It had all been useless.
She felt a bit sick.
What am I doing here?
‘We need the result, Sydney. The nativity is about to start.’
Sydney nodded to Malcolm absently. She wanted to see the nativity. She’d promised Anna she would watch her and cheer her on as she rode in on Bert.
She marked a score for Lottie and then passed her results to Malcolm, who took them over to his small stand in the tent.
Pet owners gathered anxiously—all of them smiling, all of them hopeful for a win. There were some lovely animals, from little mice to Fletcher the Great Dane. Fletcher was a big, lolloping giant of a dog, with the sweetest nature.
Malcolm cleared his throat. ‘In third place, with six points, we have Montgomery! A gorgeous example of a golden Syrian hamster.’
Everyone applauded as a little girl stepped forward to receive a purple ribbon for Montgomery.
‘In second place, with eight points, we have Jonesy—a beautiful ginger tom.’
Again there was applause, and a young boy came forward to collect his ribbon.
‘And in first place, with ten points, we have Lottie the rabbit!’
There were more cheers. More applause.
‘Lottie’s owner can’t be here to collect her prize as she’s preparing for her role in the nativity. So perhaps our judge—our fabulous Silverdale veterinary surgeon—would like to give us a few words as to why Lottie has won tonight’s contest? Everyone... I give you Sydney Harper!’
Reluctantly, Sydney stepped over to address the crowd—a sea of faces of people she recognised. People she knew from many years of living in this community. There was Miss Howarth, Olivia’s schoolteacher. And Cara the lollipop lady, who’d used to help Olivia cross the road outside school. Mr Franklin, who would always talk to Olivia as they walked to school each morning...
‘Thank you, Mr Speaker.’
She tried to gather her thoughts as she stood at the microphone. She’d been in a daze for a while. Now it was time to focus. Time to ignore the sickness she could feel building in her stomach.
‘There were some amazing entries in this year’s competition, and it was great to see such a broad variety of much-loved animals, who all looked fantastic, I’m sure you agree.’
She paused to force a smile.
‘I was looking for a certain something this year. I have the honour of knowing a lot of these animals personally. I think I can honestly say I’ve seen most of them in my surgery, so I know a little about them all. But Lottie won my vote this year because... Well...she’s been through a lot. She went through a difficult time and almost lost her life. Instead she lost her eye, but despite that...despite the horror that she has experienced this year, she has stayed strong.’
Her gaze fell upon Nathan, who had appeared at the back of the crowd.
‘She fought. And tonight, when I saw her in her cage, looking beautiful in her shiny black coat and with a quiet dignity, I knew I had found my winner. Prizes shouldn’t always go to the most attractive, or the most well-behaved, or the most well-groomed. Animals, like people, are more than just their looks. There’s something beneath that. A character. A strength. And Lottie has that—in bucketloads.’
She nodded and stepped back, indicating that she had finished.
Malcolm led the applause, thanked her, and then urged everyone to make their way to the main stage for the nativity.
Sydney waited for the main crowd to go, and when there was a clearing she walked out of the marquee, feeling a little light-headed.
She felt a hand on her arm. ‘Thank you.’
Nathan.
‘Oh...it was nothing.’
‘Anna will be thrilled Lottie won. She didn’t want to miss it, but she’s getting ready for the show.’
‘Make sure you collect your voucher from Malcolm later.’
‘I will.’
‘Right. Well...’ She wanted to head for the stage. But it seemed Nathan still had something to say.
‘You know, you were right just then.’
‘Oh...?’
‘About people having depths that you can’t see. You know, you’re a lot like that little rabbit. You have that inner strength.’
She didn’t feel like it right now. ‘We...er...we need to get going.’
‘Wait!’ He pulled something from behind his back. ‘I got you this.’
He handed over a small parcel, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with an elaborate bow.
‘It’s for Christmas. Obviously.’ He smiled at her. ‘But I thought it was important to give it to you today.’
‘What is it?’
He laughed. ‘I can’t tell you that! It’s a surprise. Hopefully...a good one. Merry Christmas.’
Suddenly felt this was wrong. Much too wrong! She shouldn’t be getting presents. Not today.
Nathan was wrong.
Today was the worst day to give her his gift.
‘I... I don’t know what to say.’
‘I believe thank you is traditional.’
He smiled and went to kiss her, but she backed off.
‘I can’t do this,’ she muttered.
‘Syd? What’s the—?’
‘You shouldn’t give me a gift. Not today. A present? Today? You know what this day is. You know what it means.’
‘Of course! Which is why I wanted to give it to you now. To celebrate you moving forward, to give you an incentive to—’
It was too much. Sydney couldn’t stand there a moment longer. She had to get away. She had to leave. She—
I promised Anna I’d watch her in the nativity.
Torn, she stood rooted to the spot, angst tearing its way through her as grief and guilt flooded in. This was not the way she should be on the anniversary of her daughter’s death! She ought to be showing respect. She ought to be remembering her daughter. Olivia. Not Anna. Or Nathan. They couldn’t be Olivia’s replacements. They could never be what her daughter had been to her. Or mean as much.
Could they?
Her heart told her they might, even as the agony of this indecision almost made her cry out.
‘Syd...?’
‘Nathan, please don’t! I can’t do this. I can’t be with you—’
‘Sydney—’
‘It’s over. Nathan? Do you hear me? I’m done.’
He let go of her arms and stepped back from her as if she’d just slapped him.
She’d never felt more alone.
Nathan just stood there, looking at her, sadness and hurt in his eyes.
‘You should remember what you said about Lottie. You’re strong, too, you know... You’ve been through something...unimaginable and you’re still here. But if you can’t see it in yourself...if you can’t feel it...believe it...then I need to keep my distance, too. I need to think about Anna. I can’t mess her around. If you can’t commit to us the way I need you to—’
‘I never wanted to hurt you or Anna.’
‘I know.’ He looked away at the happy crowds. ‘But...you did. Please let Anna see you before you leave.’
And he walked away.
Sydney gulped back a grief-racked sob, wondering what the hell she’d just done.
* * *
Sydney stood at the front of the crowd, waiting for Anna’s big moment. She’d split up from Nathan as he’d headed backstage to give his daughter one last pep talk.
Guilt and shame were filling her. Today was the anniversary of her daughter’s death. And she’d kept busy—tried her hardest not to think about her. She hadn’t even gone to the cemetery to put down some flowers for her. She hadn’t been for so long. Who knew what her daughter’s grave looked like now? Mrs C had laid a flower there in November—was it still there?
Dead and brittle? Covered by fallen leaves or weeds?
And she was here, waiting to applaud another little girl. What was she doing? She’d even given Anna Olivia’s old costume. She’d be riding Bert, too. Saying the same lines. It would be too much to bear.
And now she’d hurt Nathan. Played around with that man’s heart because she hadn’t known whether she was ready to accept it completely.
Feeling sick, she was about to turn and push her way through the crowds when she noticed Bert the donkey come into view, with Anna perched proudly on his back.
Sydney gasped. She’d been expecting to be tormented with memories. But it was so clear now. Anna was nothing like Olivia. The shape of her face was different. She had her father’s jawline, her father’s eyes.
If I’d continued with Nathan I wouldn’t have been just taking him on, but Anna, too. I’d have let them both down. And now I’ve broken his heart, and Anna’s too...
Overwhelmed by shock and guilt, Sydney stood silently and watched. Suddenly she was smiling with encouragement as Anna’s gaze met her own. She felt so proud of Anna. Almost as proud of her as she had been of Olivia, doing the same thing.
How can that be?
As she watched the little girl ride Bert over to his mark by the hay bale, dismount and then take the hand of her Joseph, Sydney felt sadness seize her once more. She could recall Olivia doing that very thing. She’d taken Joseph’s hand and been led into the stable too.
‘And Joseph and Mary could find nowhere to stay. The only place left to them was with the animals in the stable. And in the place where lambs were born Mary gave birth to baby Jesus...’ A small boy at the side of the stage intoned his words into a microphone.
Anna reappeared, this time without her pregnancy bump and holding a doll, swaddled in a thick white blanket, which she lay down into a manger.
Why am I crying?
Sydney blinked a few times and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. Was she being like the innkeeper of Bethlehem? Telling Nathan and Anna there was no room for them in her home? Her heart?
She’d felt there was room. It had been there. She’d felt it. Even now she could feel it.
Sydney turned and pushed her way through the crowds, tears streaming freely down her face, unable to look. Unable to face the future she would have had if she’d stayed with Nathan. Unable to believe that she had that inner strength Nathan had said she had!
It was too difficult to move on like this. Accepting Nathan and Anna would be like forgetting her own daughter, and she couldn’t have that. Not ever.
Free of the crowds, she strode away from the nativity. She couldn’t stay there any longer. She couldn’t watch the end. All she wanted at that point was to be at home. To be surrounded by the things that made her feel calm again.
Back at her cottage, she threw her keys onto the table by the door and headed straight for the lounge, casting the still wrapped present from Nathan under the tree. She slumped into her favourite couch, settling her gaze upon her pictures of Olivia, on the one on the mantel of her daughter reaching up for those bubbles, which was now surrounded by Christmas holly and mistletoe.
She stared at it for a moment, and then sat forward and spoke out loud. ‘She’s not you. She could never replace you.’
* * *
Despite the heartache he was feeling at Sydney’s abrupt departure, Nathan gave Anna a huge hug. She’d acted her part in the nativity brilliantly, and it had gone without a hitch. All those people who said you should never work with children or animals were wrong. Bert had done everything Anna had asked of him, and most importantly of all he had kept her safe.
Scooping her up into his arms, Nathan hitched her onto his hip and kissed her cheek. ‘Well done, pumpkin.’
‘Thanks, Daddy. Did you see me at the end? With my golden halo?’
‘I did! Very impressive.’
‘I made it in class.’
‘It looked very professional.’
‘I saw Sydney.’
He frowned, feeling his stomach plummet with dread. What had Anna seen? That Sydney had looked sick? That she’d run?
He’d almost gone after her. One moment she’d been there, and then the next...
‘You did? She got called away, I think, towards the end. But she did see you, and she was smiling, so she was very proud.’
Anna beamed. ‘I’m hungry, Daddy. Can we get something to eat?’
He nodded. ‘Sure. I think the hot dog stand may just have a few left if we’re quick.’
Putting her back down on the ground, he walked with her over to the fast food stall. He wasn’t hungry. Not at all. All he could see was the look on Sydney’s face just before she’d turned and bolted.
He’d been too far away to chase after her. Not that he could have done. He’d needed to be here for Anna, just as he’d promised. But he kept replaying in his mind the change that had come over Sydney’s features. The brave smile she’d tried to give to his daughter before her face had fallen and she’d gone.
As they passed them various villagers stopped to compliment them and to tell Anna how well she’d done.
‘Hey, guess what?’ he said, determined to keep things happy and bright for his daughter.
‘What?’
‘Lottie won the Best Pet competition!’
‘She did? Yay!’ Anna jumped up and down with glee. ‘Can we go and get her?’
‘Let’s eat these first.’ He handed her a hot dog, covered with a healthy dollop of fried onions, ketchup and mustard. ‘And then we will. Malcolm’s looking after the pets at the moment, so she’s not on her own.’
Anna bit into her hot dog and wiped her mouth when a piece of fried onion tried to escape. ‘Did she get a ribbon?’
‘I think she did.’
‘And a prize?’
‘I think so. She was very lucky, wasn’t she?’
He was finding this difficult. Pretending everything was okay when all he wanted to do was sit alone and allow himself to feel miserable. Had he pushed Sydney too hard by giving her that present? Had he tried to make her accept things she wasn’t ready to work through yet?
I should never have got involved! I should have kept my distance!
‘We had the judge on our side.’ Anna smiled and took another bite.
Did we? Maybe only briefly.
He bit into his own hot dog, but he didn’t really want it. The smell of the onions only turned his stomach.
She’d not been gone long, but already he ached for her. Missed her. He’d thought for a moment that they had a future together. He’d pictured waking up in the mornings and seeing her next to him. Her grey eyes twinkling at him from her pillow. He’d imagined them taking country walks together, hand in hand, and having picnics in the summer—Sydney laughing in the warm sun, her hair glinting.
He’d imagined nights watching movies together and sharing a bucket of popcorn. Feeding each other tasty morsels and titbits from the fridge before running upstairs, giggling, as he chased her before they fell into bed. And then moments when they’d just talk. He’d hold her hand. Trace the lines on her palm. He’d imagined them making love. Maybe even having a family of their own together...
They could have had it all.
He’d had his heart broken again, and this time he felt even more distraught.
He’d known Gwyneth was selfish. Had always had to have things her own way. She’d always had the perfect life, and a disabled partner had not been for her. Even the promise of a new family, the child they’d made together, hadn’t been enough for her. It had never been enough for her. His diagnosis had just been the last thing she’d needed before she walked away. He’d never expected that she would walk away from her own child, too, but she had.
Sydney was looking out for herself too, but in
a different way. Her child—Olivia—had been the centre of her life. Her world. And her world had been taken from her. Her sun had been stolen so that she’d only been living in darkness.
Nathan had thought that he’d brightened that darkness for a while.
‘Is Sydney coming to our house on Christmas Day?’ Anna asked, finishing off her bun in a final mouthful.
‘Er... I really don’t know, Anna. She’s a bit sad at the moment.’
‘Because she doesn’t have her little girl any more?’
Nathan looked at his daughter, surprised at her insight. ‘Yes. I think that’s it.’
But what if it wasn’t just that?
‘We could go to hers and try to cheer her up. It is Christmas, and Miss Howarth says it’s the season of goodwill. We learnt that at school for the play.’
How simple it was in a child’s world. Everything was so black and white. ‘We’ll see. You might be busy playing with all your new things.’
‘Sydney could come and play with me.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t know, Anna. Perhaps we need to give her some space for a while.’
‘I want to thank her for giving Lottie first prize. Can we go and see her now? Before Christmas Day? Before she gets sad?’
Nathan felt touched by his daughter’s compassion. She was doing her best to understand. ‘She’s already sad. Maybe we’ll see her in the village. Come on...let’s get Lottie and go home.’
He took her sticky hand in his and together they headed off to the animal tent.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING. A day on which Sydney should have been woken by an excited child bouncing on her bed and urging her to go downstairs. Instead, she was woken by the sound of rain against her window, and she lay in bed for a moment, not wanting to move.
Christmas Day.
The house was full of decorations. Encouraged by Nathan, and feeling positive and optimistic, she had adorned the house throughout, sure in the knowledge that this season she would have a reason to celebrate. People she loved to celebrate with.
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