Free A Christmas Wish by Amanda Prowse

her long-sleeved T-shirt.
    Their training told them to expect a number of varied responses; from fainting or rage to extreme distress, each had a prescribed treatment and procedure. This was their worst scenario , the disengaged, silent recipient with delayed reactions, much harder for them to predict.
    Poppy thought about the night before her husband left for Afghanistan, wishing that she could go back to then and do it differently. She had watched his mechanical actions, saw him smooth the plastic-wrapped, mud-coloured, Boy Scout paraphernalia that was destined for its sandy desert home. A place she couldn’t picture, in a life that she was barred from. She didn’t notice how his fingertips lingered on the embroidered roses of their duvet cover, the last touch to a thing of feminine beauty that for him meant home, meant Poppy.
    Martin was packing his rucksack which was propped open on their bed when he started to whistle. Poppy didn’t recognisethe tune. She stared at his smiling, whistling face as he folded his clothes and wash kit into the voluminous, khaki cavern. He paused to push his non-existent fringe out of his eyes. Like the man that’s lost a finger, but still rubs the gap to relieve the cold, so Martin raked hair that was now shorn.
    Poppy couldn’t decipher his smile, but it was enough to release the torrent that had been gathering behind her tongue. Any casual observer might have surmised that he was going on holiday with the boys, not off to a war zone.
    â€˜Are you happy, Mart? In fact, ignore me, that’s a silly question , of course you are because this is what you wanted isn’t it? Leaving me, your mates and everything else behind for half a year while you play with guns.’
    Poppy didn’t know what she expected him to say, but she’d hoped he would say something. She wanted him to pull her close, tell her that this was the last thing he wanted to do and that he didn’t want to leave her, or at the very least that he wished he could take her with him. Something, anything that would make things feel better. Instead, he said nothing, did nothing.
    â€˜Did you hear me, Mart? I was asking if you were finally happy now your plan is coming together, the big fantastic future that you’ve been dreaming of.’
    â€˜Poppy please…’
    â€˜Don’t you dare “Poppy please”, don’t ask me for anything or expect me to understand because I don’t! This is what you signed up for; this is what it means, Mart, you pissing off to some godforsaken bit of desert, leaving me stuck here. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you since you walked through the door in your bloody suit with your secret little mission complete!’
    â€˜It won’t be forever.’ His voice was small; his eyes fixed on the floor.
    Poppy noted his blank expression, as if it was the first time it had occurred to him that she might need him too. This only made her angrier because it might have only just occurred to him, but she had been thinking of nothing else.
    â€˜I don’t care how long it’s for. Don’t you get it? Whether it’s for one night or one year, it’s too long. You are leaving me here with the junkies on the stairs and the boring bloody winter nights. All I’ve got to look forward to is sitting with my bonkers nan. So you go, Mart, and get this little adventure out of your system, prove whatever it is that you need to prove. Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself, but you know that, right?’
    She didn’t want to argue, preferring instead to clamp her arms around his neck and hang on. She wanted to press her lips really hard onto his and kiss him, storing those kisses away for the times when she would miss him the most. Her ache had grown so physical that she shook; the tremors fed a growing anger.
    In the aftermath of Martin’s departure, Poppy felt some small relief that he had gone. The dread