All for Love

Enthusiastic Ella gets her dad thinking about the little things that say ‘I love you’

HELLO, poppet. How’s my girl?” Simon dropped his briefcase and swung four-year-old Ella up over his head. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, thank you. Now put me down,” she commanded. “And look at my scrapbook, Daddy. See what I’m making for Granny.”

Simon bent down to inspect Ella’s handiwork. “My, that’s nice and bright,” he said. “Well cut too. You’re pretty good with the scissors these days, aren’t you?” “Yes,” said Ella with satisfaction. A pile of old birthday and Christmas cards was spread on the floor around a big scrapbook with pictures pasted crookedly across the open page.

“Mommy said I could cut up all these old cards. Then Granny can look at it when she comes to tea. Don’t you like this Christmas tree?”

“Very nice,” he murmured, thinking how adorable his little daughter looked with the late afternoon sunshine beaming down on her blonde locks. Exactly like her mother.

“And these flowers, look. And this is a reindeer. I’m going to put him next to the flowers so he can eat them. Do you think reindeer eat flowers, Daddy?”

Simon was saved from answering this by Kelly coming up the passage.

“Hello, darling. I didn’t hear you come in,” she said. “I was on the phone to Mum.” “How’s she doing? Settled in now?” Kelly’s mother, Harriet, had just moved into a flat and the choice of what to take with her from the family home and what to sell or give away had been difficult.

“She’s fine,” Kelly said. “She says she loves all the space now she’s got rid of all her old stuff. She’s already made friends with her neighbour – I knew it wouldn’t take too long for her to settle in.”

“Look at my pictures, Mommy,” Ella said. “Oh, here’s an Easter bunny. I’ll put him next to the reindeer, look . . .”

“Lovely, Ella. Well, I’d better start our supper,” said Kelly, and disappeared into the kitchen.

SIMON took out his laptop and checked his emails, listening with half an ear while Ella chattered on. “. . . and here’s a big red heart. Oooh look, Daddy, it’s all fat and shiny!”

With a sigh, Simon looked up from the screen. “That’s very pretty,” he said absently. “A heart, eh?”

“Why do people send heart cards?”

Ella asked. “Is it for love?”

“Well, yes. That must be a Valentine’s Day card you’ve got there,” Simon said. “What’s Valentine’s Day?” “It’s a special day when you’re supposed to tell the person you love that you – er . . . love her,” Simon said. “So some people like to send cards like that one.”

“And some people like to take her out to dinner and buy her chocolates and do all sorts of other nice things with her,” added Kelly, coming in with a tray.

“Oh nonsense, Valentine’s Day is just for teenagers who believe all this media hard-sell,” said Simon irritably. “You know I’ve never gone in for that sort of mushy stuff.”

“This shiny heart card is my favourite. Look, Daddy, it’s got gold around the edges.” Ella brought it to show him. “Very smart,” agreed Simon, taking the card and flipping it open. “To my darling heart, with all my love.” Simon felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach and found it difficult to breathe.

My darling heart?

WHO on earth had sent that to Kelly? Had she . . . ? No, impossible. But he looked at his wife. Her long blonde hair swung sexily as she walked and her tight jeans outlined a figure that hadn’t changed since their wedding day.

After five years he still thought she was the most exciting woman he knew, and realised with a stab that some other man seemed to think so too.

But who? Kelly worked in an engineering office and was surrounded by men all day. He’d met some of them at her office party and they’d seemed harmless enough. But which one of those testosterone-fuelled rats had sent this? Maybe it wasn’t anyone from her office.

It could have been a man she’d met at the gym. Or some guy who’d seen her walking across the road and been instantly smitten, who’d cunningly struck up an acquaintance and invited her for coffee and afterwards several steamy, secret lunch dates . . .

Simon shut his laptop and stood up abruptly. He couldn’t bear not to know.

“Kelly,” he said loudly, “Who sent you this?”

“Sent what?”

Kelly took the card from him, puzzled, and read the inscription. Then she smiled. “Oh, just one of my many admirers,” she said lightly.

“And he calls you his ‘darling heart’? Just how much of an admirer is this fellow? And who is he? Where did you meet him? He’s got some nerve!”

“Calm down! I’m only teasing. It wasn’t sent to me. It was sent to my mom, seven years ago. Look at the date in the corner.” “Your mother?” “I recognise my dad’s handwriting. Mom never threw away a card he gave her, but when she moved last month she gave them to Ella to cut up.”

“Oh. Right.”

SIMON felt extremely foolish. “But I’m surprised your mother fell for all that commercial rubbish. I’ve always thought she’s far too sensible to go along with that hearts-and-flowers nonsense.”

“I’m sorry you feel that hearts and flowers are rubbish. My parents always celebrated Valentine’s Day and they kept the romance in their marriage for 35 years,” said Kelly, coldly.

“They had wonderful, sentimental traditions and one of them was that Dad spoilt Mom on Valentine’s Day. He was a very loving and sensitive man. Supper will be ready in about 10 minutes.”

She turned on her heel, leaving a definite frost in the air. “Why’s Mommy cross?” Ella asked. “Cross? She’s not cross. She’s just a bit . . .”

Hurt? Jealous of her own mother? Oh heck. Simon followed her into the kitchen, put his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck.

“I don’t need to send you a card to tell you how much I love you, do I?” he murmured. “The postal service is so unreliable. I’ve always favoured the direct approach.”

Kelly turned around and kissed him, at first with reluctance but then with more enthusiasm. She sighed. “Nope, I suppose you’re right. Sentiment’s just not your style, is it? I’ll forgive you.”

“Tell you what, though,” said Simon, relieved. “How about we ask your mom to babysit next Sunday and we go out for dinner?”

“And will you buy me a huge box of chocolates?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said, puzzled. “Huge? But I’ve never bought you chocolates, I didn’t know you liked them that much.”

“I love chocolate! Especially those dark chocolate truffles. Out of consideration for my waistline, I just try not to be tempted but if someone were to present me with a box on Sunday, I’m not going to say no.”

“Valentine’s Day is on a Sunday in March?” Simon frowned. “Well, I guess at least we’re not doing this because of some magic date that dictates we all go mad and spend money on useless things like cards!”

“Of course we aren’t, darling,” she whispered. “Every day is Valentine’s Day for us, remember?”

“Look, Daddy. Didn’t I make this pretty?”

Ella brought the scrapbook to show him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder while she pointed out the highlights of her artwork.

SIMON felt his heart melt. In the centre of the page was the big red satin heart surrounded by flowers, a reindeer, some rabbits carrying an Easter egg, red robins, mistletoe and a grinning skull with “Happy Halloween” underneath.

Ella had cut a border of tiny hearts and pasted them haphazardly around the edge of the page. “All these hearts, all for love,” she said happily.

And all cards from his late father-inlaw, who, Simon recalled, had been a very kind-hearted, sensible fellow with a wise head on his shoulders.

And maybe he’d enjoyed his 35 years of very happy married life by following a few simple guidelines, such as cards. And chocolates. And roses.

Well, starting a romantic tradition in this family wouldn’t be a bad thing, he realised. If I enjoy pleasing Kelly and she likes me to remember the days with ridiculous gifts and cards, then we’re both happy. I could get used to it. He kissed Ella fondly. “Very pretty, my poppet,” he said. “These hearts are just right. I can see lots and lots of love on this page.” S

‘I don’t need to send you a card to tell you how much I love you, do I?’