It was a rectangular parcel, the plain brown paper wrapping secured with tape at each corner. The address panel was a printed label, aligned precisely in the centre of the package.
Linda tugged at the corners of the parcel, but it refused to tear. She sighed and rose from her chair, leaving the package on the kitchen table.
She couldn’t find the scissors that were usually hanging on a hook behind the larder door and then remembered her daughter using them on the previous evening to unpick the hem of a skirt.
She frowned.
Why was she the only one in this house who ever bothered to replace things in their proper place?
A small kitchen knife with a serrated blade, very sharp and ideal for slicing vegetables, was in its allotted slot in the rack next to the bread bin and she plucked it out of the rack and took it with her to the table.
Linda stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on working the narrow tip of the knife under the edge of the tape and drew the blade along the whole length of the parcel. She repeated the exercise with each of the other three sides and saw as the top became free that the package consisted of a small cardboard box. She speculated whether the box originally contained a pair of new shoes for a young child and paused for a moment at a sudden vivid memory, smiling ruefully. Her own children had long since passed the age at which she had any realistic say in their choice of footwear.
She reached out to lift the lid, now free of tape, but a sudden unexplained hesitation took possession of her hands. She looked at the box carefully. She hadn’t been expecting anything through the post and when the postman had handed her this small neat parcel she had felt a small tingle of excitement.
Her husband was not the type of man to surprise her with presents; not now and not at any time. He was the epitome of the steady reliable type, certainly not given to impulsive romantic gestures.
But, who else would be sending out parcels addressed to her? Unexpected, surprise parcels.
She couldn’t think of a single possible candidate.
How sad was that?
Linda shook her head dismissively. Why was she even thinking this would be a present anyway? Her life didn’t extend to surprises, certainly not of a romantic nature.
She lifted the lid and saw a sheet of plain paper, folded once, attached to one side of the interior of the box by a paper clip. The box was full of those annoying little strips of foam that prevented damage in transit. Her hand delved into the centre of the foam and revealed the contents.
A single item, lying right at the bottom of the box.
She removed it, gave a small cry and dropped the object as if it were red-hot.
After a moment, tears misting her eyes, she took the sheet of paper and opened it. With trembling hands, she reached for the reading glasses that hung on a slender chain around her neck. The message was neatly typed in block capitals, large enough for her to have been able to read without the use of her glasses.
She read the brief message, then read it again and slumped against the back of the chair.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek as she allowed the sheet of paper to slip from her fingers and flutter softly to the floor where it touched but didn’t overlap the child’s finger which had been the only other object in the box.
