not finding me vanish.
Maybe this Christmas is going to be special after all.
It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. ‘Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more.’
Dr Seuss
Christmas Eve, 1988
‘You know there’s only one thing that I really want for Christmas?’ Tess says to me.
We’ve been busy all morning already, making sausage rolls and mince pies. The kitchen smells like a bakery and it’s making me so hungry. A ham is bubbling away on her range cooker too and the turkey is defrosting in the sink.
She places a plate of sausages and toast in front of me at the kitchen table and my stomach rumbles hello to them.
I lick my lips in anticipation, but then as Tess’s words sink in, I look at Dee-Dee in panic. What are we going to do? We don’t have any money. We can’t buy Tess a present. And I have to get her something good. She’s so nice, she deserves something special. I reckon I’ve no more than forty pence in my savings, which would not buy much. I suppose I could get her a bar of chocolate.
‘She loves chocolate, that’s for sure,’ Dee-Dee says. ‘You have that picture you drew too.’
I did take ages and ages to make sure I coloured it all in. But I’m not that good at drawing Christmas trees, I think it looks a bit wonky and more like a Christmas cracker.
‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, Belle. All I want this year is to hear your voice,’ Tess says. ‘I bet it’s just as pretty as you are.’
Oh.
‘You should say something,’ Dee-Dee says.
And I nod. I want to, but I can’t seem to make my mouth co-operate. I don’t want to upset Tess, though.
Yesterday, when we were watching that movie, I wanted to say something to her. I was so cross with Jack Frost trying to take over Christmas, but I couldn’t get the words out.
‘Maybe she’ll throw us out, if you don’t talk,’ Dee-Dee tells me and I start shivering at the thought. Where would we sleep, Dee-Dee? She doesn’t have an answer for that and I hold her in close to me again.
‘Don’t be getting upset,’ Tess says, reading my mind. ‘I have lots of patience for you, my little butterfly. You speak when you are good and ready. I can wait.’ She kisses my head and goes back to the frying pan to plate her own breakfast.
Maybe it’s going to be okay. I think I’ll draw a butterfly on her picture, though. With lots of bright colours on its wings. Because she’s always calling me that. She must really like them.
‘Who’s that on the phone at this ridiculous hour?’ Tess says when the phone rings out, filling the house with its shrill sound. She shuffles in her slippers out to the hall, to answer it.
These sausies are good. I ask Dee-Dee if she wants some, putting one up to her face so she can have a nibble.
When Tess comes back a few minutes later, she’s singing in her off-key voice, ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas’ and I start to hum along with her. I like that song a lot.
‘Well, it appears that you really have been a good girl this year, Belle. Santa has arranged it so that one of your presents will arrive early. This very afternoon, in fact. So eat up your sausages, we’ve lots to do. I have to go down to Tesco to get a few last bits for our special surprise.’ Tess is beaming at me and I feel a thrill of excitement.
I’ve never had an early present before. I beam back at her.
‘I bet it’s my dress,’ Dee-Dee says. ‘A big, gold sparkly one.’
‘Answer the door, there’s a good girl,’ Tess tells me, when it buzzes. She jumps up and quickly stubs her cigarette out. Then she starts waving her magazine around the place to disperse the smoke. As I walk out the door, she’s sticking the ashtray under the sink to hide all the evidence.
‘What Mrs Reilly don’t know, won’t kill her.’ She winks at me.
I wonder, is this my present at the door? I’ve waited all day for Tess to give it to me. But what has Mrs Reilly got to do with it? Why is she talking about her? I get my answer and see her standing on the porch.
The problem is that I’ve come to realise that whenever Mrs Reilly arrives, so does bad news.
Oh no, Dee-Dee, she’s come to take us away. I move backwards towards Tess, and I want to scream at her, let me stay, I like it here. Tess is smiling, though, and nodding towards the door, telling me to look in that direction. She doesn’t have that look that I’ve come to recognise on grown-up faces that they all get when they are about to tell you that it’s time to go.
She places her hands on my shoulders and directs my eyes towards the door again. And then I notice that standing just behind Mrs Reilly is a boy.
A tall, lanky, thin boy with hair the colour of a fox. It’s wavy and it’s falling over his eyes. He’s got his head looking down, though, and I notice his fists are clenched by his sides. He doesn’t look very happy, I realise. My heart contracts. I know that feeling.
‘Hello, Jim.’ Tess says, moving towards him. She welcomes them both inside and closes the door behind them. ‘Belle, will you come over and say hello to Jim. He’s coming to stay with us for a while. And he’s eight years old, too, just like you are. Imagine that.’
She gives me a triumphant look and I get it. Even before Dee-Dee screams at me, ‘this must be Santa’s present,’ I get it.
‘He’s not a girl, though,’ she laments. I agree that’s a pity, but he looks okay, for a boy, that is.
He looks up through his hair and I see the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen before. Freckles are scattered densely across his nose too.
Then he looks up and shoots me a dirty look, as if to say, what you looking at? He looks me up and down and sneers.
‘He looks a bit cross,’ Dee-Dee says, stating the obvious.
‘There’s not a pick on you,’ Tess declares, taking him in too and I sneak another glance at him.
Yeah, he’s skinny alright.
‘Well, there’s a challenge for me. How quick can I sort that out for you, young man? I reckon I can put some meat on those bones, quick smart. I’ve enough food in to last us a lifetime in there,’ Tess jokes, thumbing the kitchen.
‘I’ve a boy at home the same way. All legs and not an ounce of fat. He eats me out of house and home,’ Mrs Reilly says to Tess and they both tut at the misfortune of it.
‘Sure I only have to look at a bun …’ Tess says and I giggle.
‘She does more than look at buns,’ Dee-Dee jokes.
‘Do you want to put your bag up in your bedroom?’ Tess asks the boy. ‘You’ll be sleeping in the room at the top of the stairs, first door on the left.’
He looks upwards and suddenly his face doesn’t look cross any more, instead he just looks scared.
I recognise that look. Something in my heart contracts again in sympathy and I feel myself moving forward towards him.
I don’t think about it or plan it, but somehow or other, the words tumble out of my mouth with ease. ‘I’ll show you where your room is if you want me to.’
Before he has a chance to answer, Tess rushes over to me and pulls me into her, so that