Family Fiction posted November 16, 2016 |
The Last Christmas at Kirmingsham Hall
The Last Christmas
by vigournet
Back in 2006 -- before his grandson Wesley was diagnosed with cancer - John Morgan had said: "Christmas is made for grandads." Thanks to a chance meeting with a flower-seller John travelled to Israel and returned with a mysterious antique box the contents of which saved Wesley's life and led John to an amazing adventure. One considered his destiny.
A decade later on Christmas Day John's thoughts were of a familiar aroma floating towards his nostrils. He reminisced of his grandma's baking and entered the Kirmingsham Hall kitchen to the dulcet tones of "Mary's Boy Child" playing in the background.
"Is that mince pies I can smell?" he said, taking a long sniff, and reached for the overflowing plate.ÃÂ
"Yes, John, we're baking for the party tomorrow," his wife said, tapping a wooden spoon in her palm, "and don't touch again."
He kissed her cheek, ignored her chastisement, quickly grabbed a pie, and ran for the lounge, crumbs falling onto the hall tiles. His eyes found family and friends relaxing on blue leather sofas, chairs, or cross-legged on soft pillows and red carpet. The spacious Tudor property had been their home since John and Liz married in the summer of 1986.
The gathering and what was to follow was planned for weeks. The Morgan Christmas Day celebrations would begin with a full English breakfast at The Black Swan and continue with traditional turkey dinner at home. Traditions would be broken, however, in ways that were staggering.
"Mince pies. Yum." James, John's son, said as he followed his wife Alyanna through the swing door.
"Keep ya' mitts off them, James my boy," Sean said with a wink as he grabbed one off the plate. "Jesus, these are hot" he blew on his fingers as Rachel play-punched his shoulder.
Rebecca, their toddler, was in the lounge playing horsey on Goliath's back. Goliath -- aptly named as he was six foot eight and weighed twenty-six stone -was Aly's cousin. Rebecca and her mum had benefitted from a miracle from Eden too. On Christmas Day the family would travel together to the mysterious garden. Probably for the last time.
The laughing toddler's tiny legs hardly encompassed the giant's massive frame. She resembled a rabbit on an elephant. Roisin, Goliath's fiancee, knelt close as guardian angel.The lounge door opened and two teenage boys bounded in to take their turn at the rodeo.
"Mum and Josh have just arrived," Wesley said, looking through the patio window.
"Oh great," Iggy said, "now we have ex SAS and Mossad here. What Christmas party-poopers!" He slapped Goliath on his rear as he mounted his back. "Gee up, horsey." The man mountain twisted and Iggy fell off laughing.
Watching her culinary labours being devoured one by one Liz said with a shrug, "I can make some more."
The two family dogs lay by the stone hearth. Presents under the tree testified that Christmas was for dogs too.
On the morning of December 25 after a sumptuous breakfast handshakes and farewells were given to the landlord and staff. Sadness and anticipation in the air. Cars made their way past the iced-over pond, the remnants of festivity strewn around the village. Steering his BMW through the double gates for the last time and pulling up at stone steps, John grasped Liz's hand and pushed open the front door.
Christmas carols by choristers played over the hi-fi as the household opened presents. A pile of multi-coloured wrapping paper growing on the carpet.
"Slippers. Bleedin' slippers," Sean tore at his parcel.
"Language, Captain," Rachel pointed to a toddler placing multi-coloured Lego blocks together to make a huge tower which toppled to her exasperation. Periodically someone carried turkey remnants, mashed potato, sprouts and other greens on a platter, alongside pizzas, chilli and rice. The group dined until the Queen's speech after which James called out "Okay, Rambo, you can come back in now."Sean returned and gave a thumbs up.
"Can we have some games?" Wesley said, winking at Iggy.
"Yes of course, Sweetheart," Becky said, "and you were a brilliant innkeeper." Wesley blushed as his mum smiled proudly.
Through the late afternoon and early evening there was laughter, fun and merriment as various games were played. After a very competitive final attempt at Twister Becky surrendered and John realised it was time.
"Okay everyone. It's time to go." John gathered everyone for a massive group hug. They discarded their paper party hats and looked back.
One by one the family and friends stepped through the portal and entered Eden -never to return.
Christmas Story contest entry
Back in 2006 -- before his grandson Wesley was diagnosed with cancer - John Morgan had said: "Christmas is made for grandads." Thanks to a chance meeting with a flower-seller John travelled to Israel and returned with a mysterious antique box the contents of which saved Wesley's life and led John to an amazing adventure. One considered his destiny.
A decade later on Christmas Day John's thoughts were of a familiar aroma floating towards his nostrils. He reminisced of his grandma's baking and entered the Kirmingsham Hall kitchen to the dulcet tones of "Mary's Boy Child" playing in the background.
"Is that mince pies I can smell?" he said, taking a long sniff, and reached for the overflowing plate.ÃÂ
"Yes, John, we're baking for the party tomorrow," his wife said, tapping a wooden spoon in her palm, "and don't touch again."
He kissed her cheek, ignored her chastisement, quickly grabbed a pie, and ran for the lounge, crumbs falling onto the hall tiles. His eyes found family and friends relaxing on blue leather sofas, chairs, or cross-legged on soft pillows and red carpet. The spacious Tudor property had been their home since John and Liz married in the summer of 1986.
The gathering and what was to follow was planned for weeks. The Morgan Christmas Day celebrations would begin with a full English breakfast at The Black Swan and continue with traditional turkey dinner at home. Traditions would be broken, however, in ways that were staggering.
"Mince pies. Yum." James, John's son, said as he followed his wife Alyanna through the swing door.
"Keep ya' mitts off them, James my boy," Sean said with a wink as he grabbed one off the plate. "Jesus, these are hot" he blew on his fingers as Rachel play-punched his shoulder.
Rebecca, their toddler, was in the lounge playing horsey on Goliath's back. Goliath -- aptly named as he was six foot eight and weighed twenty-six stone -was Aly's cousin. Rebecca and her mum had benefitted from a miracle from Eden too. On Christmas Day the family would travel together to the mysterious garden. Probably for the last time.
The laughing toddler's tiny legs hardly encompassed the giant's massive frame. She resembled a rabbit on an elephant. Roisin, Goliath's fiancee, knelt close as guardian angel.The lounge door opened and two teenage boys bounded in to take their turn at the rodeo.
"Mum and Josh have just arrived," Wesley said, looking through the patio window.
"Oh great," Iggy said, "now we have ex SAS and Mossad here. What Christmas party-poopers!" He slapped Goliath on his rear as he mounted his back. "Gee up, horsey." The man mountain twisted and Iggy fell off laughing.
Watching her culinary labours being devoured one by one Liz said with a shrug, "I can make some more."
The two family dogs lay by the stone hearth. Presents under the tree testified that Christmas was for dogs too.
On the morning of December 25 after a sumptuous breakfast handshakes and farewells were given to the landlord and staff. Sadness and anticipation in the air. Cars made their way past the iced-over pond, the remnants of festivity strewn around the village. Steering his BMW through the double gates for the last time and pulling up at stone steps, John grasped Liz's hand and pushed open the front door.
Christmas carols by choristers played over the hi-fi as the household opened presents. A pile of multi-coloured wrapping paper growing on the carpet.
"Slippers. Bleedin' slippers," Sean tore at his parcel.
"Language, Captain," Rachel pointed to a toddler placing multi-coloured Lego blocks together to make a huge tower which toppled to her exasperation. Periodically someone carried turkey remnants, mashed potato, sprouts and other greens on a platter, alongside pizzas, chilli and rice. The group dined until the Queen's speech after which James called out "Okay, Rambo, you can come back in now."Sean returned and gave a thumbs up.
"Can we have some games?" Wesley said, winking at Iggy.
"Yes of course, Sweetheart," Becky said, "and you were a brilliant innkeeper." Wesley blushed as his mum smiled proudly.
Through the late afternoon and early evening there was laughter, fun and merriment as various games were played. After a very competitive final attempt at Twister Becky surrendered and John realised it was time.
"Okay everyone. It's time to go." John gathered everyone for a massive group hug. They discarded their paper party hats and looked back.
One by one the family and friends stepped through the portal and entered Eden -never to return.
A decade later on Christmas Day John's thoughts were of a familiar aroma floating towards his nostrils. He reminisced of his grandma's baking and entered the Kirmingsham Hall kitchen to the dulcet tones of "Mary's Boy Child" playing in the background.
"Is that mince pies I can smell?" he said, taking a long sniff, and reached for the overflowing plate.ÃÂ
"Yes, John, we're baking for the party tomorrow," his wife said, tapping a wooden spoon in her palm, "and don't touch again."
He kissed her cheek, ignored her chastisement, quickly grabbed a pie, and ran for the lounge, crumbs falling onto the hall tiles. His eyes found family and friends relaxing on blue leather sofas, chairs, or cross-legged on soft pillows and red carpet. The spacious Tudor property had been their home since John and Liz married in the summer of 1986.
The gathering and what was to follow was planned for weeks. The Morgan Christmas Day celebrations would begin with a full English breakfast at The Black Swan and continue with traditional turkey dinner at home. Traditions would be broken, however, in ways that were staggering.
"Mince pies. Yum." James, John's son, said as he followed his wife Alyanna through the swing door.
"Keep ya' mitts off them, James my boy," Sean said with a wink as he grabbed one off the plate. "Jesus, these are hot" he blew on his fingers as Rachel play-punched his shoulder.
Rebecca, their toddler, was in the lounge playing horsey on Goliath's back. Goliath -- aptly named as he was six foot eight and weighed twenty-six stone -was Aly's cousin. Rebecca and her mum had benefitted from a miracle from Eden too. On Christmas Day the family would travel together to the mysterious garden. Probably for the last time.
The laughing toddler's tiny legs hardly encompassed the giant's massive frame. She resembled a rabbit on an elephant. Roisin, Goliath's fiancee, knelt close as guardian angel.The lounge door opened and two teenage boys bounded in to take their turn at the rodeo.
"Mum and Josh have just arrived," Wesley said, looking through the patio window.
"Oh great," Iggy said, "now we have ex SAS and Mossad here. What Christmas party-poopers!" He slapped Goliath on his rear as he mounted his back. "Gee up, horsey." The man mountain twisted and Iggy fell off laughing.
Watching her culinary labours being devoured one by one Liz said with a shrug, "I can make some more."
The two family dogs lay by the stone hearth. Presents under the tree testified that Christmas was for dogs too.
On the morning of December 25 after a sumptuous breakfast handshakes and farewells were given to the landlord and staff. Sadness and anticipation in the air. Cars made their way past the iced-over pond, the remnants of festivity strewn around the village. Steering his BMW through the double gates for the last time and pulling up at stone steps, John grasped Liz's hand and pushed open the front door.
Christmas carols by choristers played over the hi-fi as the household opened presents. A pile of multi-coloured wrapping paper growing on the carpet.
"Slippers. Bleedin' slippers," Sean tore at his parcel.
"Language, Captain," Rachel pointed to a toddler placing multi-coloured Lego blocks together to make a huge tower which toppled to her exasperation. Periodically someone carried turkey remnants, mashed potato, sprouts and other greens on a platter, alongside pizzas, chilli and rice. The group dined until the Queen's speech after which James called out "Okay, Rambo, you can come back in now."Sean returned and gave a thumbs up.
"Can we have some games?" Wesley said, winking at Iggy.
"Yes of course, Sweetheart," Becky said, "and you were a brilliant innkeeper." Wesley blushed as his mum smiled proudly.
Through the late afternoon and early evening there was laughter, fun and merriment as various games were played. After a very competitive final attempt at Twister Becky surrendered and John realised it was time.
"Okay everyone. It's time to go." John gathered everyone for a massive group hug. They discarded their paper party hats and looked back.
One by one the family and friends stepped through the portal and entered Eden -never to return.
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