It must have been the early morning hours when the knock at my bedroom door came. Poppy often got scared when a storm raged outside, even though the blackout blinds we had in all the rooms helped to muffle the sound of them somewhat. On top of the chest infection she was getting over, which had resulted in many restless nights - the request to slip into my bed was no surprise. Her voice was husky and unstable, making me wince at how deep the virus was in her lungs. I’d dismissed her sniffly nose and pleas to turn up the heating when she got home from school.
Things had been particularly tight going into the winter months after her father had left us with no warning to pursue a new relationship on the south coast. All our joint accounts had been drained and what little I had left in my personal accounts went on affording a mortgage that was too large for a work-from-home single parent. Luckily we’d stopped at one child, although I’d pushed hard to give Poppy a sibling.
Her toes felt like little stubs of ice as they brushed against my shins, sending shivers up my hamstrings and into my spine. Fingers gripped tight around my waist, digging into the bare flesh on my back. This a reminder that her nails were due for a trim in the morning.
I stroked stray hair behind her ear, feeling the outline of her jaw as my fingers trailed down her soft brown locks. Seeing through touch, the blackout blinds did earn their name. Without a nightlight, it was nearly impossible to even see your hand in front of your face in the middle of the night. After having them for the better part of the year now, it was the only way I could sleep.
Hollow breaths slowly eased to gentle puffs as I felt Poppy’s body ease and release, slipping back into a deep sleep that brought her dreams of freedom and the sublime. I pulled her in tight once more before letting my mind drift off to happier places, somewhere that included her.
Just as my world started to pass over into an altogether dreamier realm, I was startled by a knock at the door. As I lifted my head from the pillow, a soft croaky voice whispered from the doorway.
“Mummy”.
Chills navigated down my spine at lightning speed as I realised the body wrapped around mine was not my daughter. Tiny icy fingers dug themselves into my back as I instinctively shifted away.
“Can I sleep with you? I’m feeling scared”.
My heart started to thud in my ears, distracting me from the hoarse and gurgly breath I could feel on my bare chest, getting faster and more animalistic as small cold arms tightened further.
“Go back to bed, Poppy. Please”, I whimpered as gently as I could as my daughter stood silhouetted faintly in the doorway.
Footsteps gently padded back into her bedroom, with a few huffs and sniffles along the way. Slowly the icy fingers loosened on my back, and a steady yet gurgly breath returned.
We stayed entwined until the early morning hours when I could faintly hear the songbirds atop neighbouring homes. My body was tense, eyes wide open, aware of every shifting movement between us. Eventually, the small arctic body released its grasp on me, slipped out of bed and slumbered out of my room and down the hallway, the floorboards creaking less with each step taken until the house was filled with silence.