Anne and Penny were finishing their crossword - they called out, in turn, the answers to the tricksy clues - Penny now consulted her tablet to confirm the name of a river in Siberia, or the author of a book of sermons -
Outside, in the garden, silent blackbirds gathered on the lawn - Penny shut the book of crosswords - we decided to drive up the hill to Kingston - there was a Christmas Tree Show in the church there -
We left Larksgate just as the pale watery sky was darkening - the road up to Kingston was very steep, curving sharply as it snaked up the hill - often, in the summer, driving up there, the red Peugeot would come bumper bumper with the Purbeck Breezer on the topmost bend - the top deck of the bus would be crowded with sun burnt girls and long limbed boys -
Anne parked the Peugeot opposite the church, a few yards away from the Scott Arms - I remembered drinking Old Thumper there, one late summer afternoon - I was sitting in the pub garden - you could see the valley, with Corfe and its shattered castle, becoming part of heaven, peopled with angels -
Maire's husband, Pete, had beguiled me with surreal anecdotes about his customers in the Yellow Shop - I wore an Arabic scarf - Anne and Maire remembered madcap escapades in the convent -
Now the valley was full of shadow - the church was a sinister beast, cast in stone - but as soon as we opened the heavy door, we were bathed with light - there were bright Christmas trees clustered in the aisle, each one decked with poignant baubles -
A laager of wheel chairs surrounded spirited grannies, listening to Tudor hymns - a small choir sang with great spirit - they were led by a smiling woman, who coaxed every note from their throats by her gestures and smiles -
Tears came to my eyes when they later sang Stille Nacht, heilige Nach - I thought of my maternal grandfather, who'd gone to France, to look after horses - he'd heard this carol quiver in the icy air -
I looked at a Christmas tree hung with messages of remembrance - one message read, To my Dear Dad - I felt my heart twist like an eel inside my chest -
I had to stare at a memorial tablet to the third Earl of Eldon to restore my equilibrium - then I saw, on one Christmas tree, the word hope, attached to a present wrapped in shining green wrapping paper -
Anne parked the Peugeot opposite the church, a few yards away from the Scott Arms - I remembered drinking Old Thumper there, one late summer afternoon - I was sitting in the pub garden - you could see the valley, with Corfe and its shattered castle, becoming part of heaven, peopled with angels -
Maire's husband, Pete, had beguiled me with surreal anecdotes about his customers in the Yellow Shop - I wore an Arabic scarf - Anne and Maire remembered madcap escapades in the convent -
Now the valley was full of shadow - the church was a sinister beast, cast in stone - but as soon as we opened the heavy door, we were bathed with light - there were bright Christmas trees clustered in the aisle, each one decked with poignant baubles -
A laager of wheel chairs surrounded spirited grannies, listening to Tudor hymns - a small choir sang with great spirit - they were led by a smiling woman, who coaxed every note from their throats by her gestures and smiles -
Tears came to my eyes when they later sang Stille Nacht, heilige Nach - I thought of my maternal grandfather, who'd gone to France, to look after horses - he'd heard this carol quiver in the icy air -
I looked at a Christmas tree hung with messages of remembrance - one message read, To my Dear Dad - I felt my heart twist like an eel inside my chest -
I had to stare at a memorial tablet to the third Earl of Eldon to restore my equilibrium - then I saw, on one Christmas tree, the word hope, attached to a present wrapped in shining green wrapping paper -
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