The Christmas Angel Read Free

decolations down now?’
    He is still slightly reluctant to abandon his air of sadness, which has so far earned him a big slice of cake and the present to come, and Dossie watches him, amused. Showing great restraint, he hasn’t asked about his Twelfth Night present but clearly he guesses that it is contingent upon the decorations being packed away and is now quite ready for this next step. She raises her eyebrows at Clem, who nods.
    ‘Could you deal with Auntie Gabriel? And the Holy Family? The tree takes a bit of time so it would be a great help if you could manage them.’
    Jakey’s eyes open wide with importance; he grows visibly. He nods. ‘But I can’t leach Auntie Gabriel unless I stand on a chair.’
    ‘I’ll come and help,’ says Dossie. ‘I’ll do the tree and then Daddy can take it out.’
    They go together into the sitting-room and she opens the heavy bottom drawer of the merchant’s chest. Out come the empty boxes and bags and she puts them on the sofa. Jakey seizes the linen shoebag and studies the name-tape with its red stitched letters: C PARDOE. He knows that the letters spell Daddy’s name and his own name, and that the shoebag belonged to Daddy when he was little and at school. He opens the neck of the bag as wide as he can and carries it over to the low table beside the tree.
    Which to take first? He puts the cow in, and then the donkey, laying them right down into the bottom of the bag, and then peeps in at them to see if they are all right. They look quite happy, resting in the slightly musty interior. Next come the kneeling shepherd, arms stretched wide, and the Wise Men: one, two, three. Once again he peers into the bag where they all loll together.
    ‘They’re having a lest,’ he tells Dossie. ‘They like it.’
    ‘Of course they do. They’ve been standing or kneeling there for twelve days. You’d need a rest if you’d stood up for twelve days.’
    Jakey reaches for the second shepherd and Joseph, feeling happier. Joseph settles comfortably at the bottom of the bag, and he puts Mary beside him. The angel Gabriel, staring loftily at nothing, wings unfurled, halo broken, goes in next and, last of all, the little crib and the Holy Child. He puts the manger in but continues to hold the sleeping baby.
    ‘Baby Jesus doesn’t need a lest,’ he says, almost to himself. ‘He’s been lesting all the time.’
    ‘But he wants to be with his family,’ answers Dossie. ‘He’d miss them otherwise.’
    Briefly he wonders whether to make a little fuss, to argue, but then he thinks about the present to come and decides not to. ‘OK,’ he says cheerfully.
    He puts the Holy Child into the shoebag, takes one last look at them all, and with some difficulty pulls the drawstring tight.
    ‘Well done,’ says Dossie. ‘We’ll put the stable in the drawer separately. Now can you pack up Auntie Gabriel?’
    She takes the large bulky figure from the bookcase and props her against the cushions on the sofa beside the soft wrappings. Jakey studies her regretfully: he’ll miss her smile and the comforting feeling that she is watching over him. A memory of a dream he’s had several times flickers in his mind: the still, silent figure, wrapped in pale shawls, standing amongst the trees across the drive from the Lodge, watching. Jakey can’t remember now whether he’s actually climbed out of bed and seen the figure from his window, or merely dreamed it. He fingers the heavy blocks on Auntie Gabriel’s feet and the soft padded wings, and touches the red satin heart, which she holds between her pudgy hands.
    ‘Don’t forget to take her crown off,’ says Dossie, ‘and wrap it separately. Poor old Auntie Gabriel. Now she really needs a rest. She’ll be all ready, then, to come out again next Christmas.’
    Reverently, Jakey takes the gold wire crown from the thick string hair; he bends forward so that his mouth is close to the silk thread of a smile.
    ‘See you next Chlistmas,’ he whispers.