She stepped towards the car but he made no attempt to move and her arm brushed against his torso as she reached for the door. Her skin prickled, as if a loveliness of lady beetles was tap-dancing up her arm. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she locked the doors just in case he attempted to jump in beside her and pressed the ignition button. In her rear-vision mirror, Cole Harrison stood with one hand on his hip and the other scratching his head, looking confused.
‘That makes two of us, buddy.’
Chapter 6
The scent of the tree was overpowering. Even here in the bedroom, along the hallway from where she’d somehow wrangled the damn thing upright and secured it in the holder she’d bought at the IGA on the way home. Fresh pine perfume filled her senses. She closed her eyes and felt herself falling, like Alice in Wonderland, down a long, dark, spiral tunnel, her stomach cartwheeling in time with her body, her head spinning as if she’d been hypnotised by the Cheshire Cat. When she landed, there was no white rabbit shouting at her about being late, but there was a tree towering over her head with a very distinct aroma. Tiny needles prickled her bottom where she sat cross-legged on the floor, her Disney Princess jammy pants bunched at the top of her legs.
A soft thud on the floorboards made her jump and she sucked in a mouthful of air as she turned. ‘Oh, it’s only you.’ She breathed out as Bustopher Jones padded towards her and hopped into her lap. She scratched under his chin in the spot she knew he loved best and he purred his love. ‘You scared me, Buster, you naughty boy.’ The cat closed his eyes beneath the long white hairs of his eyebrows. He’d been asleep on the end of her bed when she’d crept downstairs. Maybe he’d wanted to see what Santa had left for him too.
Hannah glanced towards the mantlepiece to where the family stockings hung in a neat row. Hers, Madeleine’s, Mummy’s and Daddy’s, and Buster’s. He didn’t seem in a hurry to find out what was in it, so she turned her attention back to the package in front of her and a fuzzy feeling warmed her insides. She knew it was from Santa because his presents weren’t wrapped. He didn’t have time for that, not with so many houses to visit, all those chimneys to slip down and windows to climb through. This present was definitely from Santa. Angel, the doll she’d asked for, stared out from where she was trapped inside the box, her beautiful blonde hair falling to her knees, her eyes big and blue, her cheeks soft and pink. And her dress: purple velvet, the colour of the flowers in the garden, the ones that smelt so pretty but which made Hannah sneeze if she got too close.
Her tummy tightened, as if it was a sponge being squeezed by two strong hands, and she bit down on her bottom lip. Mummy was always so strict about everyone getting up together on Christmas morning to open the presents, but surely it wouldn’t hurt if she just opened this one? She stared down at Angel, at her rosy lips, her secret smile. Hannah was six now, old enough to know dolls couldn’t talk, but when she leaned in she could almost hear Angel whispering:Let me out, I want to play with you. Please let me out.
One more look over her shoulder was all it took. One burst of orange cordial rushing through her body. She tugged at the seal, ripped open the lid and pulled her Angel free. Holding the doll to her cheek, she closed her eyes and breathed in the toy-store smell. ‘I’m so happy you’re mine.’
‘Hannah.’
Her mother’s cranky voice made her jump.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I, um …’ Tears pooled in her eyes. She was going to be in so much trouble. ‘I just—’
‘What have we said about waiting until everyone is awake?’ Mummy’s face was all wrinkled and her hands sat on her hips as if she was doing the teapot song and about to pour herself out. She dropped her arms to her sides, marched forwards and collected both box and doll. ‘As much as I hate to do this …’ She let out a long, low sigh.
Hannah was on her feet in a second. ‘No, Mummy, that’s mine, Santa left it for me.’
‘You need to learn to listen, Hannah. For now, the doll is going into time out.’
A pain made Hannah’s chest crunch up, like she’d tripped over and fallen on a sharp rock. ‘No, Mummy, please.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Daddy’s quieter, sleepier voice soothed the ache. He stood in the doorway in his Christmas boxers and T-shirt, the one with the laughing reindeer on the front. But not even that could make Hannah smile right now.
‘Someone decided to open her presents early.’ Mummy again, in that voice she only used with Daddy, Angel tucked under her arm, the doll’s hair all messed up from how she’d been grabbed. Mummy whispered something in Daddy’s ear, her frown melting away. And then she was gone, back up the stairs to put Angel in the top of the cupboard where all the toys went for punishment. But it wasn’t Angel’s fault. Why did Mummy have to be so mean?
Hannah’s head hit the floor with a bang when she threw herself down, big fat tears wetting her cheeks and horrible hard hiccups shaking her ribs.
‘Come on, munchkin, it’s okay.’ A warm hand pressed against her back, then slid around her waist and then another on the other side and she was lifted through the air. Daddy held her against him as if she was a baby again. She was certainly crying like one.
‘But that …’ she double-sniffed, trying so hard to get the words out, ‘… that was my present from Santa.’
‘And you know the rules. You have to wait for everyone on Christmas morning.’
Rules, rules. There were so many rules.Don’t leave the table until you’re finished. Don’t speak with your mouth full. Take your shoes off at the door. No TV in the morning. Lights out at seven o’clock.Rules for everything every day. Why did there have to be rules for Christmas too?
‘Come on now, take a big breath. You know Mummy’s not a morning person. And she’s worked hard to make sure we all have the best day. She just wants everything to be perfect.’ He gave a small chuckle, like he’d been tickled under the chin. ‘I’m sure she’ll let you have your doll later.’ He turned around so Hannah could see the tree from where her head rested against his shoulder, strings of soft white lights shining like strands of Nana’s pearls. ‘And you have more presents to open once your sister is up.’
That was true. There were other things under the tree. A scooter—that would be Maddie’s—and some smaller things, plus the wrapped presents that would be from Mummy and Daddy. She did one last sniff and rubbed her knuckle against her cheek as she snuggled into her father’s neck. He was warm and cuddly and smelt like apple pie. With his arms around her, she always felt safe. And loved.
‘How about we see if the reindeers ate the carrots we left and if Santa drank the beer?’ There was a cheeky sound to Daddy’s voice as he glanced towards the stairs.
‘But Mummy and Maddie aren’t here.’
‘We’ll just take a quick look,’ he whispered, ‘and keep it our secret.’
A party popper exploded deep in her belly. ‘Can we?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ He was already walking towards the front door. ‘And then you can help me cut the ham, and I might even sneak you a piece.’