After the Snow. Susannah Constantine

      Seeing that Mrs Bee was trying to engage her mother, Esme picked up the bag and held it out. ‘Mummy, hold the bag open so we can get the paper in easily.’

      Diana picked up the other handle in slow motion.

      ‘Come on, wakey-wakey – it’s not bedtime yet,’ said Sophia, giving her mother a prod.

      She stirred and looked over at Esme. ‘Darling, you’d better get a pen and paper so you can jot down who’s given you what – for your thank-you letters.’

      Esme hopped up and ran to the desk, flipping its lid back in search of a sheet of writing paper and a biro. Plonking herself back down she waited to be passed her first present.

      Darling Esme, Happy Christmas, lots of love Aunt Nancy, read the label.

      Aunt Nancy was the youngest of her mother’s three sisters. Her father was also from a big family, with three brothers and one sister. Because there were so many of them and none had a house large enough to accommodate the whole family at once, they would try to meet up elsewhere in the summer holidays instead. Esme loved spending time with all her cousins. But that didn’t happen very often. Both sets of grandparents had passed away before Esme was born. She envied Lexi and her extended family, who all lived nearby.

      Aunt Nancy always gave good presents and this year was no exception; she had given Esme The Mandy Annual. Mandy was Esme’s favourite comic, the one she spent her pocket money on each week.

      ‘Sophia, look – this one’s from your godfather, Bill,’ said Mrs Bee, handing her a beautifully wrapped parcel.

      Esme knew it would be something elegant and perfectly chosen. Her father’s oldest friend from his school days at Eton was seriously rich and very generous because he had no children of his own.

      Sophia squealed as she unwrapped an Afghan coat from its tissue. It was a thing of real beauty. Embroidered down the front, a bit like Esme’s Red Indian jacket, it had shaggy sheepskin cuffs and frog fastenings that gave it a Russian flare. Sophia hugged it and spun around the room, using the coat as her flamboyant dancing partner. Her face was alight with joy as she grinned and twirled around and around.

      ‘Oh Es, look at this! Isn’t it the most divinely wondrous thing you’ve ever seen? Feast your eyes! Darling Bill is the best! Daddy, are you furious? I know you think that only drug-taking hippies wear this sort of thing but I love it; you’ll have to blame your best friend for being so utterly, utterly adorable! He is the best and kindest fairy godfather in the world!’

      Her father laughed. ‘You’ll get arrested wearing that around here. You might as well go and live on a commune and hug trees. I need to have words with Mr Bill Cartwright. He is incorrigible. Don’t wear it anywhere near me. People will think I have a commie as a daughter.’

      ‘Oh Daddy, you’re so square. I shall wear it day and night.’

      ‘You’ll soon tire of it. But you’ll never get bored of our present to you.’ With that, Colin handed her a large, heavy-looking square package. Sophia ripped off the paper.

      ‘Oh Daddy, I can’t believe it!’

      It was a red record player with a lid that doubled up as a speaker. Esme knew her sister had wanted one of these forever, collecting all kinds of music for the time she could play the records on her own turntable. Esme hoped that her present from her parents would be just as exciting. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be a velvet hunting cap from Patey’s. Her mother had pointed out the rip in her old hat so knew she needed one. Esme was old enough now to wear one without a chinstrap. Knowing it was her turn next she sat expectantly, her tummy fluttering with excitement.

      Her father rummaged through the dwindling pile of gifts.

      ‘Diana, where is Esme’s present?’

      ‘It should be there. Is it not?’

      ‘You said you wrapped it last night. Darling, Mummy bought your present. Diana, go and see if it’s upstairs.’

      Dropping the bulging Harrods bag, Diana rose slowly and left the room.

      ‘Darling, Mummy will find it – don’t look so worried. She told me she had bought you something wonderful.’ Colin glanced up at Mrs Bee.

      ‘Open this one from me,’ said the housekeeper, hurriedly, to Esme.

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Bee.’ She looked down to hide the hot tears that welled in her eyes and started to fall on to the parcel with a tell-tale splash as she tore open the wrapping paper.

      ‘Mrs Bee, these are just what I need. Thank you so much! They’re even better than the ones I lost and will keep my hands cozy out hunting. Thank you.’

      She got up and hugged Mrs Bee as though her life depended on it. The housekeeper hugged her back, Esme’s tears concealed in the crook of her neck.

      ‘Here we go, darling, here’s your mother,’ she said.

      Esme peered over Mrs Bee’s shoulder to see her mother standing in the doorway, empty-handed and dry-eyed.