The Advent Calendar (23 page)

‘Heathrow,’ said Mel, checking his watch. ‘We’ll just make it. Bal is meeting us there.’

Sam pressed his nose to the dark glass as they drove into the airport. To his surprise, the Range Rover was waved through the security gates and they drove out onto the tarmac in the section of the airfield for private jets. A blue and silver Lear jet was warming up on the runway.

Bal waved to them from the cockpit as they climbed aboard. Caspar made sure they were comfortable as the plane taxied down the runway and took off. Once they were airborne, Mel served snacks. Alice giggled when he offered her peanuts.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Rome,’ said Caspar.

The flight took about an hour, Sam thought. This was some jet. The inside was sumptuous leather with a blue and silver trim. There was a second identical Range Rover waiting for them on the Rome runway. Caspar drove again. Bal and Mel had motorbikes and cleared a way through the traffic.

The city sped by. Alice pressed her nose to the car window catching all she could of the strange sights. For once when their escorts were with them, there was traffic everywhere. At every corner there were old and famous buildings. ‘Sorry we haven’t time for the full tour,’ said Caspar. They headed into the very centre to a space beside a small church just outside the Vatican.

Sam and Alice climbed out of the car. There was a fresh smell of cut flowers on the cool night air. Bal was bending over a circle of metal in the earth, unfastening padlocks and chains.

‘The door,’ said Alice, ‘on the calendar.’

‘We’ve come to the catacombs,’ said Bal. ‘One of the oldest and most holy places in Rome.’

Mel went first down the iron ladder, Alice followed, watching her step, then Sam and Caspar. Bal stayed to watch the entrance. They passed along long corridors lit by oil lamps. Dark passages led off to the right and to the left. The walls were carved with strange markings and symbols. Sam sensed they were going deeper, though the slope on the pathway was very gentle, right under the centre of Rome.

At last they reached their destination. In a small hallway, carved out of the rock and lit by oil lamps Mary was waiting for them. She stood as they entered, moving more slowly, Alice thought. Mary showed them a bowl of water where they could wash their hands and face, gave them each a soft linen towel and then flat honey cakes and clear water to refresh them after their journey.

Alice sat on the simple stone bench next to Sam and looked at the carvings around the walls. She tried to imagine who had made the markings, the community which had gathered here. The space they had come to was larger than it seemed. You could fit sixty people in here, maybe more.

In front of them, there was a single small spluttering lamp on the low stone table. At Mary’s feet, bulrushes and lilies grew in a pot of earth. Once again, Mary looked a little older than when they had last seen her. Her hair now was grey and her face lined, yet the same life and passion burned within. At times as Alice watched her, she was no different from the young girl they had met only four days ago. At others, she could sense the ageing more than see it.

As the silence of the holy place settled into them, Mary began her story in a whisper.

‘There were not many of us in the beginning. Six score followed the call and remained in the city. The early days were wonderful, despite the sadness. The strangest mix of sorrow and of joy. I had lost my own son and then discovered him again, for ever. God’s own breath came upon us. There were signs and healings. Thousands joined us and became followers of the Way.’

The lamp spluttered on the table in front of them. Alice caught the sense of wonder and excitement as the small community grew stronger. Mary’s voice dropped further as the story unfolded.

‘But bitter persecution followed. Suffering, forced exile, death for some. We were arrested and put in prison. Nothing could silence the good news. Some fell away or were corrupted. But the faith of those who were left grew stronger. The message spread from place to place carried by merchants and travellers, by those fleeing for their lives, by those called and sent out.

‘Within a single generation, there were followers in many different places and even here in Rome. This is where we gathered on the first day of the week. You can still see the marks we made as we assembled here in these caves, often in secret. Codes and passwords were part of our life. You can still see the tombs of those who died for their faith.’

Sam looked around at the walls of the cave and, in his mind’s eye, saw the room filled with people who were lit with an inner joy – a joy strong enough to withstand fear and danger, even death itself. He felt the same joy and life rising inside him.

‘We did not know it at the time,’ said Mary softly, her eyes shining, ‘but by our witness the world was changed.’

There was a deep silence for some minutes in the cave.

‘What are these?’ said Sam, pointing to the lamp and to the bulrushes.

‘We had many lessons to learn, dear ones,’ said Mary, smiling sadly. ‘Even in the midst of trial and difficulty. They are lessons which have often been forgotten. These are symbols of those lessons. There was a prophecy, a code, almost a riddle, one of many about my son.’

‘Can you tell us what it said?’ asked Sam.

Mary sang the words as a lullaby. Alice wondered if, long ago, she had sung them to her baby boy:

‘A bruised reed he will not break,

A dimly burning wick he will not quench.’

Mary knelt by the bulrushes and the spluttering lamp. ‘The lesson is needed today more than ever,’ she said. ‘God’s ways are paths of gentleness and hope. Find the life that is there,’ she said. ‘Nurture it. Even if the reed is bruised and broken, do not give up. It can mend, given time. Even though the lamp burns low, do not put it out. Tend it and protect it until it burns strong again. We are not simply those who bear a message. We are those who live the Way in the strength that is given to us. The way of my son is the way of gentleness and hope.’

They sat quietly for a while, both of them taking in the symbols which were set before them. For Sam especially, there was a challenge, a shaping, an inner strength born in that moment.

Then Mary’s gentle voice brought the moment to a close: ‘Our time is at an end. You must go, children.’

She embraced them both. Caspar led them again out of the catacombs, up the ladder to the waiting car. They sped through the busy evening streets of the city to the waiting jet. The jet carried them swiftly through the night skies. From Heathrow, their escorts brought them safely back again to the familiar street and home.

Neither Sam nor Alice slept this time on the journey but neither did they speak. Each carried in their minds the wonder and the challenge they had heard. Mary’s story and her final words burned within them.

They said goodnight to Caspar, Bal and Mel. Sam turned on the light in the hall but they left the lights off in the front room as they went to inspect the calendar.

In the centre of the door was an oil lamp burning dimly, flickering and almost going out. By its light, Sam and Alice saw clearly, trampled underfoot yet never to be broken, a bruised reed. The symbols of the gentle way.

23 December

On Sunday morning, Alice woke early. She felt lighter and cleaner than she had for a long time. ‘Only two days to Christmas!’

Megs had left a long list of chores for Sam and herself. Josie was coming round to help and arrived when Alice was halfway through breakfast. ‘Sam’s still asleep,’ Alice said as she let her in. ‘Cup of tea?’

‘Please,’ said Josie. ‘Sam!’ she called up the stairs. ‘Action stations. Megs will be back at lunchtime.’

A low mumble came from the direction of Sam’s room.

‘What’s on the list, Alice?’

‘Mainly cleaning,’ said Alice. ‘Front room. Grandma and Grandad are sleeping in Sam’s room. There’s more room. Mum threatened to order a skip. The food she ordered from the supermarket should arrive around ten.’

Sam staggered into the kitchen in his dressing gown and hugged Josie. ‘C’fee,’ he pleaded. Alice raised her eyes to the ceiling.

Josie and Alice sorted out dusters and buckets of soapy water while Sam had his shower. They started on the front room. Josie hoovered and Alice dusted round. She polished the mirror carefully. The surface was still solid, the reflection still normal. By the time she had finished rubbing, the surface sparkled.

Alice came to the calendar itself and ran the duster first over the four edges and then, very carefully, across the buttons and, last of all, in between the doors. There was just one empty space left, in the bottom right-hand corner, where today’s picture would appear.

‘You’ve got lots of presents, Alice,’ said Josie. ‘You must be excited.’

‘I am,’ said Alice, quietly, looking at the calendar, focusing this time on the picture of the tiny angel from the Chamber of Laments. She realised she hadn’t actually thought very much about the adventure of the calendar coming to an end – but there were just two doors left.

The doorbell rang. Sam answered it on his way down. ‘Shopping,’ he said. Josie and Alice went to help carry what seemed like a hundred plastic bags through into the kitchen. A cold wind blew through the house as the delivery man brought everything into the hallway.

‘Food,’ said Sam, peering into the bags.

Alice slapped his hand and gave him three bin-liners. ‘Two for rubbish,’ she said, speaking as much to Josie as to Sam. ‘One for laundry. It’s got to be finished by twelve. I’ll put the shopping away.’

‘It’s got to be finished by eleven,’ said Sam, running up the stairs. ‘I need to do some Christmas shopping.’

Josie helped Alice put the shopping away. ‘What time is Megs arriving?’

‘Around lunchtime was all she said.’

Sam arrived back with three full bin-liners and collected the hoover. ‘Impressive,’ said Josie. ‘You might have time to go to the shops after all.’

In the end, they all went into town together. Megs rang to say they wouldn’t make it home until two o’clock at the earliest. The shops were heaving with men. ‘We only come out two days before Christmas,’ said Sam. He made his excuses and slipped off to do his shopping.

Alice and Josie nosed around the shopping mall more window shopping than anything else. Alice was more interested in the people. She watched the expressions on their faces. Why was everyone in such a hurry? In the corner of the market square, a brass band was playing Christmas carols but no one stayed to listen. It was the only peaceful area in the whole town centre, it seemed. The music seemed stronger, somehow, at least when you’d been listening to the tinny jingles in the shops. There were long queues at all the cash point machines and at the tills in the shops. She caught snatches of conversation as people charged past her.

‘Hurry up, why can’t you? I’m sick of shopping.’

‘Can’t we go home now?’

‘You always spend too much on your parents – every year it’s the same.’

‘I hate Christmas. I’m exhausted already.’

Sam came back to meet them, looking pleased with himself and carrying a number of parcels. Alice and Josie tried to peer into them but without success.

They got soaked waiting for the bus on the way home and arrived back later than intended. Megs was already there with the grandparents. Grandma was stooped and thin and grey but very happy to be there. Grandad looked older than she remembered and weaker but a hundred times better than in the hospital bed. Alice hugged them both.

‘Come on in,’ said Grandma. ‘You’re all soaking wet. You must be Josie. Lovely to meet you. Congratulations.’

‘You never said how pretty she was, Sam,’ said Grandad from the chair, smiling. Josie blushed.

‘Where’s Andrew?’ asked Alice.

‘He had to go,’ said Megs. ‘Said something about last-minute Christmas shopping.’ She winked at Josie.

‘How are you, Dad?’ asked Sam.

‘Glad to be out of that hospital ward, Son,’ said his father. ‘And glad to be all together for Christmas. Especially now the family is expanding.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Grandma. ‘Why don’t you give me a hand, Josie, and tell me all about yourself?’

‘And you, young lady,’ said Grandad. ‘You tell me all about this calendar. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘We had a card through the post,’ said Alice. ‘Sam collected it from Hamleys on 30 November. Every day we get a text message. It’s like a code. We punch it in and a new door appears.’

‘It’s not like any advent calendar I’ve ever seen,’ said Grandad. ‘What are all these pictures? I can’t see them so well without my glasses.’

‘This one’s a dove,’ said Alice. ‘This is a golden thread in a forest. This one is a new road dug through the mountains.’

‘Is it indeed?’ said Grandad. ‘Do you know what they mean? It’s not as though any of them come from the Christmas story, is it? What’s that one in the corner there?’

‘A new shoot,’ said Alice, ‘growing from an old stump.’

‘Is it now?’ said Grandad, smiling. ‘I think I begin to see.’

‘See what?’ said Alice.

‘When I was little,’ said her grandfather, ‘my mother made me go to Sunday School. I quite liked it really. Never kept it up, though your grandma went to church when we first got married. Say one for me, I always used to tell her when she went out on a Sunday.’

‘What’s that got to do with the pictures in the calendar?’ asked Alice.

‘When I was small, I was very good at remembering things,’ said Grandad. ‘They used to give a prize to the person who could learn Scripture verses by heart. Some of those verses have rattled around inside my head all these years, just odd words and phrases. Lately, I’ve been trying to bring them back into my mind with, you know, hospital and that.’

Alice squeezed his hand.

‘The thing is,’ said Grandad. ‘I don’t know what they have to do with Christmas – but some of those pictures remind me of those old Bible verses. I think there’s more to this calendar than meets the eye.’ He tapped his nose and winked. Alice smiled.

‘Mark my words. The answer’s in the Book.’

Before she could ask any more questions, Megs ordered Alice upstairs to get ready for church.

***********

Sam and Josie were planning on going to the Carol Service with Megs and Alice.

‘Are you sure you’ll be alright, Mum?’ said Megs for the sixth time since tea. ‘I can stay at home with you and Dad, if you like.’

‘You go, love,’ said Grandma – also for the sixth time. ‘It’s been a busy day. We’re not used to so many people around.’

Sam was putting his coat on when there was a familiar sound. ‘Message!’ sang the phone.

‘I didn’t know you’d changed your ring tone,’ said Megs. ‘Is that the code for the calendar?’

‘How exciting,’ said Grandma. ‘Put it in before you go to church, Sam. Let’s see one of these doors open. It’s just like magic. Honestly, the things they can do these days.’

‘Suffering swordfish, look at the time,’ said Sam moving towards the door. ‘We’ll be late for church.’

‘Brenda said they were expecting a lot of people,’ said Alice, shifting from foot to foot. ‘We want to make sure we get a seat.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Grandad. ‘It’s a church not a cinema. There’s always seats in a church.’

‘Go on, Sam,’ said Josie. ‘I’ve never seen how this thing works either.’

‘Nor have I,’ said Megs. ‘I’ve never been around when you punch in the code.’

‘But...’ Alice began.

‘Just get on with it!’ said Megs. ‘Or we will be late.’

Sam nodded at Alice and opened the text. Alice could see the faint outline of the new door in the remaining space. A dark brown garden gate. You could hardly see it against the wood of the calendar.

Sam read out the numbers: ‘Five, five...’

‘At least it’s not Col,’ Alice thought as she punched in the numbers. ‘I can’t imagine what the coloured smoke would do to Grandad.’ Push. Click.

‘Colon...’

‘On the other hand it would be fun to take the whole family on an adventure.’ Click.

‘One, one.’

‘Perhaps Caspar will be at the door with a minibus.’ Push. Click.

Sam and Alice tensed themselves for something strange to begin to happen. The others all peered at the calendar.

‘I’m sure those numbers mean something,’ said Grandad.

‘There’s nothing happening, love,’ said Grandma, disappointed.

‘It – er – sometimes it takes a while to open,’ said Sam, relaxing just a little.

‘Well, it really is time to go,’ said Megs. ‘We don’t want to arrive halfway through the service.’

Alice ran to the front door and opened it slowly. No sign of any strange vehicles in the street.

‘Mum, I think I might have tummy ache. Can I stay at home and Sam can look after me?’

‘Don’t be silly, Alice. You’re the one who wanted to go to church. Out of the house. Now!’

Sam and Josie walked two steps behind. Alice kept looking round all the way to St Philip’s. ‘What’s going on?’ she mouthed to Sam.

Sam shrugged his shoulders – then grinned inanely at Josie.

‘Alice is acting a bit strange,’ she said. ‘Wonder why?’

‘Probably because she’s expecting a cloud of blue smoke or a helicopter to appear any moment,’ thought Sam to himself. ‘Girls,’ he said aloud. ‘Honestly!’

Josie elbowed him in the ribs just as they turned into the church entrance. There were crowds of people all making their way inside at the last minute which meant there was a queue at the door. Brenda was giving out the hymn books.

‘Hi, Alice! Great to see you. Thanks for your help the other day.’

‘Hi Brenda. You met Sam, my uncle. This is Josie. They’d like to get married here soon.’

‘Not so fast, Alice,’ said Sam. ‘We were just wondering, you know.’

‘Give the vicar a call after Christmas,’ said Brenda. ‘He’s a bit tied up just now.’

‘Sure – course,’ said Sam, poking Alice hard as they squeezed into a pew near the front.

The church was full and lit only by candles in all the window spaces with very dim overhead lighting so people could read their carol sheets. People were mostly in family groups though some looked as though they were on their own. The organ music stopped for a moment and the vicar invited everyone to stand from the back of the church.

The first carol was one Alice knew: ‘Once in Royal David’s City’. She turned round during the first verse and gasped. Caspar was standing two rows behind her singing in a deep bass voice. He was dressed in a dinner jacket and bow tie with a warm winter overcoat and bowed towards her.

Alice nudged Sam. ‘Look behind.’ Sam turned, nodded to Caspar, then looked to the right and to the left. Sure enough Bal and Mel were there too, dressed to match. Two rows behind them was Mr Gabriel, for the first time without his bowler hat. He seemed to be enjoying the singing but winked in their direction.

‘Stick out a bit, don’t they?’ Sam whispered in the lull after verse four.

There was a reading next, then another carol, then readings and carols alternating in a pattern. Alice enjoyed the whole thing. Church was even better when it was full. Just before the final verse, the vicar stood up to make an announcement.

‘We are very fortunate to have three guests with us from an international choir visiting London: the Bethlehem singers. They have kindly offered to sing solo parts in our final hymn.’

Alice looked around. Sure enough, Caspar, Mel and Bal were moving out to the front of the church.

‘That’s why they’re wearing dinner jackets,’ whispered Sam.

‘That means a change to our final carol from “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”,’ said the vicar. ‘We don’t normally sing Number 25 until just after Christmas, but I am sure we can make an exception for our guests. Would the congregation please stand and join in the chorus of “We Three Kings”.’

The organ played the familiar tune. Caspar, Mel and Bal launched into the song in a harmony which soared and filled the church. The power of the words lifted the congregation and drew from them the best music of the evening.

‘O Star of wonder, star of night,

Star with royal beauty bright,

Westward leading, still proceeding,