Page 18 of The Winter We Met
‘But what would the theme be?’ asked Alf. ‘I’ve not thought about it much either – not with fielding calls from my son and daughter insisting I need to move in with one of them…’ He tutted.
‘Problems some of us would be glad to have,’ mumbled Glenda.
Nik shot her a sympathetic look and she turned away as if she’d been caught off guard.
‘All I came up with,’ Alf continued, ‘was a Vegas Christmas. We all dress up fancy. Have a roulette table. Poker. Cocktails.’
‘There’s little Christian sentiment in gambling,’ said Glenda in a stiff voice.
‘It’s an excellent starting point,’ I said brightly. ‘I’m sure we’ve all got different ideas about the meaning of Christmas… anyone else?’
Silence.
‘That’s it… I’ve just remembered my idea,’ said Pan eventually. ‘How about a dazzling 1920s Gatsby Christmas, with gold foil curtains, ostrich feathers and champagne glasses?’
‘I don’t feel especially glamorous at the moment,’ muttered one woman. ‘Drinking champagne? That feels like taking the celebrations too far this year.’
Pan looked crestfallen.
‘Wouldn’t that make for a fun birthday party?’ said Nik and gave her a thumbs-up. He looked thoughtful for a moment as the air held nothing but the Michael Bublé Christmas album Lynn had put on. ‘In fact… the idea of basing your get-together on a movie and something Betty said about her children has given me inspiration, along with my trip to the Cenotaph this morning. We want to celebrate your friendships but… the party, what with everything that’s happened, I’m guessing you guys want a kind of… a comforting feel?’
‘Cut to the chase, lad,’ shouted out Fred.
Lynn came in and sat down at the back.
Nik came up to the front, next to me and Gran. He shot me a look and I nodded. ‘Okay. What about a party based around…It’s a Wonderful Life?’
Gran’s face lit up. It was one of her favourite movies.
‘Jimmy Stewart?’ said Alf.
‘It was nominated for five Academy Awards, you know,’ said Pan. ‘It was super, that line about an angel getting its wings every time a bell rang.’
‘Donna Reed was certainly easy on the eye.’ Alf sat up straighter.
‘Never seen it,’ said Fred.
‘Goodness, how is that possible?’ said Pan and her jaw dropped.
‘That’s a sad state of affairs,’ said Gran, shaking her head with disapproval.
Nik rubbed his hands together. ‘Okay. For those who haven’t, here’s a quick synopsis. George Bailey is feeling unfulfilled with his life in Bedford Falls, having never been able to pursue his glamorous dreams of travelling but staying to run his father’s building and loans business instead. He’s also thinking of ending it all because of a misplaced loan, so an angel is sent from heaven to show him, with flashbacks, just how much worse off local people would have been without him – just how much his lifehasmattered. Clarence, the angel, succeeds and duly earns his wings. He’s shown George that…’ He looked around all the residents. ‘Despite all the hard times and disappointments, it’s still a wonderful life. And at the end the community comes together to help George with his money worries.’
‘We could make decorations in the shape of, well, angels for a start,’ I said.
The residents looked at each other.
‘It’s such a perfect idea,’ said Gran, eventually. ‘We could play Forties music.’
‘And snow. We’ll need lots of icy decorations,’ said another voice.
‘Glenn Miller,’ said Betty, lucid for a second before wandering out of the room again.
‘Oh yes,’ said Pan dreamily. ‘There’s nothing quite like Big Band tunes to get peoplein the mood…’
‘There’s a theory that Glenn Miller never died in a plane crash, you know,’ said Alf. ‘Strong evidence suggests he was captured and killed by the Nazis.’
‘Alf, really.’ Glenda rolled her eyes. ‘Why are most of your theories so unpleasant?’
