Tell Me A Story

Abby’s dad had given her the book as a baby. Why did she want to read it again now?

FOR as long as Ellen could remember, Friday night had been pizza night. There was nothing she liked to do more on a Friday when she came in from work than kick her shoes off, forget about cooking dinner and stick a pizza in the oven instead.

Then she would pour herself a large glass of wine and chill on the sofa after a long week at work. It was Paul who had brought the Friday-night pizza into her life, and it was a ritual she was happy to continue, even though Paul was no longer there to enjoy Friday nights with her.

Ellen glanced at Paul’s photograph on her livingroom wall, where he stood proud and smart in his uniform.

Now it was just Ellen and Abby.

Ellen’s glass of wine waited until Abby had gone to bed, but the pizza in the oven still signalled the start of the weekend. And it came with Abby’s story time, too.

With their pizzas eaten and the dishes done, Ellen and Abby snuggled up together on the sofa.

“Which book would you like me to read to you tonight, Abby?” Ellen asked. “Are there any stories you learned in school this week that you’d like to read again?”

Abby slowly shook her head and Ellen watched as her daughter shyly pulled out a book from behind a cushion on the sofa.

Ellen recognised the book immediately. It was one she’d had since she was a baby. It was a book that Paul had bought for her not long after she’d been born.

“I’d like this story, please,” Abby said.

Ellen sighed and pulled Abby close to her.

“That’s a very special book, Abby, and you know it off by heart. Are you sure you want me to read it to you again?”

Abby nodded and snuggled in close to her mum.

“Daddy bought you this when you were very little,” she told her daughter, stroking the hard cover of the book. “And your reading’s come on a long way since you first read this one.”

“It’s my favourite book,” Abby said. “I know it’s a baby’s book really, but I like it the best.”

Ellen felt a spring of hot tears prick behind her eyes.

“OK, then,” she said, opening the cover.

But before she even opened the book’s first page, Abby was already racing ahead, reciting the words inside that she knew so well.

“A is for Apple! A is for Apple!” she cried.

“Oh, Abby, you know this book inside out. You don’t even need me to read it to you, do you?” Ellen laughed.

“B is for Ball and C is for Cat,” Abby continued, but when Ellen opened the page for D, which showed a picture of a shaggy black and white dog, Abby stayed unusually quiet.

“You know this one, Abby,” Ellen said.

“I know, Mummy. D is for Dog . . . but . . .” “Yes, my darling?”

“D is for Daddy, too, isn’t it?”

Ellen looked into her daughter’s eyes. Abby didn’t usually talk about Paul or ask any questions, and Ellen wondered what could have prompted her to bring out her old book and speak of her dad.

How could she tell her child that she wasn’t ready to tell her father’s story? Abby knew from Ellen that daddy was a hero. Was it time for Paul’s story to be told to Abby?

Not yet, Ellen thought. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

“Yes, D is for Daddy, and we will always love him very much.”

Abby quickly turned the next page over herself, not waiting for Ellen to do so.

“E is for . . .” Abby started to say.

She wasn’t glancing at the page, but instead was looking around their living-room, searching for inspiration.

“Eggs!” she cried. Ellen laughed. “Where, my love? Where are the eggs?”

“In the fridge, Mummy. I saw them before when we had our pizza. Can we make things up for the rest of the letters in my book?”

“If you’d like to, of course.”

Abby seemed satisfied at having engineered her own game and sat up straight on the sofa. Then she decided on a new rule.

“But every letter has to be a thing that we like or that we have in the house, right?”

“Right!” Ellen nodded. “F is for Frogs!”

“We have frogs in the house? Oh, no!” Ellen shrieked playfully. Abby rolled her eyes. “No, silly. But I do like frogs.”

“You like frogs?” Ellen asked, surprised, and Abby nodded.

“I know the difference between a frog and a toad,” she said proudly, smiling.

“Do you?” Ellen asked, eyebrows raised. “Your turn, Mummy,” she said.

“OK, well, G is for Garden. I love our pretty garden.”

“Me, too,” Abby agreed. “H is for House. I love our lovely house.”

“Me, too,” Ellen replied. “Me, three.” Abby laughed.

“I is for Ice-cream because we both love ice-cream,” Ellen said.

“And Daddy loves ice-cream,” Abby said, looking straight into Ellen’s eyes and almost breaking her heart.

“Yes, Daddy loved ice-cream, too.”

“J is for the Jungle, where Daddy went to once,” Abby went on.

The prickle of tears made its presence felt again and Ellen wondered once more what had brought on Abby’s talk of Paul.

“K is for Kaleidoscope,” Ellen continued, throwing in a long word for Abby that she couldn’t resist. Abby wrinkled her nose. “What’s a kallad . . . kaliderstope?” she asked.

“Well, it was sort of like a tube I used to play with when I was little girl. You looked through a hole in the top of the tube and there was a mirror in the bottom with lots of pretty colours that moved about when you turned it.”

“My turn! My turn!” Abby cried. “L is for . . .”

She looked around the living-room.

“L is for . . . L is for Love, isn’t it, Mummy?”

“It is.” She stroked her daughter’s hair.

“My turn again! My turn again!” Abby cried, getting carried away.

“M is for Mummy,” she said, reaching up to kiss Ellen on the nose.

“And N is for Nanna Patty.” Ellen smiled. Abby clapped her hands. “Yay! Nanna Pat! Daddy’s mummy, Nanna Patty! And O is for Oranges. I like oranges,” Abby continued.

“P is for . . .” Say it, Ellen thought, just say it. “P is for Paul.”

“P is for Paul,” Abby repeated quietly, her gaze lingering on the page in the book where P was for Princess.

Ellen could feel the tears threatening to fall. She stood from the sofa and went to the kitchen, leaving Abby with the book in her hands.

“Would you like a drink, Abby? Some juice?” she called to her daughter.

“Orange juice, please, and Q is for Quickly!” She laughed.

“Q is for Quickly? Well done, that’s a wonderful word!”

She really was growing up, Ellen thought.

“Your turn, Mum,” Abby said when Ellen sat back down next to her on the sofa.

“R is for Roses, which are my favourite flowers in the garden,” Ellen said.

“Did Daddy bring you flowers?” Abby asked.

“Yes, he did. Daddy brought me flowers and he planted the rose bushes in our garden, too,” Ellen replied, hugging Abby to her again.

“S is for School,” Abby said. “I like school, so I’m saying S is for School.”

“Good girl,” Ellen said, turning the page in the book. “In which case, if you like school so much, I’ll say T is for Teachers.”

“U is for Uncle . . . which one should I choose?” Abby asked.

“Choose the one you like the best, Abby. Who’s your favourite uncle? You’ve got three of them, and I won’t tell the others who you picked, I promise!” Ellen laughed.

“U is for Uncle Phil.” Abby declared firmly. “Daddy’s brother.”

“And V is for . . . oh, now, what could V be for, I wonder?” Ellen mused.

She looked around the living-room for inspiration but nothing came to her.

“What does it say in the book?” she asked Abby, knowing that the V page was one that Abby had struggled with in the past.

“It says V is for Vegetable, and that’s a picture of a carrot and that one’s a turnip and that one’s a leek,” she said matter-of-factly while pointing at the pictures on the page.

Ellen thought her heart was going to burst with pride. She’d never known Abby to be so confident with reading before. Her little girl was growing up and, perhaps it might be time to share things she hadn’t yet dared.

Abby turned the page but sat quietly for a little while, looking at the book.

“Come on, Abby, it’s your turn. W is for . . . ?” Ellen prompted.

“W is for War, Mummy,” Abby said at last. “That’s what we learned at school today. We learned all about wars and soldiers and the little girls like me who don’t have a daddy any more.”

Finally it made sense to Ellen why Abby had been asking about Paul.

She kissed the top of Abby’s head again. So many times she’d rehearsed in her mind what she would tell her daughter when the time came.

So many times she had wondered when Abby would be ready to hear about her dad.

The one thing she had never expected or planned for was Abby being ready to hear it before she was ready to tell.

“And do you know what X is for, Abby?” Ellen asked. Abby shook her head. “X is for the kisses that Daddy sent to you on his letters while he was away. They’re the kisses on your birthday cards and all the Christmas cards he sent to you when he couldn’t be here. He loved you so much, Abby.”

“Mummy, let’s not do the Y and the Z,” Abby whispered in a tiny voice. Ellen nodded.

“Can we have a new story now?” Abby asked. “Can you tell me all about Daddy and about all the things that he liked? I want to know everything about him. Please, Mummy.”

Ellen took a deep breath to steady herself. She put Abby’s book that Paul had bought her to one side.

“Abby, I have so much to tell you, but I’m not sure quite where to start . . .” Ellen began.

Ellen snuggled in close to her mum.

“Do A is for . . ., Mummy. Start with the A and go all the way through the alphabet and back.”

Ellen smiled and put an arm around her daughter.

“OK, then,” she said. “Are you ready?”

Abby nodded and Ellen began.

“A is for Army, where Daddy used to work . . .” n

Ellen could feel the tears threatening to fall

Finally it made sense why Abby had been asking about Paul