Joe and Dianne Through The Looking Glass

Chapter 13 - Semi-Finals Week

Alice watched the fairy lights twinkling in the window against the dark sky outside and realised with a jolt of surprise that she was actually beginning to feel quite festive. Working in the café had forced her to confront the impending arrival of Christmas in a way she hadn't done for years. When Matthew had first become ill they had tended to avoid the shops over the Christmas period; the bright lights, crowded aisles and rushing people had made him confused and disorientated and it wasn't worth putting him through such an ordeal just to buy the few gifts they needed. Since Matthew had died, Alice hadn't really bothered with Christmas shopping, choosing instead to send Robert and Karen money to buy their own gifts or to put towards something special. Truth be told her heart just wasn't in it, the sheer life and excitement which bubbled out of shop doorways and swirled up and down the busy streets only served to remind her that she felt dead on the inside; unable to stir up the Christmas spirit which used to bubble through her veins when the children had been little.

At the time of course it had been horrendous: exhausting and stressful in equal measure with a list of things to do and buy and attend which seemed completely unachievable within the time constraints. One memorable Christmas Eve Karen's last minute extra letter to Father Christmas had sent her scurrying around every late night chemist in the city searching for "a pink hairband with a butterfly" and Alice didn't feel she had ever recovered from volunteering to help make costumes for the school nativity play only to be allocated the near impossible task of conjuring three camels and a donkey out of some cushions which smelt vaguely of dead dog and four moth eaten curtains. By Christmas day she would be on her knees with fatigue, yet despite her weariness her heart would still be full of enthusiastic celebration - enough to carry her through to Boxing Day when she would invariably lose her voice and spend the day in her pyjamas. It had all been so perfect but almost in the blink of an eye it would seem, her world had shifted leaving only memories behind. How she wished now that she had recognised those Christmases for what they were and taken time to step back and notice a little more just how lucky she was. 

Alice set to work tidying away the crumbs left behind by the after school rush on iced Christmas tree biscuits – she wasn't so sure this new seasonal treat was such a good idea after seeing two angelic partakers stick out their tongues at each other to compare the lurid shade of green each other's mouths had turned, perhaps a less heavy hand on the food colouring might be a good idea for the next batch. As her thoughts turned to mince pies and whether mulled wine might be an interesting addition to the menu if only she could work out how to keep it warm, Alice recognised a long forgotten tingle in her stomach. It brought back memories of wonky robins on hand drawn Christmas cards, the thrill of finding just the right gift and standing holding Matthew's hand at the door as they listened to carol singers in the street. Maybe, just maybe, her Christmas spirit was finally returning.

It had been a busy day and the café was thankfully beginning to quieten down. Alice was keeping a wary eye on the table at the back of the room where a mother and little girl sat munching on a cupcake each. It was the girl's drink Alice had her eye on – with its large straw poking out of the sickly sweet looking pink milkshake below, it towered well above the tiny girl's head. She was kneeling on her chair and every sip she took required a superhuman effort to bring her mouth high enough to gather the straw to her lips. It was surely only a matter of time before she overbalanced and brought the whole thing crashing down in a sticky mess, especially as she was rather distracted and her movements somewhat hampered by the doll she gripped tightly in one hand. While her mother tapped and swiped away on her mobile phone the little girl was amusing herself with her toy. It was an old favourite judging from the state of it and immediately brought back memories of Karen's Barbie dolls kept in a cardboard box under her bed, a mass of high kicking, half clothed, smooth limbed body parts like some kind of apprentice Frankenstein's workshop for eight year olds. Now the little girl was holding the doll high above her head, looking up at it as she chattered away lost in her play and Alice could see the emerald green of a dress wrapped tightly round its legs and the tangled mass of red hair standing out at all angles from the doll's head.