She arrived at St. Ignatius and quietly entered. She did this so she could put out the hymnals, light the candles and make sure the vicar’s surplice was on its hanger. He usually flung it on a chair from whence it slipped onto the floor. The vicar was not the most sartorially elegant of men, but he was a true shepherd to his flock. He was already there when Maud and Tabitha arrived. He took out the well-worn kneeler and put it in the pew where Maud always sat. Tabitha jumped up and lay down and went to sleep. There she would stay until it was time to go home. The congregation began to drift in with still-frosty breath proclaiming the cold weather outside. Evensong began. The service was liberally sprinkled with Christmas carols sung with gusto, if somewhat out of tune. Maud winced. After the service, coffee and biscuits were served in the church hall. Maud stayed to help with the washing up. The vicar put the leftover biscuits (he always bought more than needed) into a bag and gave them to Maud to take home. She stopped in at the baker’s to buy a couple of mince tarts. They were indeed at a reduced price. The baker put an extra tart in the bag. He always did. Maud and Tabitha walked home, stopping to give a tart to Joe, the homeless man on the corner, and a biscuit to his dog Daisy.
When she got home she lit the gas fire, made a pot of tea and sat in the window with Nelson on her lap and shared a couple of biscuits with him.. Tabitha, who was a bit miffed, climbed into her basket and gave a quiet hiss of warning to Nelson, who ignored her.
After a quiet night Maud got up and started to prepare Christmas lunch. She made her special stuffing, prepared the vegetables, stuffed the chicken and simmered the giblets for the gravy.
Promptly at 12.30 a light tap on her door announced Stan’s arrival. He came in and set down two bottles of Guinness and a gift-wrapped parcel. Now, gift-wrapped was not exactly the way to describe the parcel, which was square and very small. Corners, of the box it contained, poked through the paper. A large amount of cello tape covered about 90% of the paper, a crumpled bow from last year kept falling off as there was no sticky backing left, and Stan had balled up some tape to put between the bow and the paper – to no avail. Maud handed Stan a neatly wrapped parcel which was enveloped in last year’s paper which she had ironed so it looked new. Maud opened hers first. It was a bottle of scent from Woolworth’s. Maud didn’t have the heart to tell Stan that there were already four unopened bottles in the bathroom from previous Christmases. Likewise Stan didn’t tell Maud that he had at least six unworn sweaters languishing in his bedroom. They thanked each other profusely.
Maud dished up the lunch and lit the two candle stubs she had rescued from the church wastepaper basket. They ate their feast in companionable silence, did the dishes and sat on the sofa with cups of tea and mince tarts. In five minutes, the radio would be switched on to listen to the Queen’s speech. The National Anthem would blare forth and Stan, being a war veteran, would spring to his feet and salute. Maud would wipe away a tear that had escaped, as one always did, during the speech. Afterwards, Stan excused himself as he said he was tired. In fact, he wanted to watch the football game on his old black and white TV.
Maud tidied up, fed Nelson and Tabitha and sat, once again, in her window, no one on her lap this time. As she always did, she had a quiet word with God. She asked him to feed the hungry, comfort the lonely and heal the sick. She asked him to bring peace and prosperity to the troubled world. She thanked him for the many bounties in her life, shelter, heat, enough food and good health. Above all, she thanked him for good friends and her two life companions, Nelson and Tabitha.
