EVE Page #3

• Short story

								


It was almost a quarter to one when he knocked on the door of her cottage; she threw her arms around him and hugged, the sort of hug that no grizzly bear would have been ashamed of. His daughter made some hot chocolate, and they sat catching the events of her day before she went to bed, he would lock up, he always did on Christmas Eve. It was what he did before he made his once-a-year visit under the pseudonym of Santa Clause his last duty was to place her Christmas presents beneath the tree and turn of the tree lights.

It was bright when he woke on Christmas day, the bright sun was reflecting every aspect of the snow carpet laid during the night, He could hear his daughter tearing her way to the presents through the crisp wrapping paper, he looked at his watch it was still early, incredibly early. His daughter had not changed since she was little, there were two things she loved, one was receiving presents and the other was pass the parcel, Christmas day was a time when she got to combine the two. He came downstairs to find her still in her nightdress playing with all of her new toys. She collected all of the gifts with his name and watched as he opened each one with that look that said, “I hope I got it right”.
 One of the presents was a King Edward cigar in a metal tube. It was a sort of ritual present, a cigar on Christmas day. It was usual for him to smoke it around mid-morning. Later as he sat reading the book she had bought him he unconsciously took out the cigar and put it in his mouth, he reached into his pocket for that familiar silver lighter, it was not there. He thought he must have left it in the camper and went to look for it, but it was not there to be found. He lit the cigar off the electric cigarette lighter and sat down to think. Megan’s last words came to him as he filled his lungs with the welcome draft,” something precious will disappear”. He pondered the events of last night as he put his hand on one of the red blankets, it was still wet, how could it be? They said she was a ghost? They don’t have actual contact, do they? He did not understand. He had said nothing of the previous night to his daughter he did not think she would understand, he knew he certainly did not. He had decided not to mention Eve at all.

After the excesses of Christmas Joe felt it was time to go and as usual his daughter cleaned the camper for him inside and made sure all was right for the return journey. She always finished the job by cutting some flowers and putting them in a small jar, 

This year was no exception, when the cleaning was finished, she placed a small jam jar on the table with some blue and yellow Gentiana she had cut from an area of her garden not yet under the snow.

Joe always felt uncomfortable with flowers and as he drove away from his daughter’s cottage, he was trying to think how he might dispose of the flowers without offending the thought behind his daughter's intention. Then it struck him, Megan had said that Eve was buried in the churchyard in the village he decided that Eve might like some fresh flowers and if as Megan had said there was no one who could he offend. As he drove through that village on his way home, he saw the church in the distance. As he pulled up outside there was a man talking to the vicar by the Lytch gate. Joe put on his coat and picked up the jam jar with the flowers, at the gate he asked the Vicar where he might find the grave of Eve, he did not know her full name.
The Vicar asked if he was a relative, Joe said “No we only met briefly in a storm” the Vicar said “I will take you to her” The Vicar took him to a spot under a yew tree and pointed to one of five graves, that is where she lies she has been here these past twelve years, then added “A poor lost soul we try to care for” Joe thanked him and the vicar retired so that Joe might pay his respects. As Joe brushed away the fallen snow to put the jam jar on firm ground, he felt something hard move across the frozen earth.

He wiped away the snow and there it was, glinting in the morning sun, its shafts of light struggling through the yew tree, his lighter, he could not believe it, he wiped it and flicked it, the flame was still there. He put the lighter into his pocket; it felt cold against his leg inside that pocket. Joe set the jar with the blue and yellow flowers in the centre of her grave and sat there for a moment. He became aware of a lengthening shadow to his right and looked up to see the outline of the Vicar, "What a waste" said Joe,” Why did they call her Eve, do you know?” The Vicar said that it was thought that she took her last breath on Christmas Eve so Eve seemed appropriate” Joe said, “I am not a godly man Vicar, but will you pray for her?” He went on “I never met her, but I think she should have flowers. If I leave you money, will you see to it” “Of course” said the Vicar “What sort would you like” Joe only knew the name of one flower and said, “Forget me nots”. As Joe left, he took out a new Fifty pound note and gave it to the vicar for the flowers,” Nothing fancy but flowers, yes” he said to the Vicar. Then as an afterthought added but don’t put any there on Christmas Eve because someone else will be doing that. Puzzled the vicar enquired “who?"
Joe said, " Me. I will look after her from now on.".        

JP.
               
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