Margaret Leonard makes a dreadful mistake on Christmas. At first she believes shes doing everything right. She pulls on sturdy armystyle boots, a thick coat and a woolly hat, climbs into her SUV and drives to a small flat in a council estate that she thinks is a foolish place.
Margaret, a widowed mother, gave birth to her only son, James, late in life. The two of them have spent thirty years together; she dotes on James, works hard for him and has built up a modest fortune. James meets a university student, Ethel, in their dormitory, and they soon have a baby.
Margaret knows that Ethel is after Jamess money and plans to take him away. She finds out where Ethel lives and decides to either frighten her or bribe her shell see which works. She also wants to pull the loosecannon away from her son, who has started talking about marriage.
Margarets face resembles a bulldogs: heavy, lined and set, her eyes flash with a fury like those of the hounds in The Hound of the Baskervilles. She is as large as a statue of Britannia, a figure straight out of a classic British play.
On the way, Margaret stops to buy a few apples, pears and a small rattling toy for a child after all its a festive day and she needs a way to start a conversation. She rings the doorbell, steps inside, and slips off her boots and coat. She greets Ethel warmly, about to launch into a speech, when she spots the babys playpen.
A tiny, pale boy sits inside. His name is Peter, as Ethel shyly tells her. She trembles with fear Margaret can be terrifying if she wants to be.
Margaret kneels by the playpen and offers the rattling toy. At that moment Peter erupts into delighted laughter, startling Margaret. He grabs the toy, dances on tiptoes, holding onto the sides of the pen with one hand, twirling like a little ballerina while his blue eyes stay fixed on Margaret. He squeals with joy, clearly enchanted by her presence.
He reaches for her, giggling, his eyes widening into narrow slits, his mouth stretching in an exaggerated grin. Then Margaret makes her mistake: she scoops the child up instinctively. Peter clings to her tightly, then begins to pat her cheek and tap his rattler against her forehead, cooing.
She starts to babble, her voice soft and foolish: Whos this little cherub? Whos this sweet pea? Her heart swells with a sugary warmth, her chest flaring with affection. Peter never looks away, hanging on her as if she were his mother. The air smells of his happiness, of pure love, like the scent of a newborn in a quiet hospital ward.
Margaret does not want to let the baby go. She would give the world for Peters smile. She falls in love with him in an instant, tears of warmth sliding down her lined cheeks.
All of a sudden Margaret orders James to marry Ethel. He has never been one to obey orders, yet he does, because he loves Ethel and cares for Peter. Using a mix of promises and gentle blackmail, Margaret convinces the young couple to move into her large country house. She does not intrude much, so they live peacefully.
Margarets attention is now wholly absorbed by Peter; they cannot be apart, their love evident to anyone who watches.
Thus one woman makes a terrible mistake or perhaps not a mistake at all and unexpectedly finds her Christmas present. Christmas is a special day, and the gifts can be extraordinary.
