A Christmas Wish

by Amanda Prowse

  With her wet hair wrapped in a warm towel and her dressing gown tied over her thick pyjamas, Poppy descended the stairs and found Claudia on the sofa, under a duvet.

  ‘They are soundo. They’ve had the most wonderful night.’

  Claudia smiled. ‘I have too.’

  ‘Are you sleeping down here?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Yes, I thought might like to tonight. I shall watch the fire die and make sure Rudolf eats his carrot and the bearded chap gets his mince pie and brandy.’ She winked at Poppy. The kids had left the snacks on a little tray in front of the fireplace and the first thing they would do upon waking would be to check for crumbs and bite marks. Even Peg.

  ‘Ooh, if you see him, ask him if I can have a dishwasher. Tell him I’ve been really, really good.’

  ‘I’ve told you I’ll get you a dishwasher if you’ll let me.’

  ‘No.’ Poppy shook her head. ‘I’m only joking. I don’t know what I’d do with one, in all honesty, and washing up is my thinking time. I stand at the sink and shove my hands in the suds and switch off, it’s quite therapeutic!’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for it, darling.’ Claudia smiled. ‘Fancy a nice drop of red?’

  ‘Well, ordinarily no, but I can’t have you drinking alone, can I?’

  ‘You are too kind!’

  Poppy sidled under the duvet at the other end of the sofa while Claudia went to fetch the fancy pants bottle of wine and two very large glasses. Sinking down, Claudia pulled the duvet over her legs and uncorked the bottle, sending the heavenly woody scent up into the rafters of the cottage. Poppy was no wine buff, but when she took a sip of this deep, warm red, her nerves tingled and her taste buds whooped with joy, warning her throat of what was about to arrive. She swallowed the rich claret and savoured the spiced berry aftertaste that lingered.

  ‘This is lovely!’ Poppy held the glass up to the firelight and studied the long tears that clung to the glass.

  ‘Miles’ father used to say, no matter how hard-up we got, there were two things he would never tolerate: cheap shoes and cheap wine. Typical Italian!’ Claudia smiled. ‘He was a lovely man. I still miss him, although poor old thing has rather been pushed from my thoughts as Miles has taken precedent. He looked like his dad, exactly like him in fact, but his personality was more like mine, a little bit cautious, bookish. I was glad that I could claim part of him.’

  ‘Ten years this year.’

  Claudia took a large gulp. ‘Yes. It feels both like a lifetime ago and yesterday, depending on my mood.’

  Poppy nodded. It was the same for her.

  Claudia stared into the fire. ‘I keep thinking that there will come a time when he will have been dead longer than he was alive and I’m not sure I want to be here then. It will make him feel very far away from me.’

  This idea made Poppy feel unbelievably sad. ‘I think about the future too. I know that someday someone will want to tell Peg and Max our story and it’s not like when I was a kid, when you had to scrabble for scraps of information – they will only have to pop a few words into a search engine and there it’ll be, my life, my story, warts and all!’

  ‘They will be so proud of you. They are already. You’re a fabulous mum.’

  Poppy beamed at the best compliment she could receive. ‘I want to be.’ Her voice was small. She pictured walking home from school and spying her mum drunk on the floor of the pub in the precinct, propped against the wall, her legs folded, her T-shirt vest slipped to reveal her bra and a small glimpse of her chest. Poppy shuddered.

  Claudia continued. ‘Oh, you really are and you will find a way to tell them. Give it to them in bite-sized chunks. It will happen organically, you wait and see.’

  ‘I hope so. I’m glad Mart’s happy, I really am. It’s important to me that he is doing something he loves, but sometimes I just wish he’d get a normal job so we could have a normal life. No more moving, no worry and no separation. I’d love to stay where we are.’ Poppy hadn’t realised she was crying until the sob left her throat. ‘I’m sorry, Claudia, I didn’t want to fall apart, not tonight.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise to me, ever.’ Claudia held Poppy’s wine-free hand.

  ‘It’s just that sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed by the idea of packing up again – another new school, worrying how the kids will take to it, new neighbours, new city. I’m not saying I want them to live like I did, never going anywhere or seeing anything new, but in some ways it was quite comforting to go to bed at night in the place where we had always lived, everything familiar and knowing everyone around me. There must be a happy medium, surely. I want to stay in a house where the kids’ heights are notched on a cupboard door and I want to live somewhere long enough to plant something and watch it grow!’

  Poppy took another sip of wine. ‘Oh God, listen to me, rambling on. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for, I know.’

  ‘It’ll all come, darling, you wait and see.’ Claudia squeezed her hand.

  Both looked to the stairs as Max started crying and appeared on the top step, quickly followed by Peg, who carried him down. She plonked him on the sofa and climbed onto her mum’s lap.

  ‘Well, this is a lovely surprise!’ Claudia beamed. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ She stroked the hair from Max’s forehead.

  ‘Maxy had a bad dream.’ Peg lay against her mum.

  ‘Oh no. Are you okay now, Max?’ Poppy bent and kissed him.

  ‘Damonsters!’ His bottom lip trembled.

  ‘Oh, darling, there are no monsters.’ Poppy glanced at Claudia. ‘And tonight you have got Peg right by your side, keeping you safe.’

  Max nodded, somewhat mollified.

  Peg sat up straight. ‘That’s true, Mum, but I don’t sleep in the same room as Max every night, do I?’

  ‘No, love.’ Poppy looked perplexed, unable to see where this was heading.

  ‘You know what Maxy needs?’ Peg grinned as if the most marvellous idea had just occurred to her.

  ‘What?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘A guard guinea pig! One that sleeps in my room, that I can look after and not lose interest in, but is trained to keep an eye on Maxy and keep him safe!’

  Poppy and Claudia laughed until their tears flowed. It was partly the wine, partly Peg’s unashamed sales pitch, but also because it was Christmas Eve and all emotions felt somewhat magnified.

  An hour after the kids had been restored to bed, Poppy yawned. ‘Do you mind if I leave you to it?’

  ‘Not at all. No doubt we’ll be up early tomorrow.’

  ‘Probably.’ Poppy smiled. ‘Do you want me to sleep down here with you? I don’t like leaving you on your own. Especially as you don’t have a guard guinea pig!’

  Claudia’s eyes twinkled. ‘What are you going to do with her? No, I’m fine, darling. You go on up. I like my own company, this is my thinking time. There is something quite magical about tonight, don’t you think?’

  Poppy bent low and kissed Claudia on the cheek. ‘I do now.’

  ‘Night night.’

  Poppy poked her head into the kids’ room. She loved to watch their chests rise and fall with each breath, their hair spread over their pillows like halos. She felt the familiar twist to her heart that threatened to burst with love for these two little people she and Mart had created.

  It was 4 a.m., according to the display on her phone, when Poppy was jolted from sleep. She had heard a noise, possibly the loo door being closed or possibly the central heating in this old house whose sounds were so different from that of her own. Propping herself up on her elbow, she listened for any cries coming from the kids’ room. When there were none, relieved and happy at the prospect of more sleep, she turned her pillow over and with the cool cotton against her cheek, fell back into a deep slumber.

  ‘He’s beeeeeeeen!’ Peg screamed from her room, providing the alarm that woke the whole house.

  Poppy checked her phone: it was five in the morning. She thought of her nan, who used to walk around the flat
with a torn paper crown from a cracker stuck on her head, and Wally, dozing in his chair, his stomach full of turkey and Christmas pud, relieved that he hadn’t been served his usual bacon. Then her thoughts turned to Mart, who would be waking up alone. ‘Happy Christmas, my darling man, wherever you are.’

  Poppy closed her eyes and twisted the little gold band on the third finger of her left hand, proof that someone wanted to be married to her – a fact that gave her a jolt of joy every time she remembered his teenage proposal. The two of them had been mucking around together in the concrete play area of the flats. Mart was leaning on a post, drawing on a fag and watching her on the swings. And she was swinging higher and higher, kicking her legs back and forth.

  ‘Look, Mart,’ she’d yelled, ‘I’m going to do a looper, right over the bar!’

  ‘Don’t, Poppy, you’ll hurt yourself.’ He looked away.

  ‘I won’t, I bet I can do it!’ Poppy pumped her legs, taking the rickety swing up higher until it was level with the bar.

  He could hardly stand to watch as the chain squeaked and her legs blotted out the sun with rhythmical regularity. It happened suddenly – the seat wobbled and she flew through the air with a guttural shriek, landing in a heap by the bins. Winded, she sat up and held her aching ribs.

  ‘Poppy!’ Mart ran to where she had landed and crouched down, holding her hand between his palms. ‘Are you hurt?’ His breath came in short bursts.

  She swallowed and composed herself, running a mental checklist and grateful not to have landed splat down on the tarmac. ‘I think I’m okay!’ She giggled with relief as a large bruise started to spread up her arm and thigh.

  ‘You silly cow! You frightened me,’ he snapped.

  ‘I was only mucking about. You’re not the boss of me.’ She shook her hand free.

  Martin Cricket cupped her face in his hands and spoke in a voice so low, she had to concentrate to hear. ‘I never want to be the boss of you, but I do love you. I always have and I always will. If I even think about you getting hurt, I feel sick. I want to take care of you, Poppy Day, and I want you to take care of me. I want you to marry me and I want us to live together until we get old and die.’

  ‘What?’ Poppy shook her head. Maybe she was concussed.

  ‘Will you marry me, Poppy Day?’

  She had stared up at him and considered what it would be like to be looked after by this man she loved. Then she had smiled, knowing that this was where she belonged, right by his side. Nodding, she’d kissed his palm with a shaking hand. ‘Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.’

  Peg thundered into the room and jumped on the bed. ‘Happy Christmas, Mummy!’

  ‘Happy Christmas, my darling.’ Poppy kissed her daughter, who jumped off and lifted Max up onto the mattress. All three snuggled under the duvet, kicking their feet, bubbles of excitement filling their stomachs.

  ‘Has Father Christmas brought you presents, Max?’

  ‘Yes!’ Max grinned. Poppy ran her fingers through his blonde hair, sticky with sleep and juice that had splashed from his sippy cup.

  ‘There is a pillowcase full of presents at the bottom of my bed and Max has one too and I honestly think that Father Christmas left them for me, Mum! I really do.’ She beamed at Poppy.

  ‘Well, good.’ Poppy didn’t want to find out how the conversation might progress.

  ‘Can we go downstairs and open our presents?’ Peg now bounced up and down.

  Poppy rubbed her eyes and scraped her hair into a scrunchie. ‘We can go downstairs but I don’t want us to disturb Granny Claudia just yet.’ She was sure Peg’s hollering could have been heard back in Larkhill, but wanted to give Claudia a moment alone on this joyous and difficult day. ‘Why don’t we tiptoe downstairs and give her another half an hour? Do you think we can do that?’

  Both kids nodded, Peg with a slight look of irritation.

  They threw on their dressing gowns and padded into the sitting room, where the Christmas tree lights were on and a fire roared in the grate. Claudia must have been up early – if she had slept at all. Peg bent down and gathered two little square boxes from under the tree; each had an oversized label attached to it, one saying ‘Peg’ and the other ‘Max’.

  Peg shook hers beside her ear and heard a faint tinkling. ‘Who are these from, Mummy?’

  Poppy turned the box over in her hand. ‘I haven’t a clue, darling.’ She looked at the label: it was Claudia’s handwriting. ‘Put them back under the tree and we’ll wait for Granny Claudia.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, Poppy, they can open those now.’ Claudia’s voice came from the kitchen. She beamed. ‘Happy Christmas, my loves!’

  ‘Happy Christmas! You’re up early! Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m more than fine.’ Claudia enveloped Poppy in a hug and as she pulled away from her, took the scrunchie from her hair, allowing it to fall in a coppery curtain against her neck. ‘You have beautiful hair, Poppy, you should show it off more.’

  Poppy smiled, embarrassed, and tucked the loose tendrils behind her ears.

  ‘Can we open these now then?’ Peg shook the little box; the suspense was nearly killing her.

  ‘Yes!’ Claudia clapped. ‘Open them right now!’

  Peg tore the paper to reveal a little brown box, then did the same for Max. She lifted the lid to reveal a shiny bell, the kind that sat snugly on handlebars. Peg stared at Max, dying to speak, but knowing she mustn’t blow the surprise. ‘Oh, a bell! That’s lovely, thank you very much, Granny Claudia.’ She smiled sweetly.

  ‘Yougranicordiya!’ Max grinned.

  Peg gave a small cough, as if waiting to be led to her shiny new bike or scooter. She hoped it was a scooter, with silver wheels and a blue sticker and rubber foot pads, the same as Jade McKeever’s.

  Poppy stared at Claudia, slightly puzzled by the little gift. Although mentally two steps behind her daughter, she was starting to suspect there was more to this present than met the eye.

  ‘It’s going to be a chilly old day, who thinks we might need to fetch more logs from the garage?’

  Peg nearly burst with anticipation. ‘I definitely think we need more logs!’ She jumped up and down on the spot.

  Poppy shook her head, trying to keep up.

  ‘What about you, Maxy, do you think we need more logs?’

  He nodded vigorously.

  ‘Be a dear, Poppy, take them out for me while I make some tea.’ Claudia sniffed.

  ‘Sure.’ Poppy opened the side door and gasped as the wave of cold air filled her lungs. There had been a fresh fall of snow in the night and the garden looked like a winter wonderland. The birdbath, lights and wicker chairs had all been sprinkled with a powdery dusting. It was quite beautiful.

  Poppy lifted Max as they approached the garage. Peg raised the latch and pushed open the side door. No one moved for a second or two, each paralysed with shock and surprise. Then the surge of adrenalin hit. Peg screamed and then she cried, unable to stop the sobs that built in her chest and escaped loudly. Poppy gasped as the tears rolled down her own face, and Max wriggled to the ground and toddled across the room.

  It wasn’t new bikes or scooters that waited for Peg and Max in the garage. There in the soft lamplight, with a tartan blanket over his legs and cocooned in the moth-eaten armchair that had never quite made it to the tip, with sand in his boots and dust on his uniform, sat their daddy.

  Mart stood and rushed forward, crushing Poppy to him and with his spare arm around Peg as Max clung to his leg.

  ‘I heard my girl needed me,’ he whispered into her hair.

  ‘She did.’ Poppy placed her mouth against his cheek, inhaling the scent of him, confirming he was real.

  ‘I’ll always come when you need me, you know that.’ Mart kissed her on the mouth and then bent down to lift his children, one in each arm. They stood just like that for a minute or so, happy to be reunited, a little family.

  As they made their way back inside the house, Claudia stood at the back door, simultaneously crying
and laughing. She hurried over to Poppy. ‘I couldn’t tell you. He swore me to secrecy!’

  Poppy wrapped her in a hug, too emotional to speak. She stared at her husband, propped against the sink, holding a mug of tea between his palms. She shook her head, unable to take it in. He was in the kitchen! He had come home!

  ‘How, Mart?’ she eventually managed.

  ‘They told me a few weeks ago that they might cut our tour short. I didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t happen – you know how these things work.’

  She nodded. She knew, better than most.

  Mart continued. ‘I wasn’t sure if I could get back, even when they did cut the tour. I didn’t want to raise your hopes, or mine. I only knew for certain I was coming home when they confirmed there was a seat for me on a helicopter and then a plane and then another plane. It all happened very fast. I can’t tell you how happy I was to touch down at Brize.’

  Poppy smiled at him, sharing recollections of the place that held such strong memories for them both. It meant home, safety.

  ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘About four this morning. Claudia waited up for me. I kipped on the sofa until we heard you all.’

  ‘Do you have to go back?’ Poppy chewed her lip, hardly daring to ask.

  ‘No, that’s it. Back in Larkhill now – you’re stuck with me.’ He squeezed his wife’s hand.

  Peg hugged her dad tightly around his middle. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you too. You’ve grown, you both have!’

  ‘I’m going to try and be register monitor next term, Dad.’

  ‘That sounds good.’ He smiled.

  ‘Can I get a pet? I would really like a guinea pig called Toffee.’

  Mart laughed. ‘Well, I don’t see why not.’

  Poppy sighed and rolled her eyes at Claudia.

  Peg reached up and pulled her dad’s neck forward until his ear was level with her mouth, so that he alone could hear her whisper. ‘I prayed and wished you home to me, Daddy, and it worked, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered back, looking from her to his wife and son, smiling. ‘It worked.’