It’s a kind of Magic
Samantha may be struggling to make ends meet but that doesn’t mean she can’t make the odd miracle happen every now and again
Samantha had just finished preparing her daughter’s evening meal when the doorbell rang. “Just coming,” she called, as she made her way down the hallway.
When she opened the front door she received something of a shock. She barely recognised the bundle of mud standing on the doorstep. “‘Clara?” she asked, slightly uncertain. The mud parted around Clara’s mouth when she spoke. “Sorry, Mum.”
It was little consolation that Vicki, Clara’s best friend, looked equally mucky.
Jenny, Vicki’s mother, proceeded to explain. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realise they’d snuck out into the back garden to play football.”
“I went playing goal,” Clara added. “It was really muddy. There was a big puddle and whenever I dived I landed in it.”
“Couldn’t you have at least changed out of your school uniform first?” Samantha groaned. Clara hung her head and mumbled another apology.
Jenny tried to lighten the mood by laughing. “I’ve already told Vicki that she’ll have to wear her spare uniform to school tomorrow.”
Samantha wished that she lived in the kind of world where she could afford to buy her daughter a spare school uniform. Since her ex-husband Martin had left the marital home, money had been extremely tight and Clara only had one school uniform.
Ten minutes later, as she ran a bath for her daughter, Samantha examined the grubby clothes. She had a feeling that it would take the longest cycle on the washing machine to remove the worst of the grime. With a sigh, she loaded the clothes into the drum. It was going to be a long night.
The following morning, when she woke, Clara was amazed to find a clean school uniform waiting for her.
“How did that happen?” she asked her mother.
Samantha stifled a yawn as she ruffled her daughter’s hair. “It’s a kind of magic,” she replied.
Later that afternoon, fresh disaster struck. As Clara trooped out of the
Samantha wished she lived in the kind of world where she could afford to buy a spare school uniform
school gates, her head bowed, Samantha could tell something was amiss. “What’s wrong?” Samantha asked. “My trainers have split,” Clara explained.
“Maybe they’re not too bad,” Samantha said, hopefully.
Clara took the guilty trainers out of her school bag and showed her mother. The left trainer looked fine, as far as Samantha could tell, but when Clara handed over the right, the sole flapped open.
“School is holding the cross-country trials in two weeks. What am I going to do with only these to run in?” Clara said.
“Come on, let’s get you home and then we’ll see what we can do.” “OK,” Clara agreed.
They tried double sided tape, they tried super-glue, Samantha even tried stitching the trainer back together, but nothing worked.
“Don’t worry,” Samantha said, seeing the panic in her daughter’s eyes. “I’ll think of something.”
The following Saturday morning, as she was playing in the hall, Clara heard a knock at the front door. Samantha was baking in the kitchen and her hands were covered in flour.
“Would you mind answering that?” Samantha asked.
“Sure,” Clara replied.
Wiping the flour from her hands, Samantha followed her daughter into the hallway.
At the door was a delivery man, who handed her a package and asked her to sign the little gadget that he was carrying. After he went, Clara passed the package to Samantha, assuming it was for her.
“Are you sure it’s for me?” Samantha asked and as Clara reinspected the label and realised it was for her, she tore away the outer packaging and opened the box inside.
She gasped when she saw what it contained.
“‘A new pair of trainers!” she exclaimed. Clara excitedly tried them on for size. They were a perfect fit. She raced up and down the hallway a few times, then stopped and asked, “But how?”
Feigning innocence, Samantha simply said: “It’s a kind of magic.”
Thankfully the remainder of term passed without any further expense,
which gave Samantha time to pay off her credit card, but she couldn’t help noticing that each Thursday evening, after returning home from school, Clara was unusually glum.
Initially Samantha worried that someone might be bullying her daughter, but after questioning her, she discovered Mathematics lay at the heart of the problem.
“I’ve been struggling all term,” Clara confessed. “And we’ve got a test tomorrow that we’ve got to prepare for, but I don’t understand my homework.”
“Perhaps I can help,” Samantha said. “Can I take a look?”
Much to her dismay, at first glance Samantha didn’t understand the work either. Initially they tried to solve the troublesome equations together, but to no avail. Sensing that Clara was getting fed up, after putting her daughter to bed Samantha continued to tackle the equations alone. It took her hours to get to grips with them. She worked long into the night to try to devise simple formulas that her daughter would understand.
Rising early the following morning, Clara was surprised to find her mother slumped at the kitchen table, surrounded by sheets of A4 paper covered in equations. When Clara looked closer at the sheets of paper, a smile spread across her face as she realised that she now understood the equations. Overjoyed, she threw her arms around her mother’s neck and hugged her.
“Thanks, Mum,” Clara said. “You’re a star.”
Bleary-eyed, Samantha yawned. “You’re welcome.”
Much to Clara’s delight she passed the test with flying colours. She and her mum celebrated that evening with
‘When Clara looked closer at the sheets of paper, a smile spread across her face as she realised she understood’
pizza and lemonade, although Clara was still at a loss as to how her mother had solved the troublesome equations.
Having slept very little the previous night, when she woke on Saturday morning Samantha realised that it was quite late. She felt guilty because she always liked to rise before her daughter to prepare Clara’s breakfast.
Much to her surprise, when she entered the kitchen Samantha wondered if the cleaning fairy had visited. The kitchen was spotless. Not only that, but a place had also been set for her at the kitchen table. A choice of cereals had been placed on the table, a glass of fresh fruit juice was waiting for her and there was also a card.
Samantha opened it. Inside it read: ‘To the best mum in the world.’
Samantha glanced up as the back door opened and in came Clara. She had picked a selection of flowers from the garden and smiled as she presented them to her mother. “For me?” Samantha asked. Clara nodded.
“What have I done to deserve this?” “I’m nearly 11 now,” Clara said. “I know it isn’t magic that solves all my little problems, it’s you.”
Laughing, Samantha gave her daughter the biggest hug and stroked her hair. “You’re still my little bundle of magic and always will be.”