Her Blue Smile

‘Hey Brett, can I grab a pack, please?’ Ava asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

He gave her a sad smile, knowing the meek girl was not a smoker. She didn’t even like manning the cigarette counter. Brett always swapped with her if she was allocated there. He suspected she was under strict instructions not to return home without them.

‘Sure. The usual?’

She nodded and placed the money on the counter for him. He slid the pack across to her and she tucked it into the pocket of her threadbare jacket. The door opened at the front of the 24 Hour Convenience store on the corner of two streets and a couple of New Year’s revellers dashed in out of the biting cold, chased by a blast of arctic wind. Ava shivered.

‘Only an hour till midnight! A New Year, new hope!’ He chirped brightly at her.

‘Yeah. I’m sorry you’ll be working until 3. I imagine most celebrations would be finished by then.’

‘I don’t mind. I’d just be sleeping otherwise. I’m not really one for parties. And it’s great company pays higher for working antisocial hours, seeing as not all of them do.’

She smiled at him, a real smile, not the ghost of a smile she wore more often than not. ‘Me too. I’m not really one for parties.’

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she looked at it before sliding it back in without answering the call.

‘Not someone you want to wish a Happy New Year?’ He joked.

She shrugged. ‘I’m almost out of charge... and... he doesn’t like it if he can’t contact me.’

Brett instantly regretted his attempt at a joke. Her Uncle was not a caring person. He took nearly all the money she earned, claiming she owed him for taking her in after she aged out of the foster care system. But really, it was so he didn’t have to work. Just sit in the apartment, smoke and gamble everything away. He was the one who insisted she work nights, when the pay rates were higher. He would give her enough money to buy his cigarettes, but refuse to give her bus fare. She walked home in the cold and snow.

‘Why don’t you catch the bus home? It’s cold and your jacket is so thin.’

‘I don’t have any change.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘And I’d get home early.’

‘You’d be warm though.’ He dipped into his pocket. ‘Here... that’s enough to get home. Don’t walk tonight, please? It’s cold enough to freeze out there.’ He held out the coins for her and she hesitated. ‘As a favour to me?’

Reluctantly, she took the coins, staring at the money nestled in her palm. ‘Thank you, Brett. That is so kind of you.’ She smiled her fragile smile. ‘Happy New Year.’

‘Happy New Year, Ava. See you tomorrow night!’ He smiled as she headed for the door and customers took her place at the counter.

The door out of the store opened onto the side of the street with no protection from the wind. Pulling her coat tighter to try and keep the wind from flapping open the fabric, Ava turned her back and headed for the bus stop down the street, on the side a little less exposed to the wind.

There were fewer people on the streets in this part of London now. It was as if she had them all to herself, like she was the only person in the world. The Christmas decorations were yet to come down and the multi coloured lights tinted the brilliant snow pretty colours. The store windows were still beautifully decorated and the residential doors were hung with wreaths and bows.

And tonight, it was all for her.

There was no tree, no decorations at home. No Christmas feast or festive New Year treats. She would be lucky if there was instant soup or 2-minute noodles. Maybe some bread and butter if she was lucky. Uncle Greg didn’t like to spend money on anything he didn’t deem necessary. And he had proved she could survive on those foods. He had probably had a burger delivered for his dinner. He often did, when he remembered to eat.

She could move out, go to one of the women’s shelters. But he had her EFTPOS card. And he was co-signatory on her account. She couldn’t just get a new card. He had told her that. He would know if she made plans to leave or tried to keep her money for herself. She was dependent on him and he made sure she knew it.

The bus stop was sheltered and Ava checked the time schedule before sitting on the cold metal bench. She would have to wait here for the midnight bus, to make sure she didn’t get home early. At least she was out of the wind. Or most of her was. Her coat didn’t reach down her legs and the clear panels of the shelter didn’t go all the way down, so wind whipped at her legs. Even though it was not a well mannered thing to do, she pulled her feet up and huddled into a ball. There was no one else around. No one would be offended by her feet on the bench. Her favourite foster Mum, Penny, would have told her it was rude to put her feet where people sit. But Penny wasn’t here any more and even if she had been, Ava doubted she would be disappointed with her tonight.

The peace and quiet seemed to seep into everything, even the sounds of the occasional car on the street was muted. A combination of the peace, cold and fatigue left her feeling very sleepy. And if she missed her bus, there would questions she did not want to have to answer. Uncle Greg would be angry she had spent the money on the bus, even though Brett had given her the money.

It was the lesser of two evils to use her phone to keep herself awake. She could explain away her phone battery running out. it was old and didn't hold charge any more. But not being late. Or early for that matter.

Turning the brightness down as far as it could go, Ava searched for pictures of warm things. The search engine gave her photos of tropical islands, bright sunny days, big warm jackets and her favourite thing: an open fire place. Lit with perfectly round logs stacked on a grate, the flames emanated a comforting soft light. She imagined she could feel its warmth through her little screen and a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. She could hear the popping of the wood, crackling of the flames and smell the wood smoke.

Bright lights turned the corner and approached her, the distraction dissolving the sights, sounds and smells of the fireplace. The 11.15 bus slowed but continued on its way.

When she looked down again, her screen had gone dark. She sighed and tucked her fingers into the sleeves of her coat. She shouldn’t waste the battery. But staring off into space, she could feel herself start to nod off.

It was worth the risk. She couldn’t go sleep and miss the bus.

Turning her screen on again, the original spell was broken and the feeling of cold seeped back in. Her stomach rumbled a little. This time Ava searched for her favourite festive foods. Beautiful cakes iced in white with holly sprigs, dark puddings with thick custard poured over the top, roast vegetables with steam rising from the dish. And best of all. The roasted bird. The seasoning in the picture was the perfect colour and the roasted skin a glorious brown. Stuffing sat on the side of the platter, sliced and spread so she could see the pieces of cranberries and nuts in the mix. Her mouth watered and she imagined taking a plate of the delicious food, apple sauce and gravy on the side, a sprinkling of salt over the potatoes roasted to perfection and a steaming hot cup of cider. She could taste it on her tongue and the smell filled her nostrils.

Again, light spread across the bus stop as the 11.30 bus slowed to a stop, letting out some passengers who wrapped themselves tightly against the bitter cold before dashing down the street to their destination, laughing as they went. The bus driver waited a moment but Ava waved him on and called out Happy New Year!

As the bus pulled away, she adjusted her position. Curling up like that was making her muscles seize a little. But she returned to the same position, too cold to sit any other way.

Fighting fatigue, Ava tried to leave her phone screen off. She would run our of battery very soon. She counted the lights on the strings that festooned the street. She compared wreaths hung on doors. She named the bare-branched, snow mantled trees. But it was no good. Every time she blinked, it took her longer to open her eyes again.

Opening the search engine again, she looked for images of decorated trees. Beautiful lights adorned branches, tinsel and strings of beads criss-crossed dark green fir trees. Baubles reflected perfect images of richly decorated rooms. Perfectly wrapped gifts crowded under the lowest branches, tied up in colourful bows with pretty little name tags on them. The smells of fresh trees filled the air and the sounds of carols drifted softly. Warmth spread through her chest as her imagination put memories into the photos of her foster brother, Damien, lifted up by Penny to place the Angel on top of their tree.

The lights of the 11.45 bus shone in her eyes, erasing the image her imagination had created. The bus didn’t even slow down this time. Ava watched it go, taking with it the best and most comforting image she seen had yet. Checking the battery, she sighed. The phone would be flat any second now. At least her bus was due soon. She looked up at a patch of sky that had cleared enough for her to see a few stars, just in time to see a shooting star streak across the velvety darkness. She smiled softly. Penny had always told her shooting stars were Angels coming to Earth to escort a soul to their new home in Heaven.

‘A sad thought, to pass on New Year’s Eve.’ Ava whispered to herself, her breath showing in tiny puffs of white mist. ‘I hope the poor soul is going to a better place than the one they are leaving.’

A light rounded the corner and she stood, ready to flag down her bus. She felt lighter somehow and warmer. The vehicle slowed to a stop beside her bus shelter and the driver stepped out, a beaming a huge smile.

‘Penny! It’s you! Oh my gosh!’ She ran into the warm embrace of the only mother she had ever known. ‘Uncle Greg said I could never see you again. He said that you had died.’

‘Oh my sweet girl, you don’t need to worry about what other people say any more. Come with me. You won’t be hungry or cold or lonely ever again.’ Penny opened a door for her and Ava slid in, immediately feeling warm and safe, in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

Brett always parked down the road from the store, just past the bus stop. It was one of the few free parking spots close to work. The snow had stopped, but it lay in deep piles in the streets, making the way slippery. Keeping his head down into the wind, he moved as quickly as he dared on the foot path.

If he hadn’t slipped and reached put to grab the shelter for support, he would have hurried straight past the person curled up in the corner formed by the bench and the shelter walls.

‘Oh, geeze! Sorry!’ He apologised, pulling himself upright from his near-face plant into the poor person attempting to stay out of the wind.

They did not respond and Brett paused to look carefully at the person. Held in one hand was a flat cell phone and in the other, a few coins for the bus. Her collar turned up as far as it could go while her head tucked down to her chest. A familiar smile turned up the impossibly blue lips and eye lids closed gently with tiny ice crystals forming on the long dainty lashes.

Brett dropped to his knees, touching one of her hands. Her skin was freezing.

‘No no no no...’

I’d get home early. Her words echoed in his head and their meaning sunk in.

If she got home too early, he would know she had taken the bus and be in trouble for using the money. ‘I should have made you wait at the store until it was time for the bus... I should have given you my coat... I should have....’ his voice trailed off. ‘I should have helped you get away from him sooner.’

In the years to come, Brett would repeat the same words to himself, over and over again, only finding peace finally in the memory of her blue smile.

Author's Note:

The Little Match Girl was first published in 1845, written by Hans Christian Anderson. The little girl in the story is forced by her uncaring father out onto the snowy streets to sell matches to Gentlemen on New Year's Eve in England. A job not uncommon for girls from low socioeconomic situations in the 1800's.

I read the tale when I was a child and it has stayed with me ever since.

Initially when I chose this fairy tale for the Vocal Media Tales Retold Challenge, I wanted so badly to change the end of her story. To rescue her from her fate.

But as relevant as her story was when Christian Anderson first penned it, it is sadly as relevant today. Exploitation still exists. Abuse and neglect still happen.

I could not find a way to save her when there are so many for whom there is no rescue. All I could find the words for was to modernise her story and bring it into the light of a new century.

Because for some, there is no happily ever after.