Chapter Text
Marley was dead – to begin with. And when Marley died, Lovino Vargas was the only friend at his funeral.
Lovino was a mean man – an anti-social, tight-fisted man. He was as hard and as sharp as flint and secretive and solitary. The cold inside him froze his still-young face, nipped his already-red cheeks and shrivelled his sharp eyes. Frost seemed to shine on his clothes and face. He was as bitter as the coldest wind.
Nobody ever stopped Lovino in the street to say a friendly word. No beggar ever begged from him. No child ever asked him what time it was. Did Lovino care? No! He liked more than anything else to keep people at a distance. And at Christmas he didn’t thaw out, not even by one degree.
Once upon a time, on Christmas Eve, Lovino was busy counting money. It was cold, bleak, foggy weather. It was only just after three o’ clock in the afternoon but it was already dark. The door of Lovino’s office was open so that he coud keep an eye on his clerk and ex-friend, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, a Spaniard who was always smiling. He was in a cold dark room copying letters by hand as Lovino refused to buy a computer to make his life easier. Because of a storm last week, they had reverted to the old-fashioned methods of fire, Antonio’s own fire was so small that it looked like a single coal, but he couldn’t make it any larger because Lovino kept the coal in his room. The Spaniard tried to warm himself in front of his candle.
“A merry Christmas, uncle!” a cheerful voice cried. It was the voice of Lovino’s adoptive nephew, Sebastian.
“Oh, Chigi!” Lovino replied. He almost hated his younger brother’s adoptive son. Why couldn’t Feliciano be straight like him? Why did he have to marry that damn potato bastard from Germany?
Sebastian was hot from walking in the fog and frost that his face glowed red and his eyes sparkled
“I’m sure you don’t mean that, Uncle Lovino!” he replied.
“I do,” Lovino replied. “Merry Christmas, indeed. What right do you have to be merry? You’re poor, because of your retarded fathers! Oh, Chigi!”
“Don’t be cross, Uncle Lovino!”
“What else do you expect from me?” Lovino said, “When I live in a world full of bastards? Merry Christmas! Christmas is just a time for paying bills when you haven’t got enough money. If I had my way, every bastard who says “Merry Christmas” would be boiled in his own pudding. You celebrate Christmas you way and let me celebrate it in mine.”
“But you don’t celebrate Christmas!” Sebastia replied. “It’s a good time. It’s the only time in a long year when people think of each other.”
Antonio clapped loudly. Then he poked his fire again, putting out the last little spark.
“If I hear another sound from you,” Lovino shouted, “you’ll lose your job.”
“Come and eat Christmas dinner with us tomorrow,” Sebastian begged.
“No,” Lovino replied. “Go away.”
“A Merry Christmas, Uncle Lovino,” Gino said kindly. “And also to you, Mr Antonio.”
As he went out, two lovely women came in. But Lovino had long since given up on women…not after her. “Can we speak to Mr Vargas or Mr Marley?” one of them asked. “Both names are written on the door.”
“Mr Marley has been dead for seven years,” Lovino told her. “He died seven years ago tonight.”
“At this festive time of year, Mr Vargas,” the woman continued, “we must think of the poor who suffer greatly.”
“Aren’t there prisons or brothels for them?” Lovino asked.
“There are,” the woman replied. “But they can’t give them cheer. That’s why a few of us are starting a fund to buy food, drink and something to them warm for Christmas. How much can you give, Mr Vargas?”
“Nothing!” Lovino replied. “I want to be left alone. I help to support the prisons and the brothels are just a waste of space, those badly off should go there.”
“Many would rather die than do that,” the woman replied.
“Then they die,” Lovino said “There is already too many people on the Earth. Good afternoon, ladies!”
As soon as they left, Lovino went back to work. Meanwhile, the fog and the darkness thickened and the cold grew worse. At last it was time to close the office.
“You’ll want tomorrow off, I suppose?” Lovino asked Antonio.
“If it’s ok, sir,” his clerk replied. He had once called Lovino ‘Lovi’, but after his marriage, he lost his right to say that.
“It’s not,” Lovino replied, “and it’s not fair. Why should I pay you a day’s wages for no work?”
“Christmas is only once a year, sir.”
“A poor excuse!” Lovino said. “But I suppose you must have the day. But you start earlier the next day.”
Lovino left and ate alone at his usual restaurant. Then he went home to bed. He lived in a huge house which had once belonged to Marley. It was gloomy and hidden away in a street where nobody but Lovino lived. Any other houses along the street were bought and lent as offices by Lovino.
It was so dark that even Lovino had to grope his way to his front door. As he put his key in the lock, he stared in amazement. The shape of the doorknocker had changed – into Marley’s face.