Frosty Wind Made Moan

14

Yorkshire puddings! Toby's absolute favourite! With roast beef and gravy, carrots and peas and roast potatoes. The best meal of the year. He loved his Mum's Yorkshire puddings, but hadn't eaten them in a while as his Mum worked more and more. Before moving on to the living room, Toby took a long, deep breath, smelling that wonderful food.

Furious whispers announced the arrival of Toby's Mum and Dad into the kitchen and his Mum began fussing around, opening the oven, pulling out the roast and basting it. She rubbed her hands on a cloth before turning back to Toby's Dad, one hand on her hip, still holding the cloth. Toby's Dad leaned against the table, checking through the doorway often.

"Andy, you can't leave. Not now." On cooking autopilot, Toby's Mum continued to check all the other food, too. "I swear, you ruin that boy's Christmas and I'll make sure you never see him again. If you want this quick divorce, you'll wait until the New Year."

"I can't live a lie any more, Sandra." Toby couldn't believe how weak his Dad looked. Shoulders hunched, back curved. It looked like he had the weight of the world upon him. "I've tried, but you know as well as I, we've been finished for years. He's old enough to understand now."

"Not ..." She started to shout, but stopped herself. In contrast to his Dad, Toby's Mum looked as though she could go ten rounds in a boxing ring, eyes flashing as she pointed at Toby's Dad, lowering her voice. "Not at bloody Christmas! I mean it, Andy. If you never want to see Toby again, you go right ahead and leave, right now, but I'll contest the divorce. I'll make sure it's years before you even get a chance to marry her. Years!"

At that moment the younger Toby ran into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his Dad. It seemed so odd to look at his younger self, watching events that he had experienced almost three years before. Toby's Dad hugged the younger Toby back, kissed the top of his head and then nodded towards Toby's Mum. He had agreed to wait.

"Go upstairs and tidy yourself up, Toby." Ruffling the young Toby's hair, his Dad smiled. "Dinner'll be ready soon. Go on!"

Toby pulled on the old man's hand, this time, leaving Mum and Dad to their tense discussion. He led the old man into the living room, where his Mum and Dad had started their argument and, sat there on a chair all alone, was Toby's Grandma. She looked so old and small, watching the television as though an argument hadn't happened only moments earlier. Toby stopped the old man, turning him to face the kitchen.

"Let me know if anyone starts to come in." The old man looked down at Toby, neither questioning him, nor moving. "I just need a minute or two. Please?"

"I will watch for you, Toby." The old man ruffled Toby's hair in the same way Toby's Dad had ruffled the younger Toby's hair. "Do not take too long."

He had no idea how long it would take. He felt his palms become slick with sweat as he approached his Grandma, absorbed in some repeat of a gameshow. He rubbed his hands on his tracksuit bottoms and moved in front of his Grandma. He had to force himself to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, before kneeling down and trying to catch his Grandma's eye.

"Grandma? It's me." He couldn't remember her being this small, nor looking this old. At first, she didn't appear to see him. "It's me, Toby, Grandma."

He had always thought of his Grandma as a tough woman, easy to shout and snap at people, but also quick to tell them how much she loved them. She never suffered fools and, because she had had children late in life, had always been far older than other kids' grandmas. Toby had always hated disappointing Grandma far more than his Mum and Dad.

Now, she looked every day of her age and that age had not shown her any kindness. She wore it in every wrinkle, every inch of thin skin, in every liver spot. And in her eyes. Once so bright and intelligent, now dull. Lacking something important. Toby half-wished he had taken the old man's offer and left this time, but he couldn't leave without seeing Grandma. One last time.

"Toby? Toby!" After such a long time, Grandma's eyes turned away from the tv and, as she saw him, her eyes widened, a smile came to her face and she cupped his cheek in her tiny hand. "You've grown. Such a sweet boy. An idiot, but sweet. Your mother and father are divorcing, you know?"

"I know, but, best not to mention it to me, eh? I don't think they want me to know just yet." He took her hand in both of his and kissed it. He could feel tears trailing down his cheeks. "I just ... I just want to tell you that I love you. I really do, Grandma. If you don't remember anything else, I'd like it if you remembered that. I love you."

"Oh, Toby, my sweet boy. I'll always remember that." His Grandma turned her head, looking towards the door to the living room and pointed with her thumb. "You came all this way with him to tell me that? You are a good boy."

"You ... you can see him." She could only have meant the old man. No-one else was anywhere in sight.

"Of course! Rancid looking old bugger, isn't he?" She gave the old man a regal, dismissive nod before turning back to Toby. "Mind you listen to him. You be good. Now, off with you, before you come back and your Mum and Dad pretend they're happy. Off! Shoo!"

He couldn't help but laugh. If anyone could see the old man, it would have to be Grandma. Leaning forward, he gave her a kiss on her cheek and hugged her. Then he heard thundering steps as his younger self ran down the stairs. Toby managed to reach the protection of the old man before the younger Toby saw his older self.

Without saying a word, the old man looked at him with a question in his eyes and Toby could only nod. It was enough. They could go back, now, and Toby wouldn't remember this Christmas in quite the same way ever again. This was the Christmas he got to say goodbye to his Grandma and it was, despite everything else, despite it not happening how he remembered it, the best of Christmases. And he hadn't thought about presents once.