Duplicity Read Free Page A

wrote, laboriously, then placed the envelope with its precious contents inside the drawing book. He would give it to the baby tomorrow; that was Christmas Day, the proper day.
    William went about for the rest of that day with a secretive smile on his face, making his mother wonder what mischief he was hatching, but as he was behaving rather well otherwise, she didn’t upset him by asking any questions.
    Once, when no one else was in the room for a few moments, he moved over to the pram. ‘Angel Gabriel,’ he said, experimentally. The infant hiccoughed and opened her eyes, then to William’s delight, a smile passed across the tiny face. This convinced him that she liked the name and he gave a whoop of joy, causing his mother to pause in her preparations for the next day to listen for the crash which inevitably followed the familiar noise. Nothing happened, however, so she shrugged her shoulders and carried on.
    When he was hanging up his stocking that night, a disturbing thought bothered William. ‘Mum,’ he said, ‘will Santa know about the baby?’
    She didn’t answer immediately, and he looked anxiously into her face. She looked as if she might cry again, so he put his arm round her neck. ‘Mum,’ he repeated, ‘will you hang up a stocking for … it?’ He had nearly given his secret away.
    She gave him an unexpected hug. ‘Yes, darling, I will. Santa won’t forget her, I promise.’
    William rose before anyone else was up and ran downstairs to see what Santa had brought him. He enjoyed opening the packages, but he knew his greatest thrill would come when the baby’s envelope was opened. Making sure that indeed there were other gifts for the infant, he took the envelope out of his pyjama-top pocket and pushed it well down into the other stocking - like his, one of his father’s large golfing socks. It was going to be a happy Christmas after all.
    He could scarcely contain his excitement until the rest of the family came down, and when at last Mary starting taking the things out of the baby’s stocking, he held his breath in glorious anticipation.
    ‘Oh, thank you, Mum. Thank you very much.’ Mary’s voice was choked as she shook out a lovely lemon pram cover. ‘Dad. This is gorgeous.’ She held up a furry teddy bear for William to see.
    He was wondering why she was thanking them for the things that Santa had brought when he heard her say,
    ‘What’s this?’
    He lifted his head and saw that she was looking at the envelope - his envelope. His heart began to beat faster, but with studied nonchalance, he murmured, ‘It’s my gift to …’ He stopped. He had nearly given the game away, again, ‘To … to … it,’ he finished, lamely, pointing to the pram.
    His sister opened the envelope, read the card and passed it over to her mother and William felt a great weight descending on him They didn’t like the name -they would have said something if they did.
    Then his mother said, ‘What does it mean, William?’
    He looked down at his slippers,, his face scarlet. ‘It’s my gift to the baby,’ he said, doggedly. ‘It’s a name for it.’
    ‘But why?’ Mary was obviously puzzled.
    This was when the boy decided to tell the whole truth, so he stood up and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘Well, Mum and you don’t seem to like it, and nobody ever gave it any presents, not until Santa came last night. Babies should get gifts, like the Baby Jesus. And it didn’t even have a name.’
    Mary ran out of the room at that, but before he could say anything, his mother followed her. He looked across at his father, who signed to him to sit down and eat his breakfast. Each mouthful of cereal tasted like sawdust to him, and he was just about to excuse himself from the table when the two women came back. He stared at them in surprise; they had their arms round each other and were laughing and crying at the same time.
    Mary stretched out her free arm and pulled him to her. ‘Oh, William, it’s a lovely