Soaking in the bubbles, she closed her eyes, indulgingherself in a favourite fantasy or two, as she indulged a little of what sheliked to refer to as “me time”.
After her bath, she sat down in front of the TV and crackedopen a bottle of Baileys that Lucy had kindly left in the fridge for her. Aftercoping with the tiny portable in the flat for months, the 50-inch screen seemedenormous. There wasn’t anything on it that she particularly wanted to see, itwas just the usual festive tripe. Kay was sure that Christmas TV used to bemuch better when she was younger. She would find out tomorrow.
A programme counting down the greatest Christmas hits of alltime provided mild amusement and provoked more than a little nostalgia. Longbefore midnight, she fell asleep on the sofa. Waking up around 1am, she tookherself up to bed, noticing Maddie was not yet home. She quickly fell back intoa deep sleep.
Now it was Christmas morning and a low sun was shining intoher bedroom window. Getting up, she cast a look outside into the back garden.There was not even a touch of frost to be seen, let alone any snow. So that wasanother Christmas that had come round without so much as a sniff of the whitestuff.
It was almost 9am. She had slept naked the previous night,realising when she got to bed that she had no nightwear. Unlike in the flat,where she had frequently slept in her clothes just to keep warm, it was lovelyand warm in the house so she had no problem with sleeping au naturel.
Kay remembered bagging up some nighties when she had doneher big clear-out, but they were in the garage. She wouldn’t have worn them,anyway. She might have been drinking Lucy’s Baileys, and washing her hair withMolton Brown shampoo, but there was no way she was wearing any of the bitch’sclothes.
Kay had only the clothes she had arrived in the previous daywhich meant she was going to have to brave a trip back to the flat. Most of theclothes she had at the flat were old and worn out, but they would have to dofor now. She would go out get herself some new stuff as soon as the shopsreopened after Christmas, but for this morning, perhaps she could borrow someclothes from her daughter.
Leaving the bedroom, she walked along the landing, enjoyingthe luxurious feel of the soft, cream carpet beneath her feet. Opening herdaughter’s bedroom door, she peeked inside to see that Maddie was dead to theworld, still half-dressed and snoring softly on top of her quilt. She hadclearly crashed out from a skinful the night before and probably wouldn’t wakeup for hours yet.
Kay crept into the room and managed to find a baggy, blackT-shirt, some socks and some underwear. These would do. She took them back toher own room and put them on, along with the pair of jeans she had worn theprevious day. She knew there was no way she would have squeezed into a pair ofMaddie’s, so they would have to do.
Fully dressed, she looked into the full-length mirror on thefront of one of the wardrobe doors to see the angel looking back at her. Kaynoticed that her reflection was wearing a truly horrible Christmas jumper withreindeers and red lights on it.
“Merry Christmas,” said the angel. “Like the outfit?”
“It’s hideous,” replied Kay.
“Well, you should know,” replied the angel. “You wore thison Christmas Day in 1996.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Kay. “Alan bought it for me andinsisted I wore it all day. That’s one Christmas I’d rather forget.”
“Well, I think it’s fair to say you’re going to have abetter one this year,” replied the angel. “I imagine it’s going to be a lotbetter than you were expecting before I came along.”
“I certainly am,” replied Kay. “I’m going to be havingdouble the fun this year. With your help, I’m going to have two ChristmasDays.”
“I thought as much,” replied the angel. “So, where are weoff to? I’m guessing it won’t be 1996.”
“Definitely not,” replied Kay. “I was hoping you might helpme pick a year, actually. I want to go back to a Christmas Day when I was achild. I can’t really distinguish one from another, so it’s hard to pick aparticular year. I would ask for one when there was a proper white Christmas,but I’m pretty sure there has never been one, not one I can remember, anyway.”
“It depends what you mean by a proper one,” said the angel.
“I mean one when there are several inches falling onChristmas morning and you can go out and build a snowman,” replied Kay.
“Believe it or not, around here, you would have to go backto 1938 for that. There have been years more recently with the odd sleetyshower, or some snow lying on the ground from earlier in the week, but nothingthat fits your definition.”
“Forget the snow, then,” said Kay. “I just want to go backand spend the day with my mum and dad, and maybe my grandparents, too. They alldied when I was a teenager, so it needs to be before then, but not too young.I’ve no desire to find myself wearing nappies. You can see into the depths ofmy memories, so can you reach inside and pick me out a good year?”
“I think I can,” said the angel, browsing through Kay’s pastChristmas Days, including long-buried memories that Kay would struggle torecall by herself. “How does 1985 sound?”
“I would have been ten,” replied Kay. “That sounds perfect.Now, before you go, can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead,” replied the angel.
“It’s about the future,” said Kay.
“You know the rules. I can’t tell you about the future.”
“It’s only a little thing, to do with what I said earlierabout snow at Christmas,” replied Kay. “It’s just that I am so fed up with yearafter year watching TV ads and Christmas specials with everything covered insnow, not to mention all the decorations
