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‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Gavin asks. ‘Open them.’
Molly drops onto her knees and picks up the first box. She tears into the bright green-and-red candy-cane wrapping paper.
‘A scooter with light-up wheels,’ she says, setting the box to one side as she reaches for the next one.
She tears the wrapping paper on the next present even faster. And looks even more disappointed when she finds a giant, fluffy unicorn inside. She casts the teddy aside. And reaches for another gift. She continues to open every present from Santa, gradually becoming more and more disheartened with each one.
‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper to Gavin. ‘It’s everything she wanted.’
Molly reaches for the final present and when she opens the paper and discovers a Barbie with long pink hair she begins to cry.
‘Is this all? Is this all Santa brought?’ She searches around greedily for more boxes.
‘Molly, stop,’ Gavin says firmly. ‘Don’t you like your presents?’
‘There’s apposed to bemore.’
‘Molly,’ I say, equally as frustrated as Gavin. ‘Don’t you think you got enough? You haven’t even looked at them.’
‘No, no, no,’ Molly begins to cry. ‘There’s apposed to be a big, special present.’
‘Is this the secret you told me about?’ Heather asks, and I tilt my head to one side unaware that Molly has been sharing secrets with Heather.
Molly nods as tears trickle down her rosy cheeks.
‘Can you tell me what the secret is now?’ Heather bends down to crouch beside Molly.
‘I asked Santa to make Kayla all better ’cos he’s magic. But he didn’t do it. Kayla’s not here. And I bee’d the best, best girl but he didn’t bring Kayla back.’
‘Oh, Molly,’ Gavin says, crumbling.
I wrap my arms around him quickly before he falls and I watch as Molly climbs into Heather’s arms and they hug and sob.
Gavin turns his head into the crook of my neck and we all take a moment to wish that Santa really was a magic man who could give Kayla back to us.
FIFTY-EIGHT
CHARLOTTE
It took a little coaxing but Molly gradually forgave Santa and began to play with her toys. She brushes Barbie’s hair and cuddles her unicorn. And she laughs, like a little girl is supposed to on Christmas morning.
I make us some breakfast. I keep it light, mostly fruit and some granola. It’s not easy to get Heather to eat but she eventually nibbles on a banana. Gavin doesn’t eat much either. He seems to be relying on coffee to function. He plays with Molly for as long as he can keep it together before excusing himself to go upstairs.
‘Mammy, Mammy, look,’ Molly says, bounding into the kitchen to show me she has discovered that her unicorn talks when you press his tummy.
‘I like hugs,’ the soft toy says in a squeaky voice.
‘That’s nice, Molly,’ I say, as I concentrate on preparing starters I doubt anyone wants to eat.
‘He says more. Listen.’ Molly presses her teddy’s tummy again and again and the overzealous toy serenades us with chirpy catchphrases.
Heather sits at the kitchen table staring into a cup of coffee I made for her almost an hour ago. It must be cold and disgusting by now, but I doubt she plans on drinking it anyway.
‘I love you,’ the cheery teddy says. ‘You are my best friend.’
‘Okay, Molly,’ I say, trying not to snap as the squeaky voice grates against my brain like nails on a chalkboard. ‘Why don’t you play with some of your other toys now?’
‘But I like Mr Rainbow,’ Molly says, cuddling her unicorn tightly under her chin.
