"A Happy Christmas"~ for Wednesday is all about April

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

“Mark darling, did you believe in Santa when you were a little boy?”

April Dancer was trying to make conversation in order to keep her wounded partner distracted and from slipping into unconsciousness.

It was Christmas Eve and she had only one wish, and it was for Mark Slate to survive.

She looked up at the sky, seeing a star shining brighter than the others and thought, no... hoped it was the Star of Bethlehem.

He didn’t answer her question at first, making April more apprehensive. She was afraid she was going to lose him.

“Mark?”

“Sorry, no Santa but...” he moaned just a little, not finishing his sentence.

“Really no Santa Claus. Why?" She felt helpless not being able to stop his pain.

“I believed in Father Christmas luv. That’s what we called him back home.”

“What were your Christmases like?” She tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, giving him just a little human contact. If it were his time, he should at least have that.

“Mmm,” he closed his eyes, thinking back to his childhood, and a much more innocent time.

“The smells of minced pies, boiling puddings and the meat cooking late on Christmas Eve. We’d have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, and there’d be crackers... brightly wrapped cardboard cylinders containing a paper crown, a joke or riddle, and a small gift. They were used to decorate place settings and opened prior to serving the meal. And oh yes, Christmas cake...actually Scottish Christmas cake to be precise, the "Whisky Dundee.” We’d have it because my granny was from Perth.  It was soft and crumbly, light on fruit and candied peel, only currants, mind you... raisins, sultanas and cherries. Gran would put coins in it, for good luck."

“You’re making me hungry.”

“My favorite though was the Christmas pudding.”

“Pudding? Tapioca or rice?”

Slate tried not to laugh, “Not that sort of pudding luv. It was plum pudding, though there was no actual plums in it. Plums were another name for raisins since the Victorian times. The pudding was made up of lots dried fruits held together by egg and suet, sometimes moistened by treacle and flavoured with cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger, and other spices and soaked in rum. The pudding was aged for a month or even a year and the high alcohol content prevented it from spoiling."

“Sounds wonderful, all those delicious foods.”

“It was. My dad would dress up in a velvet robe and hooded cape along with a false white beard and deliver some gifts to us kids along with the neighbors children too. The next morning when me and my sis would wake up, there’d be more gifts under tree, many home made and practical. The house would be filled with the smell of wood burning in the fireplace…we'd all have a hot cup of Earl Grey and porridge. After the gifts were opened, it was time to get ready and head off to church services.” He closed his eyes, starting to drift off.

“When was the last time you were home for Christmas?”

His eyes popped open again, but it was getting harder to fight the drowsiness that was creeping infrom the loss of blood. He was feeling cold, and April, seeing him shiver laid down beside him, wrapping him in her arms.

“Been years now. No one left but my sister and she’s off doing what she does. You’ve met her. I’m proud of my sis, I am but she’s…”

“A bit of a character,” April laughed.

“You’ve got that right ducks. Say you've never told me what your Christmases were like when you were young.”

April at up, quirking her head to one side; her ears detecting a sound that gave her hope.

“Darling, that’ll be for another time as our rescue helicopter has arrived.”

Mark was carried on a stretcher and loaded into the chopper but April paused before joining him; looking up at the starry night sky. It was after midnight and Christmas had arrived.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “And Happy Birthday.”

       

    

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Ewww sounds too sweet for me. Thanks for reading.

Just googled a picture of one and it reminded me a tarts we used to get when I was young. Instead of icing there was powdered sugar.