story would still be a part of their lives.
But it was a bigger problem than that.
Seeing Oscar so excited and caught up in the magic, and listening to Eva talk
about trying to keep Oscar’s innocence for as long as she could, made Rudi feel
that between them, he and Vanessa were forcing Isabel to grow up too quick. He
didn’t know if he’d ever have any more children—Isabel might be his only chance
to bring a child into this world, and he wanted her to hold onto her innocence
as long as she possibly could. You spend a long time grown up , he
thought, a peculiar ache developing inside him as he watched her standing
quietly, the image of respectability compared to Oscar, who climbed onto the
barrier, fell off and started wailing. His mother was right—he’d spent too long
apart from her. Surely he hadn’t missed out on her childhood altogether?
He pulled Isabel towards him and kissed her
forehead. “What would like to do now, rakas ?”
“We’re going to have a look around the
shops,” Eva said, a little shyly. “If you’d like to join us.”
Isabel nodded, brightening, and so all four
of them walked into the village and entered the large building containing the
shops selling all manner of souvenirs for the tourists.
Rudi followed Eva as she led the way around
the stalls with a carefully controlled Oscar as they passed the fine ceramics,
the intricate gold and silver jewellery, the reindeer furs and handmade hide
products, and the local delicacies. Rudi smiled and nodded each time they
pointed something out to him, and he tried to take in how the place looked with
regard to the sale of the site, but he found it difficult to concentrate and
felt flat, lacking in enthusiasm.
He watched Eva bend down to talk to Oscar,
pointing out the stitching on a reindeer toy, full of love and attention for
her son, and his throat tightened. The whole crumbling mess of his
marriage—indeed his whole life—washed over him, and he stopped walking,
overwhelmed for a moment by the bleakness of his future. He was not normally an
emotional man; usually he would die rather than reveal his innermost feelings,
preferring instead to keep them clamped tight behind a façade of controlled
composure, and the sudden wave of emotion took him by surprise.
Eva stood, watched Isabel lead Oscar over
to inspect a huge basket of toys, and came to stand beside him. “Are you okay?”
He looked down at her, startled that she
had picked up on his feelings. “Just tired I guess.”
She said nothing for a moment, and they
walked on slowly along the line of stalls. She reached out to touch a sparkling
piece of embroidery, let her fingers brush across a woven rug, and he let his
gaze brush over her in the same way. She’d clipped up her hair today, and he
admired the curve of her neck and jaw, her neat ears, the white skin lying just
behind them. He could imagine placing a kiss there, nuzzling his nose into her
hair.
“Christmas is such a strange time,” she
said. “I love it in so many ways—it is magical, even as a grown up, perhaps
because it tends to remind us of how we felt as children—that time before we
had any worries.”
“True.” He tried to drag his attention away
from her lips as they moved, and focus on what she was saying.
“But I think it also brings with it a huge
amount of pressure,” she continued. “We’re told that we’re all supposed to be
joyous, and we have to spend lots of money to make it a success. That we have
to cook huge dinners and spend hours in the kitchen. That it’s a time to play
happy families, and if you’re not part of the standard two-point-four family,
then you’re made to feel as if you’ve somehow failed.”
“That is also true,” he agreed. “I used to
love Christmas as a child, but I admit as an adult, I do not enjoy it as much.”
“Likewise,” she said. “And that’s a shame.
Perhaps that’s why we want to hold onto the magic for our children.”
He nodded. Her dark
But it was a bigger problem than that.
Seeing Oscar so excited and caught up in the magic, and listening to Eva talk
about trying to keep Oscar’s innocence for as long as she could, made Rudi feel
that between them, he and Vanessa were forcing Isabel to grow up too quick. He
didn’t know if he’d ever have any more children—Isabel might be his only chance
to bring a child into this world, and he wanted her to hold onto her innocence
as long as she possibly could. You spend a long time grown up , he
thought, a peculiar ache developing inside him as he watched her standing
quietly, the image of respectability compared to Oscar, who climbed onto the
barrier, fell off and started wailing. His mother was right—he’d spent too long
apart from her. Surely he hadn’t missed out on her childhood altogether?
He pulled Isabel towards him and kissed her
forehead. “What would like to do now, rakas ?”
“We’re going to have a look around the
shops,” Eva said, a little shyly. “If you’d like to join us.”
Isabel nodded, brightening, and so all four
of them walked into the village and entered the large building containing the
shops selling all manner of souvenirs for the tourists.
Rudi followed Eva as she led the way around
the stalls with a carefully controlled Oscar as they passed the fine ceramics,
the intricate gold and silver jewellery, the reindeer furs and handmade hide
products, and the local delicacies. Rudi smiled and nodded each time they
pointed something out to him, and he tried to take in how the place looked with
regard to the sale of the site, but he found it difficult to concentrate and
felt flat, lacking in enthusiasm.
He watched Eva bend down to talk to Oscar,
pointing out the stitching on a reindeer toy, full of love and attention for
her son, and his throat tightened. The whole crumbling mess of his
marriage—indeed his whole life—washed over him, and he stopped walking,
overwhelmed for a moment by the bleakness of his future. He was not normally an
emotional man; usually he would die rather than reveal his innermost feelings,
preferring instead to keep them clamped tight behind a façade of controlled
composure, and the sudden wave of emotion took him by surprise.
Eva stood, watched Isabel lead Oscar over
to inspect a huge basket of toys, and came to stand beside him. “Are you okay?”
He looked down at her, startled that she
had picked up on his feelings. “Just tired I guess.”
She said nothing for a moment, and they
walked on slowly along the line of stalls. She reached out to touch a sparkling
piece of embroidery, let her fingers brush across a woven rug, and he let his
gaze brush over her in the same way. She’d clipped up her hair today, and he
admired the curve of her neck and jaw, her neat ears, the white skin lying just
behind them. He could imagine placing a kiss there, nuzzling his nose into her
hair.
“Christmas is such a strange time,” she
said. “I love it in so many ways—it is magical, even as a grown up, perhaps
because it tends to remind us of how we felt as children—that time before we
had any worries.”
“True.” He tried to drag his attention away
from her lips as they moved, and focus on what she was saying.
“But I think it also brings with it a huge
amount of pressure,” she continued. “We’re told that we’re all supposed to be
joyous, and we have to spend lots of money to make it a success. That we have
to cook huge dinners and spend hours in the kitchen. That it’s a time to play
happy families, and if you’re not part of the standard two-point-four family,
then you’re made to feel as if you’ve somehow failed.”
“That is also true,” he agreed. “I used to
love Christmas as a child, but I admit as an adult, I do not enjoy it as much.”
“Likewise,” she said. “And that’s a shame.
Perhaps that’s why we want to hold onto the magic for our children.”
He nodded. Her dark
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