You’re leaving then? I said I was. You always say you are. This time I mean it. You’ll be back. I won’t be. You still love me. I don’t. You still need me. Not anymore. Since when. Since before you even noticed. We’re happy. I’ll be happy now. I love you. That will stop.

The embarrassment of reading the last 2 years of mine and realising I haven’t done a thing about them. So! This year - no more excuses, you can’t blame having a new born anymore and actually that non fiction idea you have might be pretty interesting - now how do you start those type of books?!?

I look down at Jane, wrapped up against the cold. One hand in mine, a present held tightly in the other. ‘Imagine! Santa at the party and him so busy this time of year.’ She looks up at me confusion on her face. ‘Did you know it was the real one?’ I squeeze her hand tighter. ‘Yes mummy’ she sighs.

Drip drip drip. The sound wakes me. I lie in bed infuriated. Turn the tap all the way. How often do I have to tell him. Drip drip. He’s not asleep next to me. I get out of bed. Shivering. Has a window been left open? Drip. I open the bathroom door. See that it’s not water making the noise.

See a penny. The face has worn smooth from all the times I’ve rubbed it for luck. Not that it’s ever worked. As I put my cleanser away I see it glinting at me. I take it out and squeeze it so hard a circular imprint is left in my hand. He comes to bed. I smile and hope this is the month it happens.

This is so good!

Thank you! So pleased that’s the reaction you had because in my head she’s waiting for her dead lover!

Midday you promised to be here. I study the sculpture you told me to wait by. Take in the way the figures intertwine. The lustre of the marble, the tension of his hand on her arm. Her neck thrown back in surrender. I wait. You don’t appear. I’ll be here same time next year. Waiting.

Roses shoved in my face. The thorn pricking my chin. “Ouch!” A bead of blood rises. A man stands there looking at me in surprise. “You don’t look like your photo?” I sigh “you want next door”. It isn’t the first time this has happened. He steps away, looks back. “Shame”. I close the door smiling.

A faint sigh reaches my ears as I pop outside for fresh air. A giggle then a low moan. Intrigued I follow the sound. A couple in the bushes. I laugh then I recognise the bridesmaids dress. I’d the know the back of the man’s head anywhere. I back away quietly, ripping the veil from my head as I go.

The familiar smell of Chanel. ‘Here again?’ ‘Always when you need me’. ‘This is new, a bit dramatic’. I indicate the darkness. A huff of laughter. ‘I always liked to make a scene’. ‘What do I do Nan?’ Silence, the swarm surrounds me. In my ear the words hiss ‘kill them’.

The first thing I saw was baby oil. The advert didn’t say anything about kids. I hefted my case over the doorstep and I made my way to the living room. Leather sofa and art work that was ‘erotic’. Leaving my case I went into the kitchen. An open door, I heard a thwack and then ‘more mistress!’.

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Actually take notice of the idea that has been festering in my brain for 5 years and get words on the page. Stop making excuses that I have no time and make time!

There was Santa. Her mother gasped with joy. ‘You defeated him, how after all this time?’ Santa looked at Ella ‘I needed her to remember who she was’. The snow outside stopped, a calm settling. ‘Now to the North Pole where we can finally be the family we are, the flame inside keeping us warm’.

Her mother stood suddenly and strode to the fireplace. She raised her arm to throw the card into the flames but then crumpled. Turning back to Ella, the tears falling freely, she whispered ‘it’s time I told you. Time for you to know what really happened to your father’ #5ActFestiveStory

Jane stared at it then ripped it into pieces, letting them fall to the floor like the white flakes that covered her cell window. Sorry didn’t get her out of this place. Sorry didn’t get her home for Christmas. She looked down at the card and saw a shimmer. Invisible ink. #5ActFestiveStory