Read A Gift to You for Free Online Page B

for the three of them would leave her fairly skint.
    ‘We can’t afford it and that’s that,’ Izzy asserted. Bill’s face darkened with impotent fury.
    ‘Don’t rub it in, for Christ’s sake! I know we can’t, I just want to give the kids a decent Christmas. Is that too much to want?’ he snarled. A red mist descended
in front of Izzy’s eyes. It wasn’t
her
fault that they had no money. She was only trying to keep them out of debt.
    ‘Listen, mister, you can do what you damn well like. I was only trying to help. Do you think
I
don’t want to give them a good Christmas? I’m trying to do my best for
all of us and it’s not easy. So don’t you take it out on me, Bill. It’s not my fault you’re unemployed. It’s not me who can’t get a job.’ Izzy was so angry
her voice was shaking as months of suppressed rage, fear and frustration fuelled her outburst.
    ‘God, you really know how to put the boot in, don’t you?’ Bill raged. ‘You should have married someone like bloody Superdad over there, not a loser like me.’ With
that, he’d picked up his anorak and strode out of the front door, slamming it hard behind him. Sick at heart, Izzy sat down at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and bawled her eyes
out. She had never felt so sorry for herself in her life. What had she done to deserve this? she sniffled. After a good twenty minutes of alternate cursing and sobbing, she felt somewhat better. A
good cry was just the thing sometimes; it helped to get it all out of your system. Fortunately, the children had spent the previous night on a sleepover with their cousins so they hadn’t
witnessed the row. She didn’t want them being upset as well.
    It was almost 3 p.m., Izzy noted, and still no sign of Bill. She wondered what he was doing. It had got even darker outside, the clouds so low they seemed almost to touch the rooftops. The
frost, which hadn’t thawed all day, cast a silvery sheen to the lawns, the flaming orange of the pyracantha berries a startling contrast. The stark silhouettes of bare-branched trees
encircled the cul-de-sac protectively; a robin nestled in the shelter of an evergreen shrub. Normally Izzy would have enjoyed the picturesque, wintry scene outside her big window but today it just
seemed bleak and cold and again she shivered.
    ‘To hell with it,’ she muttered crossly, and, with a determined set to her jaw, she walked over to the fire and struck a match, watching with pleasure as the flames caught the
firelighters and roared up the chimney, the kindling flaming, spitting and sparking and scenting the room with the freshness of pine. The glow of the orange-yellow flames casting their shadows on
the walls soothed Izzy. She sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire and pulled two large carrier bags overflowing with presents, in front of her. This was the ideal time to sort out the
Christmas present situation. It was something she had been putting off all day, but she might as well do it while Bill and the kids were out of the house. If she were quick and organized,
she’d have her task complete before he was home. Then her husband wouldn’t have the added indignity of seeing her selecting presents they had received last year, to be given to their
relatives this year. If only she could remember who had given her what. It would be a disaster to return a gift to someone who had given it to them in the first place.
    Izzy gave a wry smile as she unloaded the bags on to the floor. The only other time in her life when she had had to recycle presents was that first year she had moved into a flat with her two
best friends and they had all been practically penniless. It had been fun then though, not like this.
    She eyed the assorted collection surrounding her. Tablemats, they could go to Aunt Sadie. A basket of Body Shop soaps and shampoos. Now who had given her them? She cast her mind back, was it
Stella? No, it was Rita, her sister-in-law. Well, Stella