21.
The days had grown shorter, the nights longer and the temperature a little cooler. Winter was on its way. In the mornings Emily was reluctant to climb out of bed and when she did, she shivered her way around the house in her XXXL woolly jumper while she waited for the wood burner to heat up. She asked Zeus for a rock to save her lighting the fire, but he said that using the wood-burner was character building and would make her appreciate things more. Emily certainly did appreciate the happy singing of the kettle when it finally reached the boil, twenty-five minutes after lighting the fire and being able to have a piping hot bath about a day later.
She decided to keep the fire lit all the time. It meant splitting a bit more firewood, but it kept the house warm and the water hot, and the kettle was always ready to make a cup of tea.
The weather had changed. The clouds had become grumpy and spent their time chasing each other around the asteroid, grumbling and hanging low around the hills making rain. The wind had turned to blow off the sea, sending big waves washing up the beach, filling the air with noise and fogging up the windows with salt spray.
Emily worked around the house and garden. She’d munched her way through the sweet corn and beans and the lettuce patch looked like the slugs had been at it. The soccer playing zinodes helped her put in a chicken run. Now she awoke at the crack of dawn to the crowing of the rooster and had the gentle clucking of the hens for company while she worked in the garden. In the mornings she fried up fresh eggs for breakfast, their yokes so yellow they were almost orange. She visited the slugs to find a good recipe for rooster; Corfu rooster sounded good and coq au vin delicious. His days were numbered!
The zinodes helped her collect firewood, cutting up the sun bleached logs that washed up on the beach in stormy weather, and sending them back to her wood store with a click of their fingers.
Zeus dropped by looking gloomy.
He grumbled and complained like the angry clouds.
‘Cup of tea?’
Grumble.
Emily made him one anyway.
‘Breakfast?’ she asked. ‘Bacon and eggs.’
‘Are they fresh?’
‘Straight from the chicken.’
‘Two, sunny side up please.’
After they’d had brekkie, they talked asteroids.
‘The clouds,’ said Emily. ‘There’s three of them, isn’t there?’
‘Well spotted!’ said Zeus, as his own personal cloud started to lift. ‘Small asteroids are simply not large enough to make weather. There’s not enough climatic difference or Coriolis effect; the things that make weather happen on larger planets. So rather than have the weather make the clouds, we have the clouds make the weather. Clouds are funny things though, hard to work with. For the most part they’re a disagreeable bunch and are always arguing. What are your clouds like?’
‘Contrary, apart from on grey days.’
‘It makes for interesting weather.’
Emily loved the winter, especially the stormy days when the drumming of the rain and hail on the windows all but drowned out the roar of the surf. On sunny days she lazed on her old sofa, lizarding in the silky warmth of the winter sunshine,
Jesus came along the beach one morning with an invite to his birthday party.
‘I’d love to come,’ said Emily. ‘Which day is it?’
‘Think!’ he said giving her a poke.
‘Oh, of course, Christmas Day!’ she said, laughing. ‘Do we have to dress tidy and go to church first?’
‘Of course not! Can I borrow one of your sheep?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘We’re going to get a Christmas tree this afternoon. Would you like to come along?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Emily. ‘I love Christmas.’
They ran all the way back along the beach, splashing along just on the edge of the waves as they swooshed up the beach then sucked back. Emily turned a shade of blue and it took half an hour thawing in front of a crackling driftwood fire before she stopped shivering. Azziz arrived with mugs of toddy, steaming hot and full of cloves and lemon juice.
‘For your good health, this’ll warm your cockles,’ he said raising his glass. ‘Salute!’
Clink, clank, clunk.
They bumped their mugs together and took a big slurp.
‘Whooooa!’ said Emily as it burnt its way down her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. She thought it was best not to ask what’s in it, but it certainly warmed her cockles!
Her blueness disappeared and she went all light headed and giggly.
When the fire had burnt down, they barbecued sausages over the glowing embers, then roasted marshmallows, which sizzled on her tongue as she popped them in, still flaming.
She’d imagined that they’d get a fur tree. Instead, Jesus headed for the citrus grove and selected a sweet smelling orange tree about two metres high.
‘You can’t cut that down,’ said Emily.
‘We won’t,’ replied Jesus. ‘Let’s dig it up!’
He clicked his fingers and handed Emily a spade.
It was hard work digging, as Jesus wanted to take most of the asteroid along with the tree. When they sat down half an hour later to compare blisters, Emily asked, ‘Why do all this hard work, when you could do all this with a click of your fingers?’
Jesus looked thoughtful for a minute then said, ‘Do you want to turn into a slug. They used to have arms and legs but were so lazy they lost them.’
Some mini photon torpedoes exploded around their feet, sending dirt and sparks flying and starting a fire.
‘I heard that!’ boomed Pollux’s voice. ‘Be careful or you’ll end up with a slimeball on your tail!’
‘So sorry, Pollux,’ laughed Jesus, as he danced around stomping on the flames. ‘You know I didn’t mean it badly.’
Once they had dug all the way around the orange tree, they walked back to the seashore where they dug another hole.
As Emily shovelled out the final spadeful, Jesus said, ‘Would you like to do the honours?’
‘Love to,’ said Emily and clicked her fingers.
Bing!
The orange tree appeared, sitting upright in the hole.
After carefully packing the sand and dirt around his roots, they carried buckets of water from the Orinoco River to help him settle into his new home.
Standing back to admire their handy work, Emily said, ‘With all those oranges and blossoms, we hardly need to decorate him.’
‘Hardly, but let’s put these in his branches,’ said Jesus, producing a box of lights and stars.
Like all electrical things, the lights had no wires. They carefully attached the white led bulbs to the leaves and hung the crystal stars from the branches.
‘Done,’ said Jesus. ‘We’ll see you mid-afternoon on Christmas Day.’
‘Excuse me for asking, but I don’t know what to get you for a present?’
‘Don’t bother. Possessions are such a hassle; we try not to have any. Just the bare essentials that we need for survival: surfboards, the beat box, a coffee machine and a soccer ball!’
Thinking that she really should do something, that evening Emily carefully tore a page out of her diary to make a birthday card for Jesus.
‘Castor, how old is Jesus?’ asked Emily.
‘3,876 Earth years,’ said Castor. ‘I’d leave the number off if I was you.’
She wrote Happy Birthday, love Emily and drew stars and butterflies to make it pretty. Emily wished she had some coloured pencils to finish it off properly but drew her carefullest and figured it was good enough just as it was.
Christmas morning started off windy and stormy. Hearing the rain on her window Emily turned over and went back to sleep. Negrita, who’d moved indoors when the weather got chilly, snarled and hissed at her; a soft, yet prickly ball of black fluff, curled up at her feet on a sea of cream duvet.
When she woke up again, pale winter sunshine was glancing in the window, lighting up lit
tle bits of dust, making them sparkle.
Hisssss, snarled Negrita as Emily sat up.
‘Merry Christmas, grumpy guts,’ she said. ‘Let’s see what we can catch you for breakfast.’
Wrapping her burgundy shawl around her shoulders, Emily headed down to the rocks with her fishing line. Ten minutes later, Negrita was batting a mackerel around the floor while Emily fried up a juicy little snapper for breakfast.
Emily fought a strong urge to see her family on the Worm. It would have been lovely to see them, especially the young ones opening their presents, but she knew it would end in tears. She sent them lots of love and kisses then walked up to her favourite spot on top of the bluff and sat with her legs dangling over the cliff edge, feeling happy to be alive.
A cake, a birthday cake! As she got back to the cottage, she suddenly remembered that Jesus needed a cake. She threw a couple more chunks of firewood on the burner, to heat up the oven and started mixing; sugar, fresh eggs from the chicken house, flour, baking powder, milk, chocolate and a pinch of salt. An hour later she was spreading thick chocolate icing on top, trying to make the perfect wave, but the icing was too runny, then there wasn’t enough left because she kept testing it, so she wrote Happy Birthday Jesus in red and green icing instead.
After a lot of umming and arring, she pulled on her red dress and sewed fluffy white bits around the cuffs to make it Christmassy. Carefully placing the cake in a box, she headed off along the beach following a trail of little footprints as Negrita ran ahead chasing Enzo.
As she reached the far end of the beach, Emily wasn’t sure which of her senses was teased first: was it the soft twinkling of the lights on the orange tree, the mouth-watering smell of roasting lamb or the smooth notes of the band?
Azziz’s cafe was finished. It was just as he’d described it, but much better. Set into the dune at the top of the beach, it was built out of weathered driftwood from the beach. A few windows had been added and part of it was roofed over to make a cosy room to hang out in on rainy days. The bar, tables and benches were cunningly made out of curved pieces of driftwood, sawn here and there to give flat surfaces. The bar stools were simply logs sawn off and stuck in the sand. If you felt like a bit more comfort, you could chose between sitting on the comfy old sofas or being engulfed by the bean bags.
The days having grown short, daylight was already fading. Hundreds of candles placed on the tables and bar cast a warm light over the silver wood. Jesus’s Christmas tree was beautiful. The little white lights gently twinkled, each with its own hue of white, lighting up the oranges but leaving the leaves dark. The stars didn’t just glow, but emitted a gentle stream of golden particles that cast a halo around the tree.
The five piece band was made up of zinodes playing sax, electric guitar and violin; a dinner jacket, probably a szabo, on the piano; and an anode singing and playing the double bass. They played a mixture of jazz, funk and blues, and threw in the odd Christmas carol, just to wind up Jesus.
His spikes went all floppy and he cringed in pain when they sung Away in the Manger and Baby Jesus, loudly and deliberately out of key!
Between the songs Emily could hear the gentle sizzling of the lamb which was being spit roasted just upwind of the cafe so as to tempt the taste buds with its mouth-watering aroma.
There were about twenty anodes, all young looking, so probably under four thousand years old, a dozen zinodes wearing red football jerseys, and a few other odds and bods. The girl anodes were a little taller than the men, and slim and lithe, their olive skin glowing with vitality. While the men had four spikes on their heads, the girls had five. A couple of the girls wore flowing dresses and they all had little lights on top of their spikes which flashed and changed colour, keeping time with the band. Like the men their voices were smooth as silk.
Leaving the cake with Azziz, Emily found Jesus, gave him a hug and a kiss, and handed him the card she’d made. He was absolutely delighted, gave her a big kiss and said, ‘No one has ever given me a card before, thanks.’
Emily didn’t know if Jesus had said something to them, or if they were just friendly, but the anodes, especially the girls, all wanted to meet her. Lounging on the comfy sofas, sipping hot chocolate, she answered questions about the desert, about Khartoum and about England. Emily’s life seemed to be general knowledge and they asked her odd little things: What did England smell like? Was it scary to be kidnapped? Did Azulay’s eyes sparkle? And, could she do a belly dance?
‘I spose I could,’ she said shyly.
The band smoothly blended belly dancing rhythms into their tune. Emily jumped up on a table and danced. A couple of the girls joined in and the audience cheered them on. After a couple of dances they collapsed back onto the sofas puffing. Seeing Azziz lounging on a huge yellow bean bag with a girl on each arm, Emily asked the girl next to her, ‘Azziz has lots of girlfriends, but what about Jesus; does he have one?’
‘He does,’ she answered. ‘Valeria is lovely, and ever so patient with him; two thousand years and still no babies. You know, us anodes can’t have babies until both partners are ready. Jesus is still a boy at heart. I hope for his sake, that he grows up one century soon before she runs out of patience.’
‘Will I meet her?’
‘You might, but I think she’s giving him some space at the moment.’
At the end of the next song a gong sounded, the musicians put down their instruments, and everyone queued up at the fire as roast lamb was carved straight off the sizzling beast and served up accompanied by potatoes wrapped in foil. Simple but delicious, with a little mint sauce on the side and butter, black pepper and a sprig of parsley on the potatoes, which tasted nutty from being cooked in the embers. While the others drunk wine, beer and cocktails Emily washed hers down with sparkling spring water.
Once the main course was finished, there was a big cheer as thousands of candles lit up spontaneously on the beach. The band struck up ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone sang along.
As soon as the song finished, Azziz yelled, ‘Make a wish!’ and with an almighty puff, Jesus blew all of the candles out.
Everyone cheered and Azziz proposed a toast, ‘Happy Birthday Jesus, may you grow up soon!’
Glasses clinked together and Jesus cut the cake, offering everyone a small slice.
Later in the evening Jesus, who was standing by the Christmas tree, tapped a spoon on a glass to get everyone’s attention.
Ting, ting, ting!
‘Thank you for coming along today. It’s wonderful to see you all and I hope we have many more good times together here on Camillo, the most beautiful of asteroids. Rub your hands together and get those fingers warm. Whoever misses gets to clean up in the morning!’
Emily wondered what he was on about for a moment then he plucked an orange off the tree and threw it at her. It was high but she jumped and caught it with one hand. The guests all clapped and cheered. Jesus slowly picked the oranges, calling someone’s name and throwing an orange in their general direction. Anodes and zinodes jumped and dived to catch them. There were cheers for the most spectacular catches. Misses were greeted by hoots and jeers.
Last to be called was Leroy the szabo pianist. Jesus threw two oranges that seemed impossibly far apart but the dinner jacket reached out its arms and caught both at once. Once the cheering had died down, Jesus picked the last orange from the tree and started to peel it. ‘Good luck,’ he said.
Good luck? thought Emily as she peeled the soft skin off hers. Good luck for what? she wondered as she bit into the bitter-sweet juiciness of the orange.
Clunk!
Her tooth hit a pip, a very solid pip. She spat it out into the sand.
‘Yes, you got one!’ said the girl sitting next to her.
Looking down at the pip that she’d just spat out, Emily saw it glint like a star; it was a sparkling diamond. Before she’d finished her orange, she’d found another.
‘You lucky thing,’ said the girl. ‘They’ll make a great pair of studs.’
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Emily awoke with a shiver in the morning. She was curled up in one of the comfy sofas, with Negrita snuggled up beside her. The beat box played laid back jazz to the sleeping anodes, snoring contentedly on the couches, and a couple of lovers intertwined on the sand.
As she walked back along the beach, the sun came up, splashing red, orange and yellow about with its golden paintbrush. What a Christmas!