The Night Before the Christmas Before I Was Married & Other Festive Tales Read Online Free Page A

unchanged. After I had set Mr Grimwald’s dinner down I made to leave but as I reached the hallway I noticed a new frame, clean and dustless against the sun-bleached wallpaper. Upon closer examination it proved to be an advertisement for this year’s pantomime at the local Palladium but for some reason the picture of ‘Neil Smart as Widow Twanky’ had been neatly trimmed out leaving the reddy-brown background of the picture frame clearly visible from behind. I stared at it for a moment but was jolted out of my fascinated trance but what sounded like a shout from way above me in the house. I stopped dead but as I tried to listen closer no more sounds were forthcoming. When I arrived back at my van Sally had vanished and even after a brief scout around the vicinity she was nowhere to be seen. I jogged lightly back up to the house to see if Mr Grimwald had seen her and as I reached the steps, the door sharply swung open.

    “Did you forget something?” Mr Grimwald asked, grinning.

    “No, no, its just my dog, Sally, she was in the van and she seems to have run off.”

    “Ah, she’s behind you.”

    I spun around but there was no sign of Sally. “No, no she isn’t.”

    “Oh yes she is.” He flicked his wrist, gesturing towards the garden behind me.

    I looked over into the garden once more but she was nowhere to be seen.

    “No she isn’t. I… ”

    “Oh yes she is.” Mr Grimwald’s voice had risen ever so slightly and had a vague hint of hysteria as if he was about to burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter but before I could challenge him on it Sally ran out from inside the house and jumped into my arms.

    “There she is, you see - behind you all the while,” he smiled and waved. “See you next week.”

    As I drove away Sally sat bolt upright in the back of the van watching the house tail into the distance and growling almost inaudibly under her breath. I resolved not to bring her on my rounds again this Christmas season in case she made a habit of this disappearing act of hers.

    That evening I went to visit George to see how he was holding up with his broken leg. It wasn’t long before the conversation turned towards Mr Grimwald.

    “So,” said George with a wry smile. “What do you make of the old fruit?”

    “I don’t know,” I replied. “Sometimes he seems perfectly normal and other times… ”

    “Other times he makes you skin crawl, right?”

    “Yes. How did you know?”

    “I don’t know, most of the time he’s just this old tweed guy with an empty pipe,” he paused for a moment as if he was going to stop there but after mulling it over continued. “There was this one time there was a note on the front door. Said he was ill, just to come in and set the food down.”

    “What did you do?”

    “Just that. But after I had laid it out I got a bit paranoid that he might be… Well you know… ”

    “Incapacitated.”

    “Or worse. So I started upstairs - calling out for him, asking if he was alright.”

    “And was he?”

    “Well, I got as far as the second floor before he came trundling out of one of the rooms and whisked me downstairs but… ”

    “What?”

    “Well, I know it sounds stupid but I thought I caught a glimpse, around the attic door… ”

    “Yes?”

    “Well it looked like there were lightbulbs all the way around.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “You know, like a mirror in a theatre.”

    I didn’t know quite what to make of this new information so I began to relate to George exactly what had been happening, my suspicions, everything.

    “I mean I didn’t mind that the poster had been defaced,” I added. “To tell the truth I was happy about it.”

    “What? I don’t understand. Why?”

    “Well the whole pantomime dame thing. It bring back too many unhappy memories.”

    George laughed for a second before realising I was serious.

    “What do you mean mate?” he asked.

    “Well,” I was nervous, not sure how far to go. “We’ve been