Page 35 of A Festive Surprise

‘Bring it on then.’

The grilling haloumi filled the room with the aroma Farid had predicted. It was only seven o’clock but the smell made Holly’s tummy rumble. Some days, she couldn’t face food before eleven but with a chef like this, how could she refuse? He laid it out in front of her and sat opposite. ‘Ready?’

‘I’m ready for anything right now.’

‘Then let’s do it.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She hovered her hand over the array of dishes. ‘What do I eat first?’

‘You decide. There is no rules. You eat as you like.’

Holly picked something of everything, copying Farid’s combinations. ‘This is really good. I never thought I’d eat anything like this for breakfast.’

‘It’ll set you up for the day.’ He licked the end of his finger and she held her breath. He glanced up and winked. ‘I can tell you a story while we eat.’

‘What kind of story?’

‘Christmas.’

‘Good god, Farid, you’re obsessed.’

‘This is about Christmas in Damascus. There are some Christians in Syria and in parts of Damascus, they light up the houses and put up the trees. I visit it with friends one time. And this you will like. You have Santa, the big man with a red suit, who’s jolly and bright. He rides the sleigh pulled by reindeer and brings the presents to good children, yes?’

‘Yes.’ She arched an eyebrow. Where was this going?

‘And that is the naughty list you speak of the other day.’

‘Yup. I’m definitely on that.’

He grinned. ‘In Syria, there is no Santa but Christian children get presents. I knew a Christian family through work and they tell me the story about the littlest camel.’

‘The what?’

‘No reindeer, a camel.’

Holly dipped her pitta in the hummus and shook her head. ‘Is this for real?’

‘Yes. The story says when the three magi visit the baby Christ, they come on camels. Now, the littlest camel is special. His journey to Bethlehem is very hard and the baby Christ gives this camel a reward. I check a word… wait one second.’ He pulled out his phone and searched. ‘Ah… immortality. This is the gift from the baby Christ. And every year the little camel visits the houses and puts presents into the shoes of the children.’

‘An immortal camel?’

‘Yes. Does that sound stranger to you than flying reindeer?’

She laughed. ‘It sounds mad to me. But that’s what I keep telling you; nobody knows what Christmas is about anymore.’

‘Maybe these things are like the decorations on the tree. The extra bits people add on; every year it grows as people add more and more. Some old decorations… ya’ni… they fade and are forgotten, but the heart of the tree is the same. That’s what we must find. The heart of Christmas. Not what each little extra bit means. Because different people attach different meaning to them. You might love the decoration that’s like a snowflake; I might like the red flower more. We must dig deep, find the heart and what the heart means to you.’

‘You should be a poet. You say such beautiful things and in a second language. It amazes me. But you’ve picked the wrong girl. The heart of Christmas doesn’t exist for me anymore. It died and there’s not a defibrillator on earth that can resurrect it.’

He slid his hand over hers and her breath caught. Such warm palms. ‘Don’t say that, jamilati. We can find it together.’

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