Another Christmas Day by Lesley Cooke, a small glass of sherry

Well, another Christmas morning and I’m all dressed up and nowhere to go! I like this red dress, I always put it on over Christmas. It’s worn well – I bought it the year before Ron died and that’s ten  years ago. ‘Granny Santa,’ the little girl next door used to call me. We would have liked children, Ron and me, but it wasn’t to be.  He always liked this dress, said it made him feel cheerful. But he was a cheerful man anyway – the laughs we used to have! I miss him – 60 years we’d have been married, come March.

 

            I don’t know why I got up so early. Years of having to put the oven on for the turkey, I suppose. And six o’clock of a Christmas morning isn’t a hardship – there is always a special feeling in the air, a tingle, as though something magical is about to happen.  It was so black and quiet outside, it made me think of a seed in the cold, dark ground, just waiting to burst forth and surprise us all.

 

            Breakfast seems such a long time ago, I feel quite peckish. Ron and I used to have a glass of sherry about now.  Let’s see if there’s some left in the bottle. I don’t suppose it’s gone off since last Christmas, things like that keep for ever.

 

            This time last year, I was just finishing my sherry when the Salvation Army minibus came and picked me up for lunch.  Wonderful food we had – turkey and all the trimmings. And the people were all so nice, so friendly, everyone had time to chat.  There was nearly a hundred of us there.  They had a huge tree in one corner and everyone got a present. After lunch we sang carols and played party games.  I did enjoy it!  I wish I was going again this year but nothing’s been said.  Mr Patel in the corner shop said I should ring them up and ask, but I couldn’t do that, it would look like begging.

 

            No, I shall have a sandwich and some soup, that’ll do me. No point in cooking a big dinner for one.  Last year, we came home from the Sally Army with a bag full of goodies – turkey sandwiches, mince pie, a piece of Christmas cake. Kept me going all Boxing Day!  And this afternoon after the King’s Speech there’s A Christmas Carol on the television, I always enjoy that.

 

            Now I’ve finished my sherry, perhaps I’ll go out for a walk.  Bound to see someone to talk to. I’ll just look out of the window and see whether that drizzle has stopped. Oh look – someone’s coming up the path!  Well I never – and there’s the Salvation Army minibus, so they’ve come to collect me for lunch after all!

 

About the author

Lesley Cooke lives in Dorset, close to the edge of the New Forest. She wrote creatively as a youngster but it is only since retiring that she has devoted more time to the craft. She has been published on a handful of occasions to date. 

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A New Christmas Tradition by Sharon Boothroyd, a fruit tea

'A very merry Christmas to such a wonderful couple.' Leah's heart warmed as she read the message on the Christmas card she and her partner Mark had received.

It was from her parents, but Leah's mum Helen did all the festive organising for the family. 

It was their first Christmas together as a couple, so this year, Christmas felt extra special.

There was only one problem.

Who were they going to spend Christmas with?

“I'm looking forward to having you and Mark here,” Helen had twittered. “He'll love our games afternoon!”

Board games were a seasonal family tradition at The Denton's.

Everyone of all ages joined in – parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. Whether it was Scrabble, Twister, charades, or Snakes and Ladders, it always ended up in gales of rowdy laughter.

Leah had kept quiet concerning her mum's assumption because she and Mark hadn't made any firm plans.

She recalled a similar conversation last weekend with Mark's mum, Anne. With his Dad firmly kept in the background, she was also a Christmas organiser.

“I'm sure Leah will enjoy carol singing with us this year,” she'd chirped confidently.

Mark's family, The Baxters, liked to spend their Christmas by gathering around the piano and belting out a selection of jolly carols. There was a mass gathering of relatives there, too.

Mark had shifted his seat. “We'll need to put some time aside to visit Leah's parents.”

Anne waved a hand. “Of course. But that won't take long, will it?”

                                                                  ***

“Both families expect us to see us on Christmas Day,” Leah said. “I never realised that the situation would call for such a fine balance.”

“Why don't we ask everyone along to my parents' place?” Mark suggested. “Your family can sing with us this year and then next Christmas at The Dentons, my lot can join in with the games.”

She grinned. “Problem solved!”

So approaching the mums on separate occasions, the couple cautiously ran the suggestion past them.

“You sing carols?” Helen looked faintly aghast as she addressed Mark.

“I think carol singing would be a very refreshing change,” Leah said.

“I'm sorry Mark but it's not something us Dentons would do,” Helen explained.

Leah and Mark had fared no better with Anne.

“Oh no. Games aren't a Baxter kind of thing at all.” Anne had given a tight, polite smile.

He'd folded his arms. “Well, I think board games sound like fun.”

It was no use.

No amount of persuasion could make The Dentons and The Baxters mix.

“We can't invite both groups round to our small flat,” Mark said. 'There just isn't enough space to accommodate our big families.”

“I can see everyone trying to cram onto our sofa!” Leah chuckled.

“And our dining table only seats two,” he added. 

So Leah and Mark had come up with a different approach.

They decided that Christmas morning and afternoon were to be split between each family.

When they brought this up, as Mark and Leah suspected, this carefully considered compromise didn't suit.

Both sets of mums wanted the couple to spend the entire day with their clan.

A one year Christmas Day/ Boxing Day rotation idea didn't go down well either.

                                                                      ***

“What if we picked a family and held an early Christmas, just for them?” Leah suggested later. “We can host the day about a week before, with gift giving and a Christmas lunch.”

“Hey, I never thought of that,” Mark replied.

Yet this idea too, was dismissed by Anne and Helen. 

She sighed. What an earth could they do?

It was a common enough problem, but Leah and Mark just couldn't find a way around it.

Trying to please everyone was proving impossible!

                                                          ***

The dilemma couldn't be forgotten about.

It was now December and the couple still hadn't reached a decision.

“There's only one solution,” Mark announced. “You spend Christmas with your family Leah, and I'll spend it with mine. That should please everyone.”

Apart from us, Leah thought sadly. 

However later, she rallied. What did one day matter?

They'd open their gifts in the morning, go their separate ways and re-unite in the evening.

Mark was right - it was the only answer.

Yet when they dropped into The Dentons, Helen didn't seem happy when Leah outlined their plan.

“So, you and Mark will be apart for the majority of Christmas Day,” she reflected.

“Yes.” Leah blinked back tears.

And when they popped round to The Baxters, Leah sensed that Anne wasn't that thrilled about this new development either.

In fact, strangely, she seemed kind of sad.

                                                                      ***               

It was the third week of December.

The town was lit up with colourful lights, radio stations blasted out Christmas pop songs and the air was heavy with excited anticipation.

Only Mark and Leah were utterly miserable... then they received  a phone call from each of  their Mums, with the same request.

“Could you meet us at Clancy's this Saturday at noon?” they asked.

Clancy's was a local, elegant hotel, well- known for making their guests feel welcome, but especially so at Christmas.

                                                            *** 

On Saturday, the couple waited anxiously by the grand sparkly Christmas tree in the foyer at Clancy's.

Helen and Anne arrived and the group settled with a coffee in the lounge.

“Before we go any further, we'd both like to apologise,” Anne began.

“I bumped into your mum when I was out Christmas shopping, Mark. We swapped numbers, and we met and talked,” Helen outlined.

“We've been very selfish,” Anne admitted. “We admit that we've lost sight of the Christmas sentiment of peace and goodwill.”

'We've been demanding and bossy too,” Helen confessed. “We're both really sorry.”

Mark and Leah exchanged glances. What a surprise!

“Apologies accepted,” Mark said.

“Now, will you listen to our idea?” Helen asked.

“Of course,” Mark replied.

Leah knew that secretly, he'd be worried. She felt the same.

She just hoped they wouldn't be expected to book an expensive last- minute  Denton/ Baxter family bonding holiday to the North pole!

“If everyone chips in, we can all spend Christmas day here!” Helen exclaimed.

“They have a full programme of events - including games and carol singing,” Anne gleefully reported.

“Don't forget a gorgeous four- course lunch with wine,” Helen went on.

“Sounds great, but I thought Clancy's would be fully booked at Christmas time,” Mark stuttered.

“Yes, everyone thinks that, so they don't bother enquiring.” Anne, now relaxed, sat back and sipped her coffee.

“But we did,” Helen added.

“That's brilliant! You two are so clever!” Leah cried.

Mark smiled while Leah heaved a huge sigh of relief. Phew!

“Thank goodness that's all sorted!” Mark grinned.

“There's only one condition, That Mark and Leah both spend Boxing day with us, The Baxters,” Anne stated.

Helen looked up in surprise. “Oh no. Boxing day is exclusively reserved for The Dentons.”

Mark and Leah grasped each other's hand.

It was time to take a stand.

“Leah and I are starting a new Christmas tradition,” Mark announced. “Boxing day is for us two. We're spending the day at home, entirely by ourselves.”

The mums were too taken aback to speak, so the couple picked up their coffee cups and simultaneously toasted.

“Merry Christmas to us all!” 

About the author

Sharon is fifty- something and suffers from anxiety. Writing short stories acts as a kind of occupational therapy for her. 

 

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The Night Before Christmas by Fleur Lind, ginger beer

Mary gave a wide open-mouthed yawn as she padded slowly up the stairs to the second floor. The 150-year-old stairs creaked as her fluffy slippers trod a well-worn path to her bed. She stalled on the 5th stair, wondering if she had locked the front door. 

‘Bad luck if I haven’t. I’m too tired to care. If we get burglars, I hope they do some housework before the family arrives tomorrow. Thank god Christmas is just once a year. I couldn't do this gig more often. I’m getting too old for this rigmarole,’ she muttered to herself. She climbed into her welcoming bed, the blankets tossed about as she had left them that morning, with no time to straighten it up. Husband Mike wasn't bothered with a messy bed as he lay snoring, exhausted from a busy day. He’d tried to fix the toilet cistern on the 3rd floor, and there was an ongoing, work-in-progress ‘garden’ on the rooftop. It put a jungle to shame, but at least it was a bit of greenery.  One never knew what surprises they would find growing in the maze of potted tropical branches and broad leaves.

 

Not-so-soft snoring could be heard from the second floor, otherwise a beautiful quietness filled the air in the rest of the house, which was a great relief to those on the 1st floor.

‘At last! I thought they’d never settle!’

‘What a day!’

‘I’m exhausted. How will we get through tomorrow, for pity's sake?’

‘The same way we do every year.  With resilience, patience, and sheer grit.’

'Resilience is the same as sheer grit, isn't it?'

'You've been looking at that thesaurus again, haven’t you?'

I snuck a look before it was wrapped…'

'Fair enough. I checked out that new game Tommy is getting, too. That’ll keep him quiet for hours…hopefully…'

'You wish!'

'One can only hope!'

 

As the banter of the baubles, bells and various paraphernalia that hung on the 7-foot Christmas tree continued its hum, up on the third floor, a pair of eyes peeked over the blankets.

'At last!' Tommy sighed, and as quietly as possible, slipped out of bed and opened his bedroom door.  Being well-skilled in midnight feasts and fridge raids, and having lived his nine years in the characteristic terrace house in London, Tommy knew exactly which floorboards made the most noise, so he also made a well-worn path down the stairs.

 

'Shhh!'

'What?'

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

Creaking…someone’s awake…'

'Probably going to the loo.'

'No, they’ve gone straight past the loo… they’re on their way down here.'

'Are you telling me you know what creak belongs to what floor?'

'Absolutely… don't you?'

'Pfft!'

The living room door slowly opened.

'Who….?'

'Ohhhh, what’s he doing down here??'

'Who?? I can't see a thing. I’m facing the fire and have a pine needle in a very uncomfortable place…'

'Oh, the little bugger!'

'Who??'

'Will someone tell me what’s going on? I’m facing the window and I can't see a thing either!'

The Christmas Fairy Ginger has the best view and revels in her position despite her fear of heights. 'It’s Tommy!'

'Noooo!'

Tell him to go back to bed. He’s eight hours early!'

'What’s he doing?'

'He messing up the presents, that’s what!'

'Tell him to bugger off!. He’ll stir the cat and then all hell will break loose!'

Tabitha had been sleeping soundly in her basket, having promised not to mess with the tree. The lure of the fireplace was far too tempting, so she was on her best behaviour.  But when that paper began to rustle, her ears twitched.

'Ohhh dear God…please don’t wake the cat.'

'She wouldn’t dare….'

'Oh yes, she would!'

She gave me a good swipe today and nearly knocked me off the tree. Those claws are sharp!'

'Well, if she climbs up anywhere near me, it’s all over. I don’t fancy plunging to my demise after how long it took to get me up here. Mary worked for hours to get the tree ‘just so’.  You know what she’s like.'

'Never mind your demise, the whole bloody tree is going to fall.'

'Tommy! Go.. Back. To. Bed!' Ginger hissed.

'He’s after his present!'

'He’s found it.'

I don’t believe it! He’s unwrapping it…'

No way!!'

So is he going to play with it and re-wrap it and bring it back later or something? That’s not how it works…'

'Try telling him that…'

Anytime now, you-know-who will be here…'

'Oh! Is it that late?'

'Shhh…listen…'

There was a faint sound of bells ringing outside.

Tommy looked up, eyes squinting with suspicion.

Santa appeared in the lounge doorway, his eyes sparkling with mischief and the after-effects of an eggnog.

Tommy gasped.

'Well, well…what do we have here then?'

'Oh….'  Tommy uttered.

'I think we’ll wrap that up again,' Santa clicked his fingers and the present re-wrapped itself, 'Now, young Tommy, I think you need to get back to bed…hmmm?'

Tommy was speechless.

'Quickly, off you go…'

Tommy scuttled away faster than Maude, the mouse on the 2nd floor.

Santa winked at Ginger. 'Hello up there. I'm glad to see you have your top spot back again this year, Ginge.'

'I don’t like the height, but the view is good.'

How are you all doing?  Is the cat behaving?'

'We’re all the better for seeing you,' they said in unison.

'You’ve saved the day or night, shall we say?'

'Well, I'd best get on with business. Before the cat wakes up and ruins everything. I bought her some treats if she stirs.'

'How has your year been?'

'How's your wife?'

'I’m busier than ever. I’m now getting emails and posts on socials. I need a secretary to keep up! Mrs Claus is doing very well, and I’ve got a new helper in the workshop. He’s marvellous!'

           As Santa placed the last present at the foot of the tree, he tapped his red nose and bid farewell., Take care, my friends. I’ll see you next year!'

'Adios! au revoir, see you later!'

 

That magic sound of sleep blanketed the house, but a pair of eyes remained open on the 3rd floor.

'Has he gone yet?' Tommy murmured.

 About the author

 Fleur is a Kiwi living in SE Queensland. She enjoys the fun, challenge, and possibilities of short stories. She is a member of the local writer's group - The Squabbling Scribblers. For more of Fleur's work: fleursfabulousfables.wordpress.com 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.) <