Читать книгу The Throwaway Boy - Alix Chapel - Страница 14

‘Come on, Alix, get your coat on please. Don’t forget your hat and mittens, they’re on the kitchen table.’

Mummy was busy getting Sophie and Naomi dressed in their all-in-one winter snowsuits. It was cold but it hadn’t snowed. We were ever hopeful for a white Christmas. There was still time – Christmas was still two weeks away. That night, we were getting ready to walk around to the fire hall. We loved to look at all the lights that decorated the whole station.

Every Christmas, as we walked to the fire hall along the path past Bowker Creek, up over the wooden bridge, I’d get Mummy to repeat the ‘hola pola’ story. As we approached the bridge, Mummy smiled at me. I guess she knew I was going to ask her but, before I could, she held my hand and started to laugh and then said, ‘It was the Christmas before you turned two, Alix. You were just learning to talk and could only say a few words. For days on end, all you would keep repeating, over and over again, was “hola pola… hola pola…” We couldn’t figure out what you were trying to say. “What do you want, darling?” Daddy would ask. Over and over you would repeat, “hola pola… hola pola…” Then one day we were driving towards the fire hall when you started shouting “hola pola… hola pola…” and pointing to the lights. We all screamed and clapped our hands… we’d finally figured it out!’

I loved to hear that story. Mummy said she never did figure out how I got ‘hola pola’ from ‘fire-hall lights’. I tried to remember being two, but I couldn’t. I could remember when I was five and crying when I had to go to kindergarten. I could also remember when I was about four; we had been at Cook Street Park waiting to pick Mummy up from her tennis lesson, and I fell and cut the bottom of my foot on the roundabout. But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember much before that.

‘Where was I when Alix was two?’ Naomi asked.

‘You were in Mummy’s tummy, darling… you hadn’t been born yet,’ Mummy answered patiently. Naomi always asked those sorts of questions.

‘Where was Kate?’

‘With us, she was five,’ Mummy replied.

Satisfied with her answer, Naomi ran ahead to catch up with Kate. When we rounded the corner, we all simultaneously exclaimed, ‘Wow!’ The lights were better than ever! I liked Rudolph’s red nose the best. We didn’t stay long. We were all feeling the cold, even with our hats, mittens and big winter coats.

Christmas time for our family was full of tradition. No sooner was Hallowe’en over than the preparations would start. I loved coming home from school and smelling the festive aromas of Christmas baking wafting out of the kitchen window as we ran down the driveway. While we were at school, Mummy would make her Christmas cake, Christmas pudding and mince tarts. Then, when we were at home, we would take turns helping her with the shortbread, gingerbread and sugar cookies. My favourite to make was always the sugar cookies because, not only did we use Christmas tree and star cookie cutters to make the shapes, but we also decorated them with icing and sprinkles. When it came to eating them, though, my all-time favourite was the shortbread.

We would usually go, with Daddy, to get the Christmas tree on the first weekend in December. Then we would listen to Christmas carols on the record player while we all helped to decorate it. We always made decorations at school and I would spend lots of time finding the best branches for mine to hang from. Lastly, when all the decorating was done, Daddy would lift Sophie up, because she was the youngest, for her to reach over and put the angel on the top.

Also, at the beginning of December, two big parcels would arrive. One was filled with presents from Grandma and Grandpa in Northern Ireland, and the other was from Grama and Granda in England. We were never allowed to open them before Christmas Day but it was exciting just seeing them sitting under the tree, our anticipation building with each passing day.

Every year, on the nights leading up to Christmas, we loved to watch the Christmas specials on the television. After a hot bath, two at a time, we would get into our nighties and dressing gowns and settle in front of the fire and watch the specials. We knew all the words and would sing along to ‘Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ and ‘Frosty the Snowman’. They were great but I liked watching The Grinch the most. We all thought Sophie looked just like Cindy-Lou Who.

On the weekend before Christmas, we would go to Simpson Sears to see Santa. There was no way I was going to sit on his knee, though. Well, at least not unless Kate came with me. I preferred to write a letter to Santa, and send it to the North Pole, rather than asking him in person.

The year before, when I was six, I had really wanted an Easy Bake Oven. We had started letters to Santa in school, then I brought it home and worked on it for hours to make sure it was my best printing. I always wondered if Santa had received it, although he must have because I got the Easy Bake Oven. Unless, of course, Kate told him. I worried that the letter would get lost on its long journey and pictured my letter floating out of the mailbag on the postal train, like the one on ‘Frosty the Snowman’. Even if I had sat on Santa’s knee, though, there was no way I would ever have asked him about the letters. I never did get up the nerve actually to speak to him.

On Christmas Eve, we always watched something more grown up on television. The Railway Children always seemed to be on and I thought it was great. It always reminded me of being at Grama and Granda’s house in England.

By the time Christmas morning arrived, my sisters and I were bursting with excitement. The minute we woke up, we would all congregate in Kate’s room. We were never allowed to go down to see if Santa had been before 8.00am, and certainly not without Mummy and Daddy. We always woke up, at the latest, by 7.00am, so we had an hour, at least, to get even more excited. On the dot of 8.00am, we would all assemble on the landing, itching to go down the stairs. Daddy would count, ‘1… 2… 3…’ and we would be off, charging down the stairs. We all opened our stockings at the same time and then, when everyone was finished, Kate would have the job of handing out the presents from under the tree one by one.

I was thrilled when it was my turn. I got a Mrs Beasley doll.

* * *

I was having trouble falling asleep. I felt bad that the selection pack hadn’t had the desired effect but I was glad it got him to open up a bit – at least that was something. I wondered who had given him the toy gun. I felt he was holding back but I didn’t want to push him. I hoped he didn’t think I was silly making such a big deal over Christmas. His lack of enthusiasm made sense – he most likely just wanted to forget his Christmas memories and there I was shoving Christmas down his throat. I reassured myself that all I could do was to make sure that all his future Christmases would be better.