The baubles, iridescent and fragile shimmered in the light. Thin as egg shells, they were illuminated by myriads of sparkling colours; yet they were robustly round, so that a careless flick might send them bouncing on the floor.
How different the tree looked now.
Sophie recalled the bare branches of the glossy fir, stark
green against her freshly painted walls. She was determined to celebrate
Christmas, even if she could only afford to buy the tree and would have to
gradually scrimp and save to buy the decorations. At least it had roots, so that
she could put it out in the garden afterwards, to use again next year. Perhaps
by then, she would feel as though she too had laid some roots.
She inhaled deeply the sweet pine scent and it sent her
spinning back to Christmases of her childhood; brightly lit, noisy, alive, not
listening to the ticking of a clock. Working from home was useful, but quiet.
At times she felt as though she was plunging through a
hollow tunnel of darkness. In an unknown town, she was the stranger; there was
no familiar face, friendly nod or warm embrace.
As Sophie slipped along an anonymous supermarket aisle she
felt like a shadow of herself, without substance. Her mind went blank. She
couldn’t think what to buy. Canned, bland tunes blew like a bubble about her.
She would start with
an elderly neighbour’s list, that was easiest. As she crossed off each
item, she picked up whimsical fare for herself: chestnuts – she hadn’t eaten
those for years, tinned apricots, cranberry cheese. It occurred to her that she
now had the freedom to eat whatever, whenever, she liked. This propelled her
movements, so that they became swifter, more decisive.
There was a contentment to be found in little things: the
smell of fresh coffee, sunlight streaming through the window and most of all
snuggling up to Barney, her rescue dog.
Little by little the pain of the past calmed to a dull ache;
hours could pass without thinking of Mark’s betrayal.
She kept busy by helping out in her community and it gave
her a strange satisfaction, taking her mind away from her own troubles. When
driving into town, it was simple enough to give lifts to a couple of people in
her close who would normally walk or catch the bus. When she saw that the young
couple next door were looking harassed, she cheerfully offered to look after
their little girl, Angela, for a few hours, which they messily spent with
paint, paper and glue.
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