Christmas at the MHICE

[Pleater]

A long spell of settled weather was forecast, and so the Saltire was loaded up and provisioned for her journey home. Once again we were able to request the marine bandsmen for a party, and invitations were extended to others, but unfortunately there was a rather nasty cold going through the ranks and they were unable to accept. It was quite a party and it was fortunate that it was scheduled for several days before the proposed departure, as it was in fact another week before the airship left the mooring mast for the last time.

The Saltire had the Sea Harriers dancing attendance, and a rendition of music which I think is from Rosenkavalier resounding in the cool afternoon air. The timing was for some reason to do with the reserves of Helium, I believe, and by some trick of acoustics we could hear the music for some time after the airship was out of sight.

I had gone up to the belvedere once the flight was inaugurated, and had remained there for some time, having taken the precaution of placing some warm wrappings and a rather comfortable folding chair which must have been in the trappings of some military gentleman at one time, to judge by the unfortunate hole in the back he must have been unaware that the enemy was within range when he last used it. I took with me some lemon and honey in hot water to ease my throat, for the illness which had kept the marines at home was now rampaging through the House, and all lessons were cancelled until the students felt better. I therefore lingered in the cosy nest I had made for myself for some time, so the first stars were appearing, and the slender crescent of a New Moon hung low in the sky when I heard a now familiar step.
‘Good evening, James,’ I greeted him rather huskily.
He wore a long Inverness and carried a large black satchel which I recognised as containing the equipment required for his travels. He looked grave, rather unlike his usual self, and I sat up.
‘Something strange has happened.’
‘Nothing unusual there then.’
‘’There has been a new development. We have not seen anything like it before, but it did not show up on our instruments, so when it might have happened is undetected, but we have no idea how it can be resolved, or even if it can be resolved at all.’
‘What is it?’
‘The Saltire and its crew, they were here returning Hamish, and they were also at home.’
‘Does it go back to the beginning of their journey?’
‘It seems to go back further than that. There seems to have been a point at which you decided to take a trip to the US which resulted in you being present at a celebration, in the original Panache attacked – except it might not have been the original – ‘
‘The man with the bad haircut who was here, but then was not – who made the virus affecting anything with oz in the message – ‘
Mister Brown frowned.
‘You should not be able to remember those things. They should fade away and resolve into the PSA.’
I had become used to Mister Brown’s speech – he was referring to the ‘present state of affairs’. I could not help but notice that his way of speaking was rather altered, possibly he had been spending too long in the company of German speakers since we last met.
‘The PSA should be that the man was not attacked due to Panache being tripped.’
‘But he then went on to tangle with another man dancing with his wife, or not. ‘
‘But it all began before then?’
‘Yes – I think that I need to establish a node centre here and keep a PON to find the STE.’
‘Is that likely to take much time?’
‘The PON has to operate in real time, or it isn’t a null, and I can’t make a NTPO here anyway, not without causing reflections.’

[Pleater]

‘As long as you are prepared to catch a bad cold, everyone is down with it and not feeling very happy about it.’
‘I will be in the rotunda most of the time – the circular structure is much better for the instruments, fewer corners less shadowing.’
I found a robe to put on from the collection of cloaks, blankets and other warm layers on the seat, and accompanied Mister Brown to the Rotunda. He set up his point of observation at once and began to work on the problem. I left him to it and went to visit Daphne who had been looking rather frail. The doctor had been to see her several times, and there had been plans to remove her to hospital if she showed no improvement.
I was surprised to see her in her sitting room, and she smiled at me.
‘I think you had better sing Silent Night at the Carol Service this year, my dear. I don’t think that I will be able to do it. You do know the words, don’t you.’
‘In German? Well, yes if I practise – ‘I admitted, ‘but me – in church?’
I had looked away, and now when I looked up, she was gone.
I drew in air, then held my breath as I went through to the bedroom. Matron was asleep in a high winged armchair by the bed, and Daphne might also have been thought to be asleep by the unobservant. I released my breath slowly, then gently roused Matron from her deep sleep.
She was distressed that she had slept.
‘You can’t have slept for two nights, and you’ve been running around after everyone all day too. There was nothing you could have done.’
‘But she was alone.’
‘No – she asked me to sing in the church, to take her place at the carol service before she went, she was not alone.’
She seemed to be relieved, and I went to break the news to the other directors.

The funeral was up in London and was quite a grand affair, with some well known faces, plus a lot of family, and some people who were obviously well versed in the art of being inconspicuous.
The minister had invited me to stay in the flat they had for ‘times when there was a flap on,’ which was convenient for Central London, though it was rather like a time warp as it was untouched from the sixties. At least it was a conservative and not a psychedelic version of the sixties.
I asked after his secretary’s wife.
‘Oh, she is very well, pregnancy suits her. She came into the office last week when she was in town shopping.’
‘Good.’ I declared, ‘It’s such a misery when it doesn’t.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ He said rather wistfully. ‘Not having seen how it works myself.’
‘It is a very strange sensation. To feel a hand touch you on the inside, most odd.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ He admitted.
Perhaps the staff had confused me with someone else, but for the time I was there they made everything very easy for me. I found my clothes clean and my shoes brushed and meals appeared as though by magic, though I suspect that a microwave oven had a lot to do with it. I went to Kew, and several museums, and on my return each time the door man looked for something to carry into the building for me.
‘Madam does not shop?’ he enquired eventually.
‘I have nothing to shop for.’ I explained.
‘Is it some kind of Zen you practise? I noted the card you use for the taxis – you could buy anything you wanted.’
‘But I do not want anything.’ I smiled up at him. ‘And the shops would be so crowded at the time of year anyway.’

[Pleater]

Next morning I took the train back to the MHICE, and it was very soothing to see the New Forest again. There was a car waiting for me at the station and I arrived to find that everyone was feeling much better. The House had been decorated for Christmas, families had arrived to spend the holiday with their offspring and siblings, and despite the unseasonably mild weather there was a distinct buzz around the place.

Next day was the carol service, so I was away during the afternoon, and returned after dark. I noticed the lights in the rotunda and remembered Mister Brown. I had a little present for him, so I picked it up from The Stables and went straight over to the Rotunda to deliver it.

I suppose I startled him, for I do walk very quietly. At one place where I taught for a while they had me wear a little bell so as to be more noticeable. I saw that he was working away on his device, and so reached out to put the little parcel on the desk. He must have leapt a foot in the air, and cried out, and then everything went dark.

I fell several feet into a hole, and then stayed very still. There were voices at a little distance, some were speaking English, and some, rather closer were German, saying nothing very significant, but the shock of the smell was dreadful. It was cold, but the air was heavy with the smell of death.
‘Mister Brown?’ I enquired quietly, but there was no reply.
There was no light, I could not see a hand in front of my eyes, but I had a strong sense that I would not want to see what there might be in this hole. However, I eventually remembered that I had a small torch in my bag, and found it, turned it on, and then turned it off again. I moved, very cautiously, to a piece of plank that was wedged across the hole, and sat there for a while. The hole opened out in front of me and there was more air there.

The thought came to my mind that if Mister Brown was looking for me, even if he had the right time and place, he would have difficulty in locating this hole.
There was a shout from the German side, and an Englishman shouted back ‘Merry Christmas, Fritz.’
I was beginning to feel that I might not be eating Christmas dinner at home, and I had a bit of a weep at the thought of being stuck out of my time, or maybe even being killed in that dreadful place, when I thought I heard Mister Brown’s voice, though very faintly and from some distance. I put away my handkerchief.
There was no sense in shouting ‘over here’ when sitting in the middle of no man’s land, which is what I suspected might be the case. It is just part of the natural perversity of things that when moved through time it would not be to a summer afternoon in a hay meadow with skylarks and cuckoos.
It then dawned on me that singing might be a good idea. My voice is pitched low, and I can sing in the upper range of a tenor quite easily, and as the German voices seemed to be closer than the English ones, a rendition of Silent Night in German might just do the trick, as long as Mister Brown remembered that I had been practising that carol.
There was more shouting between the lines of trenches, and then a silence – so I took that as my cue.

I sang.

To my surprise – and relief, several voices joined in, some in German and some in English, the song spread along on either side of my hole. I turned on my little torch and pointed it along the hole, first in front, and then behind me, but there was nothing I wanted to see.
I was coming to the end of the carol, but I felt calmer by then, in fact by the end of the last line I felt quite peaceful. I had no doubt that my skills at crossing no man’s land were exactly zero when wearing a light grey outfit that would be as good a white in the night.

[Pleater]

There was a short pause and the English struck up Hark the Herald Angels Sing – and I joined in, hoping that the general sound from that direction would not give me away.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Mister Brown. ‘Come on. This way.’
I turned on my torch and it showed a distinctly odd bit of air.
‘I’m in a hole, you need to move the focus down about four feet.’
‘What’s that in metric?’
‘One point two five.’ I said at once, surprising myself considerably.
The strangeness sank downwards, I stepped forwards two paces and after checking that it was stable, I stepped through and found myself back in the Rotunda. I turned off my torch and placed it in my bag, then looked around as there was a distinct quivering going on.
‘What did you do?’
‘I sat in a hole with dead soldiers.’
‘Is that all?’
‘I sang a couple of carols.’
‘Absolutely nothing else?’
‘I fell into the hole, then I moved to sit on a plank rather than the – what I was sitting on at first, and then I sang, and then the –‘
‘Portal.’
‘The portal appeared, you moved it down and I walked through it.’
‘Is that everything?’
‘I cried a bit.’
He shook his head.
‘Something happened.’
‘What year was it?’
‘Nineteen fourteen, near the Belgian border.’
‘It would have been the Christmas truce then.’
‘What Christmas truce?’
‘Everybody knows about the Christmas truce – football, candles, carols.’
‘But – Christmas day was the – it changed the – ‘
He grabbed his bag and box of tricks and pressed the red button. For several seconds he looked really worried, and then he vanished.
I spend some time washing before feeling fit to be in company, and I doubt my shoes will recover – they were such nice soft leather too.
I put on my long dress of deep green crushed velvet, with slippers of purple plush and a sparkly stole to match. I brushed my hair and caught it back with a long thin gold coloured scarf, I put a second gold scarf at my waist and added gold clips to my slippers.
My husband came in.
‘There you are. I thought you might miss the fun.’
‘I’m afraid the carol singing took longer than I expected.’
‘No matter, you’re home now.’ He hooked on the false beard and checked his appearance in the long mirror.
‘You are a perfect Santa.’
‘Not too thin?’
‘Not a bit.’
He offered his arm and we went downstairs together.
‘Oh – Daphne has had too many ports already – she’s singing French songs which I hope the students don’t understand.’
‘OH.’
‘Are you alright?’
‘I caught my toe, that’s all.’
‘Alright now?’
‘Yes, fine, I’ll just hold up the hem of this – I don’t want to take a tumble.’
‘Yes, you must take care it’s a fine frosty night – we might even get some - oh yes – look. It is starting to snow.’
We paused for a moment looking at our Christmas tree and the snowflakes falling in the courtyard beyond the french windows, then he opened the front door and we stepped out together, into the crisp night air.

[Panache]

Regardless of whenever, wherever, or whichever, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to Madame Pleater from the Captain and crew of the XMTS airship Saltire.

Cheers

P