My Christmas Wish
Julia Williams
A little festive eShort treat from the author who brought you, MAKE A CHRISTMAS WISH**A 35 page short story**Dear Mum,I miss you…As a way of coping with his mum’s death, fifteen-year-old Joe writes letters to her. As Christmas comes around, Joe only wishes for one thing. Will his Christmas wish come true?
MY CHRISTMAS WISH
Julia Williams
Copyright (#u397d7449-a4ea-504f-8208-afe45a403abe)
Published by Avon
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2015
Copyright © Julia Williams 2015
Julia Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © December 2015 ISBN: 9780008173258
Version: 2015-12-02
Contents
Cover (#u497f4e6b-ffc8-52ed-af13-ca661ae9da24)
Title Page (#uba2122db-fa43-535f-9588-4ef63019a567)
Copyright
Joe’s Wish (#ub2fedd8e-458e-5530-adee-bfdc310f0d6e)
Christmas, last year (#u8c371ee3-007c-54d7-97dd-ff75af380373)
Winter, this year (#u4faa3bad-89ba-55c9-935b-c373edfb0d55)
Spring, this year (#litres_trial_promo)
Summer, this year (#litres_trial_promo)
Autumn, this year (#litres_trial_promo)
Winter, this year (#litres_trial_promo)
Read on for an extract from Make a Christmas Wish! (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading – Make a Christmas Wish (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading – Granny’s Christmas Wish (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading – Dad’s Christmas Wish (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author
About the Publisher
Joe’s Wish (#ulink_97dc15c2-853a-5794-8ea9-75deb79c6675)
My mum died. This is bad. My dad is sad. My granny is sad.
I think I must be sad.
Sometimes my eyes leak water and I don’t know why.
The world has gone dark now, when it felt full of light.
It is Christmas and Mum has gone. People shouldn’t die at Christmas. That’s wrong.
My counsellor says I should talk about it. But who to? And what would I say?
So I’ve decided to write to you, Mum. I know you’ll understand.
Christmas, last year (#ulink_6534dd46-872a-5593-a9d0-d0375ecac5c2)
Dear Mum,
You died yesterday. There was an accident and you died.
I went to the hospital with Dad. I kissed you and said goodbye. But I don’t know where you have gone.
Now our house is full of people. They are all talking in low voices. Everyone is sad.
Granny is here, making tea. No one drinks it, but she makes more.
I don’t know why she is making tea. Hot chocolate is better.
I don’t like all the people. They make me feel hot and flustered. They keep asking how I am. I don’t know how I am.
So I go into the loft and hide until they’ve gone. I feel safe there.
And when it’s dark I look through my telescope and wish you were here.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Dad says I need a suit for the funeral.
I didn’t like the suits I tried on. They are itchy and scratchy and don’t feel right.
Dad seems to think it’s important.
I think you won’t care.
Dad got cross when I told him.
So I am wearing an itchy suit for the funeral.
I don’t want Dad to be cross.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Today was your funeral.
Dad, Granny and I followed your coffin into the church.
There were a lot flowers on top of it.
Six men carried you into the church. They must be very strong.
I couldn’t picture you in the coffin. I remember seeing your body at the hospital. You looked like you were asleep. But I couldn’t see you asleep in your coffin. Were you really there?
There were too many people in church. It made me agitated. I wish you could have been there to help me calm down.
Granny helped me instead. So that was good.
Dad cried.
Then Granny cried.
I didn’t know what to do.
So I cried too.
I think that’s what you do at funerals.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
It feels like a long time since I have seen you. Though it is only two weeks.
Granny came for Christmas. It was sad. We all missed you. Christmas shouldn’t be sad should it?
Nothing feels right now you are gone. I wonder if Christmas will ever feel right again?
I try to picture you. But you are not here. Where have you gone?
Where does anyone go when they die?
Logically I know you are in the ground. I have put flowers on your grave. Your bones will rot and crumble away. One day there will be nothing left.
But if there is nothing left, why do I remember you?
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
I looked at Venus tonight through my telescope. The one you gave me for my last birthday.
Do you remember telling me that Grandad was a star when he died?
Maybe you are too.
If you are a star, I think you must be Venus because it is the evening and the morning star. And you used to get me up in the morning and put me to bed at night when I was little.
It is a long time since you tucked me into bed. But I wish you were still here to do it.
Now it’s just Dad and me. And nothing is the same.
When I look at Venus I will think of you.
And I will remember you always.
Your son
Joe
Winter, this year (#ulink_2b070465-6ca5-5b21-87c8-b9057fe09e33)
Dear Mum,
It is January now.
The weather is cold.
The house feels cold too, because you are not there.
How does that work? It isn’t logical.
But you were here and the house felt warm. And now it doesn’t.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Dad isn’t very well.
He doesn’t talk much and is very sad.
He is also very tired.
Granny says he needs his beauty sleep.
Will that make him happy do you think?
They talk in whispers a lot. I think they worry about me. Granny says I spend too much time in the loft.
But I like it here. No one bothers me.
And I look at the stars and feel close to you.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Today Dad and I went to put flowers on your grave. Freesias; your favourite. And roses because Dad likes them.
It is six week since your accident. Dad cried again. He tries not to do it in front of me, but he cries a lot now. I think he misses you.
I miss you too.
I miss you saying, “Now Joe it’s time for school.”
I miss you taking me for hot chocolate.
I miss talking to you at the end of the day.
There are a lot of graves in the graveyard. I wonder where all the other people who’ve died are now?
Do their families miss them too?
There are so many people who must have died in the earth’s history. Billions upon billions. There are billions of stars too.
I think every single one must be a star.
Just like you are.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Even though it is very cold today, I remembered a day you bought me ice cream.
I hit a boy at school. That was bad. But he kept shouting at me because I didn’t want to play Power Rangers. Power Rangers was a stupid game and I didn’t like it. He wouldn’t go away and he and his friends kept telling me I had to play. Why did I have to play? I knew I was getting angry and tried to take deep breaths the way you always told me too.
They laughed at me when I started rocking back and forth. I tried to find Mrs Thomas but she wasn’t there. I tried to run away from the boys, but they followed me. So I hit the boy who wanted me to play Power Rangers. And then there was trouble.
I know I shouldn’t have hit that boy. But he shouldn’t have shouted at me. He should have left me alone. I cried and said I was sorry, but I had to come home from school early that day.
You said it didn’t matter, and bought me an ice cream, and everything was ok.
I like ice cream.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
I think sometimes you were sick when I was little. You used to fall asleep a lot when I asked for help with my homework. I didn’t like to wake you up.
Once Dad wasn’t there and you were asleep for a long long time. The lights were off and I was too small to reach the switch. I thought you might be dead. I was hungry but there was no dinner.
When you woke up your face was read and blotchy and you cried. I don’t know why you cried.
Perhaps it was because you were ill.
We had pizza for dinner today and you said I shouldn’t tell Dad you were ill. Otherwise he’d be worried.
I didn’t tell Dad.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
I don’t know why you are dead. Why was it my mum who got knocked over and killed in a car park?
There are lots of bad people; dictators, murderers, terrorists – who are all alive. So why are you dead? You weren’t a bad person.
Sometimes you did do bad things.
I didn’t like it when you forgot to pick me up from school. That was a bad thing.
But mainly you did good things.
Like making me hot chocolate and helping me to stay calm when I was upset.
That was good. You were a good person.
So why are you dead, and all the bad people are still alive?
That isn’t right.
Your son
Joe
Dear Mum,
Venus was very bright this morning when I got up. I told Dad it was you, but I don’t think he understood me. I don’t think Dad always understands me very well. Not the way you did. But he tries. So that’s good.
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