First encounters part 2

This is an extract from my YA fantasy story featuring a 14 year old girl. This is the day her life changes. Please let me know what you think... There's a part 3 to this chapter which I will post later

The wind nipped at my ears and hands from the moment we got out of the car. I pulled on my gloves quickly, before dragging my black and white bobble hat more firmly over my head and wrapping a matching scarf around my neck, tucking in the ends to make sure no cold air could get in.

Mum and Dad both wore green elf peaked hats I had made them for Christmas.  Dad’s hat was embroidered with the words ‘Head Elf’, while on Mum’s I had stitched a row of red and yellow pom poms climbing up to the point, where I had added a bell.  I laughed at the tinkling sound her bell was making as I turned to face them.

‘Thanks for wearing them. Hold still while I take a picture of you.’  I snapped several close ups, before they made me get in the picture too and asked a passer-by to take a group photo with Mum’s phone.  

 I ran ahead of my parents slightly, twirling around, feeling the joy of being in the great outdoors on my birthday. When I saw the half frozen mud at my feet, I was glad I was wearing walking boots.  They gave me a good grip on the ground while keeping my toes warm and toasty. A true child of winter, I gloried in the stripped back form of the trees, their branches sticking out like a collection of skeletons, silhouetted against a bright winter sky. In that moment they look like they could become anything they pleased.  

Laughing at my flight of fancy, I checked again on my parents’ progress. Mum was busy emptying a picnic basket filled with all sorts of goodies including hot soup, drinks and a homemade cake. Dad watched her, huddled in his coat, frowning. I would have thought he would be used to it by now. Mum always insists on a picnic on our birthdays whatever the weather. One year we went sledging on my birthday. When I got to the bottom of the hill, there was mum, hot drinks and birthday cake at the ready. She even got random strangers to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me. Fun times.

When I turned 10, we had huddled under an ornate Victorian bandstand in the middle of a park as the skies emptied all their rain stores, accompanied by their good friends, ‘Thunder’ and ‘Lightening’. We wore wellies and waterproofs as we played games like ‘Jenga’, ‘Pass the pigs’ and cards in the light of a hurricane lamp she had brought from home.  Then she brought out a cake decorated with the four seasons just as the sun returned. The ridiculousness of it still makes me smile.  

‘Ellie-Grace,’ shouted Dad, ‘Come back and eat’.

Reluctantly I turned around and went back. Dad had brought out some post-box red picnic chairs so we didn’t get quite so cold on the hard ground. I reckon Mum could have competed on one of those cooking shows; she’s surprising good. Mum had remembered my favourites. We had a piping hot, creamy vegetable and chicken soup, served in an insulated mug. I warmed my hands on it, inhaling its salty scent, before tugging off my glove so I could tear a strip off a baguette. I dunked bits in, only bothering with the spoon towards the end. This was followed by scotch eggs, sausage rolls and some Red Leicester cheese and crackers. Homemade iced vanilla custard slices were washed down with hot coffee, the custard spurting out everywhere as I bit into it. I wiped off the evidence with gold coloured serviettes.

‘Here’s the ‘pièce de résistance’’ said my Mum, her face beaming as she brought out a cake from its box. It was decorated in the shape of a tree. Half the branches were bare, other than the odd silhouetted bird or squirrel on its branches, while the other half was green and full of life and being visited by a whole host of creatures. ‘It’s a symbol of new beginnings. I know we’ve just moved and it’s difficult for you, but it will get easier and your social life will soon be buzzing again.’

Then they sang, ‘Happy Birthday’, and we hugged each other.