Lost Christmas by David Logan Page B

smile was mirrored on Anthony’s lips …
    In the blink of an eye the location changed and Anthony found himself sitting on a small rocking horse in a child’s bedroom. A pink lampshade with embroidered princesses hung from the ceiling directly above him. There were garlands of pink paper flowers running along the picture rail and criss-crossing the magnolia walls. It was a very girly room.
    Anthony glanced over to the bed and he saw Frank again. Just a little older than before. His three-year-old daughter, Jemma, was curled up in his arms as he read to her from the same book.
    â€˜â€œHe was very much admired indeed. ‘He is as beautiful as a weathercock,’ remarked one of the Town Councillors …”’
    Frank’s voice had the exact same timbre as when he had read to Alice’s belly. And, as if the little girl could remember, she had a serene look of contentment on her face.
    Alice stood in the doorway watching without being seen, and smiling just as she had before. She watched herhusband, whom she loved very dearly, and their beautiful little girl, who had long, straight blonde hair just like the embroidered princesses on her lampshade.
    Anthony craned his leg over the head of the rocking horse as he clambered off clumsily, but he was just a ghost and no one was aware of his presence …
    Everything changed just as suddenly as before. Now Anthony was standing in the middle of a long, narrow hallway. Gone was the sparkle and the warmth. It had been replaced by a chill in the air.
    Anthony looked to the stairs and saw Alice sitting on the bottom step with her arms wrapped around her legs. Tears were streaking her cheeks; her eyes were red and puffy.
    â€˜Bloody Australia!’ Anthony heard this from behind him and he turned to the front door. There was no one there. The top half of the door was frosted glass, but there didn’t seem to be anyone outside. Then Anthony noticed the letter box in the middle of the door and he saw Frank, or at least his eyes, framed within it. ‘How do you bloody well expect me to react, Alice? It’s the other side of the bloody world!’ He spat the angry words.
    Alice held herself tighter and choked back the tears to speak. ‘Please, Frank.’ Anthony could hear the desperation in her voice. This was a woman at the end of her tether. ‘Ican’t do this any more.’ She was begging. There was a long pause and then she added, ‘It’s all gone so wrong since …’ But she didn’t finish the sentence.
    Anthony looked back to the letter box, waiting for Frank’s frenzied reaction, but when he spoke his voice was quieter, as if the fight had been knocked out of him with that half-sentence. ‘You’re saying it was my fault?’
    Alice looked up sharply, shaking her head just a little. Frank had misunderstood and her first instinct was to correct him, but her second instinct said maybe it would be easier if she didn’t and that’s the one she listened to.
    â€˜You’re just the same as all the rest,’ said Frank, defeated. The letter box snapped shut and Anthony watched as his silhouette rose up and walked away. Huge sobs reverberated through Alice as she couldn’t hold back the dam any longer. Anthony saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up the stairs to see Jemma come running down to comfort her mother. Jemma was now nearly eleven. She cuddled into Alice. Mother and daughter both crying …
    Without warning, Anthony found himself looking at a brick wall. He turned around to find himself back in Frank’s flat. The door opened and Frank entered carrying two bags full of bottles. He threw his leather coat down and slumped on to the sofa, where he sat motionless for several longmoments. Anthony walked around to stand in front of him, but of course Frank didn’t notice. Frank wiped his eyes roughly and turned his attention to his bags. He started to