by Lynn Clement
cinnamon milk
Barney
stepped lightly, almost tiptoeing across the crisp snow. He was not enamoured of
this white stuff. He didn’t understand why everyone else in the house got so
excited. Joel and Lindy had wrapped themselves up in woollens and gone off to
play in the park. Well, it was mother who’d wrapped them up really, as they were
too small to do it themselves. Barney didn’t mind that they’d gone without him.
He wasn’t keen on the park, too noisy. He’d see them later anyway and by then
the fire would be lit.
He had a job
to do today which was the only reason he’d ventured out, otherwise he might have
even stayed in bed. He wanted to visit old Henry at The Manor. He’d not been too
well and Barney was off to cheer him up.
As Barney
was deliberating which way to go, a snow ball smashed into his face and nearly
knocked him sideways. Shaking his head vigorously he looked in the direction of
the missile. Gavin Peterson! He lived next door to Barney, Joel and Lindy but he
wasn’t a friend. In fact the twins called him ‘The Enemy.’ All Barney knew, was
that he was mean. Gavin had that look on his face, the one when he tosses toys
over the fence and then yells to his mum that the twins have taken them. The two
mothers have had shoutings before.
Barney
decided to run, even though it meant sinking further into the stuff. He was
steeling himself when another snowball caught him, followed by a loud laugh at
his expense. He knew he could outrun Gavin Peterson and he did, saving himself
more discomfort than he could take.
The Manor
was on Tile Street and Barney got there quickly, leaving Gavin Peterson in his
wake. He tapped on the window; he could see Henry sitting alone on one of the
comfy chairs by a fire. His eyes were closed. He was looking raggedy, not really
taking care of himself nowadays. The cleaner was putting the bins out at the
back and let Barney in. At the door he shook himself so that he didn’t take any
of the wet into Henry’s room. As Barney approached, Henry’s eyes opened. They
were watery and dull but grateful. Barney sat next to him and patted him on his
back. There was a drink offered and Barney had some but Henry didn’t. They sat
for a while, companions warming themselves by the fire.
Barney let
himself out when it was dark. People were arriving and the noise was beginning,
so he sloped through the front door. He wanted to get back to the twins. He’d
nodded at Henry and Henry had nodded back. Barney wasn’t sure he’d ever see him
again. Tomorrow was Christmas day and he’d spend it with mother, Joel, Lindy and
a lovely log fire. He might even get a fishy treat. He was looking forward to
that, but most of all he loved to chase the wrapping paper balls the twins made
for him after opening their presents. He knew not to climb the tree any more
after last year’s disaster but he was allowed to pat the twinkly balls on the
lower branches. Christmas in his house was such fun. He thought about Henry and
hoped he had at least one more Christmas day, curled up in his warm arm chair by
the pub fire.
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