Little Sparrow

Chapter Twenty-Three

To help us warm up before we made our snowman, Mrs Langdon made William and I hot cocoa.

I had never had it before so sat on the chair with the mug between my fingers, sipping on the sweet liquid inside. William sat beside me with his feet resting lightly on the coffee table and his own mug resting in his hands. Steam swirled around in front of me and I blew on the drink to help cool it down a little. Just having the mug in my hand was enough to warm me and I could not wait to return to the snow outside to build my first ever snowman.

Flames leapt up in the fireplace, filling the living room in a soft, warm glow that deflected the dark grey colour that came from the light outside. There was something homely about it all. The roar of the fire, the warm mug in my hand and the smell of supper travelling up from the kitchen below us. All I needed was a blanket and a good book and I would have been set in what I believed to be the perfect afternoon. My friends being there would have made the whole thing that much better.

William and I did not feel the need to say anything as we warmed up, both of us just watched the steam rising from our mugs and focused on the flickering flames in the fire. Outside, I could still hear the cheers and laughter of the other children who continued to play and did not feel the need to go inside and warm up like we had. Still, I was glad for a little bit of respite amongst the chaos, I needed the time to process my first snowball fight.

"If you've finished with your drink, I'm going to go and see if Mother and Father want to help with our snowman," William said, draining the last dregs of the hot cocoa.

"What if they say no?"

"They won't. As I said, Mother is a big child at heart and Christmas is her favourite time of year. She loves building snowmen just as much as I do."

"If you're sure."

"Trust me, they won't refuse."

He winked at me, placed his mug on the table and left the room. I sat there and stared into the roaring fire, wishing we had the same thing at the orphanage, but Matron would never light the main fire in the dining hall if she could help it. She said it was a waste of money as we barely spent much time in there. There were a few days where we wanted the fire on more than anything, but chores helped to keep us warm and we could never ask her to light it. She would say no, anyway.

I sipped the last of my hot cocoa, savouring the taste and taking note of just what it tasted like so I could report back to Charity. She had tasted hot cocoa at her foster home, but we did not have it at the orphanage so had no had it since she was a child. It was the one thing she wanted to have more than anything and would often try to bride the cook into buying some, but her request was always denied. I hated being able to experience all these new things whilst my friends were still scrubbing floors and avoiding Matron's gave wherever possible.

After finishing my drink, I put my cup beside William's and looked back up at the painting on the wall. The glow from the fire bought the painting to life to the point that it could have been moving had I not known any better. In the flickering light, it looked so calm and peaceful, a place where we could just sit on the grass and not have to worry about chores or anything other than just existing. A place like that could do wonders for some of the girls at the orphanage, those who suffered greatly due to the bad London air and the continuous hard work we were subjected to.

William returned not long after with a wild smile on his face and one eyebrow raised in an 'I told you so' sort of way. I listened to the sound of movement upstairs and watched just behind him as Mr and Mrs Atkinson appeared down the stairs with a stack of clothes for the snowman. They both walked past the door and I heard the pulling out their own winter clothing in the hallway. William grabbed his still slightly damp gloves, hat and scarf from the fire and threw my own at me. I put them on, stood up and joined him in the hallway.