Christmas

They arrived on the eve of the Christmas carnival, on a crowd bursting with excitement like a bubble filled with rainbows. Each face was flushed; each pair of eyes warm and excited, in each fist clenched a stick of caramel, a bouquet of ribbons, rolls of tape like golden bracelets. Women broke from the tide of humanity, to eye rolls of cashmere and silk that shimmered in the orange of the streetlamps, just lit under the deep blue sky as children skidded around, jumping in slushy puddles in boots and macs of lemon yellow, sky blue and apple green like kites in a roiling sky. The woman's nose was pink from the cold, snow dusting the red scarf knotted about her throat which she fiddled with her free hand, dark eyes as bright as a child’s.

She pulled along the little girl attached to one hand, Isobel, with her flossy black hair curling damply from under her woollen hat, cheeks stained red as her tiny rosebud mouth open in wonder.
“Hey, you!”
She turned to find an artist sat on his stool, a sketchbook balanced on his knee. The air puffed with his cold breath as he grinned up at her, an eyebrow raised suggestively. “What’s the name of my new muse?”
“I don’t know, perhaps you should ask her. I’m just Annie.”

Isobel suddenly smiled like the sun had come out, her rounded cheeks dimpling in delight. A snowflake floated over her face, sticking to the tip of her nose, a sparkling diamond against the pink of her skin. Annie smiled and bent at the waist to kiss the ice away, her hair falling forward to brush Isobel’s shoulders. The artists' calls faded into the other cries of delight, as everyone stopped and looked upward enchanted at the whirlwind of white that cascaded like a glittering whirlwind. Higher than all of them, Isobel’s giggle sounded like chimes of bells as she pulled on her hand, jumping on her red plastic toes like she wanted to take flight.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Annie lifted Isobel into her arms, a warm heavy weight that settled on her hip like the curve was shaped just for her. For a moment, with the crowd laughing, the Christmas lights, the snow, Annie forgot that she had no where to go, no one to go to, all alone with just a three year old girl and a suitcase of clothes.. Turning to stall holder she handed over her last five pound note and selected a little red bell bracelet which she tied around her baby’s wrist.
“Happy Christmas, honey.”