Sandra and Jimmy McDonald lived at number 7, Nether Oak Close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They were newly married, six months into their first house, their first Christmas, their first New Year together. December had been a happy blur of relatives, roast dinners, wrapping paper, and washing up. By Hogmanay they were pleasantly exhausted and had agreed on a quiet night: just themselves, the cats, and a bit of neighbourly first\u2011footing once the bells rang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sandra cooked a proper dinner. Afterwards, she and Jimmy settled onto the sofa with drinks and crisps while Cookie and Bella, ginger tom and glossy black queen, arranged themselves with feline authority. A film murmured on the telly. Outside, the close lay still, waiting for an ending and new beginning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At half past ten the doorbell rang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sandra opened the door to an older woman with long white hair spilling from beneath a heavy cloak. She leaned on a staff, snow\u2011damp at the ferrule, and smiled as if she\u2019d always belonged there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEvening,\u201d she said. \u201cBlessings to this house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And with that she walked past Sandra, crossed the living room, and sat down firmly in the best chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She peered at Jimmy. \u201cWee fella, nip to the kitchen, would you? A cup of tea, strong, and a turkey\u2011and\u2011mayo sandwich would go down well. My stomach thinks my throat is cut!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jimmy looked at Sandra. Sandra shrugged, one of those shrugs that said do it, and let\u2019s see where this goes<\/em>. Jimmy went.<\/p>\n\n\n\n From the kitchen he heard the woman speaking, her voice low and amused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m Beria. Some call me the Cailleach, though I\u2019ve never been fond of that. Sounds like a hag, doesn\u2019t it? I assure you, I\u2019m not really that old nor that unpleasant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sandra introduced herself and Jimmy, then asked the obvious question. \u201cDo you live in the close?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLive? Not quite. But I\u2019m\u2026 associated.\u201d Beria tapped her staff on the floor. \u201cYou\u2019ve noticed the big stone by your back fence?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sandra knew it well: the half\u2011buried boulder, one face carved with rough circles, the other with spirals. The estate agent had called it a menhir, protected by the government, immovable. Sandra had knocked a thousand pounds off the asking price on that basis alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat stone,\u201d Beria said, \u201cis An Chloch Casadh, The Turning Stone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy returned with a large mug decorated with three carol\u2011singing cats in scarves, and a generous sandwich. Beria accepted both with delight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAhhh,\u201d she sighed. \u201cJust the thing for a cold evening.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She ate with enthusiasm, rescuing crumbs with a practiced finger. When she finished, Cookie leapt onto her lap and curled up as if summoned. Beria stroked him absently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRight then,\u201d she said. \u201cI mind the winter. Storms, snow, the shortening of days. I remind the leaves when it\u2019s time to fall. I\u2019ve been at it for\u2026 well. I stopped counting after ten thousand years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sandra and Jimmy exchanged a look, the sort that silently asks whether one should ring someone official.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beria chuckled. \u201cOh, I\u2019m not mad. Just different. You\u2019re wondering why you<\/em>. It isn\u2019t you at all, it\u2019s the stone. For millennia I\u2019ve met my counterpart here. I pass the season to him, and he brings the light back. Simple as that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She nodded at the television. \u201cNow then, Channel 4, if you please. Jimmy Carr always makes me laugh.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy obliged. The donkey\u2011bray laughter filled the room. Two humans, one goddess, and two cats waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n At a quarter to twelve the doorbell rang again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019ll be Lugh,\u201d Beria said. \u201cLet him in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy opened the door to a tall, fair\u2011haired man with a grin like midsummer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2019Bout ye,\u201d he said cheerfully. \u201cShe here, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s on our sofa,\u201d Jimmy replied, \u201cand she\u2019s eaten most of the chocolate bells from the tree.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAye,\u201d Lugh laughed, stepping inside. \u201cThat\u2019ll be her. Acquired taste, my sister, but full of stories. Keep her off the gin.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He entered the living room and kissed Beria on the forehead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t start,\u201d she muttered. \u201cLate as usual.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAlways just in time,\u201d Lugh said, laughing, the sound of sunlight through leaves. \u201cReady?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beria rose, straightening her cloak. \u201cHave I ever not been?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They went through the kitchen and out into the garden, Sandra and Jimmy following at a respectful distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A snowy owl drifted down and settled on Beria\u2019s shoulder. The air beside Lugh shimmered and became a great Irish wolfhound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat time again, Failinis,\u201d Lugh said, stroking the dog\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStand back,\u201d Beria advised. \u201cNo danger. Just\u2026 change which can be a bit indiscrimate\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She took the spiral side of the stone. Lugh stood by the circles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt is time,\u201d Beria said, placing her staff on the flat crown.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy time for ending has come.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy time for starting is begun,\u201d Lugh replied, taking the other end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mist rose. The air folded. Sandra felt Jimmy\u2019s arm tighten around her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then it cleared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beria looked lighter somehow, years eased from her shoulders. Lugh smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSomewhere in Scotland,\u201d he said, \u201ca man called Bill has just remarked, \u2018You can quare see the lengthening of the days<\/em>.\u2019 \u201c<\/p>\n\n\n\n He winked at Sandra. \u201cTen million crocuses don\u2019t organise themselves.\u201d And with that he was gone, the hound padding after him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy cleared his throat. \u201cBeria, would you like to go first\u2011footing with us? There\u2019ll be mince pies and whisky.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She smiled. \u201cI\u2019d like that very much. But I\u2019ll need a staff.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy fetched an old rowan walking pole he had cut, dried and used for hiking when he was a scout, from the shed. Beria tested it, nodded. \u201cPerfect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jimmy donned his kilt, gathered coal, shortbread, and a flask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cRight,\u201d he said. \u201cNumber six first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They stepped out into the night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n None of the neighbours they visited knew just how fortunate their year would be, their homes and families blessed by the goddess of winter herself, newly off duty, enjoying her holidays at last.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The inhabitants of Number 7 experience the New Year like they never have beofre
\nread the story by clicking below<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":251,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,18],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-250","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories","category-nether-oak-close-stories"],"yoast_head":"\n