A Christmas Message

Alex!

It couldn’t be. I must have dozed off, that’s it, Leonora thought, as she struggled to rouse herself. She gave another shake, but no, he was there in front of her. It wasn’t a dream. The young man standing beside her grandniece was the Alex of sixty years ago, especially that infectious smile, which was captured and reflected in two deep, dark brown eyes.

“Aunt Leonora, look at this! Sandy says it led him here. It was his great uncle’s.”

Leonora gazed at the bell being dangled in front of her.

“My father carved bells from wood. I gave one to Alex, but he gave it away,” she added somewhat acidly. What was Laura saying?

“It is the same, isn’t it?” Laura maintained, pressing the bell into Leonara’s hand.

Leonora cradled the bell gently before whispering, “It’s one of Dad’s. See the initials LF – Leonard Fox.”

Conscious that she was being watched, Leonora fought to regain her composure.

“Sandy Chisholm, pleased to meet you,” the young man said, stepping forward and extending his hand. “The bell was with my great uncle’s belongings, as well as this picture postcard. It brought me here, and although faded, I could make out the place name. See on the back is written ‘Leonora’s café.'”

The seaside café. How many hours had she and Alex spent there? She had worked in the café before starting nursing training, and Alex was a medical intern at the local hospital.

The café was a favourite with hospital staff, and Alex came in regularly and soon Leonora and he were an item.

“You said he gave it away,” Laura interjected, interrupting Leonora’s reflections.

‘”Yes, but that wasn’t the full story – I only heard that later. I gave him the bell as a present, something special, especially as I was to be away over Christmas. But what did he do? He gave it away that very night! I got so angry. Furious! Oh, don’t be so surprised, I wasn’t called fiery red for nothing,” Leonora smiled ruefully before continuing. “I didn’t wait for an explanation. My parting shot was that I didn’t want to see him again. By the time I returned, he was gone. I didn’t know where. We didn’t have texts, WhatsApp or even email.”

“But the full story?” Laura pressed.

“Yes, some weeks later, a woman came up and told me that when her 4-year-old daughter was in A&E, Alex had given the child the bell to quell her fears. How that mother enthused over Alex’s kindness, especially as the bell obviously meant a lot to him, but… ” Sighing, Leonora continued. “Apparently, she had gone to the hospital and returned the bell to Alex. Of course, I was away and didn’t know any of this, and now it is too late-,’ Leonora looked directly at Sandy.

“He has passed?”

Sandy leaned forward and took Leonora’s hand.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Leonora smiled, “Oh no, I’m glad you came.” Her face alight with a radiance belying her eighty-plus years. “Hearing about Alex’s kindness to a child taught me so much about love. Love is about giving rather than receiving. It encompasses joy, friendship, forgiveness and hope. But it needs to be shared. That’s the essence of the Christmas message! Back then, I was young and selfish. I thought love was something you should hold on to, wrap up and tie with a ribbon. No love is like that. Love is not diluted when shared; rather, it grows. It is about caring more for someone else and putting their interests first, and sometimes that can be costly. Christmas is the celebration of love, hope and sharing. That’s the message of the bell for me. Tell me, Alex had a happy life?”

“I know he was a much-loved doctor, who always put his patients first and often at cost to himself.”

On leaving, Sandy asked Leonora. “Would you like to keep the bell?”

Leonora responded softly, “Oh, no, you keep it. I learned the message for Christmas a long time ago. Thank you for coming. You seem a fine young man, and so like Alex. You are welcome here any time.”

“That was rather sad, but I guess it gave closure,” murmured Laura as she accompanied Sandy to the door. Then, spontaneously, she asked, “The café on the postcard? Fancy seeing it? It is a traditional seaside café.”

“Sure, tomorrow?” Hesitating, Sandy, gazing at the bell in his hand, looked at Laura, “Maybe this is not so much the end of a story but rather the beginning of a new one.”

Gazing after him, she murmured, “I hope so.”

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NorthernLife Winter 25