Williams - Its a Wonderful Life

Its a gorgeously hot afternoon in August. I am sitting in my kitchen with the patio doors wide open, to let the little breeze there is in, staring at an email Ive received this morning from my editor, Karen. Ive been looking at it for several hours, in between trying to get a sketch right for my new picture book. Inspiration isnt flowing, and several pieces of paper are scattered on the floor.

The Littlest Angel synopsis

By Beth King

This is the story of a little angel, whose job it is to find the baby Jesus. She sets out with a band of angels and gets lost. All she knows is a special baby is being born in Bethlehem, and she has to follow a magic star which has risen in the East in order to get to him.

On her journey she meets a young shepherd boy, a page, a camel, a donkey and finally some sheep, who lead her to where the baby Jesus is. She is the first angel there and sings him the first ever carol.

Beth, I just love this story. And the spreads youve worked up are really wonderful. I know well get a lot of interest in this one, Im only sorry that I wont be able to take you all the way through, but as you know, my own little arrival is about to put in an entrance. Its been great working with you, and Im sure youll be in good hands with Vanessa.

Im wishing you great success for your little angel. You deserve it so much.

Much love

Karen x

Its great that Karen likes my new idea, not so great that shes gone on maternity leave during the biggest crisis of my career. Just as I pick up another version of the spread, and decide its as rubbish as the rest, Im sidelined by my mother ringing.

So, what are your plans for Christmas?

Typical Mum, straight to the point as usual.

I swear she asks this question earlier and earlier every year. Just in case Daniel and I have made devious plans to escape the Holroyd Family Christmas and booked a week away somewhere. As if we would. As if we could.

Mum, its August! I protest. I scrumple up the sketch and throw it on the floor, where it joins all the other discarded pieces of paper. I honestly dont know whats wrong with me, I dont normally find it this hard to get my ideas down.

And soon it will be September and youll be too busy to talk to me. My mum does such a good line in passive aggression. I not only speak to her every other day, Im usually round her house once a week. I am after all the dutiful one of the family. This is my job, while my erstwhile brother, Ged, takes gap years aged thirty-six and at thirty-eight my sister Lou lurches from one disastrous love affair to another. Im the one who did things right: had a family, moved close to Mum and Dad.

They still live in the cosy cottage where I grew up in the small Surrey town of Abinger Lea. Our house is about a mile away from them. Initially we stayed nearer to London, in the house Daniels mum left him, but then when the children came along I needed some help and it seemed like a no-brainer to come here. We like being close to the countryside while having good train links with London, which has been useful for my work. Daniel used to work in an inner-London comprehensive, but hes just about to start a job in the slightly larger town of Wottonleigh, which is only three miles away. Thats going to make life a lot easier.

Its not as though I dont like being near my parents, its just that sometimes I wish I wasnt the good sibling. Its a feeling Ive had more often than not lately. Mum and Dad are perfectly capable, but I seem to always be doing them little favours, like dropping Mum off into Wottonleigh when Dads busy playing golf, or going to the art classes I finally persuaded him to take (hes always had a creative side, but he keeps it under wraps). And I seem to be on constant call to help them sort out their computer problems. I feel rubbish for being so resentful, particularly as they were always so great about babysitting when the kids were small, but sometimes I feel stifled by the fact that Ive never quite managed to move away from my family.

Belatedly I realise Mum is still in full flow.

Anyway, as I always like to say, fail to prepare

Prepare to fail. I know, Mum, I say. Anyway, well do exactly what we do every year and come to you. I dont know why you feel you have to ask.

Ive occasionally tried to change the Christmas Plan by suggesting that I take the slack for Mum and have them all over here, as its not as though we dont have the room. But she always knocks me back, and Ive given up trying, even though the kids get more and more stroppy about it each year. Sam is going to be eighteen next year and Megans fifteen. Theyre not little kids any more, and I think Mum forgets that sometimes, and doesnt quite get that they have other things going on in their lives, particularly around Christmas time. The trouble is, Mum loves doing Christmas, so even though I have a family of my own, I dont get a look in. The only time I was allowed remotely near the turkey was the year Mum had had a hysterectomy, and even then she sat directing operations from the lounge. Nightmare.