Christmas Journey

"Pleased to meet you, especially John," I said.

Eileen pulled my head down to kiss me.

"Thank you, Geoff. I don't know what we would have done without you. It was cold waiting for someone to pass. I was afraid, not that I'd have the baby in the car, but that he wouldn't survive long after the birth."

I stammered expostulations that anyone would have stopped...

"There's one more thing we would like you to do," Eileen said, "The registry office is open this morning and then closed until after Christmas. Could you take Michael there to register John's birth? He can make his own way back but he needs to be there within the hour."

"Of course," I said.

I drove Michael to the Registry Office. We had to wait a few minutes before the paperwork could be completed. Michael shook my hand and left the Registry Office to contact a cousin who might be able to help recover their car. I walked towards the old Austin. I was nearly there when a man rushed out of the Registry Office.

"Can you spare a few minutes of your time, please," he wheezed. "I've run out of options. I'm getting married now and the family and witnesses haven't arrived. If I don't get married in the next half-hour we'll have to rebook. The Church wedding is this afternoon and everyone will be there, but the marriage won't be legal..."

"Of course," I said, "lead on..."

I was a witness at the marriage of Alan and Marion Smith of Stockbridge. One of the Registry clerks was the other witness. By the time I had kissed the bride it was nearly noon.

Back on the road I followed the A272 to Winchester and then the A31 towards Guildford. I stopped at a lay-by on the Hog's Back to eat some lunch. Sitting in the car, I idly watched two young women hikers struggling up the slope towards the road. They seemed fit and active but tired and weighed down by their rucksacks. I got out to shake the crumbs off my trousers and despite the light drizzle I stood there as the two women reached the lay-by.

They walked directly towards me. I knew what was coming.

"Are you going towards Guildford?" She paused, "Or Reigate?"

I looked at both of them for a second.

"Yes, and yes."

"Could you...?"

"Give you a lift? Of course. The car isn't much but it should get there."

"Thank you. We've got to be back home tonight and we hadn't appreciated how steep the hills are around here. We're tired out."

I opened the back door of the car.

"Ladies, your carriage awaits."

They piled their rucksacks against the far door and climbed in. They were fairly crowded but their rucksacks wouldn't have fitted in the boot. I started the car and pulled away. There was still very little traffic even through Guildford and on the A25. As we drove along my companions introduced themselves as Mary and Janis, sisters from Reigate. They had been Youth Hostelling for a week but the bad weather had slowed them down. They had to dry their clothes each day and hadn't covered as many miles as they had intended. They had phoned their parents from the last Youth Hostel and had expected to catch a bus to Guildford and then a train home. The bus service had stopped running two years ago so they had to walk.

On the outskirts of Reigate I had to stop and wake them up to ask directions. I delivered them to the drive of their parents' house, a substantial villa in its own grounds. The younger sister, Janis, turned back to give me a wave as I drove off. Mary seemed barely able to walk the length of the drive. I followed the A25 to the edge of Redhill and joined the A23 towards Croydon. Half an hour after reaching Croydon I braked the car to a stop outside my family home.

I was stiff and tired. I might be the returning prodigal son but I wasn't bringing any gifts. I had sent them earlier. I opened the boot and took out the cardboard box that the farmer's wife had given me with the car. I carried it up the front path and rang the doorbell with an awkward finger. My father opened the door, looked at me, lifted the box out of my arms and said:

"You need a cup of tea, lad."

I did. I stepped inside the hall to be nearly knocked flat by an excited Cousin Clare. She hugged and kissed me before dragging me into the kitchen. I had expected her to welcome me, but this was much more than I had dared dream. She made the tea while I sat at the kitchen table and told the story of my journey.

"Geoff," Clare said diffidently, "do you always wear that?"

She pointed at my chest. I looked down. My official dockyard pass was still obvious on my jacket pocket, complete with photograph, my name, my department's address and my rank.

"No," I said, "I normally take it off as soon as I'm outside the dockyard. I've been telling everyone who I am. No wonder complete strangers called me 'Geoff'..."

"And named a baby after you..." My mother said. "I'm proud of you. But were you right to accept the car?"

"It would have been scrapped next week."

"Did you insure it?"

"Insure?"

"You didn't drive it all this way with no insurance?"

I nodded.

"Right lad. Get your jacket on. We're going down to the High Street now. The insurance can be a Christmas present."

We found that the farmer had already added me as a named driver until the 31st, although whether that was valid since I now owned the Austin was doubtful. The insurance cost much more than the car. We guessed its value as twenty-five pounds. It was already taxed until March. My father insisted on including Clare as a named driver. I didn't know why but he was paying.

My Christmas was wonderful. Clare kissed me under the mistletoe at least six times. I wondered why until she told me that he boyfriend had dumped for another last week. I had always liked Clare. Now it seemed that she liked me too.

She talked to me while I tried to improve the car. Fixing the leaks with fibreglass was easy. Clare suggested that I try to bleed air out of the heater. She crawled under the dashboard to press the bleed valve while I revved the engine. After a few attempts the heater became warm then hot. The demister hoses needed repair with tape. Clare's slim hands reached into places I'd find almost inaccessible.

Dave, one of father's ex-service friends, called on Boxing Day. Within minutes he was under the bonnet of my car. He found and fixed an air leak on the inlet manifold, adjusted the timing, took out the play on the steering box and made the brakes work properly. I gave him a bottle of the alcoholic drink I'd been given. He and my father had to try it. Clare and I went for a short drive to see what difference the repairs had made.

We were dry, warm and the car steered and stopped. It also reached a speed of sixty-five miles an hour. Most of all it felt safe to drive. Clare drove for a while. She liked the car now it was repaired.

When we returned Dave and Dad were merry.

"Where did you get this drink?" Dave asked.

"On Dartmoor, near Bovey Tracey," I replied.

"It's great but illegal," Dave said. "It's distilled, probably from grapes, and has a great taste. Are you driving any more today?"

I shook my head.

"Then have a taste. You too, Clare."

Dave poured the amber liquid into shot glasses. I sniffed and then sipped cautiously. Clare tossed hers down and spluttered. It had a wonderful taste and a kick like a mule. We left Dave and my father sipping their drinks. In the kitchen Clare asked my mother if she needed help. Mother shook her head.

"No thanks, Clare, but could you two get the living room fire going? It's laid and just needs a match and some coaxing."

I lit the fire. Clare and I sat on the settee and watched as the fire struggled into life. I had to add some more kindling before it finally decided to burn properly. We sat back on the settee. Clare snuggled against my side. I eased an arm around her shoulder. Her head rested against me.

"Why are you here, Clare?" I asked. "I like having you here but why aren't you with your parents at Christmas?"

"They've gone to visit my brother and his wife. They're expecting a baby any day now."

"And you didn't want to go?"

Clare snuggled even closer to me.

"No. There isn't room and I thought I might see you..."

"But I wasn't going to be here..."

"I know. But you would be here sometime. I'm staying for a week or so and then..."

"Then what?"

"I've got a new job starting in the first week of January. I hoped that you would be home before then so that you could help me."

"Help you? How?"

"Help me move. The new job's in Plymouth."

"It is!"

"Yes. Do you mind?"

Did I mind? The only response I could think of was to kiss Clare. The kiss lasted a long time. When it ended Clare was sitting on my lap with her arms around my neck.

"I assume that means you like the idea, Geoff?"

We kissed again. We seemed to spend the next few days kissing. Clare and I went around hand in hand or wrapped around each other. My parents seemed amused and pleased.

My five pounds paid for spares for the car, the petrol and a couple of meals on our return to Plymouth in a reliable car, loaded with Clare's immediate needs. She stayed at my lodgings for a few days while she was flat hunting before we decided that looking for a flat to share between us would be cheaper.

We were told that Plymouth landlords wouldn't let a flat to two single people of opposite sexes. I proposed to Clare. She accepted. As an engaged couple we were acceptable tenants, even if we had to wait a few weeks before we could actually marry. We invited the people I had met on my journey home, and all except Fingers came.

Now we're sharing more than a flat but the old Austin, now more reliable, is still our favourite possession.