A frosty edge clung to the late Azer air and Laura’s fingers felt welded to the handle of the buggy she pushed up the High Street. A few flakes of snow had fallen earlier with the tantalising promise of a white Christmas.
Laura wondered if she should wake her daughter to see the lights hanging from the shop fronts and strung high across the street. One look at Evie’s beautiful face amid the blankets she was swaddled in dissuaded her. The train journey had been a long one; there would be time to see the lights afterwards.
There was a huge, sparkling Christmas tree in the market square. The Tree of Lights, the sign said; a place where loved ones could donate in remembrance.
Laura’s heart ached as she read the list of names and messages to all those lost loves. The sadness fought against the bubbling anticipation she’d been nurturing all afternoon.
The small department store was warm and inviting. The scent of orange and cinnamon hung in the air, gentle Christmas tunes drifted to her ears, and decorations shimmered.
The gift; it meant so much to her to get it right. Although, wasn’t this the ultimate in last-minute Christmas Eve shopping? She hadn’t known she was coming until that morning. After months of soul-searching she had finally made a decision. She was nervous, but in her heart she knew it was the right thing to do.
She glanced around at what the store had to offer. It was an unusual mix of high street merchandise and craft gifts. Luxury cosmetics, jigsaw puzzles, handbags, purses, cookery books and homeware. What on earth was she supposed to buy? What do you buy for the mother you’ve never met? A mother only fifteen years older than herself.
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