Alfie in the Snow. Rachel Wells
to like this idea, although I knew from experience the only one who would end up liking it was the child who won.
‘What costumes are everyone wearing this year?’ Franceska asked. ‘I miss my boys dressing up.’
‘We’re too old to dress up,’ both Tommy and Aleksy said at the same time.
‘Summer wants to be a witch, and Toby is insisting on being a superhero,’ Claire said.
‘And I’m going to be a superhero too,’ Henry said. Toby and Henry were quite close and often copied each other.
‘I’m going to be a cat,’ Martha announced.
This news surprised me; after all, there were two cats here.
‘Oh, you can be Summer’s cat,’ Franceska said.
‘And George,’ Summer piped up.
‘Sum wants me to dye George black,’ Claire explained.
My whiskers twitched and George looked terrified. Imagine, my lovely kitten being dyed black!
‘Don’t worry George, it won’t happen. But I had to promise to make you a little witch’s hat to compensate.’
‘So, Summer, Martha and George will all share a broomstick,’ Henry explained. I wasn’t sure about George and a broomstick but we’d have to see.
‘Where are we getting a broomstick from?’ Claire asked, worriedly. ‘I’ve only got a kitchen broom.’
‘We need a proper broomstick,’ Summer shouted.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve ordered one from the internet,’ Polly said. Halloween was a lot of work, it seemed.
George was on the kitchen table and I could barely watch as he dodged the knives, seemingly unaware of the danger he faced. I heard him make a funny sound, which worried me.
‘Ahh,’ Toby cried. ‘George spat pumpkin over me.’ We all looked and Toby had a splat of pumpkin on his face. George glanced over to me as if to say, ‘I didn’t know it wouldn’t taste good.’ I raised my whiskers again. My curious son would never learn, it seemed, as he tried to lick Toby’s face.
The rest of the carving passed without incident. As the four children proudly presented their finished pumpkins, it was up to the adults to choose a winner. As Aleksy and Tommy had done most of the work it didn’t seem fair but then the older boys didn’t seem to mind as Aleksy wandered off to do something on his phone and Tommy went to the fridge to find a snack.
‘It’s a draw,’ Polly announced diplomatically.
‘Absolutely,’ Claire agreed, ‘they are all far too good.’
Thankfully the children all seemed to accept this. Summer and Toby’s pumpkins were placed on the front doorstep, with a lit candle in each – I warned George to stay away – so that Jonathan would be able to admire them when he got home.
As everyone said their goodbyes, Henry and Martha proudly clutching their pumpkins to their chests, they arranged to go ‘trick or treating’ the following day after school.
‘I can’t wait to go trick or treating,’ George said to me when we were alone.
‘Well, you know Claire said you had to wear a hat,’ I pointed out.
‘Yeah, I’m not pleased about that but at least they’re not going to dye me black,’ he replied. And I had to agree.
‘Oh, and George, no more eating the pumpkin.’
‘No Dad, it tasted really weird.’
Even I had to admit to being excited. George had been unbearable today; he was so keen to go trick or treating, that from the morning he was badgering me about the time. It was a very long day until I bundled him off to find Tiger, telling him how much she would love to hear about the pumpkin carving and the evening ahead. It did buy me a little bit of peace and quiet and I would apologise to Tiger later.
What I was most excited about was the fact that when trick or treating we would definitely go to the new next-door neighbour’s house and hopefully meet them. Despite not having a costume or being given a specific role I would join them, as the other parents did.
While the children got ready upstairs, I groomed myself in the living room. I was sad that Aleksy, Tommy and Franceska wouldn’t be joining us, but the boys refused point blank to go on the basis that they were too old. Growing up was hard, but it was definitely difficult for parents, I knew that with George. They became more independent, needed you less, wanted you less even, which could be hurtful. It was something that I was having to learn to accept and Franceska and I were in a similar situation on this one.
The children emerged giddy with excitement. Toby was in a Spiderman costume and Summer was dressed in a black cape with a tall pointed black hat and a false nose. She looked a bit scary in a very cute way. George, being carried by Summer, had a little black hat on and he looked adorable. I was sure he would earn the kids extra sweets this year. Claire picked up the broomstick, and we all headed out to meet Polly, Martha and Henry.
All assembled, they decided to start at the end of the street. I was slightly disappointed by this. Edgar Road is a long road and it meant I would have quite a wait before we reached next door.
We approached the first house. Summer, Martha and George were all at the door, trying to balance on the broomstick, when it tipped and George fell off.
‘Yowl.’ He landed on his tail.
‘Martha, that was your fault!’ Summer stormed.
‘No, it was yours,’ Martha bit back, and Martha never got cross. Polly picked George up and petted him, Claire picked the broomstick up and as the girls glared at each other with their arms crossed, a kindly woman answered the door, and thrust sweets at them. They soon forgot to argue and were happy to get back on the broomstick. However, Toby took George from Polly and offered to carry him, which seemed the safest bet.
We crossed the street to a house opposite which was a real mess. The garden was overgrown, the house had peeling paint, and it looked sad, if it was possible for a house to look so. I saw Polly and Claire exchange a glance.
‘Maybe we should give this one a miss?’ Claire suggested, but the kids were already half way up the path. We all followed, reluctantly. There was a light on in the front room and Toby knocked on the door, George still in his arms. The children all stood expectantly on the front doorstep, discussing what sweets they might expect. A man came to the window. He was old, moving slowly. He looked out at us, then, to our surprise, he raised his fist at us, shouted, ‘Get lost’, and pulled the curtains closed.
‘Why doesn’t he want to see us?’ Martha asked, her eyes full of confusion.
‘Maybe he forgot to buy sweets. Come on, we’ve got lots of houses to visit,’ Claire chivvied them up. As we made our way back down the path I glanced back at the house. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to see us either.
Finally, with weary legs – me – and full bags of sweets and chocolate – the children – we reached the house next door to us. I could barely contain my excitement as I waited with everyone on the doorstep. The woman who opened the door didn’t look sad, not like the crying woman I’d seen last night. She had short-ish blonde hair which fell over her face, and was tall and slim. She looked composed, smiling, her head tilted to one side questioningly as she stood in front of us.
‘Trick or treat,’ the children chanted.
‘Oh my goodness, Connie, come here,’ the woman shouted and the teenager I’d seen joined her at the front door.
‘Hi,