No One at Christmas

No One at Christmas

Yellow, blue, green, white various colours of the rainbow flashing in rhythmic patterns to the jingle; We Wish You A Merry Christmas. Frost on the open ground glistening; people outside wrapped up warm, while frantically carrying bags of presents. Christmas decorations; trees, wreaths, mistletoe being displayed on the streets. Carolers visiting houses to get donations arrived at number 32 Granston Road, where Robert Stevenson lived.

Robert held his cane in his hand as he rocked to get up towards the door hobbling towards it, whilst opening it with the keychain leaving a small gap.

‘We are carolers from the local Salvation Army’. They remarked with a upbeat cheer. There was a

group of about five people ranging from different ages dressed as elves.

‘Hello nice to meet you, I don’t get visitors much’ he said.

‘Would you like for us to sing to you?’ they asked.

‘I used to sing to my wife you know, this was a while back. She was into Frank Sinatra’s song

Love Is A Many Splendored Thing and I would sing this to her, she would blush. Her name was Beryl’ he reminisced.

‘Yes I see..hmm are you going to donate sir towards the fund?’ they asked with annoyance.

‘I am afraid I do not have much money you see’. He said solemnly. They tutted and left him at the door before he could say another word, he closed it and was alone again.

  Inside his house there was photo’s of Beryl and Robert wedding pictures, grandchildren, a picture of the East End where Robert grew up. There was a bird cage in the corner of the room with two finches that fluttered inside. They were yellow like daffodils and nustling each other, while the television was on in the background with The Chase Christmas special. Robert had not been watching, it was for company as Beryl had died over a year ago. He wandered around the house like

the finches within his own cage; he hunched down to his armchair slowly as his legs wobbling as he

sat down. He picked up the photograph of Beryl on the side and looked at it. He remembered the

Christmas last year.

  Beryl had decorated the house with tinsel and allsorted decorations such as stars and even

mistletoe; she was a child in her nature and unsteady around the house putting up tape and the decorations.

‘Beryl be careful there don’t fall down’.

‘Oh Robert be a dear and stop your babbling and hand me that mistletoe…. Now you

going to kiss me or not?’

Robert kissed her like a teenager under the mistletoe as she tiptoed to reach him and they both

felt that they were youths again. She looked into his eyes and could see him young  when

he had brown hair and wore glasses and he had chatted her up in the library, over the pretence of borrowing her book.

‘Beryl you are so beautiful’.

‘Robert I feel we are lucky to have each other, even if the kids have all moved abroad, it's me and you together’.

 Robert dropped the photograph of Beryl onto the floor, the house was now empty, no

decorations or tree as she had insisted on putting in the corner every year. There was just remnants of tape stuck into places. He could hear the laughter of the neighbours shouting next door; watching The Chase after they had exchanged presents. The finches squawked in their cage for food but Robert didn’t know where he had left it last, Beryl had been the one to organise where things were kept. He had forgotten their names so called them birdies, Beryl had named them when she had brought them to keep for company.

Silent Night could be heard next door it was nearly three in the afternoon, Roberts stomach
was rumbling he hadn’t eaten but could not recall for how long that had been. He felt light headed and tired and laid back onto the chair looking at the ceiling as he could hear laughing and giggling next door and the exchange of presents. He remembered when Beryl had brought him the finches for Christmas last year.

   ‘Oh Robert aren't they adorable I shall name them Frederick and Amy after our two children; look at them chirping away, they will keep us company’. She looked frail and heaved while they walked off home as Beryl wiped the sweat from her brow. Robert had brought her a cactus plant and had wrapped it up for her with gold paper and a bow. He had hid it under the pile of clothes in the linen closet and was planning to surprise her on Christmas day. Beryl had woken up early, she had put the Turkey in the oven on a slow gas as the smell arose within the home. She felt dizzy but ignored it and bent down towards the oven and fell back onto the tiled kitchen floor: ‘Robert’ she shrieked that had been her last words.

   Robert had forgotten about the plant as it was now rotten under the sheets in the linen closet and could hear the bellow of ‘Robert’ in his head as he lay there looking at the ceiling.

He could see her face: it was when she was younger in the library picking up the books looking at Shakespeare and he had casually walked up to her to say hello. She had blond hair and curls and wore a green dress with flowers on it. He could hear a ringing sound in the distance ‘beep beep’, beep beep’. He realised it was the telephone and edged forward from the chair and tried to get up as his legs felt like a bouncy castle as he shifted towards the phone in the corner of the corridor. He picked it up, but felt pain in his chest it was like a knife cutting into him as he shouted ‘Help me’ into the empty house. He fell into the floor like rubble on the ground and lay there fidgeting while his body went still.  ‘Hello’ ‘Hello’ the voice said annoyingly and ended the call.

   

‘Knock Knock Mr Stevenson are you there?’ the police officer rattled onto the door, there

was a smell coming from inside rancid, like rotten fruit wafting from the door. He could see the shape of something laying onto the floor it looked like sack a of potatoes. He pushed and shoved against the door rampaging against it and got inside. He held his handkerchief up against his nose. He walked towards the ghouley structure, to discover it was the dead body of Robert Stevenson solitary in his house on New Year’s Eve deserted.