Dinner was as delicious as it was lovely, the addition of sugar a magical touch in such restrictive times. Mr. Evans came with a bottle of wine he’d been saving for just such an occasion, and he and Mrs. Weatherford spent a good part of the afternoon bickering with each other like siblings, each with a good-natured twinkle in their eye.

Jimmy and his sister, however, did not join them, and their absence was very much felt. Most especially by Mrs. Weatherford. The package under the unlit tree with Colin’s old clothes, altered to accommodate Jimmy’s skinny frame, was left where it lay alongside another bundle of several girls’ dresses and a coat Viv had tailored for his sister.

Viv had to return to Caister the following day. It was a sad realization that sifted like ash over the fleeting joy Christmas had brought and left the townhouse feeling darker and more alone than ever.

Mrs. Weatherford, especially, was affected by Viv’s departure, as though she were losing Colin all over again. The only time she managed to rouse herself from the house was the day after Boxing Day when she went to Grace’s afternoon reading at Primrose Hill Books with a great box of leftover Christmas cake, several rolls and the children’s presents.

Jimmy arrived, albeit shamefaced when he saw Mrs. Weatherford, but didn’t run from her and Grace after the reading.

“They were feeding us at the rest center.” He took his cap off, his expression heavy with remorse. “I didn’t want to take your rations.”

The boy’s consideration, in a devastated world when he had nothing and they had so much by comparison, needled into Grace’s chest.

“You needn’t ever worry about us,” she said.

“We had far more than we could possibly eat.” Mrs. Weatherford set the box before him and lifted the top.

She’d set the Christmas desserts in a large glass bowl nestled beside the wrapped presents for Jimmy and his sister.

He looked up in surprise. “You’re sharing too much.”

Mrs. Weatherford waved him off. “I made it for you both, and you weren’t there to eat it.”

“Open the larger package,” Grace urged, knowing what it would mean to Mrs. Weatherford to see him unwrap the gift.

Jimmy hesitated only a moment before drawing the parcel from the box. He didn’t rip into the package as children often do. Instead, he untied the string holding the parcel together, wound it around his hand into a neat bundle and set it inside the box. Only then did he gingerly fold back the paper so as not to cause a single tear.

It was the care of someone who had nothing, someone who knew they might have need of such materials later. It wasn’t only the item inside that was the gift, but the wrapping as well.