One Christmas Eve, Mum and I Popped into “Hamleys”—I Fell in Love with the Red Knitted Dress, but Al…

So, picture this: it was just before New Years Eve, and Mum and I popped into Hamleyshonestly, we were only meant to grab a few bits for the house, like some fairy lights or a bit of tinsel. But as soon as we got in, I laid eyes on this dress that stopped me in my tracks. It was red, knitted, with a bright blue trim at the hem and sleevesabsolutely gorgeous.

I couldnt stop staring at it, and I begged Mum to let me try it on. Shed only brought me there to help her choose some decorations, but I was relentless. When I finally slipped it on, it fit me perfectly, as if itd been made just for me. Instantly, my mind went wild imagining wearing it to our class New Years party. There was this boy I really fancied and I hoped that, maybe if I wore it, he might finally notice me.

So there I was, nearly in tears, desperate not to take it off. Mum clocked what was going on, came over, and said, Alright, Im getting paid soon. Lets treat you. I was absolutely buzzing on the train home, couldnt believe my luck.

We got back and decked out our little flathung up bits of tinsel, put baubles on the tree. But if youd opened our fridge, youd have only found a tiny knob of butter and a block of ice. We were waiting on Mums wages, hoping theyd come through before New Years Eve. Back then, people still worked on the 31st of Decembermost didnt get the day off, just a shorter shift.

Mum came back that afternoon looking absolutely gutted. She told me her pay hadnt come through; it was being delayed. Her voice cracked, and I could see the tears in her eyesshe felt mortified at the thought of us not having a proper New Years meal.

But to be honest, I wasnt even all that disappointed. The flat felt festive, and I was glued to the telly watching Christmas filmsthose were the days when you only had a couple of channels and the Christmas programming was the most exciting thing going!

Mum boiled up some potatoes, melted the last of the butter over them, and made a little carrot salad with a sprinkle of sugar. That was itthe whole lot. We sat down together, and I could see Mum fighting tears. I tried to comfort her, but then I started sobbing toonot because of the food, really, but because I felt so bad for Mum. That aching, helpless kind of sadness.

We ended up snuggled up together on the sofa, watching the New Years concert, just the two of us under our big old blanket. Midnight struck and you could hear the neighbours out on the landing clinking glasses and belting out Auld Lang Syne, but we stayed in.

Then suddenly, theres this loud, persistent banging on our door. Mum went to answer and it was Mrs. Webberthe grumpiest neighbour you could imagine. She was always having a go at me: not cleaning the stairs properly, making too much noisehonestly, every kid in our building was half-scared of her.

Shed clearly been celebrating and squeezed past Mum, gave our humble potato dinner one look and then left without a word.

About twenty minutes later, someone started kicking our door, proper making a racket. Mum darted out to see who it was, and next thing I know in lumbers Mrs. Webber again, but shes got her arms full: bags clinking, boxes, tubs, a bottle of bubbly wedged under her arm.

Stop faffing about and help me, will you! she shouted at Mum, then proceeded to unload: bowls of salad, slices of sausage, a jar of pickled gherkins, half a roast chicken, chocolates, and even a bunch of tangerines for us.

Mum burst into tears again, but this time for a different reason. Mrs. Webber called her a daft woman, wiped Mums nose with her massive sleeve, muttered something about soppy nonsense, and shuffled out the door as quickly as shed come.

After that, Mrs. Webber went back to bossing the street and the building as usualnever breathed a word about that New Years at ours.

Years later, when we all turned out for Mrs. Webbers funeralwhole block, every floorit turned out everyone had their story about her, some moment when shed stepped in and helped, even if she never let anyone thank her or made a fuss about it. Turns out, we all loved our grumpy old neighbour far more than we ever realised.