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 

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