an arrogant boy. Like his father.”

She went on her own tack then, not able to believe that her grandson had voted to leave when oldies like her had voted remain. She said that it was sad though that a forty-one-year-old man was on his own for Christmas and staying with his sister. She’d understood that he’d been seeing someone nice for a while. Or had she got it wrong?

“What happened there, again, then?” she asked.

“Catrin’s got two children, Mum,” said Lynne. “James hasn’t met them yet. She’s with her kids for the day which is only natural.”

Ray translated all this in the back of the car to Evelyn who said that it all sounded very complicated and why was everything so complicated these days? She’d often wondered whether her grandson was gay. Not that it mattered. Lynne said she didn’t think he was gay and agreed that it didn’t matter. She just wanted him to be happy. Especially at Christmas. She didn’t like the fact that he spent so much time alone. Sad that.

The day wasn’t really getting any lighter. There were so many shades of grey. Over the ridge of Cefn Bryn the clouds were low but fast-moving, and visibility was good. David slowed down because of the wild ponies on the road. Ray said that they were dangerous and what was the point of them. They only went for pet food anyway. Bloody liability. They were deliberately not tagged so you couldn’t get insurance on the car if you finished one off.

Evelyn seemed to hear this as she told Ray that he didn’t have any heart to which he replied that he was simply being practical and stating the truth.

Lynne asked her father if he remembered when they used to drive along this very road in the Morris Traveller when she and her brother, Peter, used to urge him to drive faster and faster because of the dips in the road and the poor suspension, their heads hitting the roof without the seat belts. Or the time they went skating on Broad Pool which they passed at speed. Lynne thought it might have been 1963 but Ray insisted it was 1947. Lynne said that she wasn’t born until 1954 so it couldn’t have been 1947. They agreed that it was a very hard winter and they didn’t have winters like that anymore.

Evelyn asked Lynne if she’d heard from her brother and Lynne told her that she hadn’t. As yet.

“Still, Peter’s given us all a nice bottle of champagne to share with everyone for the day.”

“Well, he’s done his bit for mankind, then,” said Lynne.

David gave Lynne a look and at the same time had to slow down again at the top of the Bryn. This time for sheep. He banged the side of the car to get them off the road and as he did the wind wheezed through the open window. Lynne pointed out to her Mum and Dad that if they looked left, they could see Anna and Steve’s house there at the top of the village in Oxwich, next to the woods. Lynne said that it was the only building in Gower visible from outer space and how could anyone guess the amount of energy they were using. Imagine the bills.

Lynne’s father asked her if they were happy in the mansion as he called it, and settled there now that they were back in Wales. He didn’t like to ask Anna himself as he didn’t know what sort of answer he was going to get. Bit touchy sometimes. Everyone in the car agreed that they were a very lucky family to have a business like that.

“On a plate,” said Lynne “They have everything anyone could ever wish for, but I don’t think they know it.”

The weather was more gentle on the south side of the peninsula, the trees less crippled, the hedges less wind-burnt. Ray took it upon himself to remind David that there was a nasty bend coming up at the junction to Oxwich and that he needed to watch for on-coming traffic and take it easy.

But the roads were empty. They drove along the marsh road, the rushes pale and head-high on either side. Some wading birds could be seen through a gap in the reeds. In the lay-by, a lone man in wellies was sitting on a fold–up, canvas chair looking through binoculars. Lynne asked her father if he remembered when she used to have to sit in the middle of the back seat in the Morris when she was a child as she feared she’d get sucked into the marsh-water either side as they drove along this very road. Her father said no, he didn’t recall that. Her mother piped up all of a sudden and said that the trouble with Lynne was that she’d always had an over-active imagination.

Lynne turned and patted her father on his hand.

“We had great times down here at the beach with the boat, didn’t we? I’ll never forget that,” said Lynne.

Evelyn must have heard this too as she chipped in and said that she’d always hated that bloody boat and had been glad when the bloody tree fell on it in the woods where they’d kept it next to the Old Rectory.

David turned into the grounds of Anna and Steve’s house and Lynne said that she’d got them a pair of bay trees for Christmas as they had everything, and it was difficult to know what to get for people who had everything. She’d considered money, but then she’d thought they’d rather have something that might bring them some pleasure and would last. The bay trees were arranged perfectly symmetrically outside the kitchen door on the patio – or the deck – as Steve called it as he was originally from Darwin. They were tastefully draped in white lights.

“Money’s no object here,” said Evelyn.

The barbeque was set up on the said patio aka deck and the smell of roast pork met them. Anna had insisted that the pork be done outside as she didn’t want the stench all through the house and getting in her hair. Someone had once told her that burning, human flesh smelled like roast pork and she found it incredible that Steve had a penchant for crackling which their three girls had inherited.

Through the bi-fold doors, the new arrivals laden with crates of gifts and booze, could see Anna sprawled out on one of the three, white sofas arranged in a horse-shoe shape in front of the log burner. The crutches were leaning against the arm. She obviously hadn’t managed to dress as she was still in her pyjamas. Evelyn pressed her nose up to the glass.

“Oh, Christ,” she said.

“At least she’s made an effort to get in the Christmas spirit,” said Ray, seeing Anna in her new White Company pyjamas: grey jersey with a firmament of white stars covering them from top-to-toe.

Anna attempted to get up to greet the family but everyone told her to stay put, so she lifted one of her crutches in acknowledgement instead. James did eventually manage to get up from the sofa where he was engrossed in his iPhone and came to the door with the three girls. Steve hollered from the industrial range in the kitchen that he’d be with everyone as soon as he could but he was having trouble with the roast potatoes. The power seemed to be low. No worries though.

Then everyone did cheek-kissing and said Happy Christmas in Welsh and English.

As soon as she saw her three granddaughters, Lynne realised that Christmas was indeed for kids. There they stood in their posh, net dresses and sparkly tights ready to reach out and kiss and cuddle. Sophie, who was nine that day, said that despite being unable to contain their excitement they hadn’t woken up till 7.15 and that her Mummy had been happy about that because of her leg.

“She can’t have a drink, you know,” she said, “because she’s taking strong painkillers. I think she’s finding it difficult.”

Tara held out a tray and Lynne asked her what it was for. Tara was surprised that her grandmother had already forgotten what they’d planned when she’d stayed over the night her mother had got drunk: all devices were to be handed in as it was anti-social on Christmas Day.

Reluctantly, James handed his in while Anna bellowed from the settee to tell Steve to turn his in too and that she didn’t quite know what he found to look at all day on there. It wasn’t as if he was trading in the City anymore. Didn’t need share prices and fluctuations in the market to trim hedges and cut the grass for people on a chalet park in Gower.

Sophie was allowed to keep her new, pink phone which she’d had as a joint Christmas-birthday present and she said she was going to be sensible with it.

Ray tutted as he gathered up the wet coats and took them to the utility room shouting, which way is it? So many bloody rooms in this place, you need sat nav!

And then Sophie proceeded to tell her Great Granny Evelyn that it wasn’t really fair to have a birthday on Christmas Day as you only got half the presents, and that her friend had told her that there was not really a Santa Claus after all; but she didn’t let on to her two younger sisters, or her mother, that she knew it was all a big fib.

Evelyn said that was ridiculous and why did she think Grandma and Bampa had chimneys put back in their house in Llangennith and said that you had to believe to receive and that she shouldn’t be so avaricious. Sophie said that she didn’t know what avaricious meant and Evelyn explained that it meant greedy. It means greedy, Sophie, she said. Greedy.

David saw to the drinks and Evelyn said that it was the first one she’d had in weeks. Ray rolled his eyes as she explained to the girls that she had to watch her sugars as she was diabetic.

“Not the diabetes that fat people have, girls,” she said. “But Type 1. Late onset. Insulin dependent.”

Lynne asked if her mother would be alright as dinner looked as if it might be late. Don’t want you going low, she said, and asked if she’d brought her emergency kit; but her mother didn’t hear. Ray answered for her and said it was in the fridge at home.

“What is the point of having an emergency kit if it is in the fridge at home?” snapped Lynne.

Ray didn’t answer and Anna told her mother not to bother to try and save the situation. She couldn’t stand any more tension. It was hard enough to try and control operations from the side-lines and that the kitchen staff was inept. She lifted up one crutch and pointed it at Steve in the kitchen and asked if the parsnips were on; if the potatoes were happening now; if anyone was in charge of the pork outside. She also instructed that the chicken would need time to rest before it was carved or it might fall to pieces. She looked at her mother when she said this.

David took off his best shirt so that he could sort the pigs in blankets and the pork. Ray agreed to carve when the time came as he used to be a butcher.

James went to the kitchen and kept on asking the virtual assistant, Alexa, questions and saying: Bloody amazing, bloody amazing. Have you heard this, Grandpa? until Anna told him to put a sock in it and be sociable.

Little Agnes went to change into her pink tutu and flip flops so she could do ballet. Anna told her in no uncertain terms that she’d have to wait until after lunch (whatever time that might likely be) when she’d get Sophie to download The Dying Swan from iTunes so she could do her performance in front of everyone. Until then, she suggested that everyone play the game Who am I? the one where you wore a headband and everyone assembled answered yes or no to your questions until they realised who you were.

When it was Lynne’s turn, her mother told her she was surprised she was joining in as she thought she wasn’t one for trivia. Lynne remembered the time when her mother had told her she was wilful and difficult probably because she was a forceps delivery. Wednesday’s child is full of woe, she always used to say. But Lynne bit her lip and kept schtum as she’d said she would. There wouldn’t be many more Christmases like this. There weren’t many families who had four generations under one roof.

Steve said they’d be running late. About an hour-and-a-half. Bloody electricity. And asked if everyone would like another drink.

Anna said she’d just have sparkling water and Ray asked her what was wrong with tap water and asked Evelyn if she thought it was wise to have another glass of champagne before she ate and she told him to shut up and not be such a kill joy. James laughed and said he’d join her. Lynne said it was James who needed to watch what he drunk as it didn’t suit him.

“You know how you get,” she said.

The girls spilled Diet Coke on the coffee table and Anna screamed for Sophie to get a cloth and wipe it up. David and Lynne looked at each other and recalled how ‘mess’ was the first word the eldest and the youngest child had ever uttered, and how they loved to wipe and vacuum. Apart from Tara, that was. She’d said it was because she was the middle child. Everyone agreed they’d have trouble with her.

Outside, the light was already beginning to go. Anna asked if it ever got light in Gower. If it ever stopped raining. She had never needed a mac in London.

Steve shouted that it wouldn’t be long now and that everyone could take their seats soon. Ray got up to carve. Steve and David had decided in the kitchen that all the meat and veg would be put in dishes and everyone could serve themselves. Make things a lot easier. David said quietly that they’d better warm the dishes and the plates and asked if Steve had kept the chicken juices to do the gravy to which he replied that they’d have to make do with Bisto.

Agnes wet herself as she’d forgotten she didn’t have a nappy on in all the goings on and had ignored Anna telling the three girls that they needed to make sure they all went for an emergency wee before they sat down as she didn’t want them up and down at the table. Not on Christmas Day. Anna said to leave her pants off now as there was no point and Sophie came round with the mop.

Just as everything was going to be served, Sally, Anna’s father’s second wife’s mother came through the door. She was all dressed up in a red military-style jacket and black trousers and lipstick to match. She was using a stick. She said she wasn’t stopping and she kissed Steve and the girls and went up to Anna on the sofa, pointed her stick, and said, Twins! She said Happy Christmas to Ray and Evelyn.

“Who are you?” asked Evelyn

“Charlotte’s mother,” said Sally.

“Of course, I can see where she gets her looks from now.”

Anna looked at her mother to see if there was any reaction; but there was none.

Ray looked concerned about Evelyn just as Sally was telling everyone that she had to fly as she was going to her son’s for lunch. She wasn’t going to visit Bill in the home today as it was Christmas and he was so far gone now he wouldn’t notice if she didn’t come. Evelyn said she was sorry to hear about Bill and that she hoped Sally’s new hip would bed in soon.

Ray said that the noise was all getting a bit much, what with the sinus infection he’d just had. Like being underwater. He was smiling and saying, just not used to it, Evelyn, are we? Not at our age.

Just after Sally took her leave, and the dinner was about done, Evelyn started to slur. James started to laugh and say that she’d had a few too many.

“You’re low, Evelyn,” said Ray. “I did warn you.”

“Shut up. I’m fine,” she slurred.

James said that his boot was full of diabetes’ monitors outside as that was what he did now. He was an account manager for a very good pharmaceutical company and that he was the only one to get a bonus this year. Did they know what he was doing for a living these days? Had Anna – or his mother – told them? Most mothers would have been proud of their sons.

Ray told him that it was a bit late for the monitors and asked him how long he was likely to keep this job. He asked Sophie if there was any Lucozade in the fridge. Lynne said again that she’d told her father and mother to bring the emergency kit and David gave her another one of his looks from the kitchen and put his finger up to his lips.

The three girls were quiet all of a sudden apart from little Agnes who whined that she was starving and Anna said she’d have to wait as there was a bloody emergency and that she felt quite out of control with her broken leg. The two elder girls just stared as Ray began to pour Lucozade into Evelyn’s mouth as she swatted his hands away and told him to piss off. The elder girls laughed as Anna screamed, Sophie! Tara! Not now! This is serious!

Agnes put on Evelyn’s high heels which they’d taken off her as they laid her down on the white settee, and she was clunking around on the hardwood floor. They managed to force some fluid into her but she was out of it. Tara asked if Great Granny Evelyn was going to die in their house. Anna told her not to be daft that it was just a hypo and that it was Christmas Day. People didn’t die on Christmas Day. The girls stood at the edge of the sofa and held their Great Granny Evelyn’s hand and said, please come on, Great Granny Evelyn. You can do it. Yes!

Anna told Steve that he’d better keep the veg warm. To put the oven on low.

Agnes shouted that she was fed up and hungry and Anna told her to zip it, with a hand and mouth gesture, and not be so bloody selfish.

James told his sister that there was no need for language like that in front of the kids and she said, Jesus Christ. That’s rich coming from you, to which Ray said, now now, everyone calm down a bit. It’s Christmas. And he told them that there’d be no need to call the ambulance – if you could get one –  as she’d come around in a bit and then they could all get on with their lunch. She often went off like this.

Soon after they did just that. Evelyn cleared her plate and told Steve and David that the meal was a triumph. Three cheers for the chefs, she said. The girls told Great Granny Evelyn that they were glad she didn’t die and asked if she was alright now. Fine, she said. Can’t remember a thing. Come here and give us a hug.

Then the girls read out jokes that they’d placed in homemade crackers and Anna immediately swept up the paper debris into a pile in the centre of the table. Everyone apart from David had a drink. He was driving, he said. Anna said she felt much better after a few drinks even though she knew she shouldn’t. Killed the pain. She decided that Christmas pudding wouldn’t be served at the table, perhaps later, when Sophie opened her birthday presents, and asked if anyone would anyone like a cup of tea.

“Steve? Can you sort it, please?”  she said as she struggled back to the sofa from where she proceeded to shout, “Can someone please try and put these presents into piles according to who they’re for and get rid of the rubbish? Bloody ridiculous.”

It seemed everything was winding up, or down, as the whole family settled back on the sofas. David finished the dishes and stacked them on the worktops, then came to join everyone. Lynne noticed that his T-shirt was soaking and covered in grease and told him to check if his trousers were okay before plonking himself back down what with the white sofas and everything.

When he got comfortable on the sofa, he asked if anyone had been watching Back in Time for Christmas on the iPlayer and Lynne told everyone that they’d watched the complete series, six episodes, back to back, from the 1940s through to the 2000s. Very interesting indeed. The girls might like it, she said, to see how things had changed. James asked which decade was the best.

Ray and Evelyn said the 40s.

Lynne and David said the 60s.

Steve the 70s.

And James and Anna, the 80s.

Everyone seemed to go quiet and then until Sophie said, well I think 2017 is the best ever and everyone went, aaagh and was very tearful.

Ray told the girls that after the war things were short but they appreciated things more.

David said they didn’t have a lot in Merthyr Tydfil in the Welsh valleys when he was a kid, couldn’t afford extravagances and still remembered that he’d been given a Johnny Goes to War when he’d specifically asked for an Action Man. He’d never forgotten that. Or the Scalextric he’d never had.

With six kids, his parents had nothing, said Steve. He’d even been given his school uniform as one of his presents, all wrapped up, of course. But what with it being summer in Australia, Christmas never seemed to matter so much.

Lynne talked about her Corona typewriter and her Beatles’ wig and cardigan. Evelyn chipped in to ask her if she remembered the mood she’d got into when she’d opened the two-wheeler? Said it wasn’t what she wanted? That she was a most ungrateful child at times and that they’d paid a fortune for it in old money, even back then.

Everyone laughed at that.

Anna and James talked about the big, white BBC computer they’d had and how their father couldn’t set it up.

Evelyn asked if they’d heard from their father and they said, yes, and then she said sorry to David.

Ray told the girls that they didn’t know they were born these days and Evelyn d shouted at him to shut up. That they’d better be off soon. To leave these people relax and settle down for the evening. She was going to watch highlights from the Queen’s speech when she got home. She wasn’t a monarchist anymore, she said, and she’d never curtsy to anyone; but fair play, the Queen had worked hard, had a sense of duty, but that when she was gone they should call it a day.

Anna said that it would probably come to a natural end now that a film star was joining the ranks.

Sophie thought it was cool that there was going to be a Princess Meghan and wanted to see what she’d be wearing to church at Sandringham.

James said she was a really pretty girl and his grandmother told him that was what the matter was with him; why he was still on his own. Only concerned with appearance and not what went on inside.

What with the rain nailing on the dark window panes, it seemed like the perfect time to leave. David picked up the empty crates they’d brought the presents in and put them in the boot of the car, the presents they’d been given earlier, he sorted into carriers. He helped Evelyn down to the truck, shielding her from the rain with an umbrella. They drove off and beeped the horn at the three girls waving from the windows; the others had stayed where they were, on the sofas.

“Don’t know about you, but I’ve had a lovely day,” said Ray.

“One of the best Christmases in a long time,” said Evelyn. “Be glad to get in though, get the fire going, get the TV on, and relax.”

David took them up their path and made sure the lights were on. They stood at the kitchen door and waved David and Lynne off.

“Well, at least they enjoyed,” said Lynne.

 

*

 

David and Lynne had deliberately left the tree switched on when they’d gone out. Lynne said that it was very welcoming to see it as they pulled into the drive, especially with the weather.

Lynne put the kettle on the Aga while David went to take a shower. He said he was stinking of pork. Lynne said that she’d put his T-shirt to soak and thanked him for everything: for being so kind to her Mum and Dad, for helping with the dinner and the dishes, for giving her a nice day. She said she felt guilty about not doing much at all and he said that made a change and there were plenty of people there who were more than capable and it was hardly rocket science to do a roast.

They put the TV on when he came back downstairs though there wasn’t much on: just repeats. David said it was strange that the things they used to laugh at years ago they didn’t find at all funny now. On the screen was the end of a programme with celebrity dancers and then a trailer for EastEnders where someone was getting seriously beaten up. It was scheduled for after the watershed. Lynne said that she wouldn’t be staying up for that and there was enough real shit in the world without having it streamed into your own living room. She didn’t understand why everything was so issues-led even on Christmas Day. Pity there was nothing on anywhere about older women, though. Bloody invisible. She asked David if she could make him a sandwich before she went up for a bath but he said that he’d had enough rich food for one day and that his reflux was playing up. He was knackered, he said.

“Well at least there wasn’t a fight,” she said. “Not this year.”

“Yes,” said David. “Everyone seemed to really enjoy it.”

Lynne went upstairs and ran the bath and filled it with bubbles from the girls and then put on the new pure-cotton white pyjamas that David had given her. It was a shame to take them out of the drawstring bag. She decided she’d keep it just in case. She tried on her new bracelet from Anna. It was from a Welsh jeweller and the design was called ‘Cofio’ which meant ‘remember’. It had three silver stones engraved with words from a poem by Waldo Williams. Anna had told her that each stone represented one of the granddaughters and she’d bought it when her mother had looked after them overnight again recently while she went on a bash to Llandeilo. It was a little thank you. Something to keep forever. Lynne put it on her wrist and kept it on as she lay on top of the bed covers while she texted little Sophie on her new phone number to say thanks for a lovely day and for her and Bampa’s presents.

Within seconds Sophie replied with a perfectly spelled message together with icons and emoticon hearts saying that she’d loved her day too. Best birthday and Christmas ever with all the family together. Lynne reminded herself that this was what it was all about. She would try to remember it always.

She checked to see if there was anything from her brother but there was nothing and then she read the text from Anna to say that James had gone to bed morose and maudlin in his cups. What’s new? she said. He’d kept on asking her when she thought he would find a lovely woman he could love and have kids with, like hers, because without that, he didn’t think life was really that much worth living. Same old story.

Lynne couldn’t bring herself to text back. She felt quite remote then and touched each of the stones in her new bracelet. She had no idea of the time she spent like that. It had been a long day. But she wasn’t tired anymore and knew she wouldn’t be able to get to sleep. And it was then she heard David’s voice shouting up the stairs:

“Lynne? You alright up there? Haven’t drowned have you?”

She went back downstairs in her pyjamas with her bangle still on her arm and when she saw David with a glass of wine in each hand, she said, Oh David. Oh David.

“Sit down, love,” he said. “We’ll have a glass to finish off the day. Just you and me.”

“Oh David,” said Lynne again, looking to the top of the tree at the fairy with the broken wand.

The storm was intense by then, horizontal rain lashing the window panes. Lynne sat on the settee next to David, put her head on his shoulder, wondering if the howls of the wind outside would be loud enough to drown out those inside her head if she might allow herself to let herself go later on.

Jane Fraser is an award-winning novelist and short story writer based in the Gower peninsula, south Wales. Her debut novel, Advent, won the 2022 Society of Authors’ Paul Torday Memorial Prize. She is also the author of a recently published second novel, Weights and Measures (Watermark Press 2025), and two collections of short stories, The South Westerlies (Salt 2019) and Connective Tissue (Salt 2022).