A Stranger Arrives This Christmas by CP Ward

Author:CP Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AMMFA Publishing

A small crowd had gathered on the station platform. The train, a beautiful ornate steam train rather strangely named Mr. Johnson according to the red sign along its black locomotive, puffed steam into the air in readiness. As Annie, led by Mr. Fairbrother, climbed up on to the platform, she recognised most of the people she had got to know over the last few days. There was Dave from the Wonder Toy Studios, dressed in full elf regalia, Reg the greengrocer, Diane and Frank from the pancake house and fudge shops respectively. And there, standing at the back … were Mrs. Growell and Isabella.

‘How on earth did they get here before us?’ Annie whispered to Mr. Fairbrother.

‘Ah, took the Range Rover, didn’t they?’

‘The … Range Rover.’ Annie sighed. ‘Perhaps you can point it out to me sometime.’

Mr. Fairbrother grinned. ‘Ah, but the sleigh was more fun, hey?’

Annie had to admit that he was right, but there was no time left for discussion as a tall, rotund man in a top hat stepped forward.

‘Hey Bill,’ Annie said, remembering the station master from the village meeting.

‘You have to call me Willy Whistle today,’ Bill said, winking as he doffed his hat to her. Then, in a louder voice, he turned to the crowd and called, ‘Everyone, thank you for coming! Today is a day that we’ve been long expecting. Now, without further ado, I’d like to welcome our esteemed patron, Miss Annie Collins of Stone Spire Hall to cut the tape, and on this date, December the first, officially declare Undercastle open for business.’

The crowd cheered. Bill waved Annie forward and led her to a podium by the head of the train. A thick ticker tape in red and green stripes hung across from the station building to the locomotive’s funnel, dipping in the middle to be within Annie’s reach. As she stood on the podium, Annie reached down and literally pinched herself.

‘I’m a bank clerk,’ she muttered under her breath, before hearing her voice amplifying around her and realising that a microphone on top of a dais was already switched on. As a few people chuckled, Annie gave a sheepish grin and cleared her throat.

‘Ah … hello,’ she said, clenching a fist by her side and attempting to channel her inner politician. Had it not been so cold she would surely have been visibly sweating, and as it was her blouse had stuck itself to her back and refused to let go.

‘My name is Annie … Collins, and … it’s … ah … lovely to have … the … ah … honour of saying….’ She trailed off, glancing up above the crowd, remembering how a teacher had once told her that if you got nervous while making a speech you should avoid looking directly at anyone but instead look over the top of their heads. And there, across the street, she saw a line of Christmas lights glittering in the upstairs window of a cottage. Lifting one hand, she grinned. ‘Merry Christmas, everyone!’

The crowd began to applaud.

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