Page 11 - Sophie's Christmas With Teddy & Mouse

It had been read often and had many dog-ears. This book was dear to him and smelled like the primeval forest he loved, but Teddy couldn’t understand the letters. Could it be written in human children’s language?
He peered for hours at the beautiful drawings in the book, pictures of little red robins who decorated the white, snowy branches of ancient apple trees in the orchard, the ones with twinkling, coloured lights.
They sparkled in the white uffy snow and the orchard looked like a fairytale come to life. Teddy fervently wished, like he did every night when he looked at his book, that one day he could have a friend with whom he could watch the lights together.
The only place he felt safe was under his warm woolen blanket with blue- and-white-stripes, dreaming about the adventures he would have and laughing happily at his father's jokes. He fantasized that he could sit next to Father on the big blue tractor, the wheels even higher than Teddy himself, as they took a dreamy ride together on the sandy paths within the forest.
Then he dreamt about the soft, whispering voice of Mother, who gently rocked him to sleep in her arms, smelling of vanilla from freshly baked puffs. She told a bedtime story and kissed him with a sweet smile on his glowing cheeks - and wished him goodnight.
But sadly these were only dreams, and Teddy sighed. He didn't get sweet, comforting words nor was he gently rocked to sleep. He had to take care of himself, as small as he was.
Early each morning, when it was still cold before sunrise, he had to climb out of his warm bed to light the re. This was his job, one of the many tasks Teddy had been given. He tiptoed over the wooden oor which felt chilly and rough, to smear his sandwiches with a thick layer of butter and honey in the cold, dark kitchen.
Teddy threw wood in the replace, which he gathered alone from the big forest next to the house, and with an old newspaper he tried to light the re. If the re didn’t burn before his parents came down, then there was trouble.
He didn't want to be locked up in that dusty closet at the back of the house again. The last time that happened he'd been locked there until late at night. He could hardly move in that closet, where the spiderwebs clung to his head and the room smelled like wet mops.
Teddy often felt lonely. He had no one to talk to, joke around or play with.