Do You Believe in Magic?

Grace’s world is collapsing – is that why the perfect snow-globe draws her so?

The Christmas bazaar had been a disaster. Grace didn’t blame her grandparents. It was hardly their fault she’d been dumped on them.

In fact, they were probably as uncomfortable as she was; she’d been eleven the last time she’d stayed with them, still into babyish things but she’d grown up a lot since then. She’d had to. And they were old, too – what did they know about being thirteen?

She stared out of the car window at the passing hedgerows, trying not to cringe at the memory of her behaviour that afternoon. She hadn’t been very grown-up then. People had tried to be friendly. There was no excuse.

“What would you like for Christmas?” a jovial man in a faded Father Christmas suit had asked her as she’d sulked in the corner of the tiny church hall.

“I’d like my parents to stay together.” Grace hadn’t tried to hide her bitter resentment. “Can you sort that out?”

The afternoon had gone downhill from there. Grace reminded herself it was her parents’ fault she was stuck in the middle of nowhere four days before Christmas. She shouldn’t take it out on everyone else.

“Perhaps you’d like to ring your mum when we get in?” her ggrandmother suggested.

“What, so she can tell me again how bad she feels?” Grace blinked back hot tears. “No thanks.”

She saw them exchange a look and stared out of the window. HHow could they know how she felt?

Ithought you might like to walk down to the village bakery for me,” Grandma said the following morning. “I need some bread.”

Saving her game, Grace tossed the tablet to one side. At least she’d escape her grandmother’s fussing for a while.

“I suppose so. Do you want me to get anything else?”

The village looked like a museum exhibit, Grace decided as she passed the old-fashioned butcher’s. She averted her eyes from the pigs’ trotters hanging in the window; last week, she’d declared to her surprised mum and dad that she was going vegetarian.

The thought brought back painful memories. She’d known something was wrong at home; there’d been arguments and frosty silences but she hadn’t known it was so bad.

They told her it was a trial separation, but she was old enough to read between the lines. Then they’d packed her off to Norfolk so they didn’t have to meet her eyes as they destroyed her life.

“For a few days,” Mum had said, eyes glistening. “While we sort things out.”

Nothing Grace had said had made any difference; they’d still sent her away. She kicked savagely at a pebble as she walked. She hated them both.

The bakery was blissfully warm and filled with the deliciously-mingled aroma of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Grace felt some of her bad mood melt

away as she stared at the mouthwatering selection of cakes. On impulse, she bought three glistening strawberry tarts.

She was so intent upon getting them home, she nearly missed the toy shop altogether. Her eye was caught at the last second by the miniature steam train racing across the front of the window.

She slowed to look more closely, drinking in the crowded display.

These weren’t the toys on any Christmas list nowadays, Grace decided as she eyed the dappled grey rocking horse, the cymbal-clashing monkey and the exquisite blonde doll with white furry hat and muffler. All the same, she spent several minutes studying the old-fashioned display before her gaze fell on the snow-globe. It was the size of a large grapefruit and by far the most intricate one she’d ever seen. A minuscule street shimmered inside the glass dome, laden with snow and dotted with the tiny figures. In the centre was an ice rink, its patrons frozen in an icy dance. As Grace watched, lights flickered on in several houses, casting a golden glow over the scene.It was utterly charming and she wanted it more than she remembered ever wanting anything before. A delicate brass bell tinkled as she pushed open the holly-green door.

“Ah, welcome to Corbett’s. How can I assist you?”

The voice was friendly and very deep. Surprisingly, it belonged to a thin, elderly man with a balding head and half-moon spectacles. A shiny pocket watch peeped from the pocket of his red tartan waistcoat. An ornate badge told Grace this was Mr Corbett himself.

She glanced around curiously, trying to shake the suspicion that she’d stumbled onto a film set. Everything was perfectly festive, from the immaculate four-storey dolls house to the red and white candy canes adorning the Christmas tree. She half expected an elf to appear. The man gave her an enquiring look. “Is there something in particular you were interested in?”

“There’s a snow-globe in the window. How much is it?”

“Ah. Lovely, isn’t it?” Mr Corbett smiled. Reaching into the display, he coaxed the sphere out of its resting place and carried it to the counter. Grace watched spellbound as diminutive snowflakes swirled beneath the glass. “I’ve never seen one like it.” He inclined his head. “I don’t expect you have. It’s a very special snow-globe.” Grace felt her heart sink. “Is it very expensive, then?” “It’s not for sale.” Mr Corbett sounded genuinely regretful. “I couldn’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, you see.”

The words barely registered as Grace watched the snow settle. “But I’d take good care of it.” “I’m sure you would.” Reaching out, he plunged the globe inhabitants into a blizzard once again. “Tell me, Grace, do you believe in magic?”

The question was so unexpected that Grace forgot to wonder how he knew her name. She dragged her eyes away from the toy. “I don’t know. Do you?” He regarded her over the top of the gold-rimmed glasses.

“I do. What would you say if I told you this is an enchanted snow-globe?”

For a moment or two, she was almost convinced. Then reality reasserted itself. “Yeah, right.” “It’s true. It will grant any wish you make.” His gaze remained steady as he placed it in her hands. “What would you ask for?”

Grace was surprised to realise she wanted to believe him. It would be wonderful to think the snow-globe could grant her heart’s desire. Fiercely, she screwed her eyes closed and shook it, pouring every scrap of emotion into one thought. When she opened her eyes again, Mr Corbett was smiling. “That was a heartfelt wish.” Grace nodded, suddenly drained.

It was so UNEXPECTED she forgot to WONDER how he KNEW her name

“Pop along home, now.” His tone was kind as he took the snow-globe and ushered her towards the door.

The bell tinkled as it swung closed and Grace found herself on back on the street. Shaking her head, she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t day-dreamed the whole encounter but a glance in the window showed Mr Corbett replacing the snow-globe to pride of place. He waved once and was gone.

What a lovely surprise! I adore strawberries.” The pleasure on her grandmother’s face made Grace warm inside.

“It’s my way of saying sorry,” she said tentatively. “For being so horrible.”

“You’re having a tough time. It’s only natural that you’re a bit out of sorts.” Grandma laid the cakes onto a lace doily and smiled. “Now, tell me what you saw on your travels.”

Dutifully, Grace recounted her walk. As she described the toy shop, her voice grew animated.

“You must have noticed the snow-globe in the window. It’s such a shame it isn’t for sale.”

“Which shop?” Grandma frowned.

“On the corner,” Grace said. “Just before you go up the lane.”

“That’s empty, love. Are you sure it wasn’t one of the others?”

Grace folded her arms. “It was the one on the end,” she insisted. “It had a green door and a red wreath and the owner’s name was Mr Corbett.” Grandma smiled gently. “I think you might be mistaken.” Scowling, Grace stuck her jaw out. She hadn’t mentioned the magic – hadn’t wanted to seem childish – but the shop was there for anyone to see.

“You all think I’m stupid.” She whirled around and took the stairs two at a time, tears burning her eyes.

ANGUISHED, she spun around. HOW could she have IMAGINED it?

It was afternoon before her grandfather tapped on her door. “Grace? I’ve got a letter to post. Fancy coming along?”

She jammed the pillow over her ears in a bid to drown out his cajoling voice.

“You can show me this snow-globe you’re so taken with.”

Grace sat up; the thought of feasting her eyes on the shop window again was tempting, even more than the chance to prove she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. She pushed herself off the bed and began to lace her trainers.

“There!” Grace said as they reached the village. She pointed at the shop on the corner. “I knew I wasn’t wrong.”

Eagerly, she raced ahead. But as she got nearer, she slowed down. Something was different. The window was dark and thick with cobwebs. Where the green paint had been pristine, it was faded and peeling. It had the air of a business that had been closed a long time. Anguished, she spun around. “I don’t understand. It was full of toys. Mr Corbett let me touch them.” “Who did you say?” Grace fought back tears. “The owner – Mr Corbett.”

Her grandfather’s gaze travelled up to the faded sign above the window; Corbett &Sons was barely legible.

“Mr Corbett died a long time ago, before you were even born.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “That’s a grand imagination you’ve got there.”

Acid disappointment bubbled in Grace’s stomach as stared at the cobwebs. The snow-globe had felt so real and she’d wished so hard. How could she possibly have imagined it?

The walk home was miserable; not even the promise of hot chocolate could raise Grace’s spirits. She scowled at the television, trying to ignore the whispering behind her. What did her grandparents know, anyway? They hadn’t been there.

“Grace, darling, I’m afraid you’ll have to move in to the small room,” her grandmother said. “We’ve got some other guests tonight.”

Grace kept her eyes on the screen, silent. She was being displaced again.

“Aren’t you going to ask who they are?” her grandfather asked. She didn’t look at him. “No.” The doorbell chimed. Grandma sighed.

“Perhaps you could you get the door, Grace.”

Slamming the remote control onto the sofa, Grace stamped angrily to the door. She wasn’t wanted here either; maybe she’d walk right out and – “Surprise!” Grace’s jaw dropped at the sight of her parents on the doorstep. “What are you doing here?” Her mother beamed. “Merry Christmas. We thought we’d spend Christmas here. What do you think?”

Grace swallowed hard, her yes travelling from one face to the other. “Together?” Her dad reached across and took her mum’s hand. “Together.”

Tears tumbled down Grace’s cheeks as she threw herself into a hug. “That’s the best news I’ve had in ages!” The rest of the day passed in a whirl of laughter and joy. It wasn’t until Grace was tucked up in the box room, on the edge of sleep, that an image of swirling snow inside a glistening globe popped into her head.

Mr Corbett was right, she thought sleepily; hers had been a very heartfelt wish. And it had been granted a thousand times over.