Julia was sprawled on the sofa, tears streaming down her face. Just a couple of months ago, her husband had come cleanhed been seeing someone else, and that woman was pregnant.
“Jules, Im sorry, but weve been married two years and havent had children. Thats a long time. I honestly started to think it was me,” Gareth muttered, stumbling over his words, “and now well, shes expecting”
“Your mistress,” Julia whispered bitterly.
“Call her what you want,” Gareth shrugged. “The babys due in a few months. Im sorry.”
She didnt bother asking why Gareth had waited so long to fess up or why he was leaving her two months before his lovers due date, right on the brink of the New Year. She simply didnt have the energy.
So there she was, still in last nights clothes, feeling utterly spent and dried out from crying, slumped and alone on the settee. For some reason, a memory of a long-ago New Years Eve came flooding backa time when things were simpler.
She was in year five then. After school, she and the other girls would sneak into the local charity shop. It always seemed like a treasure trove of odd and wonderful things.
They didnt care a bit for the worn-out clothes or practical shoesit was always about the trinkets, toys, and bits of jewellery.
That particular afternoon, Julias eyes fell straight away on a delicate music box. It was painted a dreamy sky-blue with gold patternsshe was mesmerized, utterly entranced.
The shopkeeper opened the lid, and as the magical music began to play, a tiny ballerina in a snow-white tutu spun out from the velvet lining. Julia stared, not even breathing. The man even revealed a secret little drawer for jewellery underneath.
Her friends, Natalie and Isla, soon gathered round, cooing and chattering excitedly.
“Wow! Thats so pretty! How much does it cost?”
The shopkeeper smiled and named a price that sounded astronomical to a pack of schoolgirlsfive pounds.
“Ill never save up that much,” Julia thought, deflated.
And it really was hopeless. Back then, pocket money was about thirty pence, and that was enough for a warm lunch at school.
You could fib and say you were going to the cinema, and perhaps get fifty pence from your mum, but that was as good as it got.
Her dad, always the soft touch, was away on a work trip and would only return in a week. Her mum well, asking her would be useless.
She could just imagine her mums shrill response: “What do you need a ballerina for, five pounds? I could get three kilos of beef or a chicken and feed you lot all week!”
No. The only option was to wait for Dad to come home.
Julia popped into the shop every day after school just to gaze at that beautiful ballerina. The kindly shopkeeper, seeing her, would always wind up the music box, letting the little dancer twirl for her.
After six days, Julia knew every detailthe slightly scuffed corner, the little nick along the edge. The ballerina was missing a shoe, and there was a tiny speck on her dress. But Julias eyes missed nothing.
The moment her dad came home, Julia practically dragged him down to the shop.
“Gone,” the shopkeeper said kindly. “Someone bought it this morning. Sorry, love, you just missed it.”
Hot tears welled up and Julia, no longer trying to act grown-up, burst out crying.
“Oh, Jules, come on,” her dad cooed, “dont cry. Want a cake? Ill buy you your favourite. Truffle, with the chocolate mushrooms on top, just like you love.”
She nodded, but the pain of losing the ballerina gnawed away. She loved those little chocolate mushrooms, but nothing would fill that gap.
The next morning, Isla showed up at school with none other than the magical music box.
Seeing her precious treasure in Islas hands, Julias heart clenched with disappointment.
Isla wound up the little box and everyone went silent, enchanted by the ballerina. Isla announced smugly, “My gran bought it for me. Shes down from the country for New Year, so I begged her to come to the shop. Ive been daydreaming about this music box all week.”
“And so have I,” Natalie said, her voice tinged with hurt.
Julia couldnt take itshe burst into tears, right there in the classroom.
Peter Ransom, always a bit of a joker, piped up, “Jules, whatre you crying for?”
“Nothing,” she snapped, pushing past him on her way out.
Everyone knew Peter was smitten with Julia; the girls whispered jealously, but she hardly paid him any mind.
Julia stood with her forehead pressed to the icy window outside.
Peter found her there a minute later. “Dont cry, Jules. Ill find you one just like it, promise.”
“Oh, dont be daft, Peter,” she spat. “Where would you even get one? Youre an idiot,” and she bolted down the street.
“Now Ive gone and been horrible to Peter, too,” she thought, sobbing even harder as she wandered the playground in the freezing cold, barely dressed for the weather. Of course, she got sick after that.
Peter turned up that same day when Julia was home from school.
“Still havent found your ballerina yet,” he told her, “but I will. I promise.”
“Youre a fool, Peter,” Julia said, frustration in her voice. “Where are you going to find one? Its foreign. Look, it says Made in the GDR on the bottom. Youd never get one.”
“GDR Thats Germany, right?” Peter asked.
“Yeah,” Julia replied, gloomily.
“Then thats where Ill go,” he said, determined as ever.
After that, they became real friends. First, proper childhood mates. Then, by year eleven, Peter plucked up the courage to give Julia her first kiss. She didnt mind at all, and from then on, they grew close in a new, grown-up way, what with stolen hugs and kisses.
After their GCSEs, Peter was called up for national servicefunnily enough, stationed right in Germany.
Peter wrote Julia often, sometimes joking that the ballerina was proving hard to find, but he was still looking.
But Julia didnt wait for Peter. About six months before he was due home, she met Gareth. He completely won her over by making up and playing a song for her on his guitar the very first night they met. Her heart melted, and within two months, they were married.
Peter came back to town, saw that Julia had gotten married, and promptly signed on as crew for a Norwegian ship. He was at sea more often than at home; Julia didnt see him after that.
Time passed.
Julia sat up slowly on the sofa and made herself a strong cup of tea. Lately, shed found herself thinking of Peter more and more, realising her tears werent just for her runaway husband but for what never was with Peter Ransom. Where was he now? Had he ever married?
It was New Years Eve31st of December. She figured she ought to do something for herself, even just a little. Most of her friends were celebrating with their families. Felt odd just to show up, like the last minute guest at Christmas.
Julia headed to the market and the supermarket, picking up some bits to make herself a little festive meal so it didnt feel so lonely.
As she was coming back into her building, loaded down with shopping, the lift doors opened, and out cameFather Christmas, of all people.
As soon as she saw him, the tears just started all over again.
“Whats making you cry, love?” said the man, putting on a gravelly old man voice, clearly dressing up. “Cheer up, its Christmas! Here, this is for you.” He handed her a box from his sack and disappeared into the night.
She didnt even get to say thank you. The box, though, was surprisingly heavy.
Julia took it into the kitchen, carefully opened it, and there it was. A brand new sky-blue music box with gleaming gold inlays.
With shaking hands, she opened the lid and wound it up. The music drifted outsoft and nostalgicand the ballerina appeared, this time with both slippers intact.
She checked the secret drawer. Sitting inside was a wedding ring.
Julia raced to the window. Outside, in the courtyard, she could just make out the figure of Father Christmas. Julia slipped on her slippers and dashed out. She hesitated outside but Father Christmas turned and, in that moment, they both ran into each others arms.
Pressing her cheek to his warm coat, Julia whispered, “You silly fool! You actually found it after all this time.”
Peter grinned, “I did! Found it in Germany, just like I promised you all those years ago.”
