The Butterfly

She’d been dreading Christmas. The first without him; the first alone.

She loved it, normally. The songs, the lights, the stories. None of that mattered now. It was only worth it when he was by her side, and she wished that she had realised that sooner.

When she was a child, her family were ever-present. When she married him, the festive season was a big occasion. The whole family around for the traditional turkey and trimmings. One by one they’d left, or died, until it was just the two of them. And now he was gone too. She couldn’t bear it.

She sat in their old living room, watching television. Some variety show that youngsters presumably found entertaining. She missed Morecambe and Wise.

Normally done up with a tree, ornaments and all the rest of it at this time of year, the room was now adorned with just a handful of Christmas cards from old friends and colleagues who, these days, she’d probably never recognise even if she bumped into them at the supermarket.

It was ironic, really. Her husband was a grumpy old sod who hated Christmas. And so he’d always moan when she put up the decorations – if he’d had his way, there would never have been any. “What’s important about Christmas,” he’d said, “is spending time with my butterfly.”

She loved that name. Butterfly. She never knew why he’d christened her like that – she didn’t consider herself especially delicate or quite so colourful – but it was charming nonetheless. She longed to hear him say it one last time.

“Butterfly or not,” she would say in response, “the decorations are important to me. So pass me the tinsel.” And so it was. But now that she could do whatever she wanted without him on her back…it was just the cards. For some reason, the lack of the traditional argument made the whole thing seem less worthy.

There was a knock at the door. She glanced in that direction but elected to ignore it. Wallowing in her sadness alone was preferable to with company. And besides, who did she know that would care enough to visit? It was probably just some carollers. No point.

But the knocking continued.

Eventually, she tired of the sound and used her stick to raise herself from the chair. She hobbled to the door. A young man, dressed in a suit covered by a camel-coloured overcoat was on the other side. He held a gift in his hand.

“Hi,” he said. “Are you Jenny?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, good. Um, my name’s Harry? I know Jim? I was, um…”

“Jim’s not here.”

“Oh, no, I know. I just…well, can I come in for a few minutes?”

It was an awfully cold day. She could see the young man was shivering; the gift wavered ever so slightly in his gloved hands. Jenny held the door open further and her visitor entered, bowing his head a little in thanks. She shivered herself as he passed her. “Would you like some tea?” she said.

“Oh, no thank you madam. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Jenny led him into the sitting room. It was cramped, and had décor that could be politely described as ‘retro’. Harry went to sit in one of the well-used armchairs, but changed his mind and moved to the sofa instead. Jenny put herself back in her favourite spot – a chair she had sat in every day for over three decades – and turned the television down.

“How did you know my husband?” Jenny asked.

“I used to work for him. Sort of. Uh, I mean, I have…an allotment, next to his. I’d see him down there quite a lot and help him with digging and stuff from time to time.”

“The allotment? He sold that on years ago.”

“Ah, yes, well, you see, he did…and he didn’t. He asked me to keep an eye on it for him. When he was sick, y’know? We’d meet up every now and then and I’d tell him how his carrots were doing.”

Jenny nodded. That sounded like Jim. She’d begged him to stop the gardening after his diagnosis, said it wasn’t good for him, all the bending and digging and planting. But although she persuaded him to stop, she knew he hadn’t let go entirely. It wasn’t in him.

“So how can I help you, Harry?”

“Well, madam-“

“You can call me Jenny.”

“Right, sorry, Jenny. I…well, he always talked about you. Frankly, he never shut up. And I just wanted to come and pay my respects and, y’know, meet the woman he was so enamoured with.”

Jenny smiled a little, her first for what felt like forever. “Well,” she said, raising her arms in presentation, “here I am.”

Harry smiled. “Here you are.” They sat in silence for a second. “So, um, anyway, the last time I saw Jim was…I guess a month ago. And…well, something he said stuck with me. I don’t know why but I haven’t been able to shake it. He told me about when you first met.” Jenny looked at the ceiling. Oh God, she thought. Don’t cry. She looked back at him.

“He told you that?” There was a slight quaver in her voice.

“Yeah. It’s a beautiful story. How you were-“

“Please, don’t. Don’t say it. That day…when he disappeared…I thought I’d never see him again. And now I never will.” She started sobbing gently. Harry got up and put an arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

“I’m so sorry, Jenny. I didn’t mean to-“

“I know. I know you didn’t. I’m just a silly old lady, don’t worry about me.” She dried her tears and blew her nose; Harry sat back down.

“But Jenny, it’s…I’m sorry but it’s really important that you hear this story. He asked me to tell you. I know he loved you but I don’t think he ever told you just how he felt that day.”

“What do you mean?”

“OK, so…Jim saw you, at the station. On the other side of the tracks. He was off to London, for a job interview. And your eyes met. He felt that the world wasn’t big enough to contain his love for you, and yet it was so small that it felt like it would be just the two of you, forever. At that moment, everything else fell away. The Earth could have opened up and swallowed him, an asteroid could have hit the city…hell, the second coming of Christ could have happened just around the corner, and he wouldn’t have cared. The connection you made when your eyes met was so strong that it was unbreakable, and still is. When the train pulled up, and blocked your vision of each other, he had a split-second decision to make. One of those defining moments in a person’s life that led to two completely different paths. Go to you, or lose you forever. He never regretted his choice for a second. There was nobody else for him, that day or any day since. Only his butterfly.”

“Butterfly?” Jenny said. “He said that to you?”

“Yeah. It’s a lovely nickname.”

“But…why would he tell you that?”

Harry smiled. “Jenny, I’ve…well I’ve known a lot of people in my life. More than I care to remember. But that story, the way he spoke about you…speaks about you…it’s special.”

She was on the verge of tears again. “What do you mean speaks?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ve said too much anyway. I should go.” He stood up. “Ah, the gift. Here.” He handed Jenny the present. It was very small, not much bigger than a ring box. “Don’t open it until I’m gone, OK?”

“Wait, I…” Her words chased Harry, but he’d left, with a clunk of the door. Who was that? she thought. She looked at the gift in her hands. The paper was purple – her favourite colour. She opened it gently, careful not to tear the paper. Inside the cardboard box within was a beautiful broach. Gold, and encrusted with multi-coloured gems. It was a butterfly. She picked it up and turned it over. On the back was an engraving. “Yours forever – Jim.”

She felt a reassuring weight on her shoulder. One that she recognised. She looked up. Nobody there. But there was. “Jim?” she said, with a smile.