Chapter Two
In The Bleak Midwinter
'In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;'
The barman had called her a cab. Or so he'd said. She'd suspected it was Jack.
She'd not talked to anyone else just kept the drinks coming. There was only so much Christmas spirit you could sit through and none of the Christmas songs she liked had come on. No 'Fairytale of New York', no 'Blue Christmas,' not even 'I'll be home for Christmas,' nothing. It was all getting a bit blurry and all the drinks on the table were finished so she wasn't turning down a cab on Christmas Eve even if it was barely ten-thirty.
There was no snow; it wasn't even that cold. She leant her head back against the window and watched the streets flash past. There were more tacky lights decking out the boring suburban streets, as crass and pathetic as a paper umbrella in a cocktail. No one here seemed worried by the crippling price hike of electricity bills. Or maybe that was all part of the post-Christmas depression.
"Happy Christmas, Miss" said the obviously devout Muslim driver as she handed over the cash.
"Erm, thanks. Keep the change," she said as she fumbled for the door handle.
Despite the mild weather, Nikki pulled her coat around her and stood gingerly on the pavement to readjust her balance after the low seat of the taxi. There was something different about her front door but she couldn't make out what.
It was dark, unlike the neighbour's that had enough flashing lights to land a small aircraft or induce a large seizure. She shuffled a few steps further up the path and finally deduced that the difference was due to something on her doormat. It wasn't the right shape for a box, and she'd not ordered anything. It was more like a large bag. Or a large coat. In fact more like a large coat sat on a large bag.
She took a step or two back down the path as she finally realised that there was a man sitting on her doorstep, leaning against her front door. He looked as if he'd been there for a while. He looked comfortable in an odd kind of way. He appeared to be sleeping.
She rubbed her eyes to check she wasn't imagining things. It wouldn't be the first time.
She tried to think of which of the local churches had a night shelter, but her brain hurt. She knew she couldn't leave him asleep on her doorstep on Christmas Eve. She'd have to do something. She'd have to step over him to get in to her house.
It was then she noticed his shoes. It was as the pompom at the top of the neighbour's six foot Santa blinked on and off, that she caught the reflection. Those weren't the shoes of a homeless person. Those shoes had been polished recently.
She took four more steps up to the front door and rattled her keys.
A head emerged from the coat with very short hair speckled with grey and a kindly face.
"Leo?" Nikki gasped. "What are you doing here?"
In The Bleak Midwinter: Christina Rossetti