***

  Around mid-morning there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Open the door, Jacob. It’s Mrs. Pomfret, I saw her walking over.’

  Jacob’s mother didn’t like having visitors. She hated not having anything to offer them and she didn’t want people to know how bad things were. Jacob knew she’d exchange a quick Christmas greeting and send Mrs. Pomfret on her way. And then they’d sit down to a meagre lunch.

  ‘Hello dear! Merry Christmas!’ Mrs. Pomfret said in wavering tones as she hovered on the doorstep. ‘I was just saying to Norman, we really must have Jacob and his mother over for a lovely Christmas meal.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mrs. Pomfret,’ Jacob’s mother said, appearing at the door and looking over Jacob’s head. ‘What a lovely offer! But I’m afraid we’ll have to make it another time, it’s such a busy day.’

  ‘What a pity, dear,’ Mrs. Pomfret replied. ‘My children are all grown up and I miss having children in the house. It would be a joy to have young Jacob over.’

  Jacob had an idea, and turned and rushed up the stairs.

  ‘Jacob! Where are you going? You haven’t wished Mrs. Pomfret a Merry Christmas!’

  Jacob reappeared at the front door, breathless, and holding out a bunch of flowers.

  ‘These are for you,’ he said. ‘We’ve got so many, you don’t mind, do you mum?’

  Mrs. Pomfret buried her face in the flowers, her expression dreamy, her eyes miles away.

  ‘Oh, Jacob,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen these for years. Meadowsweet, daisies, bluebells, foxglove, primrose. And this one, I used to know it so well...celandine!’

  She raised her head. ‘They all used to grow around here, you know. There were meadows right where we’re standing and they were full of flowers.’

  ‘They last forever,’ Jacob said. ‘Honestly, they do.’

  ‘Why of course they do, dear,’ Mrs. Pomfret said. ‘But only if you look after them. It’s the same with all living things, didn’t you know?’

  She turned to Jacob’s mother.’So we’ll see you in an hour, shall we? Don’t bring anything - your son has given me the most lovely present I could wish for. And really, there’s far too much food for the two of us!’

  Jacob looked expectantly at his mother. Just this once, mum, he thought, please say yes. The flowers seemed to have lifted her spirits and an otherworldly glow lit her face as weak winter sunlight reflected from the petals.

  ‘Of course, Mrs. Pomfret,’ she said, ‘that would be lovely.’

  Mrs. Pomfret wandered back across the street, the bunch of flowers held out in front of her like a guiding light on her path.

  ‘Jacob,’ his mum said. ‘Something inside me says we’re going to have a wonderful Christmas.’

  ‘We are mum,’ he said, resting his head against her hip. ‘The ark angel said so.’

  THE END

  Why I wrote this story:

  The idea for this story came from David Attenborough, the great British wildlife presenter. He published a list of ten species he’d like to save from extinction, four of which are mentioned here. I added the fig wasps because it amazes me that so much hinges on such tiny, easily overlooked creatures.

  You can find out more at my website https://www.penclements.com/

  Or follow me on Twitter

  Or friend me on Facebook

  If you’d like something longer, then check out my YA fantasy novel, Oceanheart.

  Oceanheart

  ‘An oceanic world where the stars are going out. Saltwater people and a shark that stalks in dreams. A girl with a nightmare, a mischievous guardian and a boy with a secret.

  Meet Wynn. She thinks she’s a misfit and hates showing weakness. Only one person really touches her heart and that’s her little sister, Stella. But Stella is in a coma and it’s all Wynn’s fault.

  As Wynn creates a journal of might-have-been memories for her sister, she finds herself pulled into a tropical island world and onto a journey through magic and myth, danger and despair. There she meets Soran, a boy who reads nature like a book and can survive anything on land and in the sea. What Wynn doesn’t know is that Soran’s secret could destroy her.

  The island could destroy her too. It’s no paradise. Paradise doesn’t have poison masters called the Teeth. It doesn’t have Sorrowmaker patrolling the reefs. And in paradise, you don’t have to face your greatest fear to fix your biggest mistake.’

  Winner of an Australian Society of Authors Mentorship Award.

  Winner of Olvar Wood Writers Fellowship Award

 
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