大象传媒

by Millicent, aged 9

“Here you go, Gwen, darling!” With her silly smile, Great Aunt Lucy hands me a parcel bedecked with a gigantic silver bow. I hold my breath, trying not to breathe her sickly lavender perfume.

“How thoughtful.” Mum gives me a meaningful glance. Great Aunt Lucy loves buying gifts, mostly from charity shops. Why must I always pretend to be grateful? It’s not as if the world depends on my reaction, is it? Just Great Aunt Lucy.

Dragging the corners of my mouth into a smile, I peel away the sticky layers of tape and Dora the Explorer wrapping paper. Really! How old does she think I am? Four?

I’ve had lots of peculiar gifts from Great Aunt Lucy, but this one is THE WORST YET. A doll. An old-fashioned one that looks like it belongs in a museum. “She’s made from real porcelain,” croons Great Aunt Lucy, twisting the doll’s silky chocolate curls around her fingers. “She looks just like you, dear.”

“Of course she does!” I retort.

“Gwen!” Mum exclaims. I snatch up the doll and stomp upstairs.

Sitting on my bed, I stare at the doll. Two blue unblinking eyes stare back. The heart-shaped face is freakishly pale. I fling the doll on a shelf.

Crack!

Like a streak of black lightning, a crack appears across the doll’s smooth face. “Oh well,” I mutter. “I didn’t like it anyway.”

Mum enters. “Why must you be so rude? Don’t you care about Great Aunt Lucy’s feelings?” She means well. Now, I’ve got a night shift. Your Aunt’s staying over.”

I groan. Time to watch boring TV programmes and play board games.

I stay in my room for as long as I dare. When I walk downstairs, I hear wheezy snores. Good! She’s asleep in the arm-chair, her snores getting louder and her mouth hanging open like a fish.

I stare at her. “Why can’t you be a proper aunt?” I whisper. “Why can’t you buy me decent stuff? Why do I get lumped with you?” It feels good, saying what I really think.

Suddenly, too late, I realise the snoring has stopped. Great Aunt Lucy’s eyes are open. A single tear trails down her cheek. Well, I’m not apologising. Maybe she won’t bring me a stupid doll next time.
Finally, after Antiques Roadshow and two games of Scrabble, it’s bedtime. From the shelf, the doll watches me, eyes glittering.

Tomorrow, I’ll dump her.

***

“Gwen!”

“I’m ready, Great Aunt Lucy.” Gwen is fully dressed in her school uniform, teeth and hair brushed.

“My goodness! What a change!” Great Aunt Lucy exclaims. “Oh dear. Your dolly’s broken.”

“I’m sorry.” Gwen looks suitably ashamed. “I’m sorry for upsetting you last night too. You’re so kind. I should be grateful.”

Great Aunt Lucy smiles, glancing at the doll on the shelf. “Goodness. What lovely manners! It’s almost as if I’ve got a brand new niece. . .”

***

They leave the room. A single tear trickles down my cracked cheek . . .