Page 2 of A Festive Surprise

Christmas with arms and legs? What? Sometimes this language had the oddest sayings. Farid shouldered the tree and, together with Archie, they lugged it into the house. With some toing and froing, they manoeuvred it into the stand.

‘There.’ Farid stepped back.

‘Perfect.’ Georgia grinned and brought her hands together under her chin.

Perfect, huh? Maybe in her eyes. Farid furrowed his brow. One day, someone might explain the point of bringing a cut tree into the house. And how did it fit with baby Jesus and a man in a red suit? If assimilating into Scottish culture meant understanding it, he had an enormous mountain to climb. Cuddly toys of the Loch Ness Monster were one thing, glittery reindeer, quite another. And don’t get him started on the food – deep-fried chocolate bars. Just why?

‘Right, I better be off,’ Georgia said. ‘And I mustn’t forget.’ She nipped into the open-plan kitchen area and grabbed a large shopping bag. ‘Carys is going to call in for this elf outfit. She wants to see if it fits. I hope it does; I need an extra elf for Santa’s grotto.’

Archie frowned. ‘I won’t be here either. I have my meeting this afternoon.’

‘Oh, drat.’ Georgia face-palmed. ‘I forgot. I won’t be too long. Holly’s arriving later too…’ She checked her watch.

‘I can wait,’ said Farid. ‘I see some logs at the front. I can cut them.’

‘That would be amazing, thank you.’ Georgia patted his arm. ‘You’re a superstar.’

‘I’ll pop that on your wages,’ said Archie.

‘Thank you. But no need.’

‘You deserve it.’ Archie clapped his back. ‘Saves me a job.’

Farid shut the pickup’s tailgate and waved off Georgia and Archie. Behind the house, the land rose steeply, providing a sheltered backdrop. Farid opened the woodshed and scanned around for the equipment. His gaze fell on a stack of plastic boxes at the door. Silver and gold sparkles bulged against the translucent sides. He lifted a lid to reveal strings upon strings of glittery tinsel, fake icicles, and lights. On top was a neatly folded red hat with white fur around the base. Santa’s hat. Santa! He smirked. That bizarre chubby man with his red suit who featured in shop window displays. Farid lifted out the hat and put it on. Now he must look the part. His beard was black and neat, unlike the bushy white one belonging to the strange man. He patted his gut – not even one ounce of extra fat. What would his parents make of this? Stepping outside, he snapped a selfie. His sisters would appreciate it.

Grabbing the axe and a saw, he returned to the front of the house and pulled out the first log. Lifting the axe, he caressed the handle, then raised it above his head. It came down with a thump. Two bits of wood sprang apart.

‘Ah, mashallah, mashalla.’ He laid the next section out.

Chopping logs was the main deal in his new forestry job, though usually with more sophisticated equipment. He brought the axe down hard again and the wood split clean. With a crisp nod, he tossed the log into the basket and grabbed another.

A chainsaw was easier but manual work released tension in his body and mind. Pent-up energy thrummed inside him. Acceptance fought anger. The desire to fit in battled with a desperation not to forget or lose who he was. He cracked another piece of wood, straightened up and wiped his brow. The wind caught his face and the Santa hat blew off.

He snatched it off the ground and shoved it back on. Down came the axe with another satisfying thud. Whatever was happening in this crazy world, he at least could be grateful for some simple pleasures.

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