All I Want For Christmas by Julie Coffin Page A

and the whole world spun.
    Her own scream woke her, and she lay in bed, heart pounding, trying to catch her breath. A small pale face was gazing down at her, eyes wide with anxiety. Warm little fingers touched her cheek.
    â€˜Don’t cry, Lauren,’ Zoe whispered. ‘I’ll stay until your nasty dream’s gone away. That’s what my Daddy does.’
    Touched, Lauren slipped her arm round the child. ‘Thank you, poppet.’ The vivid horror of the nightmare still clung to her. Was this Matthew’s nightmare, too? How his wife had died?
    â€˜It’s morning-time,’ Zoe whispered into her ear. ‘There’s a bit of sun outside your curtains.’
    Lauren leaned sideways to read the clock on her bedside table. Seven forty-five. It couldn’t be!
    â€˜Merry Christmas, Zoe,’ she said, pushing back the duvet and switching on the light, forcing away her dream.
    The child beamed a smile, and then let out a shriek. ‘Father Christmas! My stocking! Has he been?’
    In a tangle of arms and legs, she slid off the bed and out of the door. Lauren pulled on her dressing-gown and, picking up the video camera she’d loaded ready the night before, followed the child.
    Zoe was standing, her face white with excitement, staring at the bulging red felt stocking lying on the end of her bed.
    â€˜Aren’t you going to look inside?’ Lauren asked.
    â€˜Can I?’
    Lauren laughed, directing the camera as she spoke. ‘Of course you can.’ The stocking was tipped upside down and shaken vigorously, sending a tumble of ribboned packages over the flowered duvet. Carefully, Zoe untied the first one and peeled off the gold paper.
    â€˜Crayons! I needed some of those. My other wax ones have all snapped.’ The paper came more rapidly off the second parcel, and by the time Zoe reached the last gift, its wrappings were torn off without even looking. Watching her, Lauren wished Matthew was there to see his daughter’s happiness. At least she’d caught it all on film for later.
    It wasn’t difficult to keep Zoe away from the Christmas tree in the lounge. As always, she was Lauren’s shadow, insisting on helping with everything.
    â€˜I’ll do the tablecloth . . . I’ll do the mats . . . I’ll do the knives and forks and spoons . . . Ooh, I’ll do the crackers.’
    And all the while, the little girl’s excitement and impatience grew. ‘When’s my Daddy coming?’ she repeated every five minutes or so, echoing Lauren’s own thoughts. ‘Is it time for our special dinner soon?’
    â€˜Daddy’s got lots to do at the hospital, Zoe,’ Lauren told her. ‘And we’ll eat when he arrives.’
    She wondered what kind of night he’d had. The workings of the hospital were still a puzzle to her. As the crèche was her domain, there was no need to get involved in anything outside that.
    She didn’t even know what status Matthew held.
I really must find out,
she decided, pouring a carton of cream into a bowl and starting to whip it. Fancy working there for all these weeks and not knowing.
    â€˜I’ll do that for you, Lauren.’
    Zoe’s small hand closed round the handle of the whisk, and Lauren rapidly had to think of a way to distract her eager little helper.
    She was just basting the turkey for its final time, when the doorbell shrilled, making her almost drop the spoon.
    â€˜Daddy!’ Zoe shrieked, sliding down from the kitchen stool and running into the hall. ‘Come and let him in.’
    Hoping he wasn’t laden with his daughter’s presents, Lauren inched open the door, shielding the gap with her body, shivering when she met the frosty air.
    â€˜Am I allowed inside? It’s freezing out here,’ Matthew enquired, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smile.
    Before Lauren could reply, Zoe was already tugging back the door to fling her arms round her