Page 81 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Happy birthday!’ Ben sings from the dining table, as I arrive downstairs ready to join him for breakfast the next morning.
‘Happy birthday to you too!’ I reply happily.
Today, for the first time in a long while, I feel totally carefree and full of joy. Not only is it both mine and Ben’s birthdays, but it’s also Christmas Eve! In all the years I can remember, I’ve never felt this happy or excited about either of those two events.
Something has definitely changed within me. Whereas before I would always feel resentment at these two celebrations because of my past, today I feel the sort of excited anticipation that I always envied others experiencing, and I know it can only be attributed to spending time here in Mistletoe Square with Estelle and Angela, and to meeting Ben.
Last night, after Angela took Estelle to get ready for bed, Ben and I sat discussing and dissecting the evening’s story. We only stopped when Angela put her head around the door to say goodnight.
‘That’s Estelle all settled,’ she said. ‘She’s pretty tired after everything this evening, as am I, actually. There’s something very strange and a little unsettling about seeing yourself as a younger person again.’
‘I can imagine,’ I told her. ‘Can I just ask you one more question about tonight before you go?’
‘Let me guess. Did I ever try to look for my daughter?’
‘Yes.’
Angela’s cheery expression immediately dropped. Her bright blue eyes wandered across to the Christmas tree and the decoration of the baby in a crib.
‘We did try looking for her. Both in the seventies and the very early eighties. But to no avail. There just weren’t the same sort of records kept in the fifties as there are now. We even got Christian on the case, but he couldn’t find anything either. And even if we had been able to trace her, how do I know she would have wanted to see me again? As far as she’s aware she was abandoned by her mother.’
‘But you didn’t abandon her. She was taken from you.’
‘They would have told her she was abandoned. That’s what they usually did back then to justify their actions.’
‘We could try now?’ I suggested, hating seeing Angela this despondent. ‘The internet makes these sorts of things much easier now.’
But Angela shook her head. ‘No, it’s over, Elle. We won’t find her now. It’s too late.’ I opened my mouth again, but she cut me short. ‘I really am very tired. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you both tomorrow bright and early. It’s going to be an exciting day.’
‘What’s up?’ Ben asks now as I pause by the sitting-room door. He walks over and wraps his arms around me. ‘Your face suddenly changed when you walked into the room.’
‘I just realised that I’ve never felt this happy on a Christmas Eve before,’ I say, staring at him. ‘Not even when I was a child. That’s quite sad, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Ben admits. ‘It is. But perhaps that’s how you think you remember it?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Maybe you really were excited once upon a time, but your memories of what you considered bad Christmases have overridden any good ones you once had?’
I think about this. ‘You might be right, I suppose.’
‘Of course I am!’ Ben winks at me. ‘Now, cheer up and give me a birthday kiss!’
‘Willingly!’
‘I got you a little something for your birthday,’ Ben says after we’ve kissed for a few blissful moments. ‘Actually, I got you two things. But one is for Christmas.’ He looks across at the Christmas tree and underneath it I see two gifts. The first wrapped in birthday paper and the second in Christmas paper. ‘AndI didn’t combine them into a joint gift. That’s the one good thing about us both having Christmas birthdays – I’ll never do that to you.’
‘Gosh,’ I say, feeling incredibly touched by this small, but incredibly meaningful gesture. ‘Thank you.’ I’m mortified to feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Ben pulls me closer again. ‘That’s not the reaction I hoped for. You’ve not opened them yet. They could be awful!’
‘It won’t matter what’s inside,’ I tell him. ‘They’re already the best two presents ever.’ And I pull him even closer to me.
‘Hey, hey!’ Angela says, coming into the room carrying a teapot covered in a tea cosy. ‘Enough of that, it’s just gone eight a.m.!’
I smile at Angela, who today is wearing full-on Christmas – a bright red jumper covered in sequins that sparkle next to the lights on the Christmas tree, black-and-silver leggings, and a glittery headband with a star and an angel on wires bobbing about on top. As always, she wears a kitchen apron on top of her outfit. But today’s has a snowman on the front.
‘Morning, Angela,’ I say as Ben and I reluctantly pull away from each other and sit down at the table. ‘How are you today?’
