The Village Green

The Village Green. A Christmas tree on a village green – how lovely, Amber thought. And how different from the noise and bustle of the city. Here, all she heard was the squeak of the new snow beneath her feet. She followed a steady trickle of other people heading towards the little white church for the Christmas Eve service. Lucie was chatting softly to the old man who had introduced himself as their landlord – and invited them both round for a meal on Boxing Day.
Nearing the church, Amber could hear music now. The words to it wrote themselves in her mind.
“Once, in royal David’s city…”
Christmas was here.

Well, the Hunter boys’ house was called The House on the Green …so here’s the green! It’s a 50x50 lot, and it’s pictured here in Moonlight Falls, on The Old Trail. There’s a playpark for small children, with swings, rides – and a toilet block! There’s the fishing hole – with walls round it, to keep anyone from falling into it if they’re crossing the green after dark. There’s the inevitable statue of the town’s main founder, one Josiah Fairweather, who combined kindliness with business acumen when he started the first village store some two hundred years ago. Summer time, it’s nice to have a picnic in the shade of the pine trees. And there’s a church and graveyard of course, old stones and newer ones, remembering the people of the town.
And at Christmas, everyone comes to the church for the carol services. It’s empty but waiting for the evening at the moment. Waiting to be filled with people celebrating Christmas together, family and friends united in song.

Amber and Lucie

Gift Exchange The door opened and Lucie walked in. Amber paused mid-sentence. How had the Really Meaningful Date with the handsome guy from accounts gone? “Well?” she asked excitedly – and then saw Lucie’s face. “I can’t believe I was so stupid!” Talking to the wall was not a good sign either. “Amber, what am I going to do?” “Lucie, what happened? Tell me about it.” Lucie dissolved into tears on her shoulder. “I thought this was going to be – like, you know, The Big Date. The one where he asks me to move in with him. And I was so nervous about being late for it that I was super-early, so I hid in that corner seat – the one you can’t see from the door – so I could pretend I’d arrived just after him. And he came in. With someone else!” Amber was not happy. Neither was Lucie – her mascara had lost the clinging-on-to-her-eyelashes battle.
“And he said to her – it’s all right darling, I’ll finish with her today. Why would I want a two-bit cooky artist type when I could have a smart, gorgeous girl like you? And I just didn’t know what to do. I was, like, frozen in my seat.”
“And then he started being rude about you as well. Saying that just because you’d written some stupid children’s book that I’d done these useless pictures for, you thought you were a proper author, and your dress sense was dreadful…” “So that got me out of my seat. I mean, he’s not getting away with being horrible about my friends.”
Lucy was re-enacting the scene.
“So I got really mad and told him he was a two-timing lying jerk who couldn’t even write a shopping list if he tried, so no wonder he was jealous of you. And I tipped a jug of water over him and walked out.” “But what am I going to do? I can’t stay here and see him at work every day for the rest of my life. I hate that job anyway – it was only seeing him and doing your illustrations that made life bearable.” “And I have to go on working. This place is a dump, but even the quarter share takes up all I can afford.”
Lucie was right. There were four of them here, all living in tiny rooms and all paying big rents. City living wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Amber sat down at her laptop and flipped it open. “Come and look at this. I wrote it off as a pipe dream because I didn’t think you’d want to move away. And I didn’t want to be several hundred miles away from my amazing illustrator.”
Lucie managed a watery smile at that.
“I’ve got an advance for The Scarlet Hawk. We’ve got an advance for The Scarlet Hawk. I heard from my agent just before you came in – you’ve probably got an email too.”
“I turned my phone off,” Lucie admitted. “In case he texted or rang.”
“Do you fancy renting somewhere in the countryside for a year while we both work on the book?” “Get away from here? Oh yes. Show me the pictures. Wait – let me get the tissues first.”
Lucie returned to the table having done some serious mopping up.
“Here we are – here’s the website and here’s the house."
"The Salt Box. That's a cute name. I wonder why it's called that?"
"I think it's a building style. We could be there for Christmas. – allowing for giving notice on this place and so on. How does that sound?” “It sounds perfect! But does it suit you?”
“Oh yes! I’d love to be out of the city. And this place is horrible – you’re quite right. I would much rather be writing somewhere else.”
“And I can find some work to do, even if it’s only waitressing or whatever, while I paint as well.”
“Shall we give it a go then? Sign up for the year?”
“What have we got to lose?” This was perfect, Lucie thought. Her own room, just for her painting stuff! Her original artwork for the cover of The Seventeenth Star hung on the wall. Even though there was snow outside, the house was warm inside. She went into the cosy sitting room, sat down near the fire and began some sketches for the next illustrations. Amber agreed with Lucie. The Scarlet Hawk cover hung in her little writing nook, inspiring her as much as the landscape and the house itself did. They’d made it here in time for Advent – and then there’d be Christmas, and then who knew what next year would bring? Maybe something better for them both.

The Pole Renovacy

The Pole Renovacy

This is based on Hi-de-Hi’s gift to me from the Holiday Gift Exchange. House here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351043 And family here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351042 Having to drive past a graveyard wasn’t the best of introductions to their new home. It pulled up too many memories… “Daddy, I don’t like that building. It looks scary,” May said, as they carried on down the road. Tad’s heart sank even lower. What was she going to say when she saw their new home? “Daddy, this is awful!” It was a heartbroken wail. The taxi have driven away, leaving their luggage, part in the house, part outside, and taking all of Tad’s remaining money.
May had a point – the house didn’t look great. But it was this, or split the family up. And Tad couldn’t bear to lose his children. Not after having lost their mother. This was their last-ditch attempt to stay together: move away from the too-expensive neighbourhood where the children had grown up, move away from where people knew their story. And might decide to interfere – ‘for the good of the children’.
Tad was hoping that this was far enough off the beaten track to be safe from busybodies. And the house might not be so bad inside. It was worse. He looked at the kitchen and sighed. He hadn’t been the cook. It had been his Star who’d done the cooking. And this didn’t look like the ideal environment in which to start learning. May followed him into the kitchen.
“You can’t even see out of the window,” she said. Whined. She never used to be a whiny child.
“I can clear that away. Why don’t you go and play in the garden with Ice?” And I hope the garden is better than in here, Tad said to himself. The garden was better. In fact the garden looked better kept than the house did. There was a tent (and that might be useful, Tad thought) and a swing and a barbecue grill, and a patch of garden which might do for growing food…
“I’m just taking a look over the road,” he called to May. “I’m not going very far at all. Stay with Ice.” And over the road, Tad saw: Somewhere to fish. Somewhere to cook the fish. As long as May kept an eye on Ice and didn’t let him fall into the water, he could feed his family. Hopefully. “The toilet is outside? What happens when I need the toilet in the night?”
“You’ll have to go outside. So maybe skipping the endless bedtime glasses of water would be a good idea.” And that would be a relief, Tad thought. Since her mother’s death, May had made endless excuses to keep checking up on him at night. And he did understand – in part. But it meant that he never got any time to process his own thoughts, his own grief. It was all about coping. “May, will you play with Ice, please? I don’t want him falling in the water! And I’m going to catch some fish for our tea.”
What a good job he’d packed his fishing rods instead of selling them. But that had been how he and Star had met – over two tangled fishing lines – and he’d not been able to bear parting with them. Now he was grateful. He’d be able to teach May to fish too – she could use Star’s smaller, lighter rods.
May was going to have to grow up faster than she wanted to. Honestly, it seemed like she’d reverted to her five year old self. He needed her help. He couldn’t do everything on his own. The sun was setting fast by the time Tad lit the fire. He was keeping an eye on a rather sleepy Ice, making sure that he stayed away from both the fire and the water, helping May cook her fish, and trying not to burn his own - all at the same time. One day down. How many more to go?

The Hunter Boys

The Hunter Boys “I got us a couple of drinks each.” Leo picked his drink up from the tray.
“Another of those days, huh?” Rafe looked over at the bartender and made a private bet with himself as to how long it would be before she came over to chat with them. “Dreadful. I really hate this job – it’s changed so much since we both started out.”
“We’ve changed too. We’ve got really good at our jobs. Too good, I sometimes think. It’s like everyone wants a piece of us.” Rafe picked up his drink, restless and unhappy. “Why are we doing it?” Leo asked his brother. “Remember when we first started out, and we enjoyed it.”
“We had a goal – to pay our parents back, give them the chance of a good retirement after all they’d given to us.”
“And we’ve done it. They’re in New Zealand, with Susie and her husband and the grandchildren, mortgage all paid off, loving helping on Jack’s farm. But we can never find the time to go over there to see them. There’s always one more thing to do.” Leo’s voice was bitter. He was right, Rafe thought. One more thing…and a lot of pressure to do it. They had plenty of money now, but no time to use it, and no real inclination to waste it. And too often the one more thing had no joy in it, no sense of achievement any more. “You were going to be a sculptor, remember? Heck, your gear is still taking up all of the other bedroom. And I was going to be an amazing chef, open my own bistro, grow the veg for it myself…And now look at us. And I’ve got some even worse news for you.”
“What?”
But then the bartender came over and started ‘chatting’ with Leo. Rafe could read his brother’s annoyance in the set of his shoulders, though he was as polite as ever. Leo was an old-fashioned romantic at heart, but his good looks and quiet air of wealth attracted too many of the wrong type of women.
He checked his watch – yes, he’d won his bet with himself – and rescued Leo.
“We have to go – remember we changed what time we said we’d get there?”
Wherever there was going to be. But they were leaving here. ‘There’ turned out to be back where they used to go when they were students, bright-eyed and optimistic about their futures. The place looked smaller, grubbier, but the drinks looked the same. Though Leo didn’t remember them tasting quite so rough back then! “You want the bad news?” Leo asked his brother. “Quercus Rowbottom wants us to work for him again.”
“What? I’m not working for that jerk ever again!”
“He’s wangled it with my boss. I got the ‘if you want us to extend your contract’ speech. Not speech, threat. And he’s talking to yours tomorrow. Bet you get the same treatment.” Leo ordered another drink. Rafe thought for a moment about the next day and followed suit. “But what can we do? We can’t gun him down. They’ve got us over a barrel with these short-term contracts we keep getting tied into – great pay, yeah, but no security.”
“We could quit.” Suddenly Rafe felt really clear-headed. “Let’s just quit.”
“He’d be on our doorstep, chasing us down, pestering us. Hounding us, like he did with poor Wilson until he caved in. You know what Rowbottom’s like.” Rafe did. He watched his unhappy brother gunning down pixelated images, and though hard.
“Suppose he couldn’t find us,” Rafe said slowly. “Let’s quit. And move. To somewhere miles away and really unlikely for a pair of supposed city boys…Let’s go home and see what we can find on line.” “Let’s see what we can find.” Sometimes 2 am brings its own wisdom.
“Here we are. The House on the Green. Available from the first of December for a one year or two year let. Fully furnished. We both quit tomorrow. They can stuff their short term contracts where the sun doesn’t shine. We go to New Zealand to see the parents, Susie and the kids, help Jack on the farm for a couple of months – and then come back and do something new with our lives. We’ve got the savings – let’s take a chance. How about it?” And now it was December. Spring on Jack's farm had been hard work but great fun. And seeing the family again had been good - and they wouldn't leave it so long next time. Here they were, in their new house, with enough room at last. This was what he’d been dreaming of: a chance to sculpt again. Rafe’s fingers itched to pick up the tools and begin. The Hunter boys were re-writing the script for their lives!

Fairweather

Fairweather The funeral had been two weeks ago. Josiah and Martha had come to take away the dead flowers from her brother’s grave. Now, looking at the still-ungreened earth, Martha was crying again. Josiah took her cold hands in his own warm ones.
“I know. It’s hard.”
Behind him he could hear the sea, breaking against the shingle, shaping and smoothing the stones on the beach. Grief is like that, he thought. It shapes you. “Thank you,” Martha said, moving into the safe circle of his embrace. Nahum, her brother, had been nearly twenty years older than her: this hadn’t been a sudden shock.
“I’m all right really.” By common consent, they walked past the House on the Green: the house that had been Nahum’s home for the last ten years, until he’d gone into the hospice a month earlier.
“We’re going to have to decide what to do about this house,” Martha said. “It’s mine now.” “What do you want to do?” Joshua looked deep into his wife’s eyes, trying to read her feelings. “Do you want to sell it? Keep it?”
Martha thought hard. “I don’t want to part with it yet. I don’t want the hassle for one thing.” The late summer garden was beautiful, and the bees hummed contentedly among the flowers as if nothing had changed.
“But I don’t like the thought of it sitting empty either…” She sighed. “We could rent it out,” Josiah said tentatively. “Not as a holiday let, like the other house, but for a year. Or two. Give ourselves some breathing room…What do you think?”
Martha looked into her husband’s kind eyes and felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Yes. We could. That might work.” Back home, sitting close together, Josiah had another thought.
“You know what? We’ve got no bookings for The Salt Box after the end of November. We didn’t take any more last year because we didn’t know how much Nahum was going to need us, when he began to fail, remember? We could let that house on a long-term let as well. Through Ogilvy and Sterne – then we wouldn’t have any responsibilities at all. Say, from the first of December for both of them. Then we’d be free to do whatever we wanted – travel again like we did when we were young, or just relax here. How about that?” “That’s a lovely idea. We’ll let both places – maybe someone really nice will take them. And we’ll take some time for ourselves. Time to heal. This is a good place to live for that.”