I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,71
Spencer. Bridge hadn’t thought about Jane in twenty years but here she was, large as life, swimming in the waters of her mind. Jane’s mother split up their friendship in the end, deeming Bridget Winterman too common. And Bridge had really wanted Jane’s mum to like her enough to think about adopting her.
‘Bridge?’ Mary’s voice prodded her, burst the bubble of her reverie. ‘You nearly ready?’
‘Sorry, Mary. Two ticks,’ Bridge replied, pulling on her jeans, zipping herself into them. ‘There, now I’m ready.’
Mary smiled excitedly. ‘Isn’t this all crackers?’
‘It’s certainly that. I’m not sure if I’m in a bad dream or a good dream,’ said Bridge, lifting her shoulders in a gesture of ‘WTF’ but really knowing that, while it might have all started off as a nightmare, she had the exact giddy feeling about going downstairs that she should have had as a child on Christmas morning. And not because she wanted to rip into her own stocking – her expectations of what might be in it were low – but because she wanted to see him opening his present. Not something one would find in John Lewis, but she reckoned she’d got it right on the button.
‘Okay everyone, you can come out now.’ Luke’s voice on the landing.
A ripple of anticipation tickled down Mary’s spine as Bridge opened their door.
‘Happy, happy Christmas, everyone,’ said Charlie.
‘And happy, happy birthday, lovely Mary,’ added Robin, putting his arms around her and squeezing her.
‘Yes of course, happy birthday, Mary,’ said Bridge, annoyed that she’d forgotten.
‘Happy birthday, Mary,’ said Jack, not quite sure if it was appropriate to accompany his words with any physical gesture, and so missed the boat as Charlie moved in smoothly for a hug.
‘A double celebration,’ said Luke. ‘Let’s not waste another second.’
They filed downstairs in jolly expectancy. In the lounge, the Christmas tree lights were already on, the radio was playing on low volume, the logs spitting and crackling a Christmas morning cosiness in the hearth.
‘Aw, who did all this?’ said Charlie. ‘How thoughtful.’
‘Santa, obviously,’ said Luke.
‘I feel as if I’ve just walked into a Christmas card,’ said Bridge, wondering if Luke had sneaked down earlier to set the scene for them. It was the sort of thing he’d do. He was always full of the small, considerate gestures.
‘Happy Christmas everyone,’ said Radio Brian from the speakers. ‘I hope you’re all enjoying opening your presents on this beautiful snowy morning and are safe at home with your loved ones. Here’s the magic voice of Sammy Davis Junior singing “It’s Christmas Time All Over the World”.’
Luke wished he were at home with his loved ones. He’d prayed to God before he’d gone to sleep, told him that though he hadn’t believed in him since school, if he could make sure Carmen was safe and well, he’d take that as a sign that maybe his atheism was cock.
The lounge looked beautiful and Christmassy: the hearth, the tree, the decorations, even a contribution from the three front windows, framing a triptych of snowy scenes like paintings in a gallery.
‘Are we having breakfast or presents first?’ asked Charlie.
‘Presents!’ came a hearty, synchronised chorus by way of reply.
‘Come on everyone, and sit by the fire,’ said Mary.
‘Let’s open them one by one,’ suggested Bridge. ‘Left to right.’
‘Oh yes, let’s, because that makes mine first,’ said Robin and picked up his sock, peered inside. ‘Ah, how lovely and traditional. An orange and some nuts.’
Mary’s brow creased in puzzlement. She hadn’t put those in there.
Robin tipped the nuts in their shells and the clementine into his lap, not expecting to find anything else until the tiny package fell out. He unfolded the tissue and there was a mobile telephone number written on a slip of paper, along with Mary’s friendship bracelet. He knew exactly why she had given it to him. A token of true kindness. And friendship.
‘Oh, Mary, this means so much to me already,’ said Robin, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek, then asking her to fasten it immediately onto his wrist. The small blocks each bearing a letter: C.M.W.Y.N.A.F. Call me when you need a friend. He would be calling her, because he would indeed need to.
‘Me next,’ said Charlie.
Robin passed his sock to him; his also had been stuffed with an orange and nuts. One of them must have come down and done this. The same thoughtful person who had built the fire and switched on the radio and the tree lights.