Short story

With their daughter away in Australia, Christmas isn’t the same for Tess and Peter

Tess watched her elderly neighbour shuffle into the house opposite, stooped under the weight of shopping, and made a decision. “I’m going to invite Mrs Kendall for Christmas dinner,” she announced out loud, although her husband wasn’t there to hear her. As usual, Peter was pottering around on his allotment, despite the wintry weather. Tess grabbed her coat and marched across the road to rap on the front door. “Hullo, dear. What can I do for you?” Mrs Kendall’s white hair was fluffed around a rosy face, her eyes a lively blue. She looked like an ageing cherub. “I was wondering – I mean my husband and I were wondering – if you’d like to come over for lunch on Christmas Day,” Tess stammered, wishing that she had made more of an effort to get to know the old lady in the two years that they had been neighbours. What she had gathered was there was no Mr Kendall around. “That’s nice of you, dear, but I’ve already made arrangements,” Mrs Kendall’s kind gaze rested on Tess’s feet and, glancing down, she realised that she had forgotten to change out of her Kermit the frog slippers. “Of course you have. I should have realised. I’m so sorry,” she said, her face burning as she wondered what the older woman must be thinking. “I just thought that if you were on your own you might like some company…” Close up, Mrs Kendall looked as sprightly as if she went out dancing every week and her expression could only be described as mischievous. “Why don’t you and your husband come over here?” she offered. “I remember what it was like when our children flew the nest. Me and my Charlie (God rest his soul) didn’t know what to do with ourselves.” Tess wondered how MrsK endall could have known that since their daughter, Gemma, had moved to the other side of the world, she and Peter were lost. “Oh no, we couldn’t possibly impose. I mean, it’s lovely of you to ask, but… Actually, that would be fantastic!” Tess heard herself saying, lured by the smell of homemade mince pies wafting from the kitchen. The poor thing’s probably desperate for company, Tess consoled herself as she scurried back home, wondering how to break the news to Peter. The man who had once been the life and soul of any party had retreated more and more into himself lately. Later, on the phone, Gemma said, “Just tell him. He can only say no.” “No,” Peter said firmly when Tess broached the subject. “I just want Christmas over and done with.” Tess thought to herself, ‘But what about me?’ Aloud, she cajoled, “It would mean a lot to Mrs Kendall.” “You don’t even know what her first name is,” he reasoned and Tess saw that he was not prepared to budge. “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”