Fern Britton Short Story Collection by Fern Britton

Author:Fern Britton [Fern Britton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

6

After the warm and cosy fug of Queenie’s living room, the blast of cold air was a shock to the system. Piran pulled his jacket closer around him. Where to now? He felt strangely rootless and the thought of going back to his cold and dark cottage and being on his own again wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.

For the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, he was actually craving human company. He checked his watch by the lamplight. It was close to midnight. Without being able to explain why, he felt himself being pulled towards the spire of the church. In spite of the darkness of the night, there seemed to be a light emanating from it. As he approached, he could see that the churchyard and the path up to the large open doors were lined with dozens of little tealights and candles inside jam jars, vases and anything that could accommodate a candle without being blown out. As villagers entered the church grounds, they all added their own candles to the carpet of light – a frost was well in evidence by now and the lights lent the damp air an almost dreamlike quality.

The light from the church clock still appeared to be working and Piran thought it probably had its own power source. He could see from the dial that it was a few moments before midnight.

People were still arriving at the church, which was also full of candlelight, and he saw faces he knew and voices he recognised passing through the church door to take their seats. Even though he knew practically every single person in the church, he was anxious not to be seen, so he ducked behind one of the ancient oak trees that lined the path as the final stragglers, including Queenie and her entourage, took their seats.

The clock struck twelve. The sonorous tones of the old bell rang out across the village and the organist struck up the opening bars of the hymn ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’. The voices of the congregation drifted out into the night and Piran found himself being pulled to the entrance, the carol acting like a siren call to his soul.

From the doorway, he saw the backs of the congregation. In the crowd, he was able to pick out Helen, Sean and Terri. Little Summer was asleep on her daddy’s shoulder, her face a perfect heart shape, and Helen was gazing adoringly on her granddaughter while singing lustily, her face glowing in the candlelight. For a moment, she turned her head and looked to the back of the church, as if she was searching for someone. In his heart, Piran knew that it was he that she was hoping to see – he held his breath, hoping he wouldn’t be spotted, but he was well hidden in the shadows and Helen turned away, quickly brushing away the traces of disappointment before her family noticed.

Piran felt a sudden burst of love in his heart for them all.

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