MARY’S STORY by Christine Clark, mulled wine with a mince pie

Oh, I’m so tired. I’m glad I’m able to ride some of the time on Eysl, our donkey, though I do have to walk some of the time, to give him a rest too. I hope we’re nearly there. My back aches and I’ve had some pains – I wonder if that’s the baby coming. I haven’t mentioned those to Joseph – I don’t want to worry him. He’s already worrying about where we‘ll stay when we reach Bethlehem, what with so many people on the road going for the census, like us.

I’m tired and I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what people say about me being pregnant and unmarried. Afraid that the shame will mean we can’t find anywhere to sleep tonight. Afraid of what having the baby – the Son of God – will mean for the family. Will Joseph and I be able to have a normal family life? I’m afraid of what the future holds for us all.

I do love Joseph. I already did, when we got betrothed. But then, when I had to tell him I was with child, I was sure he’d want to walk away. He told me he thought he might, but without making too much of a fuss. But he didn’t, he said he’d stand by me and the baby. He told me he had a dream where an angel told him to take me as his wife, that what I’d said was true – that the baby was conceived by the Holy Spirit, that it’ll be a boy and we’re to call him Jesus. And that he’ll save people from their sins. I’m not sure how that last bit works – but we’ll see. I wonder if it’s what the prophets foretold all those years ago. Could he be the Messiah? My little baby?

This long journey has really given me time to think about when the angel, Gabriel he said his name was, came to me. I woke up one night to find him standing by the bed. He told me not to be afraid, that I was in favour with God. I would conceive a baby boy who we have to call Jesus. Then he said all sorts of stuff about the baby being great and having David’s throne and how he will reign for ever. It all sounded a bit unlikely – but somehow I believed him. Then I thought about how this could happen as I’m a virgin – Joseph and I want to keep ourselves till we’re married. Gabriel explained that – like he later told Joseph – the Holy Spirit would come to me and the baby will be the Son of God. He also told me that my cousin Elizabeth, who we all thought was barren and long past childbearing, was expecting a baby too! He said nothing is impossible with God. Well, he was right, Elizabeth has had her baby – a little boy. They’ve called him John.

I am not sure I really understand … that the baby is not just a gift from God, but a gift of God. I don’t really get it, I just know it feels completely right. Anyway, I told Gabriel that this was all fine and I accepted what my God has given to me.

But thinking about it now, I’m not so sure – it all feels a bit unreal and very scary. I’m quite surprised I said yes to Gabriel. It’s an awful lot to take on. Looking at it in the cold light of day, I can see all sorts of problems, and doubts and fears creep into my mind. But somehow, from somewhere, I got the courage to say yes.

Being unmarried and pregnant hasn’t been easy and there have been lots of nasty remarks made back in Nazareth. But it’s good that Joseph is being supportive. I expect most people think the baby is his. Mamma and Pappa are OK about it now, even if they don’t really understand the Holy Spirit bit. But our family has always gone to the synagogue regularly – I think that helps to understand things from God.

We’re getting near Bethlehem now and it’s starting to get dark. There are lots of people around and we join a throng of people entering the gate. I am glad I am back on Eysl’s back again as my pains are getting worse and more frequent. I won’t mention them to Joseph yet as he’s got enough to worry about, trying to find somewhere for us to stay. He’s trying all the inns and rooming houses but everywhere is full.

Eventually I have to tell him that I think the baby is on its way. He tries one more inn but it’s full, like the others, except this time it’s the innkeeper’s wife who answers our knock. She takes one look at me and says that if we can’t find anywhere else, we can always go round the back to the barn, where at least it will be dry and warm. By now I’m glad of anywhere.

We find the barn and it is dry. The animals in it make it warm so really it’s almost cosy. Joseph helps me down and I just sink onto a pile of hay – the pains are coming quite fast now. There’s an old lamp on a shelf which Joseph lights. He puts Eysl into a stall with some hay and water then comes back to kneel down by me. I think he realises it won’t be long till the baby comes so he helps me get a bit more comfortable and then rubs my back while encouraging me. It’s the first time for both of us but at least I have seen my cousin back in Nazareth have her baby, so have some idea what’s going to happen.

The pains were the worst I have ever known. But the moment the baby came out, that was all forgotten. Joseph cut the cord then laid the baby – Jesus – on my breast and we both just gazed at him with love and wonder. Jesus gave us both a long hard stare then fell asleep. Joseph helped me clean myself up a bit and I helped the baby suckle, then we all three settled down on the hay to sleep.

We were woken by voices and Joseph was up, quick as a flash, with his knife out ready. But it just turned out to be a group of shepherds, down from the fields. They approached us cautiously, so I could see there was nothing to fear – in fact they seemed quite shy of us. The oldest one said they’d been told that their saviour, the Messiah, had just been born in Bethlehem and that he would be found in a stable, lying in a manger. They’d been told this by an angel and after he’d told them this, he was joined by a lot more angels, all singing. Joseph and I looked at each other – this was too much of a coincidence: more angels! Just like the ones we’d seen. Then the shepherds knelt down and gazed at the baby long and hard, like he was something they’d dreamed of and were now being given. Well, I suppose that he was, really. After they’d gone, we were both quiet, thinking about what they’d said.

I gave the baby a little more milk and then we settled down to sleep again. But we were woken again by more visitors, but this time of a different kind. Three richly dressed gentlemen, foreign-looking, came in. They didn’t seem to be put off by the poor surroundings but came straight over to me and the baby and knelt down. I was a bit embarrassed but they were very kind and said they’d been travelling a long way to see the baby. Apparently they’d followed a bright star that was now over the barn. Joseph looked out to see if this was so – and it was. A massive star it was, right overhead. People in the streets were standing looking up at it. These men said they were magi who studied the stars and knew this one was leading them to something special. They brought the baby gifts, the like of which I’d never seen! Gold, frankincense and myrrh, they said they were.

After they’d gone, I couldn’t sleep but lay awake thinking about it all. About Gabriel the angel and his message about conceiving by the Holy Spirit, and then the angel coming to Joseph in his dream. The shepherds and magi being led to us – they were such a contrast, really poor people and really rich. Almost like it was two extreme groups of people. So if Jesus is the Messiah, it’s like he’s come for everyone, rich and poor alike.

I was still feeling rather fearful about everything, what with the strange happenings, and people the like of which I‘ve never seen before. But I was also peaceful and happy, like something wonderful had happened, not just to me having my baby, but to everyone.

The next morning Joseph told me he’d had a dream and an angel had come to him again. The angel told him we were in great danger because King Herod would be searching for Jesus to kill him. Joseph was to take us to Egypt and we were to stay there until told to return. I didn’t need to be told twice – no-one was going to harm my child. We hastily gathered our few things together. I held the baby close to me inside my cloak, got on Eysl and away we stole.

It was a long journey to Egypt, a lot further than from Nazareth to Bethlehem. We mostly travelled by night for fear of the King’s soldiers seeing us, sleeping by day wherever we could find somewhere safe. People were kind and when they saw how tiny the baby was, gave us food and sometimes shelter.

We’re now living in Egypt, where we keep ourselves to ourselves. Being a good carpenter, Joseph finds enough work for us to get by and the baby thrives. We don’t talk much about Jesus’s start in life but I do ponder on it in my heart, marvelling at what has happened and wondering where it will all take us.

 

About the author 

Christine is fairly new to creative writing. As a publishing editor she is far more used to messing about with other people’s work than writing her own. But she finds she loves writing and it is now her go-to creative outlet. Christine writes features, short stories and researches local history.

 

 

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A Close Shave (on 7 July 2005) by Christine Clark, espresso

 I was a bit late leaving the flat that Thursday morning. I wanted to be at UCL before 9.30 to see a fellow student about our research but what with one thing and another it was 8.30 before I got out. It didn’t help that my girlfriend Jess was going in later, not needed at Imperial - where she was doing her PhD - until after 10.

I gathered up my bag and wallet and ran out of the flat, calling goodbye to Jess. Running down the road I dashed into the Underground station and was lucky to get onto a train that had just pulled in. As the train hurtled south I gathered my thoughts together for the day, thinking through what I would discuss with my colleague, then how I’d attack the research I still needed to do for my new paper.

I usually got off the tube at Russell Square but that day, even though I was running a bit late, I got off at Kings Cross so that I could go via the Waitrose in Hunter Street to get a sandwich for my lunch.  After I’d bought my lunch I nipped though Handel Street and Kenton Street to Tavistock Place, where I made my way across the southern side of Tavistock Square towards UCL. Although thinking about my research, I was briefly distracted by the green oasis of the square and looked up for a moment at the blue sky through the green leaves of the plane trees. As I paused for a moment, appreciating the beauty of nature that was still possible in central London, I heard what sounded like a loud shot, following by a great roaring sound. At the same time there was a flash of light on the north side of the square, followed by billowing black smoke.

Other people were also surprised by the sound and sight, looking at each other in baffled query. I could see lots of people on the far side of the square running towards whatever had caused the noise and smoke. In a vain effort to help, I started to do the same then realised that by the time I got over there, there’d be so many people around, I’d just be in the way.

I continued on my way to the university, my mind in turmoil, wondering what I had witnessed. As I walked around Gordon Square and in to UCL, emergency vehicles flashed past towards the scene.

In the physics department, the explosion was the talk of the common room. Bad news travels fast and even so soon after the event, it seemed that people knew that a bomb had been detonated on a bus in Tavistock Square. Apparently this particular bus, the number 50, didn’t normally go through Tavistock Square but today it had been diverted, due to other incidents in the area. I was horrified to hear that there had also been bombs at Underground stations, including Russell Square - where I would normally have travelled to.

As I talked with my colleagues, each eager to relate how they had been close to or had a narrow escape from disaster, I realised that Jess had been leaving the flat after me and could have been caught up in it all. I rang her mobile and was relieved to hear that she was safe. She had got as far as the Underground station near to our home, but found it was closed due to the incidents, with no trains running in to central London, and so decided to go home and work there for the day. 

Hearing of this made me realise how near I’d been to being caught up in it all: how I normally passed through Russell Square station where today a bomb had been detonated and how I’d been in Tavistock Square – when a bus was bombed on the northern side – but safely on the southern side. This realisation of how close to danger I had been and how the news was starting to leak out prompted me to reach for my phone to let my mother know I was safe. I had just started to dial when the head of department entered the room to say quite emphatically that there was an embargo on any outgoing news until 11am.

At 11.01am my mother was at her desk, just starting to hear on the office grapevine that there had been several terrorist-related incidents in central London that morning. She’d hardly begun to realise that this was where I was when her phone rang. ‘Hi, Mum, it’s Jack. Just letting you know there have been some bombings in London this morning - but I am absolutely safe. Speak more tonight. Love you.’

 

About the author 

Christine is fairly new to creative writing. As a publishing editor she is far more used to messing about with other people’s work than writing her own. But she finds she loves writing and it is now her go-to creative outlet. Christine writes features, short stories and researches local history.

 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)

Anna and Ethel by Christine Clark, Earl Grey tea

‘I’m so bored, stuck inside,’ Anna groaned as she heaved herself out of her armchair. She wandered over to look out of the window. ‘It’s still raining.’

Anna’s friend Julia looked up from her book. ‘At least in the first lockdown we could get into the garden. And if there was no gardening to do, we could sit in the sun and read. We were so lucky with the weather. But now, autumn’s here and it’s raining cats and dogs.‘

‘Yes, the garden never looked so good as it did this summer! But, seriously, I need to find something to keep me occupied or this winter’s really going to drag. How long can this pandemic go on for? There seems to be no end in sight.’

‘Well,‘ said Julia, ‘the Spanish Flu pandemic went on for over two years so I guess this one’s only just getting started.’

Anna groaned. ‘I like to read, but not for hour after hour … I need something new to do.’

Julia reluctantly put her book aside. ‘How about starting a new cross-stich project? Oh no, that’s no good - we can’t get to the craft shop. How about you find your sketch pad and do some new drawings?’

Anna didn’t seem attracted by either of these ideas. Then suddenly her face lit up. ‘I know! I’ve been meaning to do something with those old family photos I found in the attic. I’ll sort them out and stick them in my album. I should be able to identify most of the photos and if I can’t, I’ll ask Mum.’

The next day it was raining again so, fired up by her enthusiasm for the new project, Anna found the box of photos and settled down to look through them. Most were of family members and friends, some from the early days of the twentieth century, although most were later. Trying to be organised, Anna grouped them into piles, based on the date taken or who the subjects were. Many were not labelled and she had difficulty guessing who they were, although a little detective work usually paid off.

One photo particularly attracted her attention. It was of a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, although it was difficult to tell with her old-fashioned hair style and serious expression. She was wearing a dress that might have dated from the nineteen-twenties and on the back of the photo it just said ‘Ethel’. She was looking straight at the photographer and although serious, her eyes seemed to dance with supressed humour, almost as if the next minute she would burst out laughing. Entranced, Anna gazed at the photo.

She wondered who Ethel was and if there were any other photos of her. She looked through the box and came across some more photos, but she wasn’t sure if they were the same woman. Fashions and hairstyles changed and, of course, she’d have aged. But after a while, she came across another photo that caught her attention. It was a more recent picture of a very old woman proudly holding a baby. On the back is it said, ‘Ethel with Anna, 1988’.

‘That’s me!’ said Anna. ‘I was born in 1988. She’s holding me!’

******

That evening Anna’s mum Trish rang for a chat. They’d not been able to meet for several weeks, due to the lockdown, so there was plenty to talk about. Anna told her about the photos of Ethel.

‘Oh, that’s my granny, your great-grandmother,’ said Trish. ‘She was lovely. It’s such a pity you didn’t know her - she died when you were six months old. I’d forgotten we took that photo of the two of you, it’s probably the only one of you both together.’

*******

The next day the rain had cleared away and although it was windy, Anna decided to go for a walk along the cliff path. Julia thought she was starting a cold and was feel a bit rough, so she opted to stay at home by the fire. Anna wrapped up well and set off along the path. The wind was quite strong but it was invigorating and after several days of enforced staying in, Anna relished the opportunity to stride out.

She’d been walking for half an hour or so when she found the wind was dropping and there even seemed to be a little warmth in the weak sun. She found a bench with a good view of the coastline and decided to sit down for a while. She was drinking in the wonderful view – she loved this stretch of coast and felt so lucky to live close to it – when she was surprised to see a woman walking along the path towards her. She’d not seen anyone else out that afternoon and was a bit disappointed to find she wasn’t alone. As the woman approached, Anna realised she was a stranger, not one of the locals, most of whom she knew. It was difficult to tell her age as she was wearing a rather frumpy dress and coat, but Anna guessed she was similar age to herself. Without greeting Anna, the woman sat down on the other end of the bench.

Anna wasn’t sure what to do. If she got up and walked away it would look rude so she decided to stay where she was and see if the woman said anything. After a while the woman, who had been gazing at the coastline, said, ‘How are you finding the lockdown? Find staying at home getting on your nerves? I know I did.’

Anna immediately felt as if she could talk to this woman. All her pent-up frustration poured out as she described how she was bored yet restless, wanted to get out yet felt home was the only safe place to be.

The woman smiled. ‘I know just what you mean, I felt the same. Had to stay at home … this so-called social distancing.  Had to wear a mask if you went out. Mind you, lots of people didn’t like that, so most didn’t bother. And if you did go out, there was nothing to do - no cinemas or theatres open. Couldn’t even go to church!’

Anna was puzzled. The woman was speaking as if the lockdown and restrictions were a thing of the past - but here we are, still in the middle of it, with no end in sight.

Her companion continued. ‘With us, they kept the pubs open. They would do, with men in charge! And the football matches were allowed to keep going. Funny, that.’

Anna was beginning to feel confused. She was sure the pubs had had to close and no football matches were being played, with or without crowds.

She was about to ask the woman what she meant when her companion went on. ‘They said it was spread by the troops coming back from the war. Them and the medical staff.  All that mixing with other soldiers over there and then coming home. Bound to spread, wasn’t it?’

Anna was starting to feel this conversation was getting surreal. War, what war? She desperately tried to bring it back to something she could relate to. ‘But at least the NHS has been marvellous, hasn’t it? The hospitals have really done a great job, once the PPE supplies - you know, aprons, masks and other protection - got through. And once we have a vaccine, life can get back to normal.’

The woman smiled. ‘Well, you’re lucky to have the NHS with all your healthcare for free! In my day most of us were nursed at home by the family. People like us couldn’t afford to pay for a private nurse or go to hospital. But you’re right about the protective clothing, that was in short supply for quite a long time. And this vaccine that’ll soon be available for you - that took a long time to come for us.’ She sighed. ‘It would have made all the difference.’ 

She stood up. ‘It’s been lovely talking to you. I hope you find ways of getting through the next few months. But take heart – it won’t go on for ever and in a couple of years, you’ll have forgotten what it was like - it will all be a distant memory.’

Anna was still trying to work out who she was and how she knew these things. As the woman started to walk away, Anna called out to her. ‘Oh, excuse me, but I feel as if I know you. What’s your name?’

The woman paused and looked at Anna fondly. ‘We have met before. I’m Ethel.’

About the author 

 Christine is fairly new to creative writing. As a publishing editor she is far more used to messing about with other people’s work than writing her own. But she finds she loves writing and it is now her go-to creative outlet. Christine writes features, short stories and researches local history.

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)