Lily - The tale of a Phoenix

Chapter One: The creature of Cokeworth

Christmas was one of the most joyful times of year. The town of Cokeworth, well at least the parts up hill, were covered in snow and holly, with frozen drainpipes and flashing painted bulbs of light. In the town centre there was a big Christmas tree, which's peak almost dissapeared into the great smoggy cloud that forever loomed overhead from the steelworks and mines nearby. Those living downhill in the 'poor' part of town often gushed at the lights dripping from the pretty houses, and during the day, enjoyed the free carols and small little concerts happening in the square. Though the poorest of the poor - those living in the wonkey, broken windowed, moth infested dwellings would find themselves trailing along the muddy path through a pale graveyard towards the Parish Church. Signs stood oustide, reading 'come in for a meal' or 'get a festive feast'. The church helped the poor in the winter very often, and at Christmas they were the most generous, sending people away with toys, trinkets and christmas puddings all from the homes of those helping on the day. 

Beneath the wooden beams and behind a tartan blanketed, holly settled table stood the red haired Mrs Evans, who beamed at everyone who passed by. Though when someone had mucky fingers, or a snotty nose, she handed then a christmas cake at a distance, making sure to wipe her white gloves thoroughly on a handkercheif afterwards. Her daughter Petunia, wrapped up in  a lime scarf and brown coat, ran around with some boys she knew from school near the sermont stand. Her younger sister Lily stayed near to their mother, providing kind looks to everyone who received her mothers charity. One rather old woman, hunched over a cane, leaned through her glasses to peer properly at the cheery little thing with her wonky woolen hat. 

"Aren't you pretty- my look at those green eyes". 

"What do you say?", nudged Mrs Evans, quite liking it when Lily recieved a compliment. She took it often as a compliment to her as they looked rather alike. Though Lily had always been rather more plumper than she had ever been. 

"Thank you", beamed Lily, before stopping the woman as she ventured to leave, "Would you like to hear a joke?". 

"Lily-", warned her mother, holding  her smile. 

"Why yes", replied the woman kindly, placing both hands on her cane. 

Most people she had asked that morning had brushed off the joke. Lily was very happy. She slapped her feet about on the floor for a moment giddly before wracking her brain for the funniest, most christmassy joke she could come up with. "What did Santa say to the coal miner?".  Mrs Evans began attending to the next gentleman who came along, tuning out whatever Lily had to say. She often picked up jokes from Mr Evans, who wasn't the most sensetive soul. Though she meant them in good spirits and kindness. Lily did not have a bad bone in her body nor a hateful word in her mind. Though not everyone may have seen that.  "Heres the list of naughty children for you sir". 

"Oh", chuckled the elder woman, "How funny". She then gave Lily a little wave, making her way back out into the cold. Lily watched her leave, counting another finger on her hand. She had told her sister that she would be able to get five people to listen to her jokes. So far she had two. It had been three hours. 

"Wow...there are a lot more people than last year", stated Mrs Evans to her neighbour , Mrs Dibbins, who had knitted scarves for children. 

"Well, things are a bit more expensive this year", she returned, "My husband thinks there will be strikes eventually". 

"Hopefully not- the last thing I need is Harold coming home complaining about Miners striking". Mrs Evans handed another cake to a small boy who had a dirty nose. She offered him some tissue for it, which he seemed very offended by, running off.  

"Do they not bathe their children?", whispered Mrs Harrow, passing by with another flask of hot tea for those who had chosen to sit down for some lunch in the pews. "One lad that came in had hands as black as cole. Its nineteen-sixty-nine- not twenty-nine".