“Like what?”
“You want specifics? I’m not sure I can even remember—” He slowed down as they reached a junction and then turned right onto an even narrower road. “When I was young it was usually toys. Lego. Model airplanes. Things I could make and build.”
“And you made those by yourself?”
“No. Usually with my dad or grandad. Sometimes with Becky because she loved building things too. My mother was good at choosing things that interested us. So Rosie would have dolls and dressing-up clothes, or fabric so she could make her own clothes for the dolls, but Becky and I would have puzzles and mechanical cars that needed building, and one year we had a train set between us.”
She could picture the wonder on their faces as they’d opened their gifts.
“What else?”
“There was one year I had racing cars. That was fun, until the dog stepped on the track and broke it.”
Thoughtful gifts. Gifts that each child would enjoy.
“Chocolate?”
“Oh yes.” He grinned. “Becky and I always ate that before breakfast, but Rosie would hide hers away and save it for later. One year I found it and ate it. Not our finest sibling moment.”
She imagined them, sprawled on the floor in front of the Christmas tree in their pyjamas, chocolate smudged on their faces.
“Do you know how lucky you are?”
“Because I could steal my sister’s chocolate?”
“Because you have this great family. Because you’re loved. You’ve always been loved.”
He pulled over without warning and switched off the engine. Then he unclipped his seat belt and turned to face her.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Stop worrying.” His mouth lingered on hers. “I love you so much.”
Every time he said those words she wanted to record them so that she could play them back over and over again.
It should have been freezing without the heating, but she felt nothing but warmth. “I love you too.”
He sat back, his gaze fixed on hers. “I know Christmas was always tough for you. It hurts to think about it.”
“It’s the past. It’s done. I prefer to think about now. And I’m excited about now.”
He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “You’re always so positive.”
“Not always. I have low moments like everyone, but that’s just life, isn’t it? Full of ups and downs. I’ve learned to ride out the bad moments and when a good thing happens, I’m not going to ruin it by thinking about the bad things. I just grab it and enjoy.” Like now. This was one of those good moments.
“But you never had family. Never had someone leave a stocking full of gifts for you.”
“People donated things, so I had presents. Except for the year I was moved from one foster home to another a few days before Christmas.” She caught his shocked expression and shrugged. “It happens. But it’s a particularly bad time to be moved because of the emphasis on family that seems to be part of Christmas. It makes the feeling of isolation all the more acute.”
“What presents did you have?”
She was grateful for the change of subject.
“Oh, various things—” She snuggled deeper into her scarf. “A new toothbrush and toothpaste. One year I had a shower gel and the bottle was the shape of a mermaid. A new flannel. Chocolate—that was nice. Crayons and paper. Gel pens. Notebooks to draw in. I loved those. Oh and knickers. Days-of-the-week knickers.”
“Days-of-the-week knickers? For Christmas?”
“Yes, and here’s the funny thing—they were all Friday.”
“Are you telling me you only wore knickers on a Friday? I’m shocked!”
