Page 39 of Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall
‘I sense a lover in York, a midnight fling. How perfect. Didn’t take you long.’ Paul laughed and Adam joined in his giggles.
Christa avoided Marc’s gaze and grabbed her hat from where it sat near the back door and headed outside to her car.
The air was crisp and she could hear frost crunching beneath her feet as she walked over the grass.
A vineyard in France? Who had a vineyard?
She started her car and let it warm up for a moment and then drove down the driveway towards town, wondering how she could be living between such different worlds.
*
The van was set up and people were milling around when she arrived. Soon she was serving soup and handing out sandwiches and some custard tarts a bakery had donated.
‘Petey isn’t here tonight?’ she asked Zane as he came to help her.
‘No, he’s sick. He needs to take care; he’s getting on himself.’ Zane said. ‘His wife died a few years ago. He runs the fudge company himself and runs the market stall alone most days.’
Christa made a mental note to call on Petey at the market the next day.
‘Soup? Chicken noodle or pumpkin?’ she asked, looking down from the counter of the van, to see a young girl of about eight or nine, in a thin jacket with a toddler in a stroller next to her. ‘Hi.’ She smiled at the little girl.
‘Chicken noodle,’ said the child.
‘Where’s your mum?’ she asked.
‘Talking to the nurse,’ she said.
Christa looked at Zane who didn’t seem surprised at the age of the children in front of them.
‘Does your little brother want something to eat? Maybe some bread and butter or custard tart?’
Christa wished she had something more nutritious for the child.
‘A custard tart would be nice,’ said the girl shyly and Christa handed her four and a cup of soup with a lid on it and some bread and butter.
The child manoeuvred the stroller away with one hand while she held the soup after putting the other items in the basket below the child.
‘Jesus,’ she said to Zane, feeling shaken. ‘It’s so late, that child is clearly cold, and the toddler should be asleep. Why are they out here tonight? Is there a place their mother can get this support during the day?’
Zane looked at her.
‘There is but what if she’s working? What then? The mother is getting them food, good food, which is better than no food or eating rice for days. She’s getting shopping from us. She’s getting her wounds from her bastard ex-husband checked by the nurse and the children are together and safe with us here now. Is it ideal? No. But is she trying to do her best? Yes. Her best might not be what you and I might throw out to be the best but it’s all she can do right now and all we can do is support her.’
Christa watched as the mother came back to her children and wrapped her arms around them, making a fuss over the custard tarts.
She wasn’t a religious person but in the moment, she sent a little prayer up to whoever was turning this crazy world and asked if they would share a little magic with this small family doing the best they could on a cold winter’s night.
11
Christa was tired when she came home from the food van and went straight to bed. Staying up late the night before talking to Marc had also taken its toll but when she woke in the morning she felt better and checked the time. It was only just seven and the house sounded quiet. She wanted to make some food for Petey and take it to him in the afternoon. She had his address from Zane and was planning on dropping it off and checking in on him.
Showered and dressed, Christa headed down to the kitchen where she put on the coffee, boiled the kettle and looked inside the refrigerator. No eggs.
Didn’t the boys say there were chickens outside? Peggy hadn’t arrived yet, so that must be why no one had collected the eggs.
Christa pulled on her coat and hat and opened the back door.
There was a glimpse of sunshine and the rain had stopped for a change. Christa saw a collection of wellingtons lined up by the back door and kicked off her shoes and slipped her feet into a pair, tucking her jeans into the boots. She looked around her and then took the gravel path lined with topiary trees that led to a brick wall. She followed the path around the wall until it opened up and she found herself inside a walled kitchen garden, carefully laid out, with winter vegetables in some of the beds alongside some of the empty ones. Presumably they were fallowing for the next plant. She had visited many organic farms and kitchen gardens when she was at Playfoot’s. Seeing the ways the farmers grew the vegetables was wonderful and she would always come back with a new supplier of purple carrots or baby beets.
