From Book girl fan - A Silent Christmas.


We lay beside each other in deathly silence. The only noise was the occasional creak of bed-springs and the relentless ticking of the clock above the fireplace. I could not see the clock face through the darkness, but I knew it was late. We had lain here, like this, for hours.

I shifted onto my side and stroked her arm, an action I knew would sometimes lull her to slumber.

"It's too quiet." The whisper was like glass shattering.

"I know."

Our house should have been loud and full. There should have been a howling baby in the nursery opposite, filling every inch of our home with her blessed presence. How could it be that we were left only with this gaping chasm of hush?

Beneath my hand Mary trembled and, for the rest of that Christmas night, we held each other in our grief and in our silence.