The Littlest Snowman by Julie Balloo
Everything was boxed up and ready to go. All Jill had to do now was wait for the removal van to arrive in the morning. Fireworks crackled in the distance and sparks soared high in the sky, arcing overhead before fanning out in rainbow glory. She almost smiled. In the rush to get it everything done she’d forgotten it was Guy Fawkes night.
When they’d first moved in they’d had so many hopes and expectations; family life would reign supreme. Now this was all there was left, just Jill, a husbandless wife and a childless mother standing alone in an empty house, a house so quiet that she thought any moment it might suddenly speak to her, accuse her of ruining everything, blame her for the events of the past couple of years.
The old fridge! She suddenly thought, damn, I didn’t check the old fridge.
There had been a fitted fridge in the kitchen that stopped working almost as soon as they’d moved in. They’d bought a new one and used the old for storage, Jill had completely forgotten about it. She quickly opened the door and found to her dismay a collection of old tumblers and plastic fruit bowls, she shrugged, deciding they weren’t worth taking, then in the quiet she heard a low rumbling sound.
The small freezer compartment at the bottom of the fridge was still plugged in. She opened it not quite knowing what to expect – fortunately there was no food, no mouldy old fish fingers or rotten peas, but just as she was about to close the door and switch it off for good she saw the evidence of one fun filled winters day. All that remained were a few spindly twigs, two wizened raisons and a tiny sliver of carrot.
And there he was once more, her darling little boy, five years old and so excited he could barely stand still.
‘Please Mummy, oh please, just a teeny weeny one, please.’
Mother Jill shook her head firmly.
‘No, Kit, where would we keep it? It’ll melt.’
The snow had been heavy and unexpected, all the schools were closed. In the sky to ground whiteness they’d played all day. Throwing snowballs, sledging down the hills on the downs, rolling giant snowballs with all the others, adults and children alike, exploring a magical kingdom of delight. After they’d made a big snowman Kit had insisted they make a little one and they did, bringing it home to show daddy and storing it in the bottom drawer of the old freezer where it stayed, forlorn and forgotten, until now.
Jill slid to the floor her arms clutching her body as the sobs raged. Could it really be only eleven years ago?
Eleven years since her baby had found joy around every corner, had laughed and danced and run about just so happy to be alive. When exactly did he change? When did he think he could find happiness by obliterating all reality and sinking into squalid inhuman depths? His innocent face faded and left in its place the pallid hollowed cheeked thing she’d identified that terrible day. Jill scooped up the old twigs and carrot nose, the rock hard currant eyes and in doing so felt a small ball of ice in the corner of the drawer. It felt like reaching through time and touching another day , the pain was too much and she cradled the leftover snowman in her hands willing the clocks to turn back time, outside the fireworks continued and the bonfire flames burned brightly.
Julie has worked as a stand up comic and theatre and radio writer. She lives with her family in London and writes whenever she can. She also works in administration for a charity agency. She has two boys.
