The Star: A Christmas Story

No you can't! That's the end of the story and my brain is empty
If I get inspired again will write some more. x

Thank you

OH GOD I'm terrified now.

Later that day, once the turkey had been stuffed and was sitting on a shelf in the fridge, Laura thought about Ben. For the first time, the memories had lost their sharp edge. She still missed him; she would always miss him. But the memories were precious, and they would stay with her forever. She felt a kind of peace steal over her, and was thankful.
Pulling Daniel?s business card from her wallet, she thought for a moment. Looked at Jake, head bent over his games console, old beyond his years, yet still her little boy. Looked at herself in the hall mirror, a widow to be sure, but a survivor. She dialled the mobile number on the card, before she could lose her nerve.
He picked up the phone. ?Hello?? His warm voice echoed down the line.
?Hi, it?s Laura. Remember me??
?How could I forget?? He sounded amused. ?How are you? No more disasters, I hope ? I?m a bit far away to be a knight in shining armour.?
?Not this time, no.? She couldn?t help smiling. He was such a nice man. ?I was calling to wish you a happy Christmas actually.?
?How thoughtful of you. I hope you?re having a happy time so far?? He sounded slightly wary.
?Yes, surprisingly, we are.?
?I am glad.? He hesitated, as if about to say something else.
?I was wondering.....
?Do you think...
They both dissolved into laughter. ?You first,? said Laura. ?No, you, I insist?, replied Daniel.
?OK.? Laura drew a deep breath. ?I was wondering whether you had any plans for New Years Eve??
THE END

I meant every colour of the rainbow sorry!

She slept; and she dreamed again, but this time the dreams were different. Ben was there, and he was laughing, playing with Jake, teasing her, loving her. Alive. Living. What he had always done best of all. Simply living.
Waking in the morning, she became aware of a dim glow. The streetlamps? No, the curtains were closed, and it was coming from the wrong direction. Pushing herself up, she looked at the tree. At the very top, the star was glowing gently, as if lit from within. Crystals of light glittered from all four walls in ever colour of the rainbow. Spellbound, she pushed back the blanket and walked to the tree. Stopping, she examined the star. Yesterday it had been threadbare, the cardboard showing through. Now it was covered in a thick layer of fresh glitter, pink, gold, green, silver, blue. Rubbing her eyes, she drew back the curtains, but the star still shone in the daylight. In her mind, she could swear she heard Ben?s throaty chuckle.
?Mum?? Jake was by her side, questions all over his face, his gaze darting from the star to his mother.
?You were right when you said last night things would never be the same. But they could still be good.? Laura paused, looked at the star again. ?I think your dad would have agreed with you.?

She didn?t hear the living room door opening silently behind her, didn?t know Jake was in the room, until he was on the sofa next to her, arms around her heaving shoulders. ?Mum??
?I?m sorry Jake, I?m so sorry. I didn?t want you to see me like this, I wanted to try and keep everything normal, like it was before...? she choked.
?Mum, it?s OK to cry. I miss dad too, I think about him every day. You don?t have to be strong all the time, I?m not.?
?But you?re only twelve.?
?What difference does that make?? She couldn?t argue with that. ?And as for trying to keep everything the same... well, it?s not the same, is it? It?s never going to be the same. Dad?s gone, and we can?t change that, what?s the point pretending otherwise? Things might be different, but that doesn?t mean they can?t be good.?
She sniffed, raised her head, and looked at her son. ?Since when did you get so wise?? She gave a half hearted smile.
?Well, I had a couple of good teachers.? Jake gave her a wobbly smile, and they embraced, hugging fiercely, holding on for dear life.
They talked for hours that night, remembering, occasionally crying, but mostly laughing. Happy memories, silly memories, bringing Ben alive again. Eventually, after Laura had made them both a hot chocolate, she fetched a blanket, and they snuggled up at either end of the sofa.

That afternoon, they made mince pies together, listening to the carols on the radio. It was very cosy and peaceful in their warm kitchen, Jake keeping up a constant flow of chatter, mostly speculating on what presents would be under the tree tomorrow, and trying to goad Laura into giving him clues. ?How am I supposed to know what you?re getting? Father Christmas brings the presents, you know that!? ?Very funny, Mum?, deadpanned Jake, flicking her with a tea towel.
Later, they ate supper (M&S fish pie, frozen peas) on their laps in front of the television, watching all the Christmas programmes. Laura grew increasingly tense as the clock ticked the time away to 10:03pm ? the time Ben had been pronounced dead by the paramedics at the side of the road, just yards from his front door and an oblivious Laura. She chivvied Jake into his pyjamas, promising he could stay up until midnight the following day, gave him a swift goodnight, and took herself downstairs. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she turned off the television, and began her lonely vigil.
The house was silent, the only sounds the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece and the occasional whisper of falling pine leaves. Eventually, the clock struck ten, and she could contain herself no longer. The dam burst, and she wept freely, letting all the grief and pain of the last year out, berating her dead husband for leaving her and Jake behind, wishing he could come back, just once, and hold her, take the pain away.

True to her word, once she had showered, dressed and had breakfast, she made a start. Daniel?s stepladder came in handy for hanging the paper chains and garlands (Jake held the bottom, not trusting her not to fly off), and soon the ceiling and walls were festooned with all the glittery colours of the rainbow. They lunched on frozen pizza, and in the afternoon started on the tree (minus the defective fairy lights, of course). Baubles, gold and silver; wooden carved toys; candy canes, tinsel, crackers tucked between the boughs, and tree chocolates (most of them made it onto the tree once she had wrestled the bag from Jake).
Finally, the star. Once again, Laura gingerly peeled back the yellowed paper. Looking up, her eyes met Jake?s. She knew they were brimming with tears, as were his, and there wasn?t a single thing she could do about it.
She sniffed, gulped, took control again. ?Maybe you should put the star on top?, she said. It had always been Ben?s job.
?Well, at least I can reach the top of the tree this year,? joked Jake shakily, and they both laughed a little too hard. Ben took the star carefully, closed the peg around the top branch of the tree, and stood back to admire their handiwork.
?It looks fantastic, Mum.? He put his arm around her waist and drew her close. ?Dad would have loved it.?
?He would have hated the tree,? wobbled Laura, and they both giggled again, and gave each other a tearful hug.

Thank you thatsnotmymonster!

Chapter 4 ? Sunday 23rd December
Laura had had a bad night. Too wound up to sleep properly, she had dozed fitfully, plagued by nightmares that she woke from, sweating and shaking, only to be plunged back into them the minute she dozed off again.
Finally, at 7am, she gave in, put on her cosy dressing gown, and made her way downstairs for a cup of tea. Yawning, she plugged in the kettle, found teabags, milk, a mug. The tea made, she sat at the kitchen table, looking out of the unshaded window at the garden beyond, the outline of shrubs and bare trees just beginning to emerge in the dawning light.
The day she had been dreading had arrived. She would keep busy, put up the decorations, maybe make mince pies. She would not allow herself a minute?s rest until Jake was in bed. Then, she could break down, then she could weep for all they had lost. And the day would be over, and it would be Christmas Eve, and that had to be better than today, surely?

Laura closed the front door, put on the chain, and leant against it with a heavy sigh. What a day. She was exhausted. And there was still tomorrow to be got through, the anniversary, the Christmas rituals without Ben. She hoped it wouldn?t be too much for her. Jake needed normality, routine.
He was yawning on the sofa when she returned to the living room. ?C?mon, time for bed?, she said, pulling him up by the arm.
?He was a nice bloke,? Jake remarked conversationally. He hadn?t seemed in the least put out by the presence of another man in the house. On the contrary, he had seemed to come alive, laughing and joking with Daniel, taking the mickey out of Laura. ?Are you going to invite him round again?? Laura looked at him sharply, but his expression was guileless. ?Well, he?s got to come and collect his ladder, so we?ll see.? Laura was non-committal. ?Now, time for bed.?
?OK,? Jake said, swallowing a yawn. ?Night Mum.?
?Night love.? She gave him a quick hug, and off he went. She surveyed the living room, which was strewn with paper, small plastic games pieces, empty cups. Tidy up time, and then bed for me too, she thought. I?ll deal with tomorrow when it happens.

After the meal had been eaten and the plates cleared (Jake had managed a plate of pasta, despite having eaten already at Henry?s) they moved to the living room. At Jake?s suggestion, they got out all their old board games. Daniel, surprisingly, was terrible at Pictionary ? it seemed he wanted to put too much detail into his drawing and ran out of time before producing anything recognisable. He trounced them both at Trivial Pursuit, but found himself outclassed by Jake at Risk. (Laura sat that one out ? she had never been able to master that game, and declared she was too old to start now).
The clock struck eleven. ?Good god, is that the time? I really should be going. Long drive tomorrow.? Daniel unfolded himself from the living room floor. ?Nice meeting you, Jake.? Holding out his hand, he was slightly put out when Jake held up his palm for a high five. ?See you later,? said Jake, casually.
Laura walked him to the front door. I haven?t enjoyed myself like that in months, she thought, and suddenly felt guilty, stopping the thought in its tracks. Daniel retrieved his coat from the hook on the wall. ?Thanks for a lovely evening. I?ve really enjoyed myself.?
?You?re welcome,? said Laura, suddenly feeling awkward again. ?Oh, before I forget ?? she was rummaging through her bag, looking for her purse, when his hand on her arm stopped her. ?There?s really no need,? he said, and his eyes were kind. ?You?ve fed me and entertained me, what more could I ask??
?Well ? if you?re sure,? said Laura, giving in. She opened the front door onto the now deserted street. ?Take care going home. And enjoy your Christmas.?
?You too.? His eyes lingered for a fraction longer than necessary on her face. ?Goodbye,? and he was off, striding down the path.

The slam of the front door broke the sombre mood. ?Mum, I?m home!? called Jake, somewhat unnecessarily. He burst into the kitchen in his usual whirlwind fashion, stopping short at the sight of the stranger at the table. Laura hastily introduced Daniel, recounting the supermarket fiasco and the business with the fuse. Hearing this, Jake rolled his eyes knowingly at Daniel. ?That is so typical of Mum. She?s a walking disaster area.?
?Well, I should be off,? announced Daniel, standing and stretching. ?I?ll pop back for the ladder when I get back from the wilds, if that?s OK? You may as well keep it in case of emergencies!?
?Thanks,? said Laura, then hesitantly, ?Do you have to rush off? I was just about to make some supper, you?re welcome to stay if you like. Nothing spectacular, just pasta and salad.?
?Well...? Daniel cast a wary glance at Jake. He really didn?t want to intrude.
?Don?t look so worried,? said Jake. ?She may be a disaster, but she?s an OK cook.?
Daniel visibly brightened. ?In that case, I would love to stay for supper. Thank you.?

?And you? How are you spending Christmas??
Laura looked down at the table, suddenly feeling awkward. ?Just me and Jake this year, a nice quiet time.?
His eyes flicked almost involuntarily to the photographs on the kitchen dresser, all happy family shots of the three of them. She met his eye, answered the question in it. ?My husband.... was killed in a road accident, about a year ago. It?s the first anniversary tomorrow, in fact.?
Instantly, shock and sympathy were written over his stricken face. ?Christ! How absolutely dreadful for you. This must be a very difficult time.? He didn?t seem awkward, or embarrassed. Just concerned. Which made a nice change from people tiptoeing round the subject, or not referring to it at all.
?Yes, yes it is. I?m just trying to keep things as normal as possible for Jake. You know, follow the same rituals we used to, decorating the tree, that sort of thing. I don?t want every Christmas ruined for him because of what happened. It should always be a special time.?
?Well, I think you?re incredibly brave, and strong. In your position I?d be tempted to run away to the wilds of Scotland, or somewhere, and hide until the whole thing was over.?
?Running away won?t bring Ben back though, will it? And I figure that if I can get through this first anniversary, this first real Christmas without him, then the next one won?t be so hard.?
?There?s logic in that, I suppose,? said Daniel, his eyes full of sympathy.

?Thank you so much. That?s the second time you?ve rescued me today.? She hesitated. She should really just give him the tenner she owed him, but it seemed rude somehow. Taking a deep breath, ?Would you like a glass of wine? It?s the least I can do. Unless you?ve got to dash off??
He seemed pleased at the thought. ?I?d be delighted. I?ve no plans, other than a date with Saturday night TV.?
Laura walked through to the kitchen, uncorking a bottle of red. ?Your wife?s not expecting you back for dinner??
?No wife. I live alone. I?m divorced.? He took his glass and sat down at the table.
?I?m very sorry to hear that. Any children??
?A daughter. She?s twenty one, at Oxford, doing fantastically well.?
?Have you been on your own long??
?About two years, ever since the wife ran off with her personal trainer.?
Laura suppressed a giggle with difficulty. ?I know,? said Daniel with a wry grin. ?It?s such a cliché, isn?t it? Quite embarrassing really. Although not all that surprising. We had been drifting along for a few years, just going through the motions for Amy?s sake. I suppose once Amy had gone there wasn?t really anything to stay for.?
They chatted on, companionably, discussing their plans for Christmas. Daniel was driving to Oxford tomorrow to have lunch with his daughter, then taking her down to Gloucester to spend Christmas with her mother. He himself was spending Christmas and Boxing Day with friends in a cottage in the Cotswolds. It all sounded very cosy, log fires, cold winter walks, games and chat.

He picked up after two rings. ?Hello?? His cultured mellow voice was reassuring. He didn?t sound like a knife wielding maniac. Although not having encountered one, how was she to know?
?Hi, this is Laura. You, er, rescued me in the supermarket earlier?.
?Of course. Are you all right? You sound a bit flustered.?
Quickly, she explained the situation. ?So, I was wondering if you had a stepladder I could borrow? I can be round in two minutes, and I can pay you back at the same time.?
?Stay where you are, I?ll bring it to you. What?s your address? Unless you think I?m a mad axeman, of course!?
This was so close to her own thoughts she felt herself blushing. ?Well if you are, you?re a very generous and helpful mad axeman. I?ll take the chance!?
He laughed heartily. ?I?ll see you in a few minutes,? he said, and put the phone down.
The doorbell rang, and she peered through the chain into the darkness. Daniel stood on the doorstep. ?One mad axeman, bearing a stepladder.? She laughed and loosened the chain to let him in. In a matter of minutes, the fuses were reset, the lights back on. She gave a sigh of relief.

A frustrating half hour later, the strings were finally freed from each other. She plugged in each string in turn, the plain white ones, the multicoloured ones for the window, the flashing ones that had about six different settings, only one bearable, a gentle flicker as opposed to the seizure inducing flashing of the other five. This last she plugged in, flicked the switch, and just had time to hear an ominous ?click? before all the lights went out in the house, and she was plunged into darkness.
?Bugger, bugger, bugger?. The faulty fairy lights had managed to fuse the entire house. Now she?d have to fetch the torch, find the step ladder, reset the fuse box....and she hated the dark. Rooting through the useful drawer in the kitchen she located the torch, which by some miracle worked. Now, the stepladder.........had been lent to the neighbours in the summer when they were decorating, and she had somehow not gotten around to asking for it back. And they were out, gone to a party on the other side of town, and she didn?t know anyone else in the street well enough to just knock on their doors. She had kept herself to herself this last year.
She supposed she could stand on a chair, but quickly dismissed this as foolhardy, as knowing her she was bound to fall off and break her leg. Inspiration struck; she still had the business card from the stranger in the supermarket, and going by his address he only lived a couple of streets away ? perhaps he could lend her a ladder? She dialled the number, praying he was in. And, of course, that he wouldn?t turn out to be a knife wielding maniac.

Her breath caught in her throat. Shakily, she lifted the package out, and gently peeled back the thin layers of paper. Revealed was a cardboard star, embellished with glitter. Over the years the glitter had gradually drifted off, so that it was bare in patches, showing the original cardboard underneath.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She remembered that Christmas ten years ago, Ben and Jake?s bent heads over the kitchen table, their fierce concentration as they cut out the star shape, covered it with glue, sprinkled the multicoloured glitter, waited for it to dry. They had affixed a peg on the back to attach it to the topmost branch of the tree. It had come out every year since, losing a little of its lustre but none of its homemade charm. Every year Ben had said they should put more glitter on it, and every year Laura had insisted it was fine as it was.
Openly sobbing now, she laid her head down upon her arms and wept. She missed him, so so much. Would it ever stop hurting? What other memories would jump out at her unawares, waiting to knock the stuffing out of her? Thank God Jake was out, she didn?t want him to see her like this. Gradually she sniffled to a halt, blew her nose and turned her attention to the fairy lights. At least untangling these would take her mind off things.

Chapter 3: Later that afternoon
She had finished putting the shopping away (only two eggs broken), had lunch (half a packet of biscuits, also broken), washed down with a glass of red wine. Now she faced the unenviable task of getting the decorations from the loft. Deep breath, Laura. You can do this. Just try not fall through the hatch while you?re up there.
The task took some time ? there were a lot of boxes to be hauled down the narrow steps. Finally, she was done. She pushed the steps back up through the hatch and latched it, then made her way downstairs, one box at a time.
Opening the first box revealed tinsel ? yards and yards of it, silver, gold, red, green. They had never been the sort of people who decorated their tree with a ?theme?, preferring the ?throw as much bling at it as possible? approach. The second box contained a tangle of fairy lights ? that could wait. It would take hours to straighten them out. The third and fourth boxes held streamers and garlands for the walls (that many? Surely not. Where do we put them all?) and the final box, the baubles, figurines and home made decorations for the tree. These she took out one by one, examining them for breakages, or lost ribbons. At the bottom of the box, there lay a final shape wrapped carefully in tissue paper.