The Queen frowned, as if trying to recall who she was. Then she turned to Sam. “I’m sorry, my dear. I meet so many people, I lose track. And you are?”
“Sam, Ma’am.”
“Prince Sam,” Penelope said quickly.
The Queen seemed satisfied with that. “Ah, well Gerald’s just nipped out to get fish and chips,” she said. “This is a little embarrassing, but we weren’t expecting to be here tonight so we’ve no food in the house. Can I offer you both a cup of tea?”
“Er, not for us,” Penelope said, as they followed her into the kitchen. “But maybe something cold?”
She walked over to the freezer and filled two glasses with ice cubes, then handed one to Sam. The Queen was too busy hunting for a tea strainer to notice what Penelope was doing. Sam suspected she made the tea so rarely, she had no idea where anything was kept.
“Everyone’s in the banquet hall,” she said, pointing to the room opposite. “Normally, we’d be off to Sandringham by now, but there’s too much snow, so we’ve decided to spend Christmas here instead.”
Sam and Penelope wandered into the banquet hall where there were lots of people singing and dancing. Small children chased each other around the room, the little dogs yapping joyously at their feet. Presently, Gerald the butler returned, laden with huge parcels of fish and chips and everybody sat around the table, enjoying the feast. Even Sam ate a few chips. They were amazing – so salty and delicious. He couldn’t believe he’d never tried them before.
“What was that?” Penelope asked as she wiped ketchup off her chin with a silk napkin.
“What?”
“I heard something.”
She turned her head. For someone with no ears, she had remarkable hearing.
It was coming from one of the upstairs bedrooms.
“You can’t go up there,” Sam warned.
But Penelope was already lumbering up the grand staircase.
With a sigh, he hopped after her. There were so many stairs, he had to stop on the landing to catch his breath.
“Where are you?” he gasped, once he could speak again.
“In here,” she called.
At first, he thought it was a piglet she’d found, but on closer inspection, he saw it was a baby; his chubby little face shrivelled up in anguish. The covers had come loose and he was shivering. When Penelope reached down and tucked him in, the baby closed his eyes again and gave a contented little snore.
“Let’s go back down to the party,” Sam said. But Penelope couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny baby.
All at once, there were footsteps on the stairs.
“Quick, hide!”
He prised open the toy cupboard and jumped in, pulling Penelope in with him.
The door wouldn’t quite close and they both watched as the baby’s mother walked in and stood over the child, looking puzzled.
“I could have sworn I heard crying,” she murmured. “Maybe it was the wind.”
She went over to the window and checked it was shut properly, before tip-toeing back downstairs.
“We’d better get going,” Sam said, softly. “We need to be back in our gardens before the children wake up.”
“Okay,” Penelope agreed, “but can I just take one last look at the baby before we go?”
“Go on then.” Sam tightened his belt another notch. “But better make it quick.” The warmth of the palace was melting him inch by inch. He couldn’t wait to get out into the cold air.
Penelope didn’t hear a word he said.
“Isn’t he tiny?” she cooed, peering into the little one’s cot. “I wonder what it would feel like to hold him?”
“You’d wake him up.” Sam told her, “And besides, your hands are freezing.”
“I know,” she sighed, giving him one last, longing look. “Okay, Iet’s go.”
She walked dejectedly towards the door.
“Leaving already?” asked the Queen, as they said goodbye.
“Thank you for the party,” Penelope said, “But we’ve got a bus to catch.”
“But there aren’t any more buses running tonight,” the Queen told her. “It’s Christmas eve.”
Penelope looked at Sam in dismay.
“But we have to get back home in time for Christmas!”
“Don’t worry,” the Queen said. “Gerald will run you home.”
“Oh, that’s very kind,” said Penelope, managing a smile. “I’ve always fancied a ride in a posh car,” she whispered to Sam.
* * *
Nobody noticed the Rolls Royce pull up in the little cul-de-sac. Everyone was too busy wrapping Christmas presents and shooing children back to bed.
“You wait here,” Sam said, as they reached Penelope’s garden. “I’ll take the clothes we borrowed back to the house.”
Penelope nodded. She was far too tired to argue.
Sam went into the house and put the clothes back in the wardrobe. He didn’t have the dexterity to put them back on the hangers, but he folded them as best he could and placed them at the bottom of the wardrobe. That done, he tiptoed into the children’s bedroom. They were both in bed now, and fast asleep, dreaming about Christmas. He knelt down and whispered something in the little girl’s ear. Her mouth twitched a little, but she didn’t open her eyes.
He hoped she’d got the message.
* * *
On Christmas morning, the children came running outside to play, pulling two brand new sledges behind them.
“Come on, let’s race down the hill,” Tom called.
“Just a moment,” said Sarah. She crouched down in the snow, moulding something with her hands, then stood up and followed her brother out of the garden gate.
Penelope waited until the children were out of sight, then she hopped over to examine the little girl’s handiwork; a tiny snowperson with short twiggy arms and a tiny button nose. The new arrival looked up at her with his big coal eyes and smiled. Penelope bent down and hugged him to her chest, then looked over at Sam in wonder.
The tiny snowbaby had made her Christmas wish come true.
The End
ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS
Lucy Pireel
The past couple of days Carol had tried to ignore the tree Paul got them this year. It stood in the corner of the living room, waiting for her, taunting her. It was the second Christmas tree in five years Paul had allowed in the house after the accident that had cost them their son, her little Jacob. The memory of her lost little one kept nagging her to do something about the thing. I guess there’s no escaping it. She sighed and went to the attic to get the ornaments it needed. The ones that Paul insisted they kept, even after the incident.
Carol had blamed herself and had to be hospitalised for being too depressed to function. Only when John—their friend and her doctor—together with his colleague, had found she reacted well to Xanax, she had been allowed back home. But every now and then anxiety flared, leaving her nauseous, or even vomiting for no reason and no amount of medication seemed to help when that happened.
Every bloody year Christmas haunts me, and every year it falls upon me to sort decorations out. And this year Paul bought a tree again. It better not scratch me.
“You better not try anything, or I’ll turn you into kindling. I know how to handle an axe, you know.”
Of course the pine tree didn’t answer her, but she swore its needles trembled ever so slightly. She blinked and took a step towards the tree. It slunk back, only minimal, but it did nevertheless.
“Hot dang! I knew it! If you’re a good tree, I’ll plant you in the back of the garden instead of throwing you on the bonfire New Year’s Eve,” she said while taking a bit of its foliage in her hand and shaking it. A shudder went through the tree and the needles became a bit softer.
“Do you really understand me?” Carol asked while pulling a needle from the tree. It creaked and the soft branch ending stiffened between her fingers. “I guess you do, and you know I mean what I said, don’t you?”<
br />
The pricking needles softened again and Carol smiled. She hummed ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’ while opening the cardboard boxes that held the decorations.
“Candles?” She held up a small candle holder and half burnt red candle. The tree groaned as it trembled.
“Or lights?” Carol asked as a strand of candle shaped lamps caught her eye in the box. “I thought I threw those away last year. Oh well, you seem nice enough for electrical. Just remember the bonfire when you feel funny ideas coming up.” And she untangled the wire. When all the light had a place Carol stepped back to assess whether or not the tree needed more lights.
“You look terrific already,” she said. “Now, what colour balls would you like?” She opened the smaller boxes containing glass balls and held up two. “Gold, or blue?”
“Blue.”
Startled by the voice Carol dropped the fragile decorations. They shattered on the marble floor.
“I came home early to help you decorate the tree. You shouldn’t be doing it alone. I thought I’d better help you this time before you wrestle this tree too, like you did the one last year.” He laughed out loud and said, “And remember how you insisted on wrapping all glass ornaments in bubble wrap before we hung them in the tree when I brought home a small one last year?”
“Paul! I didn’t hear you come in,” Carol said, while her cheeks burned, because she remembered all too well how silly that had looked. “And the bubble wrap was a stupid idea. I’m glad you made me take it all off again.”
“Sorry baby, but the sight of you talking to a Christmas tree is something I just had to soak up.” He chuckled, then repeated, “Sorry, baby.”
“I wasn’t wrestling a tree last year! It attacked me! Tried to kill me by stabbing me with its branches. Don’t laugh!” She stomped her foot on the shards, angrily crushing them under the soles of her slippers, but then laughed with the man that could always diffuse her bad temper tantrums. “Oh, Paul. I believe I’m being silly, aren’t I? Trees don’t attack people, and this tree certainly won’t, will it?”
He embraced her and kissed her neck, hitting the spot that never failed to make her knees go weak.
“No honey, they don’t. Let’s decorate this tree and not talk about bad things. I’m proud of you trying to start the decorating on your own,” Paul said. He picked up a small cardboard box. “What’s in this?” He opened it and nearly dropped the thing. “Oh, baby! You shouldn’t have kept this in here.” He lifted the small Christmas tree decoration out of its protective bubble wrap and looked at the picture of their little lost one painted on the glass ball. It had been delivered on the day of Jacob’s death and never been used. “Do you really want to use it? Isn’t it time to let go? It’s been five years since we lost him, and we’re not doing you any good by opening up the wound right before Christmas. You’ve done so good this past year, this just …” He shrugged and gently put the ball back in its little box. “I don’t think this is helping you my love.” He set the little box on the table and pulled her into his embrace.
She sighed and leaned into him. “Oh, Paul, I miss my boy. Why did he climb the stepladder to try and put the angel on top of the tree without waiting for me? Why did I leave him alone to answer the door? It couldn’t have been longer than a minute, Paul. The moment I took the parcel from the postman…. The noise of the tree falling, breaking of glass, and then screams…” She sobbed and Paul held her while he tried to steady his breathing. When he opened his mouth to comfort Carol she continued. “I raced back to the living room, but I was too late, Paul. I can still see the blood on the floor, he lay there…” She intently looked at the corner opposite the new tree. “He lay there, pinned down by the tree and the ladder, Paul, and I couldn’t get it off of him. His little body…. There was blood everywhere, soaking the carpet, draining away his life. That tree killed him!” She shouted the last words and pounded her fist against Paul’s chest.
“Shhhh, honey. Trees don’t kill little boys. It was an accident, it’s…. It wasn’t your fault, you aren’t to blame.” Tears streamed down his face as he remembered the broken and lifeless body of his son. “A freak accident, my love. At least the postman had gotten the tree, the ladder and most of the glass off our boy. He tried to help, to stop the bleeding, but our little boy just had too many deep cuts my love,” he said while stroking Carol’s head. “Trees don’t kill people. It was an accident, honey, an accident.”
“That one did,” she sobbed. “And I killed it for it. Like I will any tree, anyone, trying to hurt a loved one of mine.”
“Oh, baby,” Paul said as he wiped her cheek with his thumb. “Please don’t go down that path again. You know what happened last year. Let’s try to get through this Christmas without any episodes, okay?” He held her tight and kissed the top of her head, while she sobbed against his chest. “There now, don’t cry baby. I know, he was my son too.”
They stood there until Carol’s tears dried.
“I love you Paul,” she said with a sad smile. “But I miss Jacob every day, and when decorating the tree it just all comes back again. I know trees don’t kill people and it was a freak accident, but …” She sighed and wiped her nose on his shirt. “He would have been ten now. I wish we had chosen a smaller tree back then. I wish we could turn back time, I wish—”
Paul placed his index finger on her lips. “So do I, but we agreed to keep celebrating Christmas because our boy loved it. Besides, it is supposed to be a festive time, a time for us to remember him and all the good he brought to us in his short life. And to celebrate the fact that we are still together even after that tragedy. Nothing can replace him, Carol. We have to make the best of our life together since we can’t have another child.” Paul cupped Carol’s chin and raised her lips to his. Gently he laid a kiss on her mouth before he said, “I love you, no matter what. Now up the stepladder wench and tie that angel to the top,” he said, then playfully slapped her behind.
Carol laughed and said, “I’m so happy you stayed with me with all I put you through during my crazy periods.”
“Baby, I love you, you are the angel that came down to earth to save me when I was down, how could I have ever left you when you needed me most?” Then he laughed and said, “Besides you were a looney back then. You probably would have tied me to the chair to keep me from going.”
Carol smiled, waved the ribbon from the angel in front of Paul’s face and said, “I still could you know.” Then she turned and got up the ladder to tie the angel to the top of the tree.
Their banter continued until the entire tree had been covered in all sorts of decorations, varying from pieces made out of tinfoil to expensive crystal balls.
“Ready?” Paul asked.
“Wait,” Carol said and unpacked that one, last ball, hung it in a prominent place, took a step back, and nodded. Paul flicked the switch and the entire tree came alive with glimmers and reflections.
“It’s beautiful, Paul, Jacob would have loved it.” Carol smiled and added, “I’m glad to see his sweet smile, even if it’s only on a glass ball.”
Together they stood and admired the tree until Paul said, “Let’s get to bed early. I’m dead tired and have a busy day at the office tomorrow.”
* * *
The next morning when the alarm sounded Carol turned her head to kiss Paul awake, he wasn’t there. Startled, she sat up and called out, “Paul!”
“What is it hon?” He asked from the bathroom.
“Nothing, I thought you’d gone without saying goodbye.”
“Never, my love, but you were so peacefully asleep, I didn’t want to wake you just yet.” He stuck his head around the door and said with a wink, “Besides it gave me the opportunity to admire you without you getting all self-conscious.”
Carol swung her legs over the edge of the bed to get up, but as she did her head swam and that sickly feeling rose from her stomach. She had to dash to the bathroom not to spew the contents of her empty stomach over the bedroom car
pet. Retching she hugged the cool ceramic of the toilet.
Paul dropped his shaving blade on the vanity and fell to his knees next to her. “What’s the matter?” Worry tied a knot in his insides, a band closed around his chest. “Stay here, I’ll call the clinic. It might be your medication that needs another adjustment.”
Carol grabbed his arm when he rose. “No, please don’t leave me,” she managed to say between spitting more bile into the bowl. “I think I just have a stomach flu. I’ll be fine, just don’t go, please?”
“I have to go to work baby. It’s the last days before Christmas and you know it’s a madhouse at the store now.” Paul stroked her back and reached up to get his wet washcloth. “Here, wipe your face. I’ll get you a glass of water and put you back to bed. I’ll come and check on you during my lunch break, okay?” he kissed her on the top of her head and rose helping Carol get up from the floor too. He lifted her in his arms as if she weighed not more than a feather. She’s lost so much weight these past few years. She can’t afford to lose more. I can’t afford to lose her too. Paul carried his precious load to the bed and tucked her in. “There, you stay there. I’ll get you a bucket and a glass of water. The phone is on the nightstand and if there’s anything, anything at all, call me. I’m just around the corner and come flying home if you need me, okay?”
Carol nodded, suddenly too tired to speak or even keep her eyes open. If I don’t move I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.
* * *
After a few hours Carol woke up to the sound of Paul’s voice coming from downstairs. “She just vomited … No … I will … Thank you, John.”
Water ran, the kettle boiled, a spoon clinked in a mug. He’s such a sweet man.
Soft footfalls on the stair and then the door slowly opened. Paul put the tray on the nightstand and sat next to Carol on the bed. “Hi sweetpea, I asked John what this vomiting of yours could be. He didn’t think it would be something serious. You’ve probably worked yourself up and had a bit of an anxiety attack. He said not to worry and didn’t want to up your meds or anything. He told me to give you lots of love and a nice cup of tea. So here it is.” He smiled and got in bed beside her, taking her in his arms. “All my love, and a nice cup of tea. How are you feeling?”