Page 9 of A Winter Wish

‘Oh. Clara.’ She turns and looks at me. The she pops the object into the drawer and closes it.

‘Was that a little teddy bear?’ I ask her, surprised.

‘Yes.’ She takes the mug from me with a defensive look.

‘Have you had it since you were little, then? It’s just I’ve never seen it before.’

She shrugs. ‘You wouldn’t have. I don’t show it to anyone. It was... from my dad.’

My heart lurches with shock. ‘Yourdad? But...’ I stare at her, confused.

I’ve always thought Lois never knew her biological dad. I know that he walked out on them when Lois was a baby– Dad told me that– but I assumed the subject was taboo because neither Irene nor Lois ever talk about him.

‘He was a pilot,’ says Lois in a subdued voice. ‘But he died when his plane came down over the English Channel on a solo flight to France.’

‘Oh, Lois. I never knew that.’ I want to run over and give her a hug but I know she’ll just push me away, so I stay where I am.

She gives a sad little smile. ‘I don’t remember him because he and Mum separated when I was just a baby. But Mum said that teddy bear was the last gift my dad bought me.’ There’s a touch of pride in her voice, along with the sadness, when she talks about him.

I nod, and silence falls for a moment as Lois stares out of the window.

There’s so much I want to ask her.

But before I can open my mouth, she shuts down the conversation by saying, ‘Anyway, it was all a long time ago. A whole lifetime, in fact. And I prefer not to dwell on the past. Thanks for the drink.’ She raises the mug with a brittle smile. I’m effectively dismissed.

But as I leave, my heart is aching for her.

Lois might claim she doesn’t want to dwell on the past. And yet she’s kept that teddy bear in her bedside drawer for all these years?

Just the idea of that makes me want to cry...

*****

It’s much later, after midnight, and everyone is in bed. I like this time of night, when we’re all here and a blanket of peace settles over the household. At times like these, I can almost convince myself that we’re a normal, happy family.

I smile wryly as I put down my book and switch off the bedside lamp. It helps that Rory isn’t staying over tonight. It means I can relax, instead of dreading meeting him on the landing, on my way back from the bathroom.

I’m about to snuggle down when I hear a noise.

Lifting my head from the pillow, I strain to listen. And there it is again.

Getting out of bed, I tiptoe to the top of the stairs, stepping over the loose floorboard that groans on the landing. And once again, I hear it– it’s the sound of someone trying to hold back a sob. Creeping softly downstairs, I can see a lamp glowing through the living-room door, which is slightly ajar.

Peering through the opening, the first thing I notice is the film that’s on the TV. It’s Harry Potter– the same one Bertie was watching much earlier– the volume turned down low.

Has Bertie sneaked downstairs when he should be asleep?

But next second, adjusting my view, I realise it’s not Bertie at all. It’s Irene. She’s bending over what looks like Dad’s brown leather box of family photos on the sofa beside her. I’m about to push open the door and walk into the room when she raises her head and stares up at the ceiling. ‘Oh, Lois,’ she murmurs, and I stop, my hand frozen in mid-air. Tears are rolling down Irene’s face and as I stand there, hardly breathing, she picks up one of the photos, looks at it for a moment and presses it to her heart with a sob.

And my stomach chooses that exact moment to betray me, making a loud growling noise. Irene looks over and sees me standing there.

‘Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.’ I walk straight in, noticing that the photo she was clasping is a lovely one of Lois. ‘Are you all right?’ I sit down on the sofa beside her.

I’m expecting her to rebuff my concern and tell me she’s perfectly fine.

But she doesn’t say a word. She just puts down the photo, reaches over and lays her hand on mine, gazing at me with watery eyes. Then she glances at Harry Potter. ‘Turn that off for me, will you, Clara?’ she mumbles.

Giving my hand a little squeeze, she gets up with a sigh and walks out.

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