Tuesday & Max

17

WHILE I STAND ALONE

A BELL IS RINGING FAR AWAY

I WONDER IF YOU HEAR, I WONDER IF YOU'RE LISTENING

I WONDER WHERE YOU ARE TODAY

Tuesday wakes before Julia on Christmas Day.

The first thing she smells is washing powder; rolls over onto her belly and rubs her face into her pillow to get an even bigger, fresher whiff of it, relishing in the warmth of her bed. When she flings out a hand and grabs her phone to check the time, it's dead, its screen empty and black.

She rolls onto her back again. It's peaceful, this quietness; no phone, no alarm, no rushing around getting ready to the sound of Julia's breakfast noises. Tuesday understands, for a moment, her mother's reluctance to become inundated with an ordinary life; with a nine-to-five job, ever-new technology, another relationship and a marriage, 'normality'.

The unique calmness of Christmas morning, with nothing to do and nowhere to go... is lovely.

Climbing out of bed after a moment or two more, Tuesday admires her new pyjamas in the mirror and then pulls back the sheer curtains. Outside, her view of the carpark and the road beyond is marred by fluttering little flakes of snow.

A wide grin splits her face. It never snows on Christmas!

She considers waking Julia to tell her, then thinks of her aunt's nervous face as she opened her sewing machine, of their new traditions, of Tuesday's lacklustre gifts waiting for her still beneath the tree. Instead, she decides to make breakfast.

Julia's favourite breakfast is pancakes with maple syrup and bacon. Bacon, Tuesday thinks, is a little beyond her skill level; she doesn't want to risk the fire alarm going off and waking not only Julia but disturbing the entire block. When she opens the fridge there's no bacon in there anyway. She manages to find a battered old packet of pancake mix at the back of the herb cupboard and there's a few eggs left in the fridge, so after watching no less than four Youtube videos on how to make pancakes, she gets going with breakfast.

The result is a little wonky and a touch burnt in places, but mostly successful.

Yanking the sticky tub of maple syrup from where it has cemented itself to the shelf, Tuesday saturates both plates of pancakes, dumps a knife and fork atop them and carries them into the hallway.

When she knocks gently with an elbow and the pushes the door open, she spots Julia already up and rifling through her wardrobe.

"No!" Tuesday exclaims. "You're meant to be in bed! Get back in there!"

Julia looks at her, confused, then spots the plates and catches on. "Yes, miss!" she says, hopping back onto her mattress and pulling the duvet up to her chin obediently. "It's snowing," she comments cheerfully.

They eat the pancakes together on Julia's bed. Julia doesn't even seem to mind the burnt bits, nor the absence of bacon, finishing her breakfast so completely that she even delicately licks the pools of syrup from her plate.

"What are we doing today?" Tuesday asks when both plates sit on the cluttered bedside table amid piles of books, mismatched earrings, a box of tissues and Julia's phone.