take you to the door?'' asked the driver. Kate looked out the window towards the house. "This is fine, thanks.'' The taxi left but Kate was in no hurry.

She sat down on her solitary suitcase and stared up at the house. The moon was full and illuminated its shape. It was a large, fine house. A house which held many memories for her. So many great memories. Her first birthday party had been at this house and as she grew up it had always been filled with the sound of laughter and a feeling of love. Friends had always been made welcome. Long summer days, swimming and playing in the garden had become treasured times which, only much later she realised, not all were lucky enough to experience in childhood. Her first teenage kiss had been on this porch and her first broken heart slowly healed in her bedroom when the boy didn't call. Over a year earlier, from the cedar front door, she had left for university in England. Today it should have been a joyful homecoming. Christmas at this house had always been such a special time. The largest tree that could fit inside would be decorated from top to toe, while eggnog and mince pies were passed around. Her father would dress up as Santa for the local children.

Coloured lights around every door and window and fake snowmen sitting on the lawn gave it the reputation as being `the pretty house on the hill' which admirers from all over the Island would come to view and enjoy. Tonight with just two days before Christmas that pretty house was dark. No fairy lights, no snowmen welcomed her. Just one small lamp in a downstairs window indicated someone could be home. Kate let out a deep sigh, picked up her suitcase and walked up towards the house. The door opened before she could knock. Her mother smiled. "Kate dear, I've been waiting for you.'' She was shocked by her mother's appearance. She had always been such a vibrant, healthy woman.

Tonight she looked drawn and tired. "It is so good to have you home, dear.

How was the flight?'' Kate's mother fussed around her talking continuously while helping her off with her coat. "I `phoned the airport. I knew it was on time'' she continued. "Where's Dad?'' Kate interrupted. Her mother seemed taken aback by the question. "Let's have a nice cup of tea and a chat.'' Reluctantly Kate allowed herself to be led into the kitchen. She immediately repeated her question. "Where is Dad?'' Her mother pulled her down onto the seat next to her's. "To tell you the truth dear he's not very well. The doctors says physically he's healthy enough but it's his memory. He just doesn't seem to remember anything anymore.'' Tears filled the older woman's eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore'' she sobbed. It had started six months previously, temporary lapses in memory had been treated with a sense of amusement within the family. He didn't put his shoes on to save cleaning them they joked. It was only when a neighbour found him wandering, lost and confused in the Botanical Gardens that reality hit. Extensive medical tests followed, culminating in a diagnosis. Alzheimers Disease. Being in England, her mother had attempted to shield her from the truth. It had taken time and some tough question to her mother before the sickening realisation came. "I need to see him Mum'' Kate whispered as her mother fought to control her emotions. "He's in the lounge.'' Kate immediately stood up, her mother grasped her arm. "Kate, remember whatever you find he will always be your father.'' She opened the door to the lounge. The fire was roaring in the grate while the aroma of burning cedar filled the room. Her father was sitting starting into the flames. His appearance seemed little changed. Strong chiselled features and distinguishing grey hair. However, it was his eyes that were somewhat different. "Hello Dad.'' He looked at her, but showed no hint of recognition. "Have you brought me some supper? Carrot cake is my favourite. Two sugars in my tea. I won't get fat, not me. Thanks for stopping by. Turn the T.V. on. The news will be on soon.'' "Dad, I'm your daughter, Kate.'' He looked puzzled by this statement. "Carrot cake is my favourite.'' She turned the television on as he asked and together they sat holding hands while one inane cartoon after another filled the screen. Her mother brought a tray of tea in to them. "I won't get fat, not me,'' he laughed to himself.

Kate helped put her father to bed and gently stroked his hair. As he drifted off to sleep he looked into his daughter's eyes. "You are so nice to me.'' "I love you Dad'' she replied, trying to fight back the tears. Kate lay in her old bedroom. It had been altered little. A collection of dolls from around the world filled shelves while Daisy, her very worn first teddy bear, sat proudly at the end of her bed. How Kate yearned for the past. To turn the clock back to how things once were. She knew she must somehow try to bring back the joy of Christmas to her family. The next day a large tree was soon sitting in its usual spot in front of the bay window. Unfortunately, here father was having what her mother described as `one of his bad days'. He seemed oblivious to the addition and instead was lost deep inside a recess of his mind. Kate tried not to show her disappointment. "Mum, are the decorations still kept in the basement?'' She confirmed they were. As a child the basement had an aura of Aladdin's cave where mystical secrets and long forgotten treasures were kept. She smiled when she saw her old rocking horse, now covered with a thin layer of dust. The boxes of decorations were stacked neatly in a corner as expected but she couldn't see the bag of tinsel that she knew would be close by. Kate stood on a chair to look on the higher shelves.

The tinsel was there and next to it an old cake tin which she decided to take as well. "Dad, will you help us decorate the tree?'' There was no response.

Her mother lovingly touched his arm. "Come and help us dear,'' gently guiding him over to the tree. "Do you know what is in this tin Mum?'' asked Kate. "I really don't know, open it up and take a look.'' Kate eased open the slightly rusted top. "It's full of Christmas cards!'' Kate opened the top card and read aloud. "Now that Santa's on his way, I wish it were Christmas every day.

Sleigh bells, presents, parties, food, and all my love from me to you. Tons of love from your daughter, Kate.'' Kate read one deeper in the pile. "They are all from me to you, they're all here even the ones I made for you at Gilbert Primary.'' A mix of black and white and colour photographs were dispersed between the cards, Kate picked one out. It showed a young Kate wearing a tartan dress being held by her father in front of a Christmas tree. The picture caught a look of magic in the child's eyes as she reached to touch a sparkling ornament. It also showed a look of total love for the girl on the face of her father. Her mother looked into the tin. "I don't remember putting all of this away. I really don't.'' "I did it.'' The two women stared at the father in surprise. "I kept every card my daughter sent me.'' He looked at Kate. "You're that little girl in the picture, you are my daughter.'' Kate hugged her father, the recognition meaning so much to her. "Yes Dad. I will always be your little girl.'' Sitting around the tree that Christmas Eve evening each card in the tin was read and each photograph lovingly described.

Reminisces from bygone Christmases brought stories and laughter back into the old house. Kate knew things could never be the same but was content that a little sprinkle of Christmas magic had once again touched her family. PHOTO Mark Booth, runner up in the adult category of the short story competition SHORT STORY CONTEST CPN