Peace on earth

Liz is determined to spend the day alone… but is it possible?

Liz’s last obstacle had been the young couple from the flat below hers. As she’d come through the front door their cheery voices had greeted her in unison. “Hi, Liz. All ready for Christmas?” Liz looked at them in their matching red sweaters with snowmen on the fronts and forced a smile.

“Yes,” she said and hurried away up the stairs.

She let herself into her flat and leaned against the closed door. Peace at last. Her dream was about to come true.

Several times over the past few weeks she had thought she would never make it, but careful planning and deception had led up to this moment. Now she was about to enjoy the next two days to the full.

“I vant to be alone,” she drawled in her best Garbo style. It was a pity there was no one there to appreciate it.

It was Christmas Eve. Nothing could spoil it now. Finally she was alone and it hadn’t been easy.

“You can’t spend Christmas Day on your own. It’s a time for families,” Liz’s colleagues had gasped when she first made her controversial announcement. No one understood how she felt.

Liz began to think that she was some sort of freak. What was wrong with some peace and quiet for a change? She’d done her bit. For years it had been up to her to do all the shopping, buy the presents, hang up the garlands, decorate the tree, cook the food.

Now she wanted a change. Everyone had their own idea of what a perfect Christmas should be, so why wasn’t she entitled to her own perfect day? She dreamed of staying in bed all morning, having a sandwich for lunch and lying on the sofa all afternoon stuffing chocolates and reading a good book.

She didn’t want to stay with her brother and his noisy family, or her daughter and the hyperactive grandchildren. What was wrong with not wanting to be sociable, not wanting to wear a paper hat or pull crackers and eat turkey? Everything, according to most people. As the festive season approached and friends and relatives began to ask what her plans were, she told them the truth. “I want to spend Christmas on my own.” They’d all been horrified. Liz tried explaining to her daughter how she would love a lazy day in solitude.

“But, Mum, you can be as lazy as you like at our house. All you have to do is sit and relax,” said Marie.

Sit and relax? What a laugh. It wasn’t in her to sit and watch while Marie struggled with tons of vegetables and a giant turkey. Or watch the kids fighting. Last year she’d organised games for them to keep them happy. And then there’d been the babysitting. Once she arrived, Marie and Greg went out every night.

“What’s wrong with a girl slobbing out once in a while?” she’d asked.

“Girl?” Marie had laughed. “You’re a granny, remember.”

Yes, I’m a grandmother but I’ m not ready for shaw land slippers and sitting by the fire. It’s time to do what I want, Liz thought. And I’ m going to spend Christmas at home. Alone.

To achieve that, she knew she would have to become a convincing liar. She’d tell her family she’d been invited to stay with friends, and tell

friends she was staying with family.

She’d begin with her best friend, Maggie. They had a shopping trip planned for the weekend.

With a cluster of assorted carrier bags at their feet, Liz and Maggie sat at a small table between a gaudily decorated tree and a roaring fake log fire in The Red Lion.

The table was Liz’s choice. Her feet were numb from the cold. Her fingers were blue. She had taken off her coat but kept her pashmina scarf wound around her neck and shoulders.

Maggie, meanwhile, had taken the chair furthest from the fire, removed her short jacket and produced a fresh tissue to mop at her forehead.

Liz had ordered lasagne. Maggie had happily tucked into the festive Special and admitted it was her third turkey dinner so far that week.

“How could you do that?” asked Liz, as her friend scraped the last of the pudding from her dish.

“Easy,” grinned Maggie. “If you

SINGING HAPPILY, she was to go back to BED when the DOORBELL RANG

order the lot, you get a free glass of mulled wine.” A waiter appeared with a coffee pot. “Refill?” he asked. Liz put her hand over the top of her empty cup. “Yes please,” she said, “but could I have a clean cup, please?” Maggie laughed. “You must tell me sometime why you always have to have a clean cup.”

“I just do,” said Liz. Then she took a deep breath and rushed into her planned speech. “I’m spending Christmas with Marie, Greg and the kids.”

“But you hated it last year,” gasped Maggie. “Come to me instead.”

“I can’t. I’ve promised now.” The lie slipped out painlessly and all Liz felt was sheer relief at the escape she’d had.

Maggie would drag her out for long walks in the cold, and then there was her flat to contend with. No central heating.

While Maggie spent the winter in a T-shirt, kept her windows open and hadn’t so much as a dying ember in her empty fireplace, Liz would swathe herself in sweaters over thermal undies, turn the thermostat to tropical and try not to feel guilty about global warming.

That night Liz had curled up with the telephone and systematically tackled the family, telling them all that Maggie had twisted her arm. “She’d be all on her own if I hadn’t said yes to her invitation,” she said.

Then she snuggled beneath the duvet planning Phase Two of Operation Christmas. She’d make sure no one could call her by switching off her phone and claiming later that she’d forgotten to take her charger to Maggie’s/Marie’s. Now she had two days’ holiday to plan.

“Oh, what bliss. Two days to do exactly what I want,” she whispered to herself before falling asleep.

Aweek before C-Day, as Liz had begun to call it, she posted her cards and delivered the presents. All that remained was to get everything she needed for herself.

“Christmas Eve at last,” sighed Liz, “and I’ve done it.” She crossed to the kitchen to pour a glass of celebratory wine. There were several bottles in the fridge alongside all her favourite foods.

It had been a hectic day with her boss wanting all the reports for the council ready before the holiday. Then there was shopping on the way home.

It would be wonderful to have nothing to do and no one to speak to for a couple of days. Liz couldn’t believe she had really pulled it off.

She woke late on Christmas morning, took a leisurely bath and then opened the present she had bought for herself. A pair of wildly expensive white silk pyjamas. She put them on immediately and went back to bed.

There was a good film on the telly. She switched on the set. The news was on. There was time to make some coffee.

In the kitchen she loaded a tray with fruit, chocolates and biscuits, added cream, sugar, the coffee pot and her usual two cups.

Singing happily she was about to go back to bed when the bell rang, dissolving all her dreams.

Her first instinct was to pretend she wasn’t in, but the sound of the television was a giveaway. Whoever was at the door would know the flat wasn’t empty.

Liz struggled to open the door and balance the tray on her white silk covered hip.

On the landing stood two matching red sweaters with snowmen on the front. The couple from the flat beneath were inside them. The girl smiled sweetly.

“We heard you moving about,” she said, “and couldn’t bear to think of you being here alone on Christmas Day.”

“You must come downstairs and join us,” added her matching partner.

“We’ve an enormous turkey, plenty to – ” The girl’s words fizzled out as her cheeks began to glow as red as her sweater. She looked from Liz to the two cups on the tray, and then to the open door of the bedroom from which came a soft, yet deep, male voice.

“Ooh, you’re not alone. We wouldn’t have disturbed you if we’d known. Sorry.”

She and her partner nearly fell down the stairs in their rush to escape.

Liz kicked the door shut and, giggling to herself, danced into the bedroom.

“Merry Christmas, Gorgeous,” she said, toasting the newsreader with her first cup of coffee of the day.