Page 41 of The Village Christmas Party

‘Of course you can keep it. And you are very welcome. I’m pleased you like it.’ She beams proudly. ‘Right, I have heard there are a mountain of potatoes to peel.’ She produces a potato peeler from the pocket of her coat. ‘I just can’t use anything else,’ she explains.

There is laughter coming from the kitchen, when I walk through and introduce Audrey to everyone.

‘Oh, you’re the girl who won the gingerbread competition, aren’t you? Lovely to meet you,’ says Sue warmly.

‘Nice to meet you all too,’ says Audrey politely, before rolling her sleeves up and getting stuck in to the potatoes.

An hour later, a huge pile of turkey has been sliced and arranged onto plates along with the cooked, sliced ham.

Barry glances at his watch and mutters something about the local pub opening in an hour and Sue slaps him on the wrist and tells him he can get stuck into chopping some vegetables first, before he even thinks about it. Apparently, it’s traditional for the men to gather at the local pub on Christmas Eve and Sue doesn’t really mind, but thinks it only fair that Barry stays and helps with the preparation first.

I keep glancing at Kian as I prepare some sprouts, noticing how easily he turns his attention to everyone in the room. Audrey is standing beside him looking completely at ease as he chats away to her.

‘So, when did you get involved with the pensioners’ parties?’ he asks me as I pop some sprouts into a giant pan.

‘Ten years ago now. I just hated the thought of anyone spending Christmas alone. I know it isn’t exactly Christmas Day, but we are not allowed to open the centre then, so I thought, why not Christmas Eve?’

‘It’s a really nice thing to do.’ He smiles. ‘I mean, I know they have such things throughout the year, but most people want to be getting on with preparing their own Christmas than being here, I would imagine.’

‘You’re probably right. Although you would be surprised at how many people have volunteered in the past, just to give something back to society. Others, like Sue and Barry, began volunteering after retirement and have helped with the party every year since. And then there are the people who don’t want to be alone with their thoughts at Christmas.’

‘Which one are you?’ he asks, before picking up a piece of raw carrot from a pan and popping it into his mouth. ‘Although you are obviously not retired.’

‘What? I’m not sure. I just enjoy doing it, that’s all.’

I brush off his question, even though I do spend a lot of time thinking of Christmases past if I’m at home over Christmas. And it was a week before Christmas when I broke up with my boyfriend, and I took the rather expensive watch I’d bought him back to the shop for a refund.

We’d had a huge fight when he bought yet another bike having updated the one from the shed, then announced he would be going on a mountain biking holiday for a week after Christmas. We had to face facts then. We wanted different things, me wanting to save up to get married, him still a million miles away from that.

‘Sorry, no offence meant.’ Kian holds his hands up. ‘I just imagined a young woman like yourself spending Christmas Eve getting ready for a big night out in town, or a party somewhere.’ He smiles. ‘Not giving their time to the old folk.’

‘Well it just goes to show, we shouldn’t have preconceived ideas about people.’

‘Maybe not. That’s me told.’ He grimaces.

‘Sorry, if that sounded a bit harsh,’ I say, thinking I am probably still a little stressed about the party situation. ‘I suppose I’m just as guilty of making assumptions about people at times.’

‘You mean like thinking old folk won’t want to be in the same room as children?’ He raises an eyebrow.

‘Perhaps.’ I smile reluctantly. ‘And as for being young, I’m not that young. I’ll be thirty-three in January.’

‘Positively ancient then,’ he teases.

It’s hard to say how old Kian is, but I’d put him in his late thirties, maybe even forty. He looks after himself though, that’s for sure, managing to look good without looking too groomed, with that dark slightly curly hair and relaxed, yet stylish, sense of fashion.

We both go to pull a kitchen drawer out at the same time, and when our hands briefly touch, I feel my arm hairs stand on end.

‘Sorry,’ he says, allowing me to go first, before he reaches for a vegetable knife. ‘I might as well give you a hand before the party food arrives,’ he says kindly.

Kian tackles some parsnips and before too long, all the veg is in the huge pans.

‘I think we’re done,’ says Sue, shaking a tea towel. ‘Roast potatoes on in say, an hour, the other veg later. And you’re definitely on the gravy.’ She points at Mum. ‘Mine could never be as good as yours.’

‘No problem.’ Mum smiles, pleased to be complimented on her gravy.

‘So are you feeling a bit more relaxed now?’ Kian asks, as we walk into the main hall and survey the room.

‘I think I am,’ I admit. ‘The room looks wonderful, doesn’t it? And everything seems to be under control.’

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