to Christmas at our house, from the beginning of December, was always a very busy time, with our huge tree to decorate in the hall, the paper chains to make and put up and the
puddings to mix, with everyone having a stir and a wish.
‘I wish I can have a red car to ride in,’ said Paul.
‘I wish someone would give me a Sindy doll,’ added Sheena, with her stir.
‘You don’t just have to wish for presents,’ I suggested.
Daisy took the wooden spoon, her face solemn with thought. As she began to stir, she looked at me and said: ‘I want to learn to knit.’
‘But you’re not even five yet,’ said Chrissy.
‘I don’t need to be five. I can learn,’ replied Daisy, pouting stubbornly.
‘Does anyone else want to make a wish?’
Chrissy shot her hand in the air. ‘Yes, me please.’
They all took a turn and then finally AJ stepped forward. He looked down into the bowl as he began to stir. ‘I wish I could stay here,’ he said. The room was silent.
I stepped forward and put my arm round him. ‘That’s a lovely wish, AJ. I hope you can stay as long as you want.’
On Christmas Eve, all the children were hyper with excitement.
By the time they were all in bed asleep, and we’d tiptoed round and snuck little gifts and fillers into everyone’s stockings, we were ready for an early night. Mike and I fell into a
deep sleep, but it wasn’t to last.
Paul burst into our room at one o’clock in the morning.
‘Father Christmas forgot me,’ he wailed. I’d never heard Paul cry quite like this before. He could be wild and troublesome sometimes, out of sheer exuberance, but mostly he was
a ball of lightning with a sunny smile. But it was Christmas Eve and he really thought he had been left out. I took him by the hand, back into his bedroom, which he shared with Ronnie and AJ. I was
sure we had left his stocking stuffed full of goodies, just like all the others, but it was completely flat and empty on the end of his bed.
‘Maybe Father Christmas has put your presents somewhere else,’ I suggested, wiping his tears away. ‘Come with me now and you can choose something for you to keep from the
secret treasure-chest in my bedroom.’
‘OK,’ he whimpered, taking my hand.
In the morning, in all the excitement of everyone up before dawn, laughing and smiling as they emptied their stockings out on their beds, Paul was able to do the same. I’d gone back and
quietly searched their room, without waking a soul, but I didn’t have to look far – I wasn’t surprised to find Paul’s missing gifts stuffed under the end of AJ’s
bed.
No wonder AJ looked so amazed to see Paul enjoying his stocking gifts.
‘Pop your slippers on and keep your feet warm,’ I said to all three boys, but I watched AJ as he knelt down to find his slippers, which I’d kicked under the bed. He stayed down
there just a couple of seconds too long, surveying the empty space, and as he stood up again, his eyes widened and his face turned pale.
‘Happy Christmas, AJ,’ I said with a grin.
He gave me a sideways look, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. I knew what he was thinking. I believe he may have guessed what I was thinking too.
Santa was kind to all the children that Christmas and they all played happily together with their new toys. As we approached New Year, we had two spaces in our house. I wondered who we’d
have next to fill them.
7
Fire! Fire!
D aisy and Paul had now been with us two and a half years and they hadn’t seen their father since the day he’d been drunk. I
wasn’t sure they even remembered him anymore. Six-year-old Chrissy and five-year-olds Sheena and Ronnie were all still with us. More recently, gangly six-year-old AJ had arrived and joined in
with their games, especially with Ronnie – I don’t know which of them was clumsier and they always came in muddy, whatever the weather.
Our little bush-baby, Laurel, was a toddler now, at eighteen months old, running around and trying to
puddings to mix, with everyone having a stir and a wish.
‘I wish I can have a red car to ride in,’ said Paul.
‘I wish someone would give me a Sindy doll,’ added Sheena, with her stir.
‘You don’t just have to wish for presents,’ I suggested.
Daisy took the wooden spoon, her face solemn with thought. As she began to stir, she looked at me and said: ‘I want to learn to knit.’
‘But you’re not even five yet,’ said Chrissy.
‘I don’t need to be five. I can learn,’ replied Daisy, pouting stubbornly.
‘Does anyone else want to make a wish?’
Chrissy shot her hand in the air. ‘Yes, me please.’
They all took a turn and then finally AJ stepped forward. He looked down into the bowl as he began to stir. ‘I wish I could stay here,’ he said. The room was silent.
I stepped forward and put my arm round him. ‘That’s a lovely wish, AJ. I hope you can stay as long as you want.’
On Christmas Eve, all the children were hyper with excitement.
By the time they were all in bed asleep, and we’d tiptoed round and snuck little gifts and fillers into everyone’s stockings, we were ready for an early night. Mike and I fell into a
deep sleep, but it wasn’t to last.
Paul burst into our room at one o’clock in the morning.
‘Father Christmas forgot me,’ he wailed. I’d never heard Paul cry quite like this before. He could be wild and troublesome sometimes, out of sheer exuberance, but mostly he was
a ball of lightning with a sunny smile. But it was Christmas Eve and he really thought he had been left out. I took him by the hand, back into his bedroom, which he shared with Ronnie and AJ. I was
sure we had left his stocking stuffed full of goodies, just like all the others, but it was completely flat and empty on the end of his bed.
‘Maybe Father Christmas has put your presents somewhere else,’ I suggested, wiping his tears away. ‘Come with me now and you can choose something for you to keep from the
secret treasure-chest in my bedroom.’
‘OK,’ he whimpered, taking my hand.
In the morning, in all the excitement of everyone up before dawn, laughing and smiling as they emptied their stockings out on their beds, Paul was able to do the same. I’d gone back and
quietly searched their room, without waking a soul, but I didn’t have to look far – I wasn’t surprised to find Paul’s missing gifts stuffed under the end of AJ’s
bed.
No wonder AJ looked so amazed to see Paul enjoying his stocking gifts.
‘Pop your slippers on and keep your feet warm,’ I said to all three boys, but I watched AJ as he knelt down to find his slippers, which I’d kicked under the bed. He stayed down
there just a couple of seconds too long, surveying the empty space, and as he stood up again, his eyes widened and his face turned pale.
‘Happy Christmas, AJ,’ I said with a grin.
He gave me a sideways look, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. I knew what he was thinking. I believe he may have guessed what I was thinking too.
Santa was kind to all the children that Christmas and they all played happily together with their new toys. As we approached New Year, we had two spaces in our house. I wondered who we’d
have next to fill them.
7
Fire! Fire!
D aisy and Paul had now been with us two and a half years and they hadn’t seen their father since the day he’d been drunk. I
wasn’t sure they even remembered him anymore. Six-year-old Chrissy and five-year-olds Sheena and Ronnie were all still with us. More recently, gangly six-year-old AJ had arrived and joined in
with their games, especially with Ronnie – I don’t know which of them was clumsier and they always came in muddy, whatever the weather.
Our little bush-baby, Laurel, was a toddler now, at eighteen months old, running around and trying to
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