A Miracle at the Turn of the Year
“James, can you explain to me, please, how you could forget? I reminded you this morning, more than once. I even texted you!” Emily stared disapprovingly at her husband, who lingered sheepishly in the kitchen doorway, shrugging with a look of defeat.
“I’ve no idea, Em… It just slipped my mind, honestly,” James tried to defend himself.
“And your phone?”
“I never took it out my pocket, so I didn’t see your message…”
Emily simmered, her voice rising. “So you remembered to buy the new battery for your jalopy, but you managed to forget completely about the present for our daughter under the Christmas tree?”
James fumbled for justification. “The shop for car bits closed at eight, so I hurried and forgot everything else. I’m sorry.”
Emily dropped onto the kitchen stool, sighing as she glanced up at the clock. Five minutes to eleven. Night deepened past the window; mending the situation seemed impossibly late. The helplessness gnawed at her chest.
“Sometimes, James, I think you love your banger that breaks down every month far more than you love Maisie,” Emily muttered, dabbing the corner of her tired eye. She turned away, back to her half-made potato salad.
“I only wanted to cheer you up with that salad, and you… you forgot Maisie’s present!”
“Honestly, Em, youre talking nonsense! You know I love Maisie. Anyone could forget, couldnt they?”
“Well, I dont,” Emily whispered sharply, forcing patience for fear their daughter overheard.
James reached, wanting to wrap an arm round her, but she stiffened, turning to spoon mayonnaise through the salad. “Should have done it all myself, really. But notrusted you. Thought you were dependable.”
“I know it’s my fault, Em, but if you think about it, its not the end of the world,” James offered meekly. “No present under the tree, so what? Well tell Maisie”
“What, darling? Will we say her father’s lost his marbles at thirty-five, or just that car parts are more important?”
“Well say Father Christmas was simply too busy this year, so he couldn’t make it. Ill pick up her present tomorrow first thing, make it special, from Father Christmas himself.”
“Where on earth do you think you’ll buy it? Everythings closed tomorrow except the supermarket. Oh, James…”
The frustration behind Emilys gaze was understandable.
Since the day Maisie was born, their little family had kept to a cherished tradition: the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve meant gathering by the tinsel-laced tree to discover the magic of unexpected presents. Maisie adored it. Like many children her age, she brimmed with belief in Father Christmas and the miracle of the season.
Tonight, Maisie had already peered beneath the tree a dozen times, breath tight with hope, sharing with her mother her longing for that most-anticipated gift.
“I wonder what Father Christmas will bring me this year?” she mused aloud. “Id love a shiny red bicycle like Harry from next door. But if it’s roller skates, thatd be marvellous too.”
Emily smiled at her daughter, remembering shed tasked James with the simple mission of picking up the skates. In most years she chose the gift herself, but with James called away on urgent tasks, she figured shed let him do the honours, one less thing for her to juggle.
James had come home after eight, empty-handed, and two hours latersetting the table and, with a conspiratorial wink, asking about the presentmemory belatedly struck him: hed bought nothing.
“Emily, lets not spoil our evening,” James pleaded, closing around her again in search of forgiveness. “It wasnt on purpose. Shall I go explain to Maisie myself? She’ll understand.”
Emily gave no answer, laying the plates, tears slipping silently. “How could he, of all things, forget Maisies gift?”
All that time, she’d imagined James had the present hidden and was waiting for midnight to slip it under the tree. But now, the shops were locked up tight. Thered be nothing to buy.
“Need a hand?” James ventured feebly, watching as Emily reluctantly continued her preparations.
“You’ve helped quite enough… Thanks.” There was frost on her words.
Just then, Maisie burst in, cheeks aglow. “Mum, Dad! Less than two hours till the New Year! Father Christmas will be here soon!”
Emilys sharp look could have cut glass. She spun away, not wanting Maisie to sense her disappointment, composing herself as she hit upon a feeble solution. Shed slip an envelope of cash under the tree, scrawling For Maisie, towards roller skates across the front. It wasnt magic, but surely any hope was better than none at all.
*****
At eleven oclock, just as they took their seats round the festive table, a knock sounded at the door.
“James, are we expecting anyone?” Emily asked, genuinely surprised.
“No, I havent invited a soul. Maybe the neighbours? Ill go see. Pour the juice, you two,” James called, heading to the hallway.
Swinging open the door, James found a bearded stranger in a battered red coat, looking nothing like Father Christmasmore like someone rough sleeping. The scent that greeted him bore no trace of aftershave.
“What do you want? You must have got the wrong flat, or are you begging for change? Im telling you straight, youll get nothing; youll only waste it down the pub,” James declared suspiciously.
“Not at all, no need for money, Im doing all right, actually,” the man chirped.
“Doing all right?” James nearly laughed aloud. He never looked down on the homeless, but the mans insistence was so oddly cheerful, so absurd in context.
“So what then?”
The stranger reached into his coat and drew out a fluffy bundlea kitten, white as a snowdrift. “Found this little chap in the stairwell, didnt know if he belonged to anyone here?”
James almost smirked: “Probably realised he wouldn’t be getting any money, so he’s trying to get rid of the kitten instead.”
“Never seen him before, and we’ve never had pets.”
“Dont fancy a pet? If youve a daughter, bet shed love him.”
“I spose now hell try selling the kitten,” James thought, shaking his head.
“No thank you. We’re fine.”
“All right, Ill toss him near the bins, then,” the bearded man replied, turning to retreat, tucking the kitten away.
“Hang onwhat do you mean, toss him? Why chuck a tiny kitten in the bins? Just leave him in the stairwell.”
“Theyll only chuck him out. At least in the bins there are boxes he can get warm in, and a bit to eat.”
Animals seldom stirred James heart, but just then he imagined the little thing outside for the night, cold and forgotten. Instinct tugged at him.
“Ill take him,” James blurted, snatching the kitten. “Dont go dumping him.”
“Your call,” the mans smile flickered as he turned to the stairs.
*****
James re-entered, hiding the kitten behind his back, hoping to the heavens it wouldn’t cry out. If Emily discovered hed brought in a stray, shed chuck him outpossibly both of them.
A plan. He needed a plan.
“So, who was at the door?” Emily eyed her husband, suspicion etched across her face.
“Only Simon upstairs. Needed advice on a car battery.”
“Oh, the expert! Right, go wash your hands and come to the table, New Years nearly upon us.”
“Just five minutes!”
When Emily and Maisie disappeared, James dashed about, desperate for a safe hiding spot for his contraband. The balconytoo cold. The lootoo risky, might be needed any moment. The bedrooms wouldnt do at all. The sitting room, then!
“James, are you coming or what?” Emily shouted, impatient.
“Coming, love!”
James bundled the kitten into the lowest shelf of the cupboard, leaving a crack open for a draft, and ran to the kitchen.
*****
“Happy New Year!” came the shouts from the street outside.
James, too, wished his wife and daughter good health, good fortune. But in an instant, Maisie dashed off to the sitting room, looking expectantly beneath the tree. Emily remembered with a jolt she hadn’t slipped the envelope there, scowling at James.
“You can explain this,” she hissed.
Only, within moments, Maisies delighted shriek filled the air, even louder than the fireworks crackling beyond the window.
“Mum, Dad! Come quickly! Look what Father Christmas left me!”
James and Emily hurried inthere was Maisie, beside herself, cradling a tiny white kitten under the tree.
“I always wanted a kitten, and Father Christmas brought one! Im calling him Snowy!” she giggled, nearly in tears.
As Maisie embraced the kitten, Emily pulled James aside.
“Whats this about? Was this your idea?” she asked, barely suppressing a smile.
“Dont get cross, Emily. Let me explain…”
Emily looked at her beaming daughter. “Look at herso happy. You could have told me you were planning a surprise instead of making me worry. I was wrong to have a go at you earlier,” she admitted, kissing him on the cheek.
James blinked at his luck, scarcely believing their good fortune. A true New Years miracletheir daughter jovial, his wife softened. All for a white kitten and
And suddenly, he remembered the man from the stairwell.
“Emily, just a momenttheres something I need to do,” James whispered. She nodded her assent.
*****
“Well, Arthur,” the bearded man said, clapping his companion on the back. “Thats all the kittens rehomed, by the grace of God. Wed best get back to the boiler room before its locked for the night.”
“Yeah, good thing you thought up that bins idea, Bill,” Arthur laughed.
“You reckon? I worried theyd show me the door for saying Id chuck the poor thing in the bin.”
“There was risk, but only someone with a true heart for animals would take the kitten in rather than let you do it.”
Bill nodded. “True enough. At least the little ones have a shot now.”
The two down-and-out men sat together on a cracked bench near the old block, where tonight, four kittens had found homes. People wandered by, no one telling them to move along, quite the opposite. A few even wished them good luck. Bill and Arthur returned the wishes, feeling a stirring of warmth.
Suddenly, James zipped out of the stairwell and hurried toward the bench. “Whats he want thenchange of heart?” Bill whispered.
“That him?” Arthur mumbled.
“Happy New Year!” James grinned, handing them a large shopping bag. “My wife and I made you a New Year’s spread to thank you.”
“Thank youdidnt expect that!” Arthur smiled.
“And this,” James said, presenting a bottle of bubbly, “for the occasion!”
“Now, Bill, we can have a proper celebration. Miracles do happen,” Arthur chuckled.
James turned to head off, then paused. “Where will you lads be marking the New Year?”
Arthur smirked. “A boiler room near heredry enough, and warm, if a bit basic.”
James grinned. “Come with me, then.”
Five minutes later, the trio arrived at his garage. James swung open the doors, ushering his guests inside. “Make yourselves at home. Theres a foldout sofa and a heater, a table and some plates. Ill leave the car out front for nowplenty of space in here.”
“Wed have managed,” protested Bill.
“Nonsense. The cars fine outside. Just dont overdo it with the drink, all right?”
“Just a toast or two, for the holiday,” Bill promised.
“Right. I believe you. Ill drop by tomorrow and hear your storymaybe theres a way I can help, find you somewhere more permanent.”
Arthur murmured, surprised, “Didnt expect that.”
“Me neither,” Bill replied, smiling.
And so the night unfoldedstrange, shimmering, and magical. A proper English New Years Eve, strange as a half-remembered dream and just as full of impossible, gentle wonders.
