Chapter 1

It happens every Christmas, the radio stations pick a number of festive songs and play them every hour so that we all get heartily sick of them. Often it's Merry Christmas Everybody by Slade, this year the most popular seems to be Chris Rea's Driving Home for Christmas.

It's just come on again, for the second time since I left my Lake District cottage. As I edged along the motorway, driving from jam to jam, it sounded like Chris was singing from my viewpoint.

I'm driving home for Christmas,

I've got red lights all around.

Well he was right there, we crawled along the M6, and the cars all around are braking to a standstill again. I was thankful that this was the last year I would undertake this journey in the holiday season. I looked across at my wife. She was sound asleep as usual. For the last ten years I'd either done this drive or a much longer one. I pulled into the nearside lane as John Lennon came on the Radio singing So this is Christmas. When John asked, "And what have you done?"

I had to answer, "Quite a lot actually John"

It was true over the last ten years a lot had happened, and most of it on or around Christmas. Ten years ago was supposed to be our first Christmas back home again. The previous year Phoebe had started at university, and David was already there, so Penny and I were empty nesters. This was our chance we thought. We were free to do something useful with our lives. I'd become disillusioned with education and Penny felt she could do something that made more difference to people. We'd both seen TV programs showing the plight of kids in Romanian orphanages. We saw an advert for someone to manage a project that took children out of the state orphanages and gave them a more normal life. We applied and got the job. To tell the truth Penny got the job, and took me along for the ride. We'd been offered a one year contract, so I negotiated a one year sabbatical and off we went.

They prepared us reasonably well. We had a day before we went when we had back to back classes on Romanian culture and the language. Our final class was all about the things we had to be careful about. They told us all about the gypsy beggars and the pickpocket gangs that would be after, not just our cash, but also our passports. The single people in the group were warned against allowing themselves to be seduced by someone of the opposite sex. They were told this was a common ploy for people wanting the right to live in the U.K. Both Penny and I were surprised that people would go to such lengths just to be able to live in Britain.

It turned out that our classes hadn't prepared us well at all. Rural Romania was like going back in time sixty or seventy years. Few houses had running water, and the electricity went off for at least a few hours a week. However, the country was beautiful, and the people warm and friendly. We loved the country but so much needed doing and we felt we were only scratching the surface.

When a leading charity advertised for a project coordinator for Romania and Bulgaria, Penny applied. By Romanian standards the salary was out of this world. The charity provided a flat, car with driver, and an interpreter. Even Penny was surprised when she was offered the job. The remuneration package meant that we could live like kings in Romania. We decided that Penny should stay on, moving to Bucharest, and I should return home to honour my obligation to the college. That August saw me flying home, leaving my lovely wife behind. Penny's employer would pay for flights home three times a year. We planned for her to come home for Christmas, Easter, and August. At the end of her long summer break, we would both fly back to Bucharest.

I can't say that I was happy leaving her behind, but it was only until Christmas. At the airport she waved me off with tears in her eyes.

Chris was back on the radio when my wife gave me a nudge.

"Can we stop?" she asked. "I really need a loo."

"Just one mile to the next services, we'll stop there."

"Typical" I thought."The first time I manage to get up to the national speed limit, and we have to stop."

Slade had just started wishing ever one a Merry Christmas. I switched off the radio, got out of the car, and stretched my stiff body. We made our way across the snow covered car park and into the warmth of the service area. There was still no escaping the festivities. From the PA system I could hear Wizard, wishing it could be Christmas Everyday. We visited the toilets then bought coffee and some overpriced, badly cooked food, and sat down to eat. You don't enjoy motorway food, it's just fuel. While I was refuelling my mind wandered again.

Ten years ago, in 1996, I'd been really looking forward to Christmas. I knew what my best present was going to be, having my lovely wife back, helping me to fill up that big house. David and Phoebe would be home from university, and we would be a family again. As the holiday got closer I got almost as excited as a child waiting for Santa. With one week to go the college closed for the holiday and I got home a little drunk from the Christmas party. Perhaps that was the reason I was slow processing the phone call.

"Allo, are you Mr Andrew Styles?"

"Yes I'm Mr Styles, who is this?"

"Is international call from Romania. I have Doamna Styles for you. Vorbit, vorbit."

"Hello Drew. Drew are you there? Look I've only got this line for three minutes so we'll have to be quick. How are you? Is everything OK that end?"

"Hello Pen, god it's good to hear your voice. I've missed you so much. --Yes everything is fine here. I'm on my own at present but I expect David and Phoebe to arrive tomorrow. What about you? When will you be home? If you give me your flight number I'll meet you at the airport."

There was a deafening silence that lasted long enough for me to think we'd been disconnected.

"Hello, Hello, Penny are you there?"

"Yes I'm still here."

"Well, when are you coming home?"

"That's what I called about. I can't make it. We've got a project running with the street children here. They need my input; I won't be able to get home till February."

"No! No, that's not right; it's not the deal we signed up to. They promised that given sufficient notice they would fit your duties around your availability. You did tell them you were coming home for Christmas?"

"Don't be silly, of course I did, but this project just came up. Oh Drew you wouldn't believe how many street children die over the holiday period. We can't just ignore it."

"I'm not asking you to ignore it, but I don't believe they can't spare you for a few days, so you can be with your family."

"Oh Drew don't make this harder than it has to be. I'll be back for the half term holiday and we can have a couple of weeks together.