The Worst Christmas Present Ever

by Susan Willis 

a glass of hot mulled wine

OMG, this is it! I look at my partner, Neil across the table in the restaurant. I’m sure this is going to be the pivotal point in our relationship. This is when he is going to propose to me: I just know it. 

 

We’ve had a great meal and two glasses of a good red wine. My stomach felt too full of butterflies to eat a dessert, but he has taken an age picking at cheese and crackers. 

 

I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders. I want to remember every tiny detail about this special moment between us. Will he get down on one knee? Or, maybe he’ll slide the little black box along the table for me to open myself. My heart begins to race, and I feel my cheeks flush. I can’t see a bulge in his trouser pockets where he could have hidden the box. But I suppose he could have taken the ring out of the box with the intention of sliding it onto my finger. 

 

He is shuffling on his seat and I can hear the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. He is chewing the inside of his lip then fiddles with the cutlery on the table. After two years of living together I know his every move and can tell what is going through his mind before he even thinks about it himself. 

 

I’ve known this wasn’t just going to be an ordinary Christmas Eve celebratory meal since I spotted the little black box in a jeweller’s bag in his underwear drawer.  

 

The box had been sealed and even though as a little girl I’ve always loved a pre-Christmas snoop, I’d gasped and backed away from the drawer. Apart from knowing there was no way I’d be able to open and re-fasten the box without it being obvious, I hadn’t wanted to see it. My mouth had dried, and I’d swallowed hard. No, I’d thought, not this time. Mum used to say, if you snoop for pressies you’ll ruin the surprise on Christmas morning. And she was right. 

 

I’d known this box was different. This wasn’t just an ordinary Christmas gift. This was the commitment from Neil I’d hoped and prayed for since the week we first met. This was the ring he’d chosen especially as a sign of his love for me. And only me. It was too precious to spoil with childish curiosity.  

 

I’d returned to the ironing and let my thoughts wander. His brother and girlfriend had been engaged two months ago and he’d helped choose the surprise ring at the jewellers. He’d been enamoured throughout their surprise party and had relished in his participation of the secret. A friend standing near us had chuckled, ‘So, when is it going to be your turn, Neil?’

 

My insides had churned, and I’d felt quite giddy as I’d stood with my arm through his.

Neil had grinned and winked at him. ‘Ah, now that would be telling wouldn’t it!’

 

Whilst hanging the ironed clothes in our wardrobe I’d smiled at the memory and hadn’t been able to resist another peek at the little black box. Last week, I’d found him whispering with my sister at Sunday lunch, and then later secretively talking to my best friend on his mobile. But I’d shrugged off this clandestine behaviour because I’d done the same with his mother and his rugby pals looking for Christmas gift ideas.  

 

However, I know now this Christmas gift isn’t about new pyjamas, perfume or my favourite chocolates. 

 

My hand is lain in the middle of the table as if reaching out to him. I stare into his eyes looking for a sign that he is going to say something profound. I tilt my head to the side and raise an eyebrow.  

 

He grins then pushes his hand down into his jacket pocket which is hanging on the back of his chair. 

 

He pulls out the small box wrapped in Christmas paper with a white bow on the top. ‘Happy Christmas, darling,’ he says handing me the box. 

 

I swear my heart skips a beat. Here it is. His proposal. All my senses are heightened, and I feel a little breathless. 

 

My mind is spinning. Why isn’t he saying anything other than Christmas wishes? Maybe he’s going to ask me when I open the box.  

 

I play along and gabble, ‘Oooh, thank you, Neil.’ 

 

I lift the bow from the top and rip the paper apart.  

 

I take a big deep breath and feel my fingers tremble as I pop open the box to stare down at red earrings. 

 

The slump in my stomach makes me gasp aloud. Although I know it’s not possible, I feel like my heart is shrinking. 

 

Neil thinks my gasp is of delight and grins at me. ‘Do you like them, darling?’

 

I nod mutely, thinking this is the worst Christmas present ever. 

The Wife of the Bodyguard

by Susan Willis 

a cup of strong tea

Where is he, Sheila thought for the umpteenth time in the last two hours. She started to pace around the lounge wringing her hands. Her mind was in fast-forward and she didn’t know how to slow it down. 

 

She’d heard on the news about the incident near the royal garden party at the palace and the whole of her insides had sunk with a worrying sickness. 

 

Her husband, Jack, was one of the personal protection officers to the royal family and, although for security reasons she never knew exactly where he was, she remembered his words this morning. 

 

“More tea and cakes this afternoon,” he’d grimaced struggling to fasten the button on the waistband of his trousers. “I’m going to have to go on a diet.”

 

She’d tutted and lovingly put her arms around him snuggling her face into his neck. “No, Jack, I love you just the way you are.”  

 

Over the years, Jack had risen to Inspector working for The Metropolitan Police Service and then had been approached to train and successfully became one of the family’s bodyguards. He’d always said, “I don’t think of it as a job, Sheila. It’s an honour to look after them.”  

 

And she’d agreed with him but the worry and concern that went with the job wasn’t easy to live with. She smiled now remembering when they were first married. And yes, she’d been extraordinarily proud of him, and still was, but the job had never been conducive to family life. However, she’d had her mum living close by which had been a blessing. She’d been on hand when the girls were young to do the school runs and after school activities. “Where’s Dad,” they’d often asked. Or, “Is Dad not coming to the zoo?”

 

She’d tried to explain that he couldn’t tell them because his work was a big secret, which had sufficed but as they grew into teenagers, she’d often seen disbelief and mistrust in their eyes.  

 

It had been difficult because no one ever knew where he and the other bodyguards were because they were covertly dressed in ceremonial uniforms. Riding on the back of the carriages at the royal weddings, tours abroad, and even Scottish dancing up at Balmoral Castle. Maybe, she thought now, if she’d been able to point him out on TV to the girls, they’d have believed her more?  

 

She recalled his stints up at Balmoral and how she’d teased him about the kilt he’d had to wear. But then sighed remembering his darker words. “Sheila,’ he’d often said. ‘The family are just as vulnerable, if not more so, to an attack in the Scottish Highlands as they are in any of the London palaces.”  

 

She picked up her cup to sip the tea but realised it had gone cold and clattered it back into the saucer with trembling hands. 

 

Oh, where is he, and why doesn’t he ring? She fretted and felt tears well-up in her eyes. She longed for her mobile to ring so she could hear his voice, but, at the same time dreaded a call on the landline to say he’d been injured, or worse? 

 

He had a lovely voice. It was one of the things she’d loved about him when they’d first met. Deep and mannish with just a hint of his old North East accent. Now, with age it was gravellier and more authoritative, yet you could still hear his kind and considerate nature that was at the very core of him. 

 

She slumped down onto the sofa and looked up at his photograph on the mantelpiece. It was taken last year, and he is surrounded by the young recruits he trained now-a-days. They are all looking at him with respect and adoration in their eyes. It’s what he instilled into them. Respect and diligence. And, although he was mainly office-based now, he did still fill-in when they were short-staffed. Hence today.  

 

Their daughters were in a photograph next to his. Of course, they were young women now and seemed to regard their father as some type of super-hero? They thought it was a terribly exciting job to have and only last week had teased her, “When he was younger, was Dad like Richard Madden in the Bodyguard program, Mum?” 

 

She’d smiled and because she’d always played down the danger of his job to stop them worrying, she’d nodded. “Yes, he was a handsome young devil and I fell for him hook-line-and sinker.” 

 

However, she thought, on days like this there was nothing exciting or impressive about being concerned for his safety. 

 

Only recently she’d tackled Jack and insisted they have the dreaded retirement discussion. She’d retired this year and wanted him home with her to do all the things they’d planned. “It’ll not be long now, Sheila,” he’d said. “I just need to finish this program I’m working on. Then I’m all yours!” 

 

She’d known he was trying to pacify her. She’d seen the wary look in his eyes. The, please trust me look, that she’d seen countless times over the years. But now, she pulled her shoulders back, determined when he got home the retirement issue was going to be top of her agenda. She felt too weary to go through any more of these agonising days.  

 

Suddenly, a text pinged onto her mobile and she snatched it up from the coffee table. She held her breath and pressed the read button. 

 

“I’m okay, Sheila. Just sorting out a few things that have happened and will be home soon. XXX”

Sheila burst into tears as blessed relief surged through her body. She clutched the mobile to her chest and looked upwards. 

 

“Thank you, God,” she whispered and grinned knowing he was safe once more. 

Dodging the Puddle

by Susan E Willis

a glass of ale

Queen Elizabeth. These walk-a-bouts were tiresome but according to her peers, a necessity. It was the only way of meeting her people, so she plastered a bright smile onto her face for the walk around Whitehall.

 

Her lady-in-waiting stood behind smoothing the wrinkles from her gown. She whispered, ‘At least it’s stopped raining today?’

 

Elizabeth nodded. It had rained for two days but at last the sun had appeared this morning. She wrinkled her nose at the foul smell from offal and dead animals that the butchers threw out into the streets.

 

The high lace ruffle around her neck seemed to dig into her skin but she took a deep breath and slowly set off to walk. Her guards were all around them which always made her feel safe and she was amazed at the crowds of people who had arrived. They parted like the Sea of Galilee and she walked amongst them nodding and waving.

 

Along the route her people cheered, and men donned their tall felt hats which lightened her mood and she began to relax and smile more. She was their queen and they loved her. It did her soul good to look at them and feel their adoration because she wanted to support them all.

 

Her father, Henry V111, had often told her, being the monarch was a lonely job, and lately she’d begun to realise how right he was. She’d appointed a loyal staff to help her govern but she didn’t have anyone close to her. Throughout her reign her main aim was to provide her people with stability and consistency, which from what she could see today, was working well.

 

Ahead of her lay a big pool of mud and she stood still.  How was she going to dodge this puddle? The dirty, rank-smelling mud seemed to stretch across the whole pathway.

 

She glanced at her lady-in-waiting as though she would have the answer, but she bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders.

 

Elizabeth gathered up her vast golden gown into her hands and looked down at her cream embroidered boots. These were going to be ruined, she sighed, and they were her favourites.  

 

Suddenly, two of her guards were pushed aside as a huge man strode towards her. He was very tall with big shoulders in a brown studded tunic.

 

One of the guards shouted and tried to bar him from stepping any further but Elizabeth wasn’t scared, she could tell he was a gentleman. She nodded her consent to the guard who stood down but glared at the stranger all the while.

 

With a quick flourish the gentleman whipped the blue and silver cape from his left shoulder and threw it over the puddle. ‘Your, Majesty, allow me.’ 

 

Elizabeth stared at his brown bushy eyebrows, his dark brown moustache and goatee beard. His chocolate-brown eyes twinkled at her until she felt her cheeks blush. Her heart began to pound, and she wanted to giggle for some reason. He’d made her come over all shy and girl-like. She shook herself and pulled back her shoulders. Get a grip, she remonstrated, you’re the Queen of England.  

 

Gingerly, she stepped onto the cape. It was a good quality thick material with beautiful embroidery detail. She hoped the bottom of her boots weren’t too muddy. Alighting safely across the puddle onto drier ground she smiled at him.

 

With a demure sideways glance, she enquired, ‘Your name, Sir?’

He stood in front of her and bowed low from his waist. Elizabeth saw the sun glisten on his curly brown hair, and knew he was the handsomest man she’d had the pleasure to look upon for a long while.

 

He grinned. ‘Sir Walter Rayleigh,’ he said. ‘Forever in your service.’ 

The Fairy Tale King of Bavaria

by Susan Willis

a glass of Bavarian Beer  

Jenny walked through the throne room staring up at the turquoise domed ceiling. It was beautiful.  

The tour guide, Geoff, called her name. ‘Jenny, come back you can’t go over there!’

They were in the fairy tale Neuschwanstein castle in Bavaria. Geoff had just finished telling them King Ludwig II’s life story and how he had built this castle on the top of the hill for a place of refuge and secret retreat. Jenny loved to hear the human-interest stories behind famous people, it made her want to jump back in history and step into their world. 

Ludwig and his brother, Otto, were born in Hohenschwangau Castle in which his father, King Maximilian II, and his mother Queen Marie, were obsessed with the legendary world. Most of the walls were covered with fairy tale drawings and tapestries. Ludwig was an immensely good-looking man, and because at an early age, Otto was incapacitated by mental illness, it was his role in life to marry and carry on the Bavarian monarchy. Unfortunately, it was other men Ludwig wanted to be with, not women.

She’d wandered over to the corner of the huge throne room which was so full of gold-bling it made her head spin. With big Lapis Lazuli blue pillars, she stood with her mouth open gaping at the splendour of it all.

In front of her was a small spiral staircase. The thick rope that was usually on private areas was not stretched across the opening to the stairs and hung limp from its hook.

She stood still and glanced furtively over her shoulder. Jenny licked her dry lips, where was Geoff now? Could she slip up the staircase without him knowing? Was there time?

She noticed that he was shepherding the group out through the far door into the next room. She swallowed hard, when would she ever get another chance to pry into a secret place in the castle that no one had ever seen? It’s now or never, she thought, just go for it.                                    

She skipped up the first step then hurried up the small spiral stairs with her heart hammering. What would be at the top? Probably a castle official, she thought, shouting and shooing her back downstairs. But as she rounded more stairs, she could see an opening ahead with daylight and the blue sky above.

Suddenly, a man’s head popped around the top of the last stair. It was him! She gasped. It was King Ludwig or, someone dressed up to look very much like him.

He looked about twenty and his lovely melancholy face broke into a small smile. ‘Come up,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t let them see you or they’ll arrest you!’

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she gaped at him. It couldn’t be him. He’d started this castle when he first came to the throne in 1866? Her mind was playing tricks and she shook her head vehemently to rid herself of the apparition. But he was still there so she hurried on up to the top.

He was standing by the side of the tallest turret dressed in his long black shiny boots and eminent bright blue military jacket. The chain of gold medals around the red sash over his jacket shimmered in the direct sunlight.  

She had to look at him directly because they were very high up on the roof and she wasn’t good with heights. The third rung on a ladder was usually her limit. Don’t look down, she chanted to herself while creeping towards him.

She whispered, ‘Is it really you?’

‘Yes, yes, it’s me,’ he said. ‘Have you brought someone to make me marry the princess of Austria?’

She shook her head. ‘Em, no, it’s just me, Jenny Wilson from Scotland.’ She realised how stupid it sounded. But, there again, how could he think she was from the 18^th century when she was dressed in white jeans and a T-shirt?

‘Ah, Scotland. My father told me about your Edinburgh castle.’ 

Jenny filled with pride at the fact that the old Bavarian King had known their castle and she smiled. ‘Yes, it’s quite magnificent. We love it, just like you love this one.’

‘You haven’t brought Queen Victoria here to make me get married, have you?’

Jenny rubbed the back of her neck and frowned. ‘No, of course, I haven’t.’

‘Because I just can’t do it,’ he said. ‘I can’t lie with a woman and consummate the marriage. I just can’t…’ he put both his small hands out to her, and she grasped them between hers. She squeezed his hands and gave him an understanding nod.  

His face was beautiful. His skin was smooth with a small-button nose and pink sweetheart lips. Thick black eyebrows held such dark-hooded sad eyes that she couldn’t help but stare at him. ‘Hey, it’s okay,’ she said trying to reassure him. ‘Don’t upset yourself, we’ll sort something out.’

His eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t sleep,’ he said. ‘I hide away up here in this huge castle. But I stay awake all night and read. I’m reading a whole book every night because if I close my eyes, I’m tormented, and the devils come to get me in the dark. I find it easier to sleep during the daylight.’

She remembered what Geoff had told them about his sleigh rides in the night and how shy and lonely he’d been. She sighed feeling his hands tremble in hers. ‘Is there no one here that can help you?’

He shook his head miserably and bit down on his bottom lip. ‘No. I’m going to the devil when I die because I’m not normal. I’m not a strutting ram wanting to bed one woman after another like my father was, but I just can’t help it!’

Her heart went out to him in his torment. She knew he’d visited and loved Versailles, in Paris, especially, King Louis XIV, and she could tell he would be much happier in those surroundings. He was theatrical, loved music, especially Richard Wagner, and highly imaginative trying to stage his kingship in magnificent ways. But all she could see was a deeply unhappy man.     

She heard Geoff’s footsteps charging up the stairs and his voice calling her name.

‘Sorry, Ludwig,’ she whispered. ‘I have to go.’

The sun was streaming into her eyes and she squeezed them shut. When she opened them again and put a hand over her eyebrows to shield the sun, he’d disappeared behind the turret. She looked around the side, but he was nowhere in sight. 

She staggered back to the top of the stairs and saw Geoff’s head appear.  

‘What are you doing up here, Jenny. You’ll get me into trouble!’

She grinned. ‘Sorry, Geoff, but I saw him! I saw King Ludwig.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he sniggered. ‘I think you’ve had too much sun!’

Maybe he’s right, she thought, and stepped down onto the first stair to follow him downstairs. She turned ever so slightly and saw Ludwig’s face peep back around the short turret and wave at her.

She waved back knowing she’d been part of one of King Ludwig’s fairy tales from Bavaria.  

About the author

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