Adam lay ybounden,
Bounden in a bond;
Four thousand winter
Thought he not too long.
And all was for an apple,
An apple that he took,
As clerkes finden
Written in their book.
Ne had the apple taken been,
The apple taken been,
Ne had never Our Ladie
Abeen heaven’s Queen.
 
Medieval carol c.1400

On Christmas Eve Harriet’s father always insisted on listening to the Nine Lessons and Carols on the radio. This gave him a good reason to disappear into his study as he had done most days in the past year since her mother died, closing off the rest of the world and shouting at anyone who disturbed him.

 Her son Paul disturbed most people. His noisy breath, guttural sighs and grunts, and sudden shouts could dominate a room. They were part of the sound tapestry of her life. But Paul liked carols too, so she wheeled him next door and they listened to them together on the kitchen radio while she peeled potatoes and seasoned the chicken she had bought hastily the day before. Two years ago she and her mother had prepared for Christmas Day together, singing along to the radio to Paul’s delight and her father’s annoyance.

Last Christmas they had taken turns in their vigil at the hospice, her mother lying still and silent.