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Without wanting to, I found myself dissecting his message, the way I would with my friends when we were trying to work out if a guy was interested or not: he’s used a lot of exclamation marks, he’s trying to come across as funny; he ended with a question so that you have to r
eply; he put a kiss on the end.
My knowledge of men was limited, admittedly, but I knew enough to know these were strong indication
s that he was interested in me.
I hated the thought of hurting him when he’d been so kind to me, but how coul
d he possibly compare to Marty?
Perhaps if the pain of Marty’s departure wasn’t so raw, I might be able to think about kissing someone else, but right now i
t seemed like an alien concept.
My cousins burst into the room, breaking
me out of my inner monologue.

“Claudy, Mum says lunch is ready and she said to tell you
that she cooked it this time.”

I smiled broadly.
“But she never puts m
armite and strawberry together!
What has she made?”

“Jacket potatoes – with a choic
e of beans, or cheese, or both.
But it’s OK, we put sugar in the salt shaker, so we can make it taste better.”

In the afternoon, I sent Sandra and Ned out together for a while so that I could work on the project I
had lined up for the children.
I’d bought some plain, brown wrapping paper – the kind used for sending parcels – and some kid-friendly paints i
n glittery red, gold and green.
We poured the paint into plastic trays and the kids put their hands in them, then they made handp
rints all over the brown paper.
The result was special – customised f
amily Christmas wrapping paper.
We left it to dry on the kitch
en table and watched a cartoon.
After this, we wrapped the presents they’d bought for their parents and placed them under the tree.

“But, Claudy, what about Santa?
Doesn’t he bring the presents?” Allison, the youngest, asked.
I gave a death stare to the older kids, which silenced any possible outpourings of the truth.

“Santa delivers some gifts, I believe, but he’s absolutely fine with people helping him out b
y buying and wrapping presents.
It saves him extra work.”

“OK,” Allison said, “so, then we’ve been extra good this year.”

“Exactly.”

“Claudia, there’s a van parked in front of the house,” Rachel commented.

I ran to the window, hoping that the police weren’t here to talk to me as that might
upset or frighten my cousins.
I sighed with relief when I saw it was a florist’s van.

“They aren’t coming to us, don’t worry, they must be going to one of the neighbours,” I suggested.

“Claudia, has anyone ever sent you flowers?” Rachel asked.

“No, I’m afraid
not.” Just feathers, I thought.
“Oh, someone left flowers on my doorstep once.”

“Was it romantic?”

“
No.
Not at all.”

“Why?” Rachel looked con
fused, her illusions shattered.
I couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Well, they, um, had been left out in the rain all day and
had started to go a bit mouldy.
And I didn’t like the guy who left them.”

“Why didn’t you like him?”

The doorbell ran
g, saving me from the question.
“I guess the neighbours are out, I’ll go to the door, you guys just – behave.” I got up from
the sofa and went to the door.
I opened it to see a delivery woman, her face mostly hidden by a large, and stu
nning, arrangement of flowers.

“Flowers for Miss Claudia Lee,” she said, handing the overw
helming arrangement over to me.
I could sense Rac
hel watching from the doorway.

“Thank you, um, Rachel, could you take these, carefully, and find somewhere for them?” I asked
over my shoulder.
Rachel’s face was so excited, I could see she wanted to know all the romantic details – of which there were none.

“You need to sign here,” the delivery woman told me, hand
ing over an electronic gadget.
“You’re a lucky lady, we don’t ma
ke many of those arrangements.
You must be making some man very happy.” She winked at
me and walked back to her van.
I closed the door and turned around to see five excited faces watching me.

“Who are they from, Claudia?” asked Rachel.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Allison enquired.

“Kissing is yucky.
Girls are yucky,” Danny added.

“I don’t know who they’re from until I read the card, and you guys should be minding your own business. Go watch some TV, I
’ll join you in a few minutes.”
I stomped past them into the dining room, where the overwhelming arrangement sto
od in the centre of the table.
I snatched the little envelope that had been carefully placed at the top of the arrangement and opened it, knowing full well who the flowers were from.

For Princess Claudia,

Merry Christmas

Sam

I stared at the arrangement – it was made up of different shades of red and white – roses and lilies being the flowers I recognised
making up most of the bouquet.
It had arrived in its own vase and it clearly had cost a lot o
f money. It was too much.
I was flattered, of course, but
I felt completely overwhelmed.
I heard little giggles behind me.

“Who are they from, Claudia?” Rachel was brave enough to ask again.

“Sam.”

“Who’s Sam?” Danny had piped up now.

“Just a friend.”

“Friends don’t send flowers like that.” Rachel’s statement was cutting.

“I know…hey, who wants to make cornflake cakes?” The younger kids were immediately distracted and ran into the kitchen, but Rachel held my eyes and smiled.

“If you marry him, can I be a bridesmaid?”

“If I say yes, will you leave the subject alone?”

“Yes,” Rachel promised, holding out her little finger to me for a pinky shake.

“Yes
.” I returned her pinky shake.

I felt exhausted by the time Sandra and Ned returned and then had to handle Sandra’s question
s about the flower arrangement.
I told her I should call Sam to thank him and also put him straight on my feelings for him.

My feet felt like they were treading through mud as I climbed the stairs to the guest bedro
om.
It felt like trying to let Ben know I was
n’t interested, all over again.
I pic
ked up my phone and called Sam.
He answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Princess,” he answered, sounding happy.

“Hi, Sam.
I was ringing to thank you for the flowers, they’re breathtaking.”

“I
knew you’d like them.
How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine, I’ve been kep
t busy by my monstrous cousins.
I…look Sam, I…well, my aunt thinks you might be interested in me, you know, romantically, and…”

“Yes, Claudia, I am.” He said it so plainly, I was taken aback.

“But you know I’ve just come out of a serious relatio
nship and had my heart broken.”
I was stumbling over the reasons I’d planned for why he shouldn’t want to be with me.

“I do.
That’s why I thought you might appreciate someone who isn’t mess
ing around and playing games.
That’s why I am trying to make it clea
r that I’m attracted to you.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

“Claudia, would you mind telling me how you feel about me?”

“I…I honestly don’t know…I’m so focussed on protecting myself from getting hurt, I’m still in pain over…everything.” I realised I couldn’t say Marty’s name or I would cry and I was desperate to avoid that.

“I know that feeling well, trust me.  Listen, Claudia, I know you’ve been through so much this year and I don’t want to add to that.” He to
ok a deep breath and continued:
“The way I see it is tha
t I met you at the wrong time.
So, I’ll be your f
riend for as long as you want.
If it takes a few months for you to begin laughing more than you cry, I
’ll be there for that.
I’m tired of being lonely and if one day you realise you’re tired of being lonely, and if you start missing me as much as I miss you right now; then that’ll be the right time.”

His spee
ch brought a lump to my throat.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I croaked, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do. No pressure, Princess.
You take your tim
e to let your heart beat again.
I’ll be listening out for it.”

“Thank you.
I’d better go.”

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight.”

I felt shell shocked through dinner, hardly paying attention to the lively conver
sations taking place around me.
The phone conversation was ringing in my ears, the words echoing and reve
rberating, over and over again.
Sandra questioned me about it as we cleared the ta
ble.

“So, he admitted he’s attracted to you?”

“Yes, and he’s willing to wait until I
work out how I feel about him.
No pressure, he said.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Sandra stopped piling up the plates and stared at me.

“Overwhelmed. He must be so sure of his feelings for me and yet I don’t eve
n know if I’m attracted to him.
I don’t feel like I did about Marty.”

“But you enjoy spending time with him?”

“Yes, he’s fun to be with.
He doesn’t give me butterflies though.”

Sandra looked thoughtful for
a second.
“Maybe
they’re still in their cocoons?
Maybe h
e’s right, you just need time.
Either way, he seems like a nice guy and heaven knows you need some of those in your life.”

Being at Aunt Sandra’s was hectic all the time and I started to long for the solitude of my house, mainly because when I spoke aloud t
o Marty, nobody could hear me.
Here, I didn’t even have a chance to sa
y the words I hoped he’d hear.
I took a long, hot bath, enjoying the silence of the room, knowing the children were all downstairs w
atching TV with their parents.
It was good
to be able to think in peace.
It gave me time to wallow in my thoughts of Marty, thoughts I’d neglected with th
e turmoil of the past few days.
There was no contest between my feelings for Marty and my
possible feelings for Sam.
The contest was between living in the beautiful past and moving on to an unknown future.

I put on my py
jamas and ventured downstairs.
I sat with the
happy family for a few minutes.
They looked like they should have been on an advert – the perfect Christmas family – and even though they included me and never neglecte
d me, I felt like an outsider.
I said my goodnights and headed to the guest room.

Waiting on the pillow was a white feather – larger than the others he’d left for
me. I smiled, feeling giddy.
I wou
ld get to be near him tonight.
I tried to calm myself down, knowing my excited agitation would delay the arrival
of sleep, the arrival of Marty.
I ponde
red for a moment how it worked.
What had he said? My soul searche
d for him?
I hoped it wasn’t dangerous, knowing that
I’d take any risks regardless.

I lay in the darkness, waiting for the dream to start, to be transported to the ut
opia that was being with Marty.
There w
as nothing wrong with my heart.
It was beating
perfectly.
It knew w
ho every beat was destined for.
Marty.

I wa
s lying on my side, facing him.
I could feel his breath on my forehe
ad, his arms wrapped around me.
I stayed as still as possible, just try
ing to hold on to every moment.
This was truly
breathtaking.
He stirred slightly, pulling in a sharp intake of breath.