The Yarn of the Yuletide Visitation (Part One)

Silas’ house was decked in numerous decorations for the festive season. There was a tree in every room, bows of holly in the hall and a sprig of mistletoe on the ceiling – which led to many very awkward encounters when both Silas and I passed under it that I will not recount now.

‘I do love Christmas, Smedley,’ said Silas, sitting by the blazing fire. ‘This time of year makes one feel at total peace with the world. All men and women are, for once, equal and no one is left in the cold.’

As he spoke there was a wrapping on the door.

We ventured to the hall where Mrs Pretorius had already opened the door. A dozen or so children, in raggedy clothes much too big for them, were singing Christmas carols. A little off-key it must be said but the sound still warmed my heart.

Silas, Mrs Pretorius and I applauded when they were done. I thought I even saw a tear glisten on Silas’s cheek.

And old woman came forth from the snow behind the children, she had great pleading grey eyes. ‘Please, Sirs, the orphans an’ I have no where to go this Christmas since the unfortunate burning of the orphanage this morning.’

‘S’not my fault,’ said one of the boys. ‘I didn’t know beds were flammable.’

She clapped the lad round the ear. ‘As it is Christmas, Sirs, we wondered if you might let these poor children stay the night.’

The all-encompassing smile on Silas’ face seemed to falter. ‘Erm… no.’

‘But we've no where to go and you have such a large house.’

‘Oh, it’s a lot smaller on the inside. There’s always the old inn across the marsh?’

‘The old inn is full of drunks and reprobates, sir!’

‘Well, then, your arsonist ankle-biters should fit right in!’         

With that, he slammed the door.

‘Silas!’ I cried, no longer able to hold my tongue. ‘You swine, how could you lock those children and that old angel out in the snow?’

‘I can’t have children running around the place, Smedley,’ he said, already walking away. ‘I’d be finding them under armchairs and things for weeks.’

‘You will see the error of your ways, Silas. Mark my words.’

Silas simply shrugged. ‘’Bah humbug.’’

We returned to our study, no longer talking and trying to ignore the other’s presence. Soon, I must have drifted off as the next thing I remember was the grandfather clock in the corner tolling twelve. The house seemed eerily silent now apart from that single noise.

It was soon followed by a deep, drawn-out moaning.

What the devil could be happening on this fearfully festive occasion? Find out tomorrow on this very blog...