The Neighbourhood Christmas Tradition

This is Part Two of The Neighbourhood Christmas Tradition. If you haven’t read Part One yet, you can find it here.

When I get home, there’s an afternoon breeze, so I decide to eat dinner in my backyard. As I’m sitting at the table, I look over at my empty garden bed and remember that I have to do something about it. It almost looks as though the previous tenant's plants were pulled out and new soil was added, ready for a fresh start.

Before I know it, it’s 7 p.m. and time to head outside.

Still completely clueless as to what the main event is tonight, I try to catch Mary’s attention, but she seems busy talking to some people admiring her lights. I keep smiling and waving, and eventually, I’m also caught up in a conversation about where I purchased my candy cane lights.

At some point, I notice Grant is no longer standing in his front yard. I wonder where he has gone.

And then his front door slowly opens.

A giant, looming dark figure calmly emerges from the doorway.

It takes me a second to realise it must be Grant.

He’s wearing an archaic, moss-coloured Santa cloak, the kind you expect in some ancient Norse festival.

His face is shadowed by the fur trim of the hood.

I don’t know how he’s wearing it in this heat; the fabric looks thickly woven, heavy, and when he turns, I catch a glimpse of the fur lining inside.

He’s holding up an old-fashioned lantern, the flame of a candle softly flickering inside.

It looks almost ceremonial.

I relax as everyone on the street starts clapping and cheering.

I watch the figure as it does a lap of the cul-de-sac.

When it gets back to Grant’s house, all the neighbours step off their front lawn, almost at the same time. They start walking towards the creepy Santa figure, which appears to be lumbering back into Grant’s house.

I’m still standing there stunned when Mary, who’s at the back of the line, turns around and motions for me to follow.

Not sure if I want to follow, but also not wanting to miss out, I quickly follow them into Grant’s house.

As I step through the front door, I’m blasted with the chill of the air conditioner. No wonder he’s got it set so low, he’d be cooking in that suit.

I continue to follow them down the hallway and into his dining area where it looks like he’s set up for a party. There’s a variety of snack foods and drinks set up on the tables. A circle of chairs sits in the middle.

Grant motions for everyone to sit in the chairs.

Once everyone is sitting, Grant starts talking.

“Welcome everyone, to our first Yuletide meeting of the season.”

He then looks at me. “Laura, I randomly call these meetings throughout the Christmas-lights period when I have announcements to make.”

He looks around the circle and spreads his arms wide, “The purpose of tonight's meeting is to welcome you into the fold. The Christmas lights were a trial to see if you would follow the crowd, and since you did so well, you are now officially welcome.”

I hesitate for a second. It all sounds a little strange, but I also love hearing the word, “welcome,” after wanting to be included for so long. I smile and say, “Thanks.”

“While I’m wearing this suit, you’ll refer to me as Father Yuletide.”

He looks directly at me.

“You can use these meetings to let me know of any strange happenings you see in the street. We sometimes get people coming out, looking around, poking their noses in our business. Just keep an eye on things for us. I have some friends in the police force, so it’s best to let me know so I can report it to them.”

He clears his throat and continues.

“So far, we are having a record-breaking year with donations. It’s looking like I’ll be able to keep everyone’s rent at the current price for another 12 months at least.”

I politely put my hand up and say, “Uh, I’m sorry... Father Yuletide. Did you say rent? What about the Foster Care Christmas Foundation?”

“Oh, yes, that’s my charity, I set it up,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“The donation money goes to the charity's bank account and then the charity pays the real estate for all the advertising we do for it. The money also covers events the real estate holds for it and some storage units we provide as well.”

“But it’s a real charity, right?”

“Oh yes of course, it’s all there on paper.”

He motions to the group, “We’ve never had any issues before, right?”

Everyone nods in unison.

“Anyway, if there’s nothing to report, we can get on with the festivities.”

Everyone gets up and moves off to the food table. I start browsing my snack options when Grant walks over to me.

“That’s some Santa suit,” I say.

“Thanks, I inherited it from my grandfather, he used to play a Santa Claus in an annual Christmas play. I thought it was a great way to call the Yuletide meetings.”

“Ah, yes... it was definitely effective.”

“Well, I just wanted to come and say I just knew when I was going through applications to find a new tenant for your house, that you would fit right in. You’re one of us now.”

“Where did the previous tenant go anyway?”

“Uh... he didn’t want to do the lights anymore.” He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Anyway, go and have fun, talk, eat, and then tomorrow night, it’s back to business as usual.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly. I chat with more of the neighbours, and everyone is very welcoming. The conversations are mostly normal, but every now and then someone says something that makes me pause. I can’t help but notice everyone talks about Grant with such respect, but it also appears that he has the final say in how everything runs on the street.

“Father Yuletide prefers it if you don’t put your bin out until after the lights are over.”

“Father Yuletide gets funny about us having visitors at the house.”

Eventually “Father Yuletide” takes his costume off and becomes Grant again and we are all told we can go home. By the time we leave the street is quiet again, all I can hear are the crickets chirping their bedtime songs.

I’m woken early the next morning by the harsh chime of my doorbell.

I stumble out of bed and walk down the hallway wondering who it could be at this hour. I open the door to Shane, one of the neighbours from across the street. I vaguely remember him once telling me he has his own lawn mowing business, but that’s really all I know about him.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile.

“Morning,” I mumble.

I’m just letting you know I’m about to mow your lawn. Don’t worry, it’s free of charge, it’s all paid for by Grant.”

“Oh, that’s nice, but does it have to be so early?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I have to do the whole street today, so I have to start early.”

“The whole street?”

“Yes, I always mow all the yards on the street on the same day. Grant likes everyone’s grass to be the same length.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess you better get started then.”

I close the door. I’ve never known anyone to be concerned about the length of grass before, but it’s great to have someone mowing my lawn other than myself for a change.

Since I’m awake now, I decide to have breakfast and get to the office early to catch up on some work. I’ve fallen a bit behind because I have to leave on time every day to get home and be ready for the lights.

The rest of the day goes well. I catch up on all my work and I make sure I’m standing front and centre at 7 p.m. I get a little thrill as Grant gives me a nod of approval from across the street.

On Thursday when I get home from work, there’s a parcel waiting on my front step. I pick it up and see it’s from my Mum.

These must be the cookies she was going to send me. Mum’s always baking cookies, and she often sends me care packages since I don’t get to visit a lot.

As I open the box, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. I’m hit with the sweet, comforting mixture of golden syrup and butter.

ANZAC cookies, my favourite!

Well, this will be my dinner tonight, I think as I start tucking into the cookies.

My moment of pleasure is rudely interrupted by my doorbell again. I swear I constantly have people at my door now!

I open the door to Doreen who lives just down the road. I’ve talked to her a few times and she seems harmless, just a nosy neighbour who always wants to know where you’re going and what you’re doing.

“Hi Doreen,” I say trying to stifle a sigh.

“Hi, I just saw your car pull in and I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” She practically pushes past me and walks inside.

“Oh, I’m good. Just tired after a long day at the office.”

“Oh, well I won’t stay. I’ll let you rest up before the lights tonight. I just... oh, did you get a package today?” She’s eyeing my box sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Yes.”

Her gaze shifts between me and the box and back to me again. There’s an awkward silence, and I can tell she wants more information.

“Oh, it’s just from my Mum. She bakes me cookies all the time,” I say, taking the box of cookies out and showing her.

“Do you want one?”

She takes a sniff inside the box and crinkles her nose in disgust.

“No thanks. I’ve got to get going.”And with that, she strolls out the door.

I watch her walk down my driveway and across the street to Grant’s house.

I can’t help but get the feeling that she was checking up on me to report back to Grant.

What a weird neighbourhood.

After a long, busy week, I’m finally happy to see Friday arrive. Thanks to another early start, I manage to stay on top of things at work. I sadly have to decline an invitation to after-work drinks so I can get home for the show.

Once I’m home, like clockwork, my doorbell rings about five minutes after I get inside. I open the door to Val. She’s holding a clipboard which has a pen on a string attached.

“Hi, Val.”

“Hi, Laura. I’ve just come to get your guest list for Christmas Day.”

“I’m sorry, guest list?”

“Yes, I’m in charge of guest list records. Grant likes me to keep a record of all guests attending each house on Christmas Day.”

I stare at her blankly for a second before I realise I’m supposed to say something.

“Oh, I always go to my parents for Christmas, so there won’t be anyone here.”

“Okay, that’s no problem. If anything changes, please let me know ASAP. Grant likes to know exactly who’s coming and going on days of big events. It’s easier to keep track of strange occurrences that way.”

“Sure... I’ll let you know if my plans change.”

I close the door, making a mental note to always spend big holidays at my parents' house from now on.

Night six of our Christmas lights ritual goes off without a hitch. I give polite nods to all the neighbours as we make eye contact, but everyone is quite busy talking to the guests who walk by.

At the end of the night, I collapse into bed looking forward to my sleep in the following day. As I’m drifting off, I think about how between work and Christmas lights, I haven’t done anything for myself all week. I decide to go to Bunnings in the morning and get some plants for my garden. I’m pretty sure Grant is okay with me doing gardening in my own backyard.

I manage to sleep in until nine the next morning. No one rings my doorbell or stops by to check on things. I feel fresh and rested.

It’s going to be a good day.

At Bunnings, I grab myself a takeaway coffee from the cafe and enjoy a leisurely stroll down the aisles, having big dreams about my garden. In the end I decide on a variety of succulents with some pebbles to lay on top. I’ve never had much of a green thumb, so succulents are a safe choice.

I also grab some gardening gloves and a trowel as I don’t own any gardening equipment, apart from a dirty-looking shovel that was in my garage when I moved in.

When I arrive home, I manage to get inside the house without any neighbours seeing me. I go straight out into the yard and get to work.

I start digging little holes for each of my succulents to go in, when a shiny silver object catches my eye.

I pull it out of the dirt to discover it’s a ring. It appears to be a man’s ring, just a plain silver band.

Thinking nothing of it, I put it in my pocket and continue digging holes. It’s quite a big garden so I bought a lot of succulents.

But then strangely, another silver object catches my eye.

This time it’s a watch. It appears to be a man’s watch with silver links for the band and a black face.

Starting to think I might have stumbled on some kind of buried treasure. I remember the shovel in the garage and run to get it.

I start digging large amounts of dirt out of the garden, wondering what I’ll find next.

Sweat starts to bead down my face, and my hands are feeling blistered.

I’ve been digging for about 20 minutes now and haven’t found anything else. It must be time to give up.

But that damp, earthy smell starts to be replaced by something thicker, heavier. Something I don’t want to ignore.

That’s when I feel my shovel hit something solid.

Yes! More treasure, I think, as I bend down to see what it is. It looks like something that once had a glossy surface before it got covered in dirt. It has a rounded end and appears slightly yellowed.

I put my head closer to the object to try and figure it out.

And that’s when it hits me.

It’s a fingernail.

I grab it by the edges to pick it up and it kind of squishes under my touch. The nail is attached to something, but it’s quite loose.

Starting to get a sense of dread, but feeling unable to stop, I dig some more.

The soil seems softer here, moister.

Then I spot something blue with a checked pattern.

Is this a man’s dress shirt?

I dig again, and this time, I hit something much harder.

I bend down again to take a closer look.

There, sitting in the dirt, is something that appears to have once been white. I touch its firm smooth surface for a minute before my hand recoils.

I think this might be a bone.

This is a body.

Is it Alan, the previous tenant?

I stand back for a minute and all the comments about him come back to me:

“He didn’t really like talking to people.”

“He didn't really like our Christmas light events.”

“He didn’t want to do the Christmas lights anymore.”

Is this what happens when you don’t participate?

I start thinking about my options.

I have to keep acting normal, or I’m going to end up like this.

If I’m going to stay on this street, I have to keep participating.

If I try and leave... Grant has my parents' details. I put them down as a reference on my application. He would find me, or worse, he’d find them.

Grant once mentioned that he has friends in the police force. Can I even call the police?

I have a nice house here.

The rent is cheap.

Things are a little weird, but it does feel so nice to belong.

I pick up the shovel and start shovelling dirt back on top of the body.

Once I get back to the surface, I plant my succulents and put my pebbles on top.

Brushing my dirty hands on my thighs, I stand up and admire my garden. It really does look very pretty.

I check my watch and see it’s 6:30 p.m. I run upstairs, have a shower and put on my best festive outfit.

I walk back downstairs. Standing at the front door, I take a deep breath, plaster that fake smile on my face and walk outside.

After all, this is only at Christmas time, right?