Something for the Weekend: Careful What You Wish For

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Petra was on a roll.

“Do we have to come boring Christmas shopping with you? Do I?” she whined.

Molly sighed. Her little girl was already growing up too quickly, already losing the joy of childhood. Oh, she knew it would happen eventually, knew it would come one day. And she really didn’t want to stifle the teenager. But if she could just hold onto the child for just one more Christmas…

“No, you don’t have to come with me at all, but I’d like it if you did. It would be nice to do something together as a family and I won’t be able to control your brother all on my own with parcels and packages to battle with.” Not to mention the weather, she thought to herself. “You’d be helping me out too.”

“But if I don’t come with you, you’ll be able to get my present as well.” The fifteen-year-old gave her mother one of those sarcastic little smiles, the kind that barred straight, white teeth in a flash before her pretty little face returned to that supercilious teenage mask.

“I’ve already got your present – ”

“Have you? What is it? Where is it? Was it on my list?”

Too late Molly realised she’d walked into one of her daughter’s traps, and she laughed. Perhaps her little girl wasn’t growing up so quickly after all. It didn’t take much for Petra to resort to childishness again if she thought she was getting something.

The children knew that Molly couldn’t afford to get them very much since their father had left home and she’d gone back to work. The upside, however, was that they had two Christmases, two birthdays each, and two summer holidays. And really, Petra was very good, helping out around the house a lot more than other girls her age – according to Petra.

Molly tried again. “Surely you haven’t already got all of your own presents?”

“I have to get Dad something. And Gran. But I’ve got all the others.”

Molly smiled. “Really? Have you got mine? What have I got?”

Petra laughed. “Honestly, Mum. And you wonder where I get it from?”

The girl chewed on her bottom lip and curled a lock of hair around her right forefinger. Molly braced herself for the bribe she knew was about to come.

“Can Sofia come as well?”

Was that all? Sofia was Petra’s best friend from school.

“I don’t have a problem with that. But Toby will probably want to bring a friend too.”

Molly sighed again, this time at the prospect of two boisterous ten-year-olds to control. But then she thought it might actually be quite a nice day out for all of them. The true spirit of Christmas.

As it happened Toby didn’t want to bring a friend after all.

“Just cos Petra’s a big sissy girl who needs someone to hold her hand doesn’t mean that I do too.”

The usual sibling bickering was often highly amusing, but Molly hoped it wouldn’t stress her any more on what was already going to be a tiring day. Petra, however, as it happened, was far too busy being all grown-up in front of her friend to retaliate – beyond poking out her tongue.

They arrived bright and early and Molly managed to park up without difficulty. She was surprised, though. This was a Saturday morning after all, only two weeks before Christmas, and there was hardly anyone about.

Sofia said: “They probably do all their shopping online now. That’s what we did.”

Not a bad idea, thought Molly. But she actually enjoyed Christmas shopping. It was all part of the fun. Tramping around cobbled streets wrapped up against the cold, listening to a choir singing or a brass band playing, people you don’t know smiling at you, wishing you a Merry Christmas, the smell of mulled wine, and chestnuts roasting in an open oven. That’s what it was all about, and The Shambles was the best place to do it in too. You could always find something special. They each found Molly’s mother something nice, apart from Sofia of course.

“Who fancies a hot mince pie with cream?” Molly shouted.

“Me!” sang both of her children. However, when Sofia pointed out that she was watching her waistline and sweet stuff gave her zits, Petra started to falter.

“Look,” said Molly. “It’s only one mince pie and I promise you we’ll work it off later – though with the walking we’ve done so far, we must already have something in the bank.” She’d spotted a poster on a wall earlier and decided it would be the best way to end what had turned out to be a fantastic day.

They took their packages to the car and hid them safely in the boot, went and had their hot mince pies, then Molly led the way back through the crowds that had gradually increased, back through The Shambles to the castle.

“Wow!” exclaimed Toby when they got there.

“Cool!” said Petra.

Sofia grinned at Molly. “An outdoor ice rink,” she said.

Yes, the health and safety party poopers hadn’t closed this one down.

They hired some boots and followed everyone else around the rink in circles to the sound of the latest, and many of the much older, Christmas hits. They giggled when one of them lost their balance and helped each other up off the ice when they fell over. Molly knew that she would ache all over in the morning, but she didn’t care. It was worth it just to see the children being children again at Christmas.

“Don’t leave the ice rink without telling me first,” she called, as the three of them wobbled off to explore and make new friends.

Left to her own thoughts and devices for a while, she found herself wishing she had a grown-up to share some of the fun with too, someone to share this special day, someone to hold her hand, someone to catch her when she slipped. A little voice inside her head whispered: “Be careful what you wish for,” and she shook herself. Been there, done that. Didn’t work. And besides, she had the children to consider.

Molly skated off to find herself a hot chocolate. There were booths and kiosks placed all around the rink perimeter so she didn’t even need to leave the ice.

The girls and Toby all seemed to reconvene at once, Petra and Sofia babbling on about two boys they’d met, and Toby dragging a new friend behind him.

“Mum,” he cried, trying to also concentrate on staying upright. By the amount of ice on his clothes and the number of wet patches, he’d already come a cropper more than once. “This is Luke. His dad’s a photographer for the local paper.” Molly caught sight of an apologetic looking man trailing at the heels of Toby and his new friend. “He’s the same age as me.”

“His dad or Luke?” laughed Molly.

“Luke’s dad wants to take a picture of us all. Can he, Mum? Can he?”

Molly met the eyes of Luke’s dad over her own son’s shoulder.

“May I?” he smiled. “You’re all wearing such wonderful colours, I thought when I first saw you it would make a smashing photo.”

“Why not?” agreed Molly.

“Cool,” said Petra. “Will we get a copy?”

“Sure,” said Luke’s dad. “If your mum lets me have her phone number.”

“If she doesn’t I will,” said Petra. “It’s about time she had a man in her life again.”

“Petra!” admonished Molly, feeling herself flush.

“Really?” teased Luke’s dad, meeting Molly’s eye again.

Be careful what you wish for, Molly reminded herself. Seeing her discomfort and embarrassment, though, Luke’s dad set about arranging the photograph, making a huge fuss of them all.

Molly hissed out of the corner of her mouth to Petra: “That was very naughty. He might not even be single.”

Petra smiled and poked her tongue out again, then made a great show of giving Luke’s dad their phone number and Molly’s mobile number.

“I’ll let you know when it appears in the paper,” said Luke’s dad to Molly, who was making leaving noises now.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and by the way…”

“Yes?”

“I am.”

“You are what?”

“Single,” he winked.

the end