One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) by Mandy Baggot Page A

New York until she found Michel. The nights of fruitless searching on the internet were not going to eat away at her resolve. He was out there, somewhere, and Angel wanted to know him. It was up to her to fill that void and she was determined to do it by Christmas.
    She stroked the brush down Angel’s hair again, the bristles jerking slightly as she hit a knot.
    ‘Is it still snowing?’ Angel asked.
    Hayley stopped brushing and reached one hand towards the window. She stretched and parted the curtains. Chunky white blobs were flying past the glass, changing direction with the wind. Her eyes were drawn across the street, to a window opposite with the lights on and the blinds open. A couple were in their living area, standing by a table. A decorated Christmas tree, white lights blinking, illuminated the space. Hayley watched as the man passed the woman a wine glass. He moved his lips, saying something, and the woman threw her head back, laughing like he’d told her the funniest joke in the world. It was an almost magical connection. One she had no concept of. She closed the curtain, shutting out the scene and the winter night, and went back to brushing Angel’s hair.
    ‘It’s still snowing,’ she informed her.
    ‘Good,’ Angel yawned again. ‘I didn’t want to wake up and for it all to be gone before I’ve had a chance to make a snowman.’
    ‘I think,’ Hayley started. ‘That we should make a snow character .’
    Angel eased her eyes open. ‘Like what?
    Straight away her brain told her Superman. She shook her head, dislodging the notion. He was not a character to bring to mind. And Superman’s eyes were blue not pistachio speckled with chocolate flakes. She swallowed before replying. ‘Like Bart Simpson.’
    Angel’s eyes opened wider. ‘How about a snow president. ’
    ‘Good luck with Abe Lincoln’s hat.’
    Angel smiled. ‘Oh, Mum, you’re so funny.’
    ‘Now I really know you’re tired.’
    Angel let out a sigh and Hayley put the brush down on the bed.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Hayley asked.
    ‘You know how I’m not sure I believe in Father Christmas anymore.’
    ‘Yes, and you know I told you if you don’t believe you won’t get any presents.’
    ‘Yes, well, what if something I asked for can’t be bought … or made?’
    Hayley stilled, wishing she still had the brush in her hands. This was the conversation she’d been waiting for since October. The very first time she had heard Angel’s night-time request for someone to magically bring her father to her had been on the last night of half term. And it had made her cry because Angel had never asked her outright about him.
    ‘Well,’ Hayley began, ‘if it’s something that can’t be bought or something that can’t be made by the toymaker then you have to believe in something else.’
    ‘What?’ Angel asked.
    ‘Wishes.’ Hayley swallowed. ‘You have to believe that wishes can come true.’
    Angel screwed up her nose. ‘But that’s like believing in magic.’ She tutted. ‘Although Dynamo is a very good magician, I do know it’s not real.’
    ‘Wishes aren’t like magic. Wishes, well, they’re a bit like dreams. And dreams aren’t magic. They’re something you long for, something you can work towards.’
    Angel was staring at her like she was a lunatic.
    ‘So, say my dream was to win the National Lottery. I wouldn’t have a chance of achieving that dream unless I bought a ticket. And if I bought a ticket every week for the rest of my life I’d …’
    ‘Still die poor?’ Angel offered.
    Sometimes Angel was too clever for her own good. ‘Perhaps the lottery wasn’t a very good example. Let’s say my dream is to marry Prince Harry.’
    Angel slapped a hand over her eyes. ‘Mum, you’re far too old for him. You’d have a much better chance with Prince Andrew.’
    ‘I think I might be a bit old for him too, if you believe the rumours.’ Hayley sighed. ‘All right, not Prince Harry or Prince Andrew then, how