The Star: A Christmas Story

Here he was; pushing his trolley out of the front doors. She rose, and went to meet him.
?Thank you once again, that was so kind of you.?
?Really, it was nothing. Are you all right? You look a bit upset.?
?Oh, it?s just this kind of thing is always happening to me... I?m a bit absent minded to say the least. Disaster seems to follow me around.?
He laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound. ?I?m sure that?s not true. Anyway, glad to be of help. And I really don?t need the money back.?
?No, I must insist. You really will upset me if you don?t. Your card??
He produced his wallet from an inside pocket, extracted a card and gave it to her. ?Daniel May ? Architect? was written in a flowing script across the front, followed by what looked like a home address.
?You?re an architect? Very impressive.?
?Semi retired now, I mostly work from home. Small domestic jobs, local work, that kind of thing.?
?Well, I?ll make sure I drop the money round in the next couple of days. And thanks once again.?
?No trouble at all?.
He turned his trolley in the direction of the car park, gave her a quick wave, and was gone.

?Good morning, Madam, how are you today?? She was startled out of her musings by the checkout operator beaming at her as she passed her goods through the scanner. Laura gave a watery smile in response. Flustered, she pushed through to the end of the checkout where her groceries were already beginning to pile up. Of course, she had forgotten her large re-usable bags, so was forced to make do with the flimsy supermarket ones. Flinging in her shopping willy-nilly, with no regard for the safety of eggs, bread, packets of biscuits or anything remotely fragile, she was hyper-aware of the growing queue behind her. Finally, with the bags packed and stowed in the trolley, she turned to the checkout operator, who was waiting patiently for her to finish.
?That?s £65.95 please Madam. Do you have your loyalty card??
Flustered again, Laura began rooting through her bag, searching for the small wallet that carried her credit cards, loyalty cards, business cards, and a jumble of receipts, which she had never quite got round to clearing out. Uh oh. Not in the main part of the bag. Side pocket? No. Inside zip pocket? No. With a sinking heart, she remembered that it was in fact in her coat pocket. Not, of course, the coat she was wearing today. Rooting through the bag again, her face growing hotter by the second (?Sorry about this!? flung over her shoulder to the impatient hordes beyond) she located her cash purse, hoping and praying there would be enough to cover the bill. Two twenties, a ten, a five, some coins........ oh no.
?Sorry, I?ve left my card at home, and I?m a bit short of cash. I?ll have to put some of these things back.?
Her face flaming now, she reached for the trolley and began rooting through the bags, trying to decide what they could do without, when behind her she heard a deep, cultured voice.
?How much are you short??
?Sorry??
Laura looked up to find the owner of the voice, the man behind her in the queue. Tall, about fiftyish, with greying sandy hair and sky blue eyes. He looked faintly amused and concerned at the same time. Laura felt absurdly patronised.
?If it?s only a few quid, I?d be happy to cover the difference - no need to pay me back. It?s just that I?m sure all these people here want to get home.?
?No, really, I couldn?t ??
?Honestly, it?s no trouble?. He smiled then, the broad grin causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle up.
?Well... it really is very kind of you, but I must pay you back ? perhaps you could give me your address??
?Look, I tell you what. Wait outside while I finish my shopping, and I?ll give you my card.?
Mumbling her thanks once again, she handed over her notes and coins, and the stranger pulled a ten pound note out of his wallet and gave it to the checkout operator. With as much speed as she could muster, Laura pushed her trolley through the automatic doors and over to a bench, where she subsided gratefully, the cold air bringing welcome relief to her hot skin.
Christ, how humiliating. And typical. Why did these things always happen to her? She thought about the stranger who had helped her out. What a nice thing to do. She wondered if she would have done the same thing. Probably not; she was off in her own world so much, it was unlikely she?d have noticed anything like that happening.

Chapter 2: Saturday 22nd December
Battling her way through the insanely crowded supermarket with a severely overloaded trolley, trying to avoid psychopathic shoppers who seemed determined to ram her out of the way, Laura reflected that perhaps Jake was right; she really should get to grips with this Internet shopping thing. Why had she left it to the last minute again? Because she was disorganised, and scatty, and to be perfectly honest she was dreading the whole Christmas ritual and wanted to put it off for as long as possible.
Reaching the huge queue at the checkout, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not long now and she would be back at home, safe and alone. Jake had gone, throwing down his breakfast at top speed, to Henry?s for the day. Maybe she could catch up on last Sunday?s newspapers ? she never seemed to have the time to read all the supplements in one day. No, wait, there were still the decorations to get down from the loft ? a dangerous business at the best of times; they would have to be inspected for damage, the fairy lights checked for missing bulbs, the tree, which the garden centre had delivered yesterday, must be put in its bucket and weighted down. She sighed again; these had all been Ben?s jobs, now she would have to tackle them herself. It was a good job the tree was only a 4-footer; no way could she have tackled their usual 7-foot monster on her own. It was an argument they had every year; she could never understand why he insisted on such a huge tree, which dwarfed the tiny living room and forced them to swerve to pass it. She had to admit though, with the main lights turned off and all the presents underneath, it did look magical.

Later that night, trying to get to sleep, she found her thoughts drifting to Ben again. She missed him so much. They had married young, straight out of University, and had spent the next eight years holidaying, having riotous dinner parties with friends, and just generally enjoying being together. They hadn?t planned Jake, but when Laura found out she was expecting him they were both overjoyed. Finally forced to curb their wild ways, they revelled in setting up home in their tiny two-bed terraced cottage in the suburbs, decorating with more enthusiasm than skill. His arrival cemented them as a family, they felt safe, solid, a unit of three. They hadn?t needed anyone else.
Until that night almost a year ago. A Saturday, late December. Laura, typically disorganised, had forgotten stuffing for the turkey. Ben had volunteered to go to the local corner shop, and she had gratefully accepted. He was half way home when the car screeched around the corner, out of control on the wet street, and ploughed into him, killing him instantly. The driver, a middle aged businessman still hung over from the previous night?s office party, had got six months.
There had been no decorations that year. Stunned and disbelieving, Laura and Jake had been gathered up by her parents and spirited to their house, and spent the whole of Christmas huddled together on the sofa, each alternately crying or comforting the other. Those first few dreadful days, followed by the funeral on a bleak January morning, were still something of a blur. It took six months for Laura to feel as if she was awake properly, and only recently had she felt as though she had some sort of a future beyond just existing. Jake had helped of course, confused, hurt and bewildered though he was, somehow he retained his optimism and zest for life, and she had to keep going for his sake.
It was going to be hard, though, going through all the familiar rituals for the first time since Ben?s death. But she knew this was a milestone that had to be faced. I?ll get through this, she thought, and the next time it won?t be so bad. With that thought, she finally drifted off to sleep.

She shook herself from her reverie and became practical again. ?As soon as you?ve finished your snack, homework.?
?OK mum?. He was already gone, into the front room. Presently she heard the TV turned on, tuned in to his favourite channel.
Over dinner (sausages, mash, baked beans ? she used to love to cook, but somehow she hadn?t really the heart these days) they discussed plans for the forthcoming weekend.
?I?m going to Henry?s ? he?s got that new Sonic game and he said I could stay for tea?.
?How are you going to get home?? This was a thorny subject. She was nervous of him walking home in the dark, crossing busy roads by himself. She knew it was ridiculous, that he was perfectly capable of walking himself home at 5pm on a Saturday, but still... ?Do you want me to pick you up??
?Nah, Henry?s Dad will give me a lift I expect.?
?Well if he can?t, just call me and I?ll come and get you. Make sure you take your phone with you as well.?
?OK. What are you going to do all day??
?Well, I?ve got the Christmas shopping to finish ? that?ll take most of the morning. And in the afternoon I?ve got to get the decorations down out of the loft ? when do you want to put them up? Sunday??
?Sure. I still don?t understand why you don?t do your shopping online, Mum. Everyone else does. You can get it delivered and everything. I could set it up for you if you like.?
He had the uncanny ability to make her feel like a total Luddite. ?You know I prefer to see what I?m buying. I like to check the quality.? And anyway, she thought but did not say, I?m so useless with computers it would probably take me twice as long to do it online. And I?d be sure to be one of those people who got a virus, or had her credit card details stolen. These things just seemed to happen to her.
?Thanks for dinner Mum.? He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. It pleased her that he wasn?t yet at the stage where physical affection embarrassed him. He still surprised her with big spontaneous hugs and an ?I love you, Mum?. That was something else he had inherited from Ben.
?Right, you can have half an hour on the computer, then it?s bedtime. OK?? She ruffled his hair.
?OK. Thanks Mum?.

Chapter 1: Thursday 20th December
Laura came to suddenly when the front door slammed; she had been sitting at the kitchen table trying to make lists, and had drifted off into a daydream. That happened a lot, these days.
?Hi Mum!? her son Jake called out cheerfully from the hall. She listened for the inevitable thud as his overloaded rucksack landed at the foot of the stairs.
?Hi love, how was school??
?All right. Have we got anything to eat??
Laura smiled wryly. She should know better by now; any enquiries about school usually elicited only the briefest of responses. After what had happened last year she had expected him to go off the rails, had even braced herself for it, but the support they had had from school was fantastic. She was in regular contact with his tutor and knew he was doing well. It was one less thing to worry about, anyway.
?You can have some biscuits and milk. But not too many ? dinner won?t be long?.
She studied him as he raided the biscuit tin and the fridge; at twelve, he was almost a head taller than her, his long gangly limbs inherited from his father, Ben, but his dark brown hair and hazel eyes were hers. Sometimes it hurt her to look at him, this man-boy of hers, a constant reminder of what she had lost one cold dark rainy night in December.