Page 21 of The Talk Around Town

The tape released with a tiny snap of sound. It sprang up and wrapped itself around her fingers, curling back on itself.

She stumbled back from the carton, suddenly anxious.

She couldn’t do it. Not yet.

Fanning her face, Emma stepped back from the box and spun around to find a different one to open.

Easy things first.

*

Box after boxlay empty and flattened, stacked in a pile by the front door. Emma wiped a hand over her sweaty face and sighed.

Almost done.

It was well into the night. The crickets chirping happily outside relieved a little of her tension. All the items in the boxes she’d unpacked had been put away. Her house now looked like it had a human living there.

Her gaze fell on the two boxes left.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and moved to the kitchen. Food was on the menu, plus a strong coffee, if she was to tackle those particular items.

She took her time, making a toasted sandwich and a pot of strong coffee. She sat in the kitchen and picked at the food, only half-aware ofeating it.

Looking around, she shuddered. The shadows seemed full of ghosts, the bright puddles of light making the darkness surrounding them seem even blacker.

Emma jumped up and hurried through the house, turning on all the lights she could find. She hated the dark. Even in her bedroom she kept the windows clear of curtains or blinds, preferring the moonlight to stream through.

Alex had hated that.

Her favourite time of month was when the moon was full. There were no shadows then. Her room in this house had huge floor-to-ceiling bay windows. They lit up the room like nothing she’d seen before. It was perfect. In truth, those beautiful big windows were the reason she’d picked the place, regardless of the work the house itself had needed.

With no more lights left to turn on, she moved slowly back to the hall where the two last boxes sat.

Pink daisies on their tops mocked her.

Annoyed with herself for being scared of two pathetic-looking brown boxes, Emma stalked over to them and purposefully yanked the cardboard flaps open. Scent overwhelmed her, enveloped her with memory and promise.

Baby powder and sandalwood.

She’d had the powder custom-made by a small old-fashioned apothecary shop in Perth. Visions assailed her, grabbing her heart and squeezing tightly. She gritted her teeth, refusing to be cowed by a simple scent, and shoved her hand into the box.

Soft.

Her fingers grasped at it and she pulled it from the box.

Pulled into the dim light of her hall from the depths of the box was a small white reindeer. The pink scarf around its neck held painstakingly hand-embroidered words.

Sasha’s First Christmas.

A huge, fat, warm drop fell and splashed onto her hand. Emma wiped at her face, surprised to find it was a tear.

She brought the incredibly soft, fleecy stuffed toy to her face and inhaled. Baby powder and sandalwood.

Emma’s knees gave way and she dropped to the floor, her faceburied in the toy. This was why she’d never opened the boxes once she’d closed them. This was why nothing in these boxes would see the light of day again, perhaps except for the reindeer now in her arms. She couldn’t find it in her heart to part with the items, but she couldn’t bear looking at them either.

Great sobs welled up as she rocked, holding the toy tightly in her arms. Her slight body shook with the effort of spilling the tears so long held back.

The boxes would go into a cupboard where she wouldn’t have to see them and be reminded on a daily basis. Not that she could ever forget her cherished daughter. She’d wanted a baby for so long, and now Sasha was gone.

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