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closely
She's not scared of fireworks. The colours they spill into the sky dissolve any fear she might have developed from the loud noises that they make or the flames which they are lit from. She is taken by them. They are mesmerising to her. She sits on Daddy's shoulders and stares into the distant night sky.
It's November and it's cold.
She can see her breath as she gasps out in wonder. Her little hands are stuffed into mittens; a scarf tight around her neck, hat on head to protect the sensitiveness of her ears and cheeks, both of which are red, bitten by the chill caught in the air.
Mummy stands closely to Daddy, longing to feel some kind of warmth. One arm is wrapped around his waist. The hand of her opposite arm is holding tightly onto his and she can hear them whispering to each other, their aim not to be heard by anyone else.
"I'm glad we came," says Mummy.
They are in the garden of what used to be Granny's house. Max and Lily are standing with their mummy, watching the display that Uncle David is putting on, as captivated by it as she is. And whilst it isn't anything big or special or on a scale remotely close to that they show at proper displays – like the one the children had practically begged to go to at the Red Rec before circumstances changed, before the unimaginable happened – it is enough. It is more than enough.
Mummy kisses Daddy's wet cheek before he is able to reply to her.
"I'm glad, too."
They squeeze each other's hands.