Free Lost Christmas by David Logan Page A

good idea what the dream was about. He would have wanted her to pull him out of it, if it was the other way round, but he didn’t do anything. He just looked at her and listened to her whimpering sobs until they stopped.
    Henry stood up and threw on a jacket. He wasn’t particularly tall. He liked to think he was of average height, but he was a little shorter than his statuesque wife. His body was solid with very little fat. He had the physique of an athlete and the head of an accountant.
    â€˜If I’m running late, I’ll text you and meet you there.’ He moved around the bed, pausing to lean down to kiss his wife. Helen turned her head away. Henry just kissed her roughly on the top of the head and left.
    Helen covered her face with her hands and silenced a sob that reverberated through her.
    Out in the hallway, Henry heard her. He wished he could go back in and make everything right, but he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t have the strength and, even if he did, some things can’t be fixed. No matter what he did, it would never, ever be right again. He took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.
    As he took his overcoat down from the hooks by the front door he saw a small pile of envelopes on the doormat. Mostly bills and junk mail. Henry looked through them. He stopped when he found a pale blue envelope. He stared at it for a moment and then he strode into the kitchen, opened the bin and dropped it in without a second thought. He headed back out to the hallway, wrapped his scarf around his neck, picked up his briefcase and left.
    *
    Helen heard the front door closing. She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. The duvet rippled and Milly was back in bed again. Helen peeled back the covers and the little girl smiled.
    â€˜Are you hungry?’ Helen asked. Milly nodded. ‘What do you fancy?’
    â€˜Eggy bread,’ she said.
    â€˜Eggy bread it is,’ replied her mother. She ran her long slender fingers through her hair, looped it behind her ears and climbed out of bed.
    Milly was already in the kitchen when Helen entered. The little girl was sitting on one of the high stools by the breakfast bar and twisting from side to side. Helen looked at the detritus left over from the previous night’s Thai takeaway.
    â€˜I suppose I had better clear up first. Make a little space.’ She busied herself loading the dishwasher. She had meant to cook last night, but time had got away from her and in the end they ordered in.
    â€˜Why’s Daddy like he is?’ asked Milly.
    â€˜How do you mean?’ asked Helen, but she knew exactly what Milly meant.
    â€˜He’s so cross all the time now.’ Milly stopped swinging and considered a thought. ‘Is it because of me?’
    Helen didn’t answer immediately, but eventually she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said.
    â€˜But you’re not cross. You’re just sad all the time.’
    â€˜Different people deal with things like this in their own way.’
    She crossed to the pedal bin with a plate, ready to scrape off the remains of pad thai and king-prawn keang kiew wan, but as soon as she opened the bin she saw the pale blue envelope Henry had discarded. She put down the plate and retrieved it, ripping it open with her finger.
    It was just a Christmas card with a cartoon of a fat reindeer on the front. She opened it up and read the simple inscription: ‘Thinking of you. Love from Anna, Mark and the sprogs.’
    Helen threw the envelope back in the bin and headed out of the kitchen into the hallway. There were two doors leading into the large L-shaped lounge. She crossed to a chest of drawers, which stood behind a baby-grand piano and opened the second drawer down. She retrieved a shoe box, opened it up and added the card to about twenty others. She looked around at the bare room. There was no tree, no decorations, nothing. No indication at all that it was Christmas Eve. Henry had cancelled