Page 20 of Christmas off Script
‘That’s the first one you gave to me,’ Leo said.
Even though it was drawn by a child, it was done with such precision and care. A fairytale castle stood on a hill, a winding path travelling from the top of the hill to the bottom. On the left of the picture was a woman with long black hair and a flowing dress. On her head was a crown, and she was holding hands with a man with short blond hair who was also wearing a crown, and a sword hanging from a belt at his waist.
In case anyone was confused as to who Ella had drawn, there were helpful arrows pointing to the figures with the words ‘Ella’ and ‘Leo’. At the very bottom of the piece of paper she’d written, ‘To Leo from Ella X’.
Her hand went to cover her heart. ‘I remember giving this to you,’ she whispered. ‘Just before my parents said I wasn’t allowed to play at the manor anymore.’
‘Because my family are such reprobates.’
‘The irony,’ she replied bitterly.
Leo slung an arm around her and pulled her against him for a hug. ‘Don’t let them stop your happy-ever-after, Princess Ella.’
She held onto his arm as it lay across her upper chest and gave it a squeeze. ‘It’s so strange seeing it again.’ She turned her head, taking in all the other pictures she’d given Leo over the years. ‘Oh, look! The film strip I made! You’ve still got it!’
Stuck above the dado rail was a strip of sugar paper, six inches tall and two metres long. Ella had drawn a story featuring princesses, princes, lions and dragons. The paper was made to be rolled up, and as you unrolled it, the story unravelled with it.
‘I can’t believe the Sellotape has lasted this long!’
‘It didn’t,’ Leo said behind her, the warmth from his breath tickling her ear. ‘I used bookbinding tape to fix it.’
A lump formed in Ella’s throat as she gazed at her work. So many memories were attached to the drawings. They were now waking up, lifting off the paper and swirling around her. She wanted to be happy, but instead felt lost, as if she’d forgotten the most important parts of who she was.
‘Oliver never liked them,’ she said flatly.
Leo sighed behind her, then took a breath, but said nothing.
‘He said…’ Ella couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too painful. ‘Thank you for keeping all of them, even the crap ones.’
‘Oi! They’re brilliant and I love them almost as much as the artistic genius who created them.’
She huffed. ‘Hardly.’
Leo turned her so they were facing each other. ‘Theyarebrilliant, and youarea genius. Just because your drawings are small doesn’t mean they’re not mighty.’
She nodded, unable to speak without fresh tears flowing.
The sound of a gong echoed along the corridor and Leo’s eyes lit up. ‘Dinner! Excellent!’ He patted his stomach. ‘Man cannot live on limoncello and lebkuchen batter alone. Not when roast lamb is on the menu. You hungry?’
Ella didn’t know anymore if the pain in her stomach was due to grief, hunger, anxiety, or all of the above, so she nodded again then glanced once more around the room.
‘Tidy enough for you?’
‘Very.’ She frowned. ‘Didn’t you used to have a four-poster bed?’
‘Yeah, but it was meant for sixteenth-century sized people and was annoyingly small, so we moved it into your room.’
‘Am I annoyingly small?’ she asked with mock outrage.
‘No! Not at all! You’re, er… perfectly proportioned and century appropriate.’
She narrowed her eyes.
‘And not annoying in the slightest. Promise.’
Shaking her head at him, she gazed again at his bed. ‘How bigisthat?’
‘Seven feet squared. It’s an Emperor.’
