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BUZZZZZZ! The doorbell made me jump and spill tea all down my pyjama top. I shuffled to the door with my hair looking like tumbleweed. It didn’t matter what time it was, 9am, midday… I just didn’t see the point in dragging myself out of bed and getting dressed when all I’d be doing was spending the day curled up on the sofa, drinking tea, and trawling the internet looking for a job. During the summer, I almost felt guilty for not getting changed until the afternoon and missing the sunshine, but winter was the perfect season to be pyjama-clad all day long.

‘Hello?’ I mumbled, then waited for a reply. ‘Postman,’ came the response. I pressed the button to let him into the building. I liked the postman. I rarely received anything exciting, just bills, but he always stopped for a chat and showed an interest in what I was up to. Or at least pretended to be interested in what I was up to. I wondered if he met with his friends and laughed about the girl who was always wearing pyjamas. ‘Hey, how are you today?’ he asked. ‘Morning,’ I replied, stifling a yawn. ‘Is it still morning?’

‘Yes,’ he laughed, handing me a parcel. I wasn’t expecting anything, although recently I’d got into a habit of ordering things I didn’t need on ebay after a glass of wine. Probably not the best idea since I’d just been made redundant. My settlement money wasn’t going to last for ever.

‘Online shopping?’ he asked, sensing my confusion. ‘I don’t think so…’ I replied. He smiled. ‘Perhaps it’s a Christmas gift?’ he guessed, giving me a funny look. Was he blushing? Oh no, had my tea spillage turned my pyjama top see-through?

I panicked a little and held the parcel against my chest to cover it up, just in case.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I replied. Now I was blushing. ‘Thanks for this,’ I murmured, taking a step backwards. He gave an awkward wave before turning, heading down the stairs and out of the building.

I wandered back to my duvet nest on the sofa, tripping over the Christmas tree box on the way. I hadn’t bothered decorating yet, which was unusual for me as a self-confessed Christmas addict. I just wasn’t in the mood to deck the halls this year.

I opened the parcel and, inside, wrapped in tissue paper, lay a Christmas wreath. It was beautiful – a pine ring adorned with sprigs of holly, cinnamon and red berries with a dusting of gold glitter. As I gently lifted it, a card fell into my lap.

Everything will work out. Happy Christmas, Andy.

Andy? I reached for my laptop, opened my Facebook page and typed ‘Andy’ into the search bar. Only one Andy appeared on the screen. Someone I’d gone to school with. Not a real friend. Not the type who knew where I lived. I studied the box. There was no return address and I didn’t recognise the handwriting. It must have been delivered to me by mistake. Confused, I set the wreath aside and carried on with my job search while taking regular breaks to doze, eat and watch Christmas movies. Before I knew it, it was time for bed. BUZZZZZZ!

‘Urghhh,’ I stretched and began my daily commute to the front door. ‘Hello?’ I muttered.

‘Postman!’ I pressed the button to let him in before he finished speaking.

“Morning,’ he said, handing me an envelope and a leaflet advertising pizza. ‘So, had you been shopping?’

‘Huh?’

‘Yesterday? The parcel?’

‘No, it’s a bit of a mystery actually,’ I replied, ‘Andy sent me a gift.

But I don’t know who Andy is.’

‘Ooh, a mystery,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.

I suddenly realised I was wearing the same tea-stained pyjamas I’d had on yesterday and shuffled backwards into the flat. ‘Yeah. Probably a mistake,’ I shrugged. ‘Busy day ahead?’

He rolled his eyes and walked towards the stairs, stopping to adjust his bag. ‘Busy is an understatement. ’Tis the season…’

‘Oh wait, I have a Christmas card for you. I’m sorry, I forgot your name. I’ve just written “Postman”.’

He reached out, took the card and thanked me before walking away. ‘What’s your name again?’ I called as I was closing the door.

‘It’s Andy,’ he said with a smile.

I opened the door again. ‘Andy? Mystery Andy?’

‘Mystery Andy,’ he laughed as he descended the stairs. ‘Keep your chin up.’

Leaning against the door frame, I whispered ‘Thank you’ barely loud enough for him to hear. His act of kindness had left me strangely winded.

As I closed the door, I smiled and picked up the Christmas tree box. It was time to get dressed and start decorating. READER SHORT STORY