A young man browsing a Christmas market offers a gift to an observing stranger.
Before lockdown, my work launched a winter community project supporting the homeless, and I felt really proud to be a part of something so important and meaningful. The project prompted me to create a zine titled ‘Holly, Ivy & Red Berries’, which I had intended to sell on Etsy to raise money for the Foodbank, but I got bogged down by the illustrations and it remained unfinished. Here’s the story that never quite made it to print.
The market was illuminated with colour, little orbs of light visible between the flowing river of patrons.
Stalls were alive with the chatter of a dozen tongues from all corners of the globe, with a sizzling feast of exotic dishes and aromas to complement. Strangers becoming friends.
In the midst of the crowd, a young man sought a gift for the woman he loved.
Candles, bath salts, earrings, chocolates. All were discarded, with apologetic smiles to those huddled behind the stalls, sorry for not parting with his money despite the branded plastic bags he already had grasped in his hands and hooped over his wrists.
At last, his attention fell on a quiet stall at the very end of the walkway.
A woman sat behind a tall display, handling a bouquet of flowers with the hypnotic precision of a person skilled in their trade.
“Are they real?” asked the man. His senses, flooded with smells of sausages and mulled wine, were deceiving him. The woman nodded, gesturing to a coronet at the front of the stall, and he reached for an ivy leaf sheepishly for confirmation.
“I’ll take it please,” he said, parting with the last of his change.
A lone figure sat beyond the busy street, face shielded by the hood of a dirty, tattered jumper.
The man turned away, committed to feigning ignorance like usual. But the street was empty here, and he knew he was being watched; he found himself approaching.
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” he said to the heap of blankets. “Are you hungry?”
The woman shook her head. There was a vacancy in her expression that made him uncomfortable. He wished it didn’t. Wished he could meet her gaze and hold it. Still, the young woman did not speak, so, feeling he had outstayed his welcome, the man turned to leave.
As the snow crunched below his boots, an idea began to form. He grasped it before it could escape. Sure she would reject his gift, he presented his offering anyway with outstretched hands.
“Merry Christmas,” he added, hopefully.
When the woman still did not react, he lay the present in the snow, and made to leave – she did not stop him.
As he went, the young man cast his eyes back to his new acquaintance.
Tentatively, she had removed her hood, and on her face she wore the traces of a smile.
And on her head she wore a beautiful crown made of holly, ivy and red berries.
A little act can make a big change. Donate food to the foodbank. Buy the Big Issue. Donate clothes and shoes to homeless projects.
