Nine baubles smashing

'Be careful with those, George, they are very delicate,' Mary warned, swooping in to take the box of handmade glass baubles out of her son's hands before the inevitable happened and he broke one or more of them.

'Let me see them,' Sybbie said, standing on her tiptoes to peer into the open box. 'Oh, aren't they pretty? I remember those from last year.'

'Yes, they are very pretty and very delicate,' Mary repeated, moving the box out of harm's way.

'Can't I put them on the tree?' George pouted. 'I want to put more stuff on it.'

'Here, Georgie, help me drape some tinsel on the tree,' Tom said swiftly, trying to distract his nephew.

George charged over, enthusiastically dragging yards of tinsel out of another box and stuffing it onto the lower boughs of the tree. Mary tried not to wince as she watched him, silently vowing to rearrange the tinsel more artfully after George had gone to bed.

'What can I do?' Sybbie asked, eagerly.

Digging into the crate of decorations, Mary fished out another box containing less breakable Christmas decorations and handed it to Sybbie.

'Why don't you start with these reindeer and Santas, darling? Put them in different places around the tree.'

Sybbie beamed and set about her task, pursing her lips in thought as she considered the best places to hang each individual reindeer and Santa decoration.

Satisfied that the children were both suitably engaged, Mary pulled the A-frame ladder closer to the tree. Carefully, she retrieved her precious box of expensive glass baubles and climbed up the ladder, beginning to hang the beautifully blown, hand-painted globes, arranging them in the perfect positions.

'I want to put the reindeer and Santas on the tree, too,' said George, now bored of the tinsel. He reached into Sybbie's box and grabbed at the decorations.

She put her arm up, trying to block him. 'No, that's my job. Aunt Mary asked me to do it. You're helping Daddy with the tinsel.'

'I don't want to do the stupid tinsel. I want to hang up the reindeer,' George said, trying to duck around her.

'No, go away!'

'Give me a reindeer, Syb!'

'No! Tell him, Daddy!'

'I think he could probably help with a few of them, Sybbie,' Tom said diplomatically, peering around Mary's ladder, trying to be fair to both children.

'See!' George cried, jostling her, grabbing for the box. 'I need reindeer too! And Santas!'

'Give it back, George!' Sybbie squawked, yanking at the box.

'Pack it in, you two, or nobody's going to be hanging those decorations up,' Tom warned.

'But, Daddy, he won't do it right! He'll just stick them all in the same place and they'll look stupid!' Sybbie cried.

'No, I won't! I'll put them in cool places! Better places than you put them!' George retorted, lunging for the box again.

'Stop it now, or neither of you will be helping any more,' Mary said in her I'm-not-arguing-with-you-just-do-it voice from her perch up the ladder.

Both children completely ignored her, too caught up in their battle over the box of decorations.

'Get off, George!' Sybbie shouted, giving her cousin an almighty shove.

George stumbled backwards, slamming into the ladder, knocking it badly.

Six feet above the floor, Mary wobbled and tried to grab the top of the ladder. She missed, her fingertips just grazing the bar and then felt herself falling backwards unable to do anything to stop herself.

The remaining nine precious baubles in her box flew upwards as she toppled off the ladder, a shriek escaping her.

'Mummy!' George shouted, looking terrified as Sybbie let out a shocked gasp.

As quick as a flash, Tom threw down his tinsel and lunged forward, his arms outstretched. By some miracle, he got there in time, catching Mary in his arms before she crashed to the floor.

She stared up at him, not quite sure what had happened. He stared back at her, equally shocked.

'You caught me! You actually caught me!' Mary gasped, her heart banging, her arm looped around his neck.

'I know. Believe me, nobody's more surprised about that than me,' Tom managed to say, his heart racing too, amazed that he'd caught her.

'Are you all right, Aunt Mary?' Sybbie cried, running forward, the reindeer and Santa decorations forgotten in the drama of the moment.

'Uncle Tom, you were like Superman!' George cried in excitement. 'You just, like, swooped in and saved Mummy! That was awesome!'

'Are you all right?' Tom asked Mary as he stood there still holding her in his arms, gazing down at her.

'Yes, I think so. A bit shaken maybe, but I'm not hurt, thanks to you,' Mary said, returning his gaze, her stomach flipping strangely.

For a few seconds, they remained in the same position, Tom holding Mary in his arms, staring at each other.

'Um, you should probably put me down now,' she finally said.

'Oh, um, yes, okay,' Tom replied, gently setting her on her feet.

'Oh, no, Aunt Mary, your pretty baubles! They're all broken!' Sybbie cried, looking in dismay at the glass baubles now in fragments on the hard floor.

'Oh, no. Look at them. They're all smashed to smithereens,' Mary said, sadly.

Tom slid his arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug. 'That's better than you being smashed to smithereens. They're replaceable. You're not,' he said, softly.

Mary glanced up at him, touched by his words. For a fleeting second, she could have sworn that something passed between them, something different to the usual affection they shared. Something deeper, more primal.

And then George broke the moment, nudging Sybbie. 'That was your fault. You pushed me into the ladder.'

'I did not!'

'You did!'

'Didn't!'

'Did!'

This time the look Tom and Mary shared was one of exasperation.

'Right, stop this now,' Mary said sternly, hands on her hips.

'Let's take a break while I sweep up the glass, shall we? Hot chocolate, anyone?' Tom said, defusing the situation.

'Yes!' George agreed, enthusiastically.

'Yes, please! Can we have marshmallows and squirty cream on it?' Sybbie asked, her eyes shining.

'I don't see why not. It is nearly Christmas,' Tom replied, smoothing his hand over her hair. He looked up at Mary. 'What do you think?'

'I think you spoil them,' she said fondly, smiling at him.

He grinned. 'I'll get the dustpan and brush if you get the chocolate going.'

'All right. Come on then, you two,' Mary said, herding the children around the shards of glass towards the kitchen.

Tom watched them go, his little family.