Free Christmas with Billy and Me: A Short Story by Giovanna Fletcher

1.
    It won’t surprise anyone to hear that one thing I hate about birthdays is having all the focus on me. I always feel uncomfortable at being soloed out and fussed over – it’s embarrassing having people give me gifts, and I stupidly end up feeling selfish for hogging the limelight. Yes, I know that’s what birthdays are about, and I love spoiling others on their special days, but when it comes to my own turn I tend to spend the entire time with a bright-red face as I cringe my way through it, longing for the day to end so that I can go back into my land of obscurity and blend seamlessly into the background.
    But Christmas? Well, everyone is always in a joyously giving mood at Christmas, ready to sprinkle a little love wherever they can. It’s a time when everyone gets to feel special and the attention is evenly divided as we all do our best to spread the festive cheer as far and wide as possible. We are happy to go out of our way to make anyone’s day a little brighter, ready to give whatever it takes to raise a little smile from strangers and loved ones alike. How lovely!
    Like many people, I’d say Christmas is my favourite time of the year. Plus, nowhere looks better than Rosefont Hill at Christmas. In the evenings the whole High
Street of our little village comes alive with festoon lighting hanging between each lamp post and a massive, beautifully decorated Christmas tree stands towards the bottom of the hill, on the green outside the church. The only thing that would make it look even more idyllic would be a white blanket of snow covering the ground. I’ve no doubt the local Women’s Institute sit for hours pondering over how they can bring on the fluffy stuff – I can even imagine them doing some sort of weird snow dance in hope of its arrival, but a white Christmas is as rare as a hot English summer. When it does happen, though (just occasionally) the joy it brings with it is wonderful. Once it’s driven through, of course, it turns into black mush and causes a few grumbles – it’s ugly and icy then – but before that part comes the silence and beauty. It’s breathtaking. Being on a hill means that we’re pretty much brought to a standstill when it snows and I quite enjoy being cut off from the world for a little while as we sit cocooned in our little white, tranquil bubble until it leaves.
    For me, the morning frost goes a long way to giving the illusion of snow, so I’m always thrilled on my early morning winter strolls to work. I love the arrival of a new season – each one bringing with it its own emotion: spring is full of hope; summer is freedom; autumn is a colourful release and winter brings an enchanting peace. It’s hard to pick which one I enjoy the most– each time the new one arrives I remember its beauty and forget the previous one whose qualities have started to dim.
    The
first of December is always an important night of the calendar for folks of Rosefont Hill. Over the years a tradition has been created where the community gathers around the newly assembled tree – which would have been decorated to perfection by the aforementioned WI – to sing Christmas carols and ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ as the lights get switched on and we’re all struck by the wonderment a bit of electricity can bring. Sparkling magic! Then, once people start blowing into their hands declaring they are about to lose their fingers to frostbite, they walk up the hill to the teashop, where Molly and I are waiting (having snuck off ten minutes earlier) with warm hot chocolate and yummy mince pies for all to devour merrily.
    This year is the first time I’m taking on that challenge without the magnificent Molly and, to be honest, it’s only the havoc of getting everything ready that’s pulling me through my first Molly-less Christmas – there’s been so much to do. Six months have passed since the horrific day my best friend lost her cancer battle and handed me the reins of her beloved teashop. It hasn’t