christmas wish Gift Exchange [belated Christmas story; 14/24 parts]

[Kitty Angel]

Hi folks!

I decided when I finished my latest mainstream book that I wanted to do a short story for Christmas before getting back into the grind of daily updates on multiple stories. However, I've not done very well at finishing this one… and it seems unlikely now that it will be finished in time to be "seasonal". So… I'm eager to hear opinions about whether I should finish it anyway, or leave it until it's seasonal again next year.

This one started out as a simple idea, but became more complex as I planned it, and the characters seemed to have their own ideas how they want it to go. There may be some serious themes in the first and last chapters; and some of the (adult) characters wanted to get a bit frisky. So if you want content warnings for particular topics on any future chapters, please let me know.

I know 24 parts sounds like a lot for a Christmas short. Really, it's 6 chapters. But each chapter is broken up into four parts, one for each character, making 24 parts in total. Hope that's not too many words for anyone. Feedback please! Seeing people's opinions, and predictions, always makes it more fun and easier to keep on writing.

 

Gift Exchange

Act 1: Driving Home for Christmas

David, broken-hearted businessman

Snow-dusted trees whizzed past outside the window as David rehearsed his lines, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

“We decided to take a break,” he mumbled, wincing at how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears. He knew he’d have to answer these questions sooner or later, even if everybody was too polite to ask. He cleared his throat and tried again, injecting more false cheer into his voice: “Me and Sarah just realised we wanted different things out of life. But it's okay, it means I can see you guys for Christmas again. Just like the old days.”

The words rang hollow in the cosy confines of his car, and the wind whistling along beside him almost seemed to be laughing. David sighed, raking a hand through his soft brown hair. How could he possibly fool his perceptive family when he couldn't even convince himself?

As he turned onto the off-ramp and saw the town spread out below, a dazzling array of twinkling lights caught his eye. Houses transformed into gingerbread fantasies, with icicle lights dripping from eaves and inflatable snowmen waving merrily. The residents of Maple Street always went the extra mile, knowing that they would be the first thing every visitor from beyond the valley saw. The cheery festive scene, now complemented by seasonal music and animated light shows, tugged at something deep in David's memory.

“Wow,” he breathed, slowing the car to drink in the magical sight.

Unbidden, a long-forgotten image swam to the surface of his mind. Elves swarming to put the lights back on a Christmas tree after some malevolent force had knocked it down. The kids singing and whooping, hoping to chase off evil spirits while Dad cheered them on.

“Must be mixing up dreams and reality again,” he mused with a shake of his head. “Does everyone remember such a crazy childhood, or is that a side-effect of having a children’s author as your dad? All those pictures and epic bedtime stories gave me the most amazing dreams. But I wish I could remember more stuff that really happened.

Yet as he drove on, more improbable recollections bubbled up. A genie’s lamp wedged against the wall to calm a wobbly table. Statues that winked and waved when they thought no grown-ups were looking. Talking squirrels, and hedge mazes that led all the way into the elf quean’s labyrinth. Enough fantasies to fill a whole shelf of novels, and the images in his mind’s eye were always as clear as the primary-coloured cover illustrations that used to rule the fantasy shelves of the school library.

“Come on, Wilkinson,” David chided himself, managing to find a moment’s humour as he caught himself sounding just like his boss. “Next you'll be remembering flying reindeer and–” He broke off and shook his head, trying to dismiss mental images of star-dusted skies flashing past so fast they became a blur. But now he was just being silly, sticking fantastic trappings onto a half-remembered trip on a late-night bullet train or something.

“Nope,” he said. “That one’s definitely fiction. If Santa was one of Dad’s characters, he’d be getting a whole lot more royalties. No more daydreaming for now. Time to focus.”

He squared his shoulders, and saw determination etched across his features in the rear view mirror.

“You can do this,” he told his reflection, who clearly didn’t believe him. “Smile. Laugh. Pretend everything's fine. It's just for a few days.” But as David rehearsed his cheerful facade once more, he couldn’t quite shake the lingering feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, his subconscious mind was trying to tell him something useful through all these disjointed recollections of childhood dreams. But how would he even recognise the one real moment when he saw it? He pushed that thought to one side and gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening as he steeled himself for the performance ahead.

“It's simple,” he muttered. “Smile, nod, grin and bear whatever Lily wants to rib me about.” A recent breakup would be sure to put an edge on his sister’s teasing this year, but in a way he was looking forward to the next step in the sibling-rivalry arms race. At least he had fresh ammunition this year. His eyes flickered to the pile of presents on the passenger seat, landing on the neatly wrapped bundle for his sister. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he imagined her reaction.

“Oh, workout clothes! How thoughtful,” he mimicked her voice badly, voice heavy with sarcasm. “They'll go great with that treadmill I’ve been using as a clothes rack.” Of course, she’d never say something like that when she could talk about how she was going to finally go running on it later this week, or next month, or maybe in June. But she didn’t need to admit it, because the words were already in the thoughtful note he had included for her. She would have to feign gracious acceptance and find some way to ambush him with a hidden barb in her words later. And he knew that she really enjoyed the struggle for the upper hand as much as he did.

The laughter died in his throat as he imagined Sarah again, wondering if she was laughing just as much about the familiar ache she had left in his chest. He tried another chuckle, but the sound was hollow. David couldn’t get his thoughts away from her, or from the life he had expected to be living right now. Their first real Christmas together, actually making joint plans and obsessing over making them perfect, after so many years of winging it.

“Face it,” he told himself, “it was too late. No time to change plans. No time to fit someone else into those plans even if I could find someone that quickly. At least I can spend time with my family.”

When he said that, it was so easy to picture Dad’s pitying looks, or Mom giving him dating advice. Too easy to get hung up on questions that were too painful to answer. And easy to imagine the subtle ways Lily would find to work his predicament into her little jabs. And he knew that if he showed them how he was really feeling, the cloud of melancholy hanging over his head would spread to envelop the whole house. That was something he didn’t want on his conscience.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he waited for a red light to change. “I won’t ruin their Christmas too. They still invited me, and did everything to make it possible at short notice. I’ll smile, I’ll laugh, I’ll be the perfect son and brother for all of them.”

The car started moving again and David took a deep breath, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew the performance ahead of him was going to be particularly challenging, and there was so little time left to figure out what he was going to say to them all.

His eyes flickered back to the little stack of gifts in between checking that the road ahead was clear. It was a stark contrast to the presents he had received as a child, when every mysterious shape had been a source of mystery. Most of the presents he was giving this year were perfunctory tributes of sweaters and socks, meant only to affirm that you didn’t really know someone well enough to choose a gift for them. There were a couple for him on the seat too, from other relatives and coworkers, but the shapes told him already that the biggest surprise would be what spirit was in the bottle.

Lily’s new outfit was probably his only success at giving something slightly more original. Except for Dad’s gift, of course, sitting in a decidedly un-sock-like irregular parcel at the bottom of the pile. David was sure the old man wouldn’t be expecting it, but less certain whether it violated the enigmatic rules of regifting. A spark of genuine excitement flickered in David’s chest when he wondered how Dad would react to being presented with a purportedly magical treasure after so many years. If nothing else, he could hope it would bring back positive memories.

“Surprising Dad has to be worth bonus points,” he told himself. “The man who supposedly knows every possible twist.”

He allowed himself a proud smile, imagining his father's face lighting up with childlike wonder. But the pleasant daydream was short-lived, as unbidden reminders of his recently-ended relationship crept in like unwelcome holiday guests.

“We were supposed to start our own traditions this year,” he sighed. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel until he forced himself to get a grip and relax a little. “Not look for ways to revisit memories I don’t even remember. Hot cocoa by the fire might have been sweet, or matching pyjamas. Picking out our first tree together. Something that’s special just for us. And now…”

He shook his head, trying to dispel the bittersweet memories. “Focus on the good stuff, David. Family. Presents. Mom’s cinnamon rolls.”

But even as he listed those comforts, his mind wandered traitorously back to the ghosts of relationships past. The mental echo of her laughter mingled with the cheerful carols on the radio, and David knew it would be a long time before he could consider letting her go. As long as he was alone, those memories could keep tormenting him forever.

“It's not fair,” he whispered. “We had it all planned out. What am I supposed to do? Just forget everything that was good?”

And that was the real problem. Everything had been good. It had almost been perfect. They had been building a future together, and they had been perfect for each other. They had the same kinds of jobs, and both liked to travel. When they came to plan something, whether it was a trip together or moving into their new apartment ready for the holidays, they had always been on exactly the same wavelength. Sarah had understood him. They had an apartment lined up. They’d planned together how to decorate it. Both the regular decor and the festive additions. They’d chosen a tree, and picked out matching tasteless Christmas sweaters for each other. Everything had pointed towards a long and happy life together. Or so he thought, right up until she said that she’d had enough.

They’d been perfect, and now they were nothing. He’d really thought that he’d found the right person for him this time. They had a future together. Romance, happiness, an apartment, and maybe even marriage. He had been so sure it would last. And now, he couldn’t bear to tell his family why he was crawling back to them with his tail between his legs, instead of starting new traditions for the two of them like he had wanted.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed the turning. He had been cruising along the ridge road, with the rich neighbourhoods that ringed the town showing off their elaborate decorations to his right. But as he crested the hill he took a turn to the left and all those lights were soon gone behind him. Now he was on a narrow country road, with the only illuminated trees being the ones that lurched out of the gloom each time his headlights found a turn ahead. David had to focus on driving now, he didn’t want to get distracted here.

Next year they would have come here. After making a home with his girlfriend, he would have wanted to introduce her to his parents. But that wouldn’t be this late at night, with plans changed at the last minute, dreading every question that they might ask.

They probably already knew that David and Sarah were single again. He hadn’t told anyone, but his parents surely knew that a man would only come home for Christmas if he was a singleton without any other possibilities for the holidays. And they hadn’t asked why or how. Those questions would come when he was least expecting it, and he had to be ready. Lily might not ask; bringing up something like that would be a low blow, and he thought that she would probably stay cautious until she knew more. But his parents would be legitimately curious, maybe even wanting to help him. And questions asked innocently could hurt all the more.

“It’s Christmas,” he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “There’s other stuff to talk about, they won’t be so worried about me.” But saying the words didn’t make them feel real. He was spending the holidays single again, and even if they didn’t pressure him for the details they would know that his planned future had fallen apart. They would be looking down at him like he looked down on himself, and the only thing he could do was put on a show of not caring. That way everybody else could avoid thinking about it too much. But how could he–

A horn blared, and David jerked the wheel sharply to one side. His headlights illuminated fence posts and a frost-covered field, dragging his mind right back to the practical realities of a journey back to his childhood home. He must have drifted towards the middle of the road while he was lost in his own thoughts, and there was no better reminder of the immediate realities of his situation. The road, the trees, the darkness; those needed all his attention right now. He didn’t have time to lose himself in endless worries about what might have been, or he wouldn’t get home at all.

At least he wasn’t far away now. He glanced out of the side window, where he could see the first traces of red and gold light becoming visible between the trees. Just another couple of hair-raising bends in the darkness, and then he would be back in the village of his childhood. The place of so many adventures, some of which could even have been real memories.

On their way back to the road ahead, David’s eyes lingered again on the gifts in the passenger seat. On the present he was returning to Dad. His father had always been an amazing storyteller, and it was only natural that David would have wanted to follow in his footsteps, until he found his own path in life and someone to follow it with. But he should have known that Dad would always be the master of that craft. From the books that everyone clamoured to get from the school library, to the more personal narrative of his bedtime stories, Dad had a story for everyone.

“No wonder I remember dragons,” David whispered to himself, and laughed. A masterful storyteller, who integrated elements from their everyday lives into his stories, so that looking back now it was hard for David to draw a line between real memories, his dreams as a child, and the stories Dad had told him. That had been something he wondered about for years, anyway. Whether the stories he had told Dad about his dreams had become inspiration for his published books as well as the bedtime stories they shared; or whether it was the stories that had inspired the dreams. It seemed like it didn’t really matter after so many years, but he would still have been curious whether his fruitful imagination as a child had been original.

One more sharp bend passed by without incident, and then the road was illuminated by the simple light displays of the houses beside it. He was back in the village now, passing Mrs Finch’s cottage, and the rectory. Remembering how much trouble he’d gotten into when he was younger for building a treehouse in the orchard there. Seeing the spire of St Michael’s church, visible only where it blotted out the stars on a moonless night; and his mind’s eye furnishing the darkness with memorable landmarks that were so familiar his inability to see them didn’t matter at all. He was home now, and he took a deep breath as he relaxed for the last fifteen minutes of the drive.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he reassured himself. Maybe he would run into old school friends while he was still in town and have enough fun to push more recent events out of his mind; or meet an old flame and get a second chance to say the right things. It was unlikely, sure, but Christmas was supposed to be a time of miracles. And he was sure that there were endless possibilities better than the loneliness he anticipated. So long as he kept a smile on his face, anything could happen.

Martina, devoted mother

Martina’s hands trembled slightly as she measured flour into a mixing bowl. She frowned at the small dusting of white scattered across her pristine countertop, an occurrence which had become increasingly common this year. It wasn’t a significant problem, as she would have to dust a work surface with flour in order to roll out the dough in any case; and there was no reason why it shouldn’t be here. But her declining worry was one of several small worries coming hand in hand with her age and, hopefully, wisdom. But the familiar motions of holiday baking brought their own comfort. No matter how hard it became, this was one ritual she was determined to maintain.

She could have asked Lily to help her with this, of course. Her daughter was right there, carefully guiding an electric whisk around a mixing bowl as she combined the butter and sugar. Emerald eyes remained focused on Martina’s hands, ready to offer help the instant she sensed it was wanted, and yet she somehow held enough awareness to keep her hair out of trouble each time some movement sent those energetic red tresses bouncing from her shoulders towards the bowl.

Martina should have been delighted to have Lily here and David on the way. Every year since high school – and even the last year before graduation, when Lily had joined her classmates in delivering gifts to children less fortunate than themselves – Martina had hoped and prayed when waiting to see which of her children would be here this year. And yet when she could finally entertain both of them for the holidays, she could only wish that it hadn’t turned out this way. Just three weeks ago, they had known that David would be spending his first Christmas in a new home with his latest girlfriend, so when he had asked to come home for the holidays there was little doubt about the story he would come to share. And Martina would happily have sacrificed her family reunion if it meant her son could have the life he wanted.

“I’m sorry, David,” she whispered, as if her own wishes might have contributed to his misfortune.

“The cookies will cheer him up,” Lily said, with a little forced brightness in her voice. “Remember how he used to steal them right off the cooling rack?”

“Mmm,” Martina agreed absently, studying Lily's face as she spoke. “And like you did too, though I suspect you ate more of them. David liked to present still warm cookies to that Becky next door, didn’t he?”

“Clarissa,” Lily corrected with a smile. “Becky was the one with the puppy, wasn’t she? Or the… No, wait, that wasn’t really…” She stood lost in thought for a moment, the whisk driving all the sweet mixture to the other side of the bowl as it rested for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t remember our childhood as much as I thought. So many friends, and crazy times, it’s hard to keep straight in my mind. Sometimes I wonder if I get my memories mixed up with the stuff we watched on TV, or dad’s old stories.”

“It all becomes a blur after enough years,” Martina said. But she was sure she was right now. Lily often talked as if she was so excited she couldn’t keep in all the things she wanted to say. But now, the way her eyes darted down and didn’t quite meet her mother’s, it was more like she was talking to avoid thinking about what was really on her mind. But she would talk when she was ready, Martina was sure of that. And she didn’t want Lily to feel pressured into addressing something she wasn’t ready for yet. She thought it would be better all around if the conversation could just drift back onto a non-controversial topic.

“But the things that matter are always there,” she said, feeling a little proud of herself for the segue. “You remember the time your brother snuck into Seamus’s study and perched himself in front of the typewriter? That’s one memory out of so many adventures, but I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“He said he was going to be a great writer, just like Dad,” Lily confirmed with a laugh that might have been real. “But we were four then, or five, and he still needed help to spell his own name right. Always the optimist, our David.”

“Has he told you any more about why he’s coming?” Martina asked carefully, keeping her tone light as the flour she was sifting.

“He never even mentioned it to me,” Lily answered. “Didn’t tell me he was going to be here. I’d already mailed a gift to that new apartment, and now I bet Sarah will keep it for herself. He’s lucky he’s so easy to shop for, so I could nip out to buy something in town.”

She had stopped her whisk while she was talking, but now she seemed to notice that Martina’s hands weren’t moving either.

“What?” she said. “You think she would have passed it on to him? Trust is trust, but a dollar is a dollar, and even the smallest gift can turn into a credit note if you have the receipt.”

Martina was startled, and didn’t quite know how to respond. The words were harsh, but they were also an exact mirror of the things she herself had never been able to say about the woman who had been the love of David’s life at the end of summer.

“Better not say that in front of David,” she said eventually, while Lily resumed her baking duties with renewed energy. Each year, Martina was surprised by how much Lily or David took after her or Seamus. There was as much physical similarity between them as you might expect for any group of four strangers, with the biggest commonality being an off-white skin tone; but when it came to the way they thought and felt, or how the readiness with which they banded together against anyone who hurt a family member, there was no doubt that they were a family.

The same was especially true of Lily and David. They were fierce rivals, teasing each other as mercilessly as any siblings ever had. But if an outsider ever criticised one in earshot of the other, they would have each other’s back in an instant. There was no way anyone could be closer, not even the twins in fiction who had powers of telepathy or similar fantasies. But almost two months between Lily and David’s birthdays left no space at all where anyone could possibly come between them.

Glancing at the clock, Martina quickly called for a little help to swap around the baking trays in the oven. There were four different kinds of treats in the oven now, from Christmas cake to butter cookies, and she carefully took down a pen to make a note on a scrap of paper pinned to the corkboard. She was confident in her ability to remember what needed to come out at what time, but sometimes it was better to be safe than sorry. The kitchen quickly filled with the aroma of sweet spices, giving a hint that the next batch was going to be just as good as they were every year.

“That smells lovely!” Lily commented, after taking a deep breath. “Vanilla creams? Oh, did I tell you about the new coffee shop near the market? They have these ice cream floats that actually taste like vanilla. I’ve been going there almost every week, though… I wouldn’t be much of a fitness specialist if I was filling up on treats every time. Most days I just get these peppermint mochas.”

“That sounds nice,” Martina answered quickly. “I shall have to try it some time, if I can find the opportunity to visit. I’m sure your father would love being able to see your new habitat, and I don’t think we’ve actually visited you since you had that place in Bay City. You found an amazing little bistro there as well, didn’t you? Seems it’s something you have a knack for.”

“You should have known that when all the girls in school were going to Starbucks for those fancy milkshakes and I wanted to try the espressos,” Lily answered with the obligatory chuckle. “Always been a coffee addict. But yeah, I’d love to see you some time. Haven’t got a big spare room, though, and it’s finding a time when I’m not on call that’s a pain these days. Don’t want to disappoint my regular clients. But I’d love to show you around. It’s not too far to travel for you?”

“Shush!” Martina laughed. “I’m not that old yet. We could probably get a bus and enjoy the ride. Or make a road trip of it, just like the olden days. I’d take turns driving with Seamus and have a break to stretch our legs whenever we pass some tourist trap. Call it an early mid-life crisis, trying to recapture our misspent youth.”

“Not that early now, Mum,” Martina answered, and it seemed the amusement in her voice was more real this time. Something was clearly bothering her, but this subject had drawn her mind away to happier memories. “Heck, I’m probably closer to a mid-life crisis than you are. If you’re still middle-aged we might overtake you in ten years.”

“Time marches on,” Martina said with a sigh. “I remember when you only came up to my knee. Now those were some Christmases. Remember when David borrowed your father’s Three Wishes Ring and asked a genie if we could meet Santa?”

“He used to get so caught up in our dreams and fantasies,” Lily said, smiling again. “No matter what we imagined, he’d play along with us as if it were real. You both would, and no daydream was too absurd. I read some of my old diaries when I was moving, and there’s everything from wizards to aliens in there. Maybe I should have tried writing books about it too; but I already knew where I wanted my life to go by the time I was old enough to understand how magical that writing was.”

“And how’s life going?” Martina asked, not watching Lily’s expression right now because her eyes were fully occupied as she pried some of her special winter gingerbread off its tray and made a neat display on a serving plate. “I hope that your love life has been less chaotic than your brother’s.”

“I’ve not met the right guy yet,” Lily answered, as always. And then she stopped where she was standing and looked down at her hands, lost in her own thoughts for the shortest fraction of a second. “I guess that stuff doesn’t really matter for me.”

“Oh, honey,” Martina said, and almost reached out to offer a hug, forgetting about the tray and oven mitts for the smallest fraction of a second. She put them down instead, before turning around. “There’s nothing wrong with taking your time. You’re getting your career in order first, so that you know you’ll be able to pay your share when you start dating, and that’s very responsible. There’s nothing wrong with doing your own thing until the right guy crosses your path. Or the right girl, if that’s better for you. And you’re still young, whatever it might seem.”

“No, it’s not… Lily answered, and the worries she had been hiding were on display on her face now. She was nervous, not ready to share, and Martina wished that she hadn’t tried to help without thinking first. She didn’t know what the problem was, and it seemed like the moment hadn’t actually been right for motherly advice.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Martina tried again. “I spoke without thinking. Maternal instincts can be a little too strong at times. We don’t have to talk about this if you’re not ready. Christmas is a time for fun, yes?”

“And cookies,” Lily pointed out. “Dad’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t get these while they’re still warm.” She picked up a batch, and hurried through into the lounge. Watching her go, Martina couldn’t help worrying about her daughter now. There was clearly something worrying her, some setback in her life, but Lily wasn’t ready to share it yet. Martina knew that she would open up when she was ready, but it was hard to keep her thoughts away from the topic, and she knew that she would be worrying about Lily until she knew just what the problem was. It wouldn’t be a romance thing, that wasn’t like her at all, but it was clear that there were clouds on the horizon in some way.

Martina picked up another selection of her baking and followed through to the lounge, hoping that the conversation wouldn't be too strained until Lily was ready to share. Seamus was sitting in his usual armchair, silver hair catching the winter light from the window as he checked his phone again. Even after all these years, seeing him there still brought a flutter to her heart – the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he was worried, the gentle way he held himself as if ready to spring into action at any moment. Even though leaping into action these days was likely to be a case of picking up his phone and giving advice to children who were still less prepared for some of the complexities of the world.

His head was bowed over his phone now, but looked up as Martina and Lily sat down on the couch.

“Any word?” Martina asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “He should have been here by now. Unless Mockingbird Lane is flooded and he has to go the long way around, but I saw one of those council trucks only last week, trying to clear the leaves out of all the drains. And he would have called, wouldn’t he?”

“He’s probably on the way,” Lily said. “He knows his way here, doesn’t he? Maybe he doesn’t realise how late it’s getting, or there’s nowhere to pull off and make a phone call. We should try some of these cookies, and try not to worry about him until we know more.”

Seamus nodded, and turned his phone face-down on the arm of his chair. And then he reached out for one of the ginger thins, carefully holding his left hand beneath it to catch any crumbs before they could desecrate his favourite sweater. He took a bite and closed his eyes to savour the taste, and just for one moment Martina was glad to find something that could leave her husband speechless.

[Kitty Angel]

Lily, mourning what could have been

Lily glanced over when she saw movement from the corner of her eye, but it was just her dad checking his phone again. Making sure he hadn’t somehow missed the chime of David sending him a message to explain his absence, no doubt. They had been chatting and testing out this year’s cookies for nearly twenty minutes now, and this was the third time he had felt the need to double check. Or maybe he was just measuring how long Mom and Lily had been talking about their latest TV obsessions, and thought it would be too obvious to look over his shoulder at the clock.

Lily wondered if she had rambled a little too much about Finalists; a show which analysed the training regimens of various pro athletes by asking randomly-selected members of the public to follow them before a race at the end of the month. But Mom had been just as enthusiastic talking about That Boy, the latest new period drama. Dad had been polite, and happy to keep on sampling their efforts in the kitchen, but it might have been easier for him to feel involved in the conversation if they changed the subject a little.

“What about you, dear?” Mom asked, and Lily realised quickly that she had allowed herself to space out for a moment. She’d noticed Dad’s apparent nervousness over a matter as small as David being more than usually late; and then found herself dwelling for just a second on how similar her parents looked now, as their faces were softened by the slow progression of laughter lines and their hair shaded from complementary dark and light chestnut to matching shades of silver.

“I’m sorry?”

“In a world of your own, aren’t you? I was asking if you have a vacation planned yet for the spring break. I know it’s early, but I wondered if we could do something together. If you’re free, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lily answered, and tried to look like she meant it. “More family time is always good.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mom answered quickly. “Did you hear about young Thomas from number twenty-three? He’s joining the navy. Can you imagine that? Blanche was telling me all about it when I bumped into her at the market. She’s ever so proud.”

“Tommy Hadley?” Lily asked, her train of thought shifting gears rapidly. “The kid who said our driveway has the perfect curve and gradient for skateboard tricks? I wouldn’t have thought he was old enough.” She paused for a moment, remembering the gangly teenager who had seemed to spend more time tumbling off his board than actually riding it. “Actually, I suppose he must be. He was twelve or something when I was fifteen, and that’s like… Wow, more than fifteen years ago now.”

“Oh yes,” Mom said, giving a little smile. “Our driveway is a perfect place to practise, especially if he was hoping he might catch your eye.”

“Huh? Really? I guess that makes more sense, then,” Lily mumbled. And now she thought back to her vague memories of the boy with that in mind, it seemed so obvious. “I must have been oblivious when I was a kid. Only cared about getting good grades to get into a good job, so that…” Her voice trailed off before she could follow that particular chain of reasoning any further. She didn’t want to think about any of those things, and she hoped that the annual reservoir of neighbourhood gossip would have enough pressure behind it to prompt a change of subject to some other school friend or distant relative soon enough.

Lily glanced at her watch too, wondering what was keeping David. It was probably weather, she thought; her own journey down had been pretty bad and the forecasts had said to expect a low pressure area later in the day. Or he’d stopped a dozen times to take photos of dramatic looking storms over the mountains on the way here, and lost track of time. It wouldn’t surprise anyone.

“Oh, while we’re talking about your school friends…” Mom didn’t disappoint, finding more gossip to share even after they’d spent much of the afternoon recounting the career changes, new homes, and unexpected pairings of people Lily was sure she remembered. “Did you hear that Claire is expecting again? And her Francesca is barely on solid foods.”

“The Montague girl?” Seamus looked up from his phone again, a little surprised. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Yes, Carlos’s daughter. But she’s a Schnetter now, married George if you remember. They had that big thing with the balloons up outside St James’s for their wedding, could see it from the whole town.”

“Oh yes,” he nodded. “Very extravagant. But stylish. Are you still in touch with her, Lily? You used to be such good friends. She’d bring bags of dolls for every play date.”

“Uhh… yeah…” Lily mumbled, remembering a smiling girl who would cheerfully bulldoze through any obstructions on her way to a happy life. When they were really small, she thought she could remember hours spent picking out hypothetical names for all the babies she and Claire were going to have when they were older; maybe dividing the alphabet between them when they could remember it, so that every imaginary child started with a different letter. They had even played at planning each other’s weddings, trying to fit in as many young daughters as possible as bridesmaids when they weren’t old enough to properly understand the role of boys in the process. Lily tried to find a little chuckle at that mental image, or some joke about hoping Claire’s plans were a little more realistic by now. But in the end, she settled on a noncommittal comment; “Do they know if it’s another girl yet?” It seemed to be the one question you had to ask.

“I don’t think so,” her mom answered. “Probably too early for that anyway. You think they’re trying for a boy? They’ve had pretty bad luck if they are, but no doubt they’ll keep on trying.”

“She always looks so happy when I see her in the village. Endless patience, that woman. But I think she likes having all these little girls she can dress up in rainbow colours.”

“I think if that were me, I’d have wanted no more of it after the twins. You could see how tired she was that time.”

“Oh yes. But they say birth is the toughest thing your body can go through. An ordeal a man could never understand. I suspect even rescuing an abandoned elven baby from the shadow king’s icy labyrinth is a walk in the park by comparison.”

“Oh, but it’s got to be worth it, though. For those who have the nerve to go through with it. Can you imagine what Christmas is like in their house? A tornado of tinsel and gift wrap, I have no doubt. That’s something I can envy now…”

Lily briefly speculated about whether her father was referring to something from one of his own books, or whatever franchise he was in the middle of watching or reading now. It was easy to imagine some hero staggering through a frozen canyon, wind stabbing into him like the hail now battering the windows, a baby bundled up tight in his arms as he desperately hoped to keep the infant warm. It had the right kind of thematic elements to be one of his books, but it wasn’t one that Lily remembered.

She was barely paying attention to her parents’ conversation in any case. They could talk back and forth about the merits of sons and daughters, or why George and Claire Schnetter would have chosen to have so many children, and they didn’t seem to notice that Lily had nothing to contribute. Maybe they imagined she was thinking back to when Claire’s parents had first moved in next door, and the two girls had instantly been the best of friends. That was one childhood memory that Lily knew was for real. The dolls had been children for them, and they’d both said they wanted to have a family in future.

That was something that had been pretty much a constant in Lily’s life. She had always known that her destiny was to be a mother. After those long-ago dreams shared with Claire Montague she had let the expectations become a little more realistic. She would find a good job, so that her children never had to go without, and she would make sure to plan a future with a man who had the potential to be a good father. Honest, responsible, but fun too. She had kept on putting off relationships until she was sure about the career, and a few career changes before she found her niche as a personal trainer had postponed having children for longer than she thought. She was financially secure, and knew when she moved that the stable family life she had dreamed of was within reach. A part of her wished that she’d found more time for dating before now, but in a way she never doubted that she could manage that part. It was like being on the final stretch of a race.

It had shown up on a routine screening for genetic conditions. They told her that if this gene was active, she could have a much higher than average chance of miscarriage; or of serious risks in childbirth. That felt like the cruellest trick fate could have played on her. But she could still do it, couldn’t she, with the best medical care money could buy? And the answer had been no. A scan to assess the severity of the problems with her uterus had revealed that she could never have children. The one thing she had spent her whole life looking forward to, and working towards, had never been possible.

So she listened to her parents talking about one of her first friends having yet another daughter, and how much fun it was to spend this season with young children, and all Lily could think of was that she would never know those feelings. She wanted to shout for them to stop, to stop making her think about all of those things. But it wasn’t the right time to talk now, and she didn’t want to be surrounded by pity at the happiest time of the year. She didn’t really know what she wanted now, except for this all to not be happening. But she knew that was impossible. Out of all the possibilities, nothing seemed to help. A part of her even wished she could go back to playing with dolls like they were children, and not have to think about any of this. A Christmas celebration like when they were kids might have been the best thing after all.

“Lily?” Her dad’s voice brought her back to the present. “Everything alright, sweetheart? You seem a million miles away.”

She looked up to find both her parents watching her with concern. That didn’t make it any easier to ell them what the problem was, though. The words were there, ready to spill out – about the tests, and about her shattered plans. But those weren’t the part that really mattered. What bothered her most was that she had no idea where her life was supposed to be going, and that was an existential dilemma that she couldn’t even start to explain. Telling them would just lead to more confusion. Or maybe there was some solution she just couldn’t see because she was too close to the problem. Maybe telling them was the right answer after all. If nothing else, she would feel less guilty about keeping secrets when they were clearly worried.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. And then they all jumped as the doorbell chimed.

“Is that David?” her dad asked, and both parents got to their feet. The weather was drumming on the glass harder than ever now, and no matter who was at the door the priority would be to get them inside and under cover.

Lily was barely on her feet when her dad got to the door. The figure outside was indeed her brother; as close as she could tell beneath a heavy woollen coat. There was a layer of whiteness over his head and shoulders, although from the way the crystals tumbled to the doormat as he entered, she guessed that it was hailstones rather than snow.

“Here,” Mum quickly held out a bath towel, which her husband took from her until David had managed to get his coat off. “Get yourself dried off and I’ll make you a hot drink. You look like you need it. Cocoa in this weather, right? Irish?”

“Yes,” David answered right away. “No. I mean… cocoa is good. Don’t need to add anything extra. Thank you.” And then as their mother bustled off to the kitchen, he slowly attempted to take his coat off. It was harder than it looked, and only made harder because he had a precious bundle clutched to his chest under the coat, and any move towards the buttons would have risked dropping it. Lily helped him in the end, eager to see what he was carrying like that. Her first thought was that he was supporting a lost child, using his own body to protect them from the storm; but of course that imagery was only in her mind because of the story Dad had mentioned earlier. When they finally manged to hang the coat over the kitchen door to drip dry, she instead saw a threadbare tote bag with what looked like a supermarket carrier bag wrapped around the top.

“Your presents,” David eventually explained, putting the bag down with a heavy thud on top of the boot cupboard. Something in there was heavy and metallic; and there was a sound almost like some kind of bell. After exchanging gifts with her friends from work, Lily had kind of been expecting all her gifts this year to be sweaters, socks, gift cards, and maybe a selection of crackers or chocolates, maybe a bottle or two. But David had apparently decided to surprise them all. “Hope everything’s survived the weather. It came down really heavy while I was stuck on China Street.”

“Blocked by snow?” their dad asked.

“Somebody getting a tree delivered. Huge artificial thing almost as big as the house, with lights and projectors and all sorts. Delivery guys stopped their truck in the middle of the road to deliver it, and the wind’s pulling it apart as they try to unload. Wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except Mockingbird Lane’s flooded, so you can’t go around the other way.”

David stopped talking then, and focused on throwing an already-wet sweater to the floor, drying off his hair, and then wrapping the warm towel around his shoulders. He didn’t look as formal as the last time Lily had seen him, but a good portion of that could be his bangs plastered to his forehead as a couple of sodden dark streaks, and a dress shirt which looked a lot less serious when it was coupled with a pink fluffy towel. He still somehow managed to look carefully groomed after the drive though, leading Lily to wonder if he had left the office like this at lunchtime, or if suits had turned into some kind of default until he got his life back in order. He couldn’t be trying to impress their parents, could he?

As they headed through into the lounge, David giving his unruly hair another rub with the towel, there was already a steaming mug waiting for David, as long as a fresh selection of scones and flapjacks apparently just out of the oven.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “There’s nothing like hot cocoa after being out in the cold. Even if it’s just walking from my car to the front door. And the towel too, you always used to have one ready for us, didn’t you? Almost makes me feel like a kid again.”

“Of course I did,” Mom answered, settling back into her armchair. “You two were always coming in half-frozen. Whether you’d been making snowmen, trying to whittle icicles, or challenging Santa to race you on your magic carpet.”

Lily laughed now. She could easily remember how much time they had spent outside as children. They weren’t in the right part of the country to get snow all winter, and it was pretty rare for it to come at Christmas time, so in her youth she had taken every opportunity to play outside when the ground was white. She could barely remember making snowmen; after learning that it didn’t work well with gloves on, she’d mostly left that to David. But racing Santa’s sleigh? The memories were clear as day, with snow flurried whipping past, and struggling to keep her eyes open against the wind as she gripped the frayed front edge of the carpet.

Thinking back now, she had to wonder how it had been done. Maybe Dad had been standing in front of them with a big fan or something, to make the wind feel real; and while they squinted to keep hail out of their eyes it would have been easy to believe whatever they wanted to believe. Maybe their parents had even set something up with drapes in the garden, and images projected where it was too hard to see them clearly. Sleigh bells ringing somewhere nearby and hoof beats made with coconuts out of sight could easily have completed the illusion. These days, so many people had projectors to throw holiday images onto their houses, or their trees, but back in the day those things would have been rare enough to seem truly magical; two little kids would have seen it as completely real, especially with Dad’s stories that encouraged them to believe in magic. It was only now, decades later, that they could realise how much effort their parents had put in to make every childish fantasy seem real.

And playing in the snow had always been followed by hot chocolate. Or… some kind of hot drink at any rate. There was something else Lily vaguely remembered that kind of made her think of drinking gravy, but David had loved it.

As she thought back about it, a smile had crept onto her face again. The flapjacks were amazing as well, and she could see that David was feeling alive again as he bit into one of the macarons they had made earlier with every sign of joy.

“When I was a kid it was just about sledding,” her dad was saying. “Not these plastic things like a tea tray that you sit on, either. We had like this little thing that looked more like an end table with runners on the bottom, and a piece of rope to steer it. Dragging it up that hill again for the next run was what first got me in shape.”

“Oh yes,” Martina said, beaming with nostalgia. “Simple pursuits. My brothers used to race every year, if there was enough snow. And everybody had a different one, because they were always hand-made. I think every generation has their own brand of nostalgia. But these days, the memory I miss most is watching these two tear into their presents. I remember them guessing what was inside each one. And one year, Lily was so sure she was going to get a unicorn.”

They all laughed then. And Lily found herself wishing that she could revisit those days as well. When she didn’t even know what the word ‘impossible’ meant, so she could look forward to things that had no chance of happening, and comparing her dreams to the reality could never bring her down.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t get her one,” David said, taking another long sip of his cocoa. His hair was already starting to recover some of its natural bounce, and he looked more like himself again. “She must have been so disappointed.”

“Yeah,” their dad nodded. “But you know what? We wouldn’t have had anywhere to keep one.”

He seemed so genuine there that nobody knew what to say for a second which seemed to drag on forever. But then the room erupted in laughter. It was just like when they had been children again; where nobody really cared if the stories were real or not just so long as they were interesting. Or maybe it was just because they’d been talking about those days so much that the memories came flooding back; of happy discussions, of bedtime stories, of snowball fights and climbing trees, and dreams that no movie could ever compare to.

“I do wish we could have those days again,” Martina said, when the mirth started to die down. “And not just so my knees would be a little kinder.”

“Be careful saying those words,” her husband cautioned. “You never know if there’s a ring of wishing around, or a mischievous genie. But you know, if we still had any of those things, I might just be willing to risk it this year. For one more family Christmas, proving that we don’t have to stop when the world says we should.”

“Actually…” David mumbled, and stood to dart out of the room. They must have been talking longer than Lily had realised, because his clothes were dry now, and he left the fluffy towel draped over the back of the couch. He returned with one of the presents from his bag, carefully wrapped but with a distinctive shape that meant even Lily could guess what it was after a couple of seconds. David held it in both hands, carrying it carefully as if it were both heavy and precious, while he continued: “I thought you should have this again. You said it could grant wishes when you gave it to me, but I think… It’s better if you have it. And if you want to make a wish for Christmas, or tell us a story like old times, that’s something I can get behind. There’s nothing that says we have to wait until Christmas, for a present that’s rightfully yours anyhow.”

“I wonder what this could be,” the older man said, with a twinkle in his eye. But the chord of metallic sounds that rang out as David set it on the coffee table beside him removed any doubt in Lily’s mind. “I’m pretty sure it can’t grant wishes, but maybe it will make your dreams come true.”

The whole family just watched as he peeled aside the paper, to reveal the last gift Lily had expected to see when she came here that morning.

[dmavn]

*A chord of metallic sounds* oooo.. what is it… what is it… hmm.. A magical fisher price xylophone? 

[Kitty Angel]

2 hours ago, dmavn said:

*A chord of metallic sounds* oooo.. what is it… what is it… hmm.. A magical fisher price xylophone? 

Oh, that would have been fun  I was thinking more about the sound of dozens of moving parts moving slightly as you put a heavy mechanical object down. It's a sound I remember well from my childhood; but not exactly easy to describe.

Happy to inspire guesses, but I'm too impatient to resist posting the next part… which seems to have run away from me a little.

 

Seamus, the veteran author

Seamus could feel his family's eyes on him as he carefully ran his hands over the heavy parcel on the coffee table. It was bulky, and tilting the front up revealed that it was just as heavy as he had expected. It gave a little chime as he set it back down again. The wrapping paper was a soft gold, with stars made of glitter. It looked magical, and for good reason. Seamus found that he was already smiling as his fingers slowly worked open the very edge of the paper at the front. David must have put in a lot of effort this year. The boy had always been methodical about wrapping presents, and even now the paper was folded with clean corners and precise edges. This gift wasn’t restrained by loops of sticky tape, or even ribbons like Seamus might have expected. Instead, the paper was folded over and across itself until the tension was enough to hold it together, like a kind of practical origami. It was a trick Seamus had tried himself for extra-special gifts, when he was as young as his son was now. But he had never attempted it with a present so unwieldy.

David was leaning forward in his seat, watching intently despite his obvious exhaustion from the journey. His expression was unreadable now; he was clearly excited to see how Seamus responded, but there was something else in his gaze, and it was hard to tell whether he thought this gift was some kind of obligation. Lily sat cross-legged on the sofa beside her brother, fidgeting nervously. She could probably guess what the early gift was, but her gaze wasn’t on the wrapping paper. Maybe she was thinking about all the fun they’d had when they were children. Maybe she could remember the magical adventures they’d had as children, and was wondering about the accuracy of her memories. It did seem, recently, that both children had reached their own conclusions about their childhood memories. And Martina… well, she wasn’t watching. She probably felt that this was an important moment in some undefinable way, but it was primarily a moment for Seamus and the kids. She returned to the kitchen as her husband found the right places to pull on the wrapping paper so that he could open it without tearing. And now she was back, refilling the plate of snacks with a fresh batch of mini vol-au-vents just as David helped himself to the last of the flapjack pieces.

Seamus hoped that there were more flapjacks in the kitchen; because he was looking forward to snacking them as he watched the Christmas Eve specials on TV tomorrow. But he turned his attention back to the gift in front of him, and folded back the paper to reveal a beautiful classic typewriter.

Scarlet-lacquered metal almost invited Seamus to reach out and run his fingers over the surface, and its brass fittings gleamed like captured starlight as every movement of his head caused the light overhead to reflect off a different one. The keys were still marked by elegant blackletter capitals picked out in polished bronze, though the glass of the keycaps above them were worn smooth from years of use. It looked just as inviting as it had years before, and even after all this time Seamus could picture exactly how it had felt beneath his fingers as he'd typed out stories of magic and wonder for his children.

He ran his fingers over the exposed mechanism, remembering how David's eyes had lit up years ago when this same gift had been presented to him. Back then, they had both hoped that he might follow in his father’s footsteps, crafting tales of adventure and imagination. But perhaps some dreams weren't meant to be. But as glad as he was to see the typewriter here again, Seamus couldn’t help wondering what had prompted David to return it like this. While he thought of the best way to broach the subject, his fingers traced over the raised letters on the side of the machine. ‘Underwood Pinnacle’; a machine clearly based on the basic structure of the Universal range which had been so popular when Seamus dropped out of college to follow his own dreams; but which no other user, nor the Olivetti-Underwood corporation’s own records, ever admitted to seeing.

“Oh, goodness!” Martina’s words cut into Seamus’s introspection, and he looked up to see that she was staring at David in some kind of shock as she continued. “Have you eaten? To arrive now, I shouldn’t think there was anywhere good to stop on the road since dinner time. You seem even more enthusiastic about my cookies than usual, and I didn’t realise that I haven’t offered you dinner yet. We’ve got Irish stew in the slow cooker, but I was putting off serving it because I thought you might arrive while we were eating and then it would be awkward whether you wanted some or not.”

“I think I’ve filled up on these lovely cakes,” Lily commented. “But I really should try to eat something proper, shouldn’t I? How about you, David?”

“I was supposed to get something on the way” David said, “but things never turn out like you planned. Do they? Please, stew would be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Martina said, efficiently herding everyone towards the big table in the dining room. Normally they only ate here on special occasions, sitting at the kitchen table for everyday meals, but from the doorway it was clear to see that every available space in the kitchen was occupied with cookies, cakes, and other treats in various stages of production, and the tools and ingredients necessary for whatever was up next. “I should have offered sooner, it just slipped my mind while I was worrying about what delayed you, and then… Well, we can’t have everyone going to bed on empty stomachs just because we were waiting. So you just wait here, and I’ll be right back with your dinner.”

Lily didn’t heed the instruction, but quickly went through to the kitchen. And that was a good thing, because with two pairs of hands it only took them two trips to dish up four bowls of a rich stew, together with side plates of sourdough with a rather distinctive pepper-and-garlic cheese topping. The bread wasn’t still warm from baking, but it was clear that Martina had found somewhere warm to store it since the time she had originally planned to serve dinner; and it was as perfect as anyone could expect. For quite a while, everyone was focused on the food in front of them, and Seamus didn’t want to interrupt their enjoyment. But sooner or later, he knew that he would have to ask.

“Thank you,” he said, eventually. And as soon as he said the words, he knew that the questions were the important thing. He just wanted David to know how much he appreciated the gesture. “Thank you, Martina, for finding the perfect dinner to warm our bones on a stormy winter night. And thank you, David, for a gift I would never have expected. You know you don’t have to do that, right?” David stirred his stew thoughtfully before answering, and for a moment Seamus wondered if he had said too much.

“I found it when I was packing up my apartment,” David answered eventually. “You remember how young I was when you said it was mine? I was just a little kid then, hoping I could capture some of the magic that made my dad famous. Or I just wanted to be like you. But then I got more serious about it, you know? The more I tried, the more it felt real to me. I was going to be an author someday. And then I went to college, and you were so careful to pack the typewriter up so it didn’t get damaged on the way there. That’s when it was real to me, you know? That’s when it really felt like it was mine. And after that, when I looked at it, I knew that I wasn’t a writer. I tried to write stories, but I always gave up, got distracted, ended up messing around. It took me a long time to understand, but I just didn’t have that skill. It’s a very different talent, you know? I can make words dance, write taglines that everyone remembers. I’ve even done some poetry, and people told me it was good. But I’m not writing stories, and it was a kind of freedom when I realised that. It wasn’t really me, it was just what I thought I was supposed to do. Because you did it so well.”

“Different people have different skills,” Seamus said. “That doesn’t make you any less talented. Or any less loved.”

“I hope so,” David answered a little too quickly that time. “It’s just… the typewriter is an author’s machine. Something with heritage, and prestige. I don’t need it for my job, when I want to try a hundred variants of one line and see which one works best. So I just ended up leaving it on my desk, never used. Until it got moved to the spare room, and then into a trunk under some older stuff, and little by little I forgot why it was so important to me that you gave it to me. And then I found it, and I knew. I’m not going to use it, I don’t have the right talents. But it’s not fair for something like that to be stashed away in a closet. It deserves an owner who really wants to use it, and wants to do the thing it was made for.”

Lily looked up, smiling a little more than she had been for most of the afternoon. David seemed to sense her amusement without turning to look at her, and answered again before she could comment.

“I know that’s a crazy thing to say. It’s not like a typewriter has feelings, right? But I do. And I know it was important to Dad. And I know that it’s a waste to have something like that if I’m not making full use of it. I want it to be used again, so that it’s not sitting idle. And to me, that’s enough reason to give it back to a real author. Someone who’ll appreciate the magic of words.”

“It’s not magic,” Lily answered disdainfully. “It’s just a machine. The magic is all in the talent, and a typewriter doesn’t care about that. Just because it was some kind of childhood fantasy doesn’t make it real.” Seamus found himself wondering if there was something else worrying his little girl, because an outburst like that was quite out of character for her. But now, more than ever, he didn’t know how to phrase the question even if he had known what it was he wanted an answer to.

“I think you’d be surprised by how much magic there still is in the world,” Martina answered, maybe in a diplomatic attempt to change the subject before anyone said something that would get them down or turn into an argument. “Heck, I bet if we let your father write a story, he could conjure up all the fun of those Christmases when you were young, bright eyed as you waited for your presents.”

“I’ll admit, it would be tempting,” Seamus said, already thinking about the kind of story he could write. “What do you think, kids? One more trip into fantasy land, enjoying the holidays like you did when you were younger, and not having to question whether everything is believable? What would your wishes for the season be now?”

“You mean like… you’d write a story about what we wished for, like you used to?” Lily asked. “See if you can fill us with festive spirit again? Maybe that would be fun, but I don’t think… I mean, a story like that would have to have me acting like a kid again, and that would be kind of weird. I’m not a child now, and I’m not sure I’d like that.”

“I think the Christmases we had as kids were more fun,” David said thoughtfully, staring off into space. “I mean… buying presents for friends as an adult, you’re always worrying if it’s something they already got. And ninety percent of gifts just get a ‘thank you’ and then never thought about again, so everybody’s spending money buying each other things they don’t really need, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and the only winners are the corporations. I mean, not that I complain, I write the ads that help to reinforce that sense of obligation, but…”

“But a part of you resents the commercialisation?” Martina asked. “You wish you could have another round of how Christmas used to feel. Heck, I’d be up for that if it just made me feel like I was a young mother again. My knees didn’t used to protest so much when I was running around after my babies.”

“I guess I know what you mean,” David said. “Yeah, when we were kids we didn’t see the time and money it cost to make Christmas perfect. And I guess it seemed worth it as well, because every surprise was amazing. The world was full of wonder, and there was no pressure to impress… Well, anyone, you know? I’d love to have that again, a Christmas where it’s really about fun more than tradition or expectations. Wouldn’t you, Lily?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, yeah, it was fun then. And I can see all that fun in my mind’s eye. Only thing is, when you ask me for a perfect Christmas scene, what I imagine has me looking after my kids, not being a kid. I might like the idea of the scene, but I can’t see myself back in the role of a child. I’m too mature for that, and that’s something you can’t take back.”

David nodded. It might have been a little abstract for dinnertime chat, but it seemed something about the topic had captured all of their imaginations.

“So if you all got one wish,” Seamus asked, “one thing to make this Christmas into your perfect celebration, what would you pick?”

“A chance to look forward,” David answered first; not mentioning his recent breakup directly even though it was clearly on his mind. “Not like… like we looked forward to the future as kids, thinking all about our new toys. But a Christmas with someone I love, and being able to see a real future where I’m not single again. I’d wish that I could just enjoy myself, and see it as the start of something without having to think about…”

“I’d wish to have my kids to look after,” Lily interrupted, jumping in as if she could see how close her brother’s train of thought was to something that would leave him depressed all night. “A proper family celebration, so I could know how that feels.” But something in the way she spoke said that she was just talking quickly now before her own worries could get the better of her. Whatever was on her mind, she didn’t want to stay still long enough to think about it.

“I’d wish to feel younger again,” Martina said firmly, giving both of the kids something a little more positive to think about. “Yes, I’d love a real celebration with the kids again, and it would be amazing to be surrounded by all the love we have for each other. But we’ve already got that, and fun comes from being with good people. Fixing up my old bones so I could enjoy it is all I’d need magic for.”

“I think I can do that,” Seamus said with a smile. “To be young again; to have love without needing to impress; and I think my greatest wish would be to see that I’ve still got the old magic. If you’re all comfortable with that?”

“Writing a story about us, so that we can see characters based on us enjoy the things we can’t?” David asked. “Yeah, I guess so. And I want to see that old typewriter used again. Thanks, Dad.”

“You think you can fit all of those things together?” Lily asked. “I can’t really imagine a scenario where all those wishes come true, let alone one where I could actually see myself in the character.”

“I was thinking of a kind of role reversal,” Seamus said, still turning the idea around in his mind to make all the details line up. “You two want love and family, which we had in spades when we were making Christmas for our little ones. And Martina wants to be young again, so why not go all-in on that?”

“So we’d be the parents and you’re the kids?” David said with a laugh. “There was an old movie, Freaky Friday I think. Something like that?”

“Not quite the same, but maybe similar,” Seamus said with a nod.

“Then that’s fine for me,” Lily agreed. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“And I can’t wait to see if my hip’s magically limber again in the morning,” Martina said with a laugh, then turned back to her stew.

Seamus had already finished his plate, so without another thought he carried it through to the sink, and then returned via the lounge so that he could set the typewriter in front of his seat instead. He didn’t want to miss out on spending time with his family while they finished their dinner, but at the same time he was impatient to discover if he could still find the old magic.

He ran his fingers across the familiar keys, and the feelings that flowed through him, the instincts, rose up just as they always had. That had to be a good sign, but this would be the first time he had used it – or any of the magical items he’d used to brighten Lily and David’s childhood – in more than twenty years, and such a big occasion was bound to make him a little nervous.

As his fingers took their familiar places on the keys, he barely heard Martina talking to Lily about the best way to make the flavour of the stew richer. His mind was drifting back to his own childhood now, before he had ever dreamed of being an author. Of one day when he had decided that magic was real, and set out to find a secret school for wizards. It wasn’t a common fantasy, in those days, and there weren’t so many books on the shelves about wizardry. But he’d gone looking, and had soon learned to see the magic in everything. For most of his life he had saved every little source of enchantment he had found, just in case he ever needed a little magic. And then he’d found Martina, who really understood him, and their life together had started.

When David and Lily came into their lives, everything had changed. They didn’t need magic wands, ancient runes, and peculiarly shaped stones to make the world feel magical; every day with their children was exciting enough. Once the children were old enough to understand, and once David started looking out for magic of his own, it had seemed only natural for Seamus to share all the things he had collected. He could show them a ring, and say that it could grant wishes, and they would come up with ideas so much more amazing than anything Seamus would think of himself. They had shared in a series of zany adventures, wilder even than the madcap exploits of the characters they watched on television.

By the time the kids had been old enough to ask unanswerable questions like how magic really worked, they had used almost every magical item; and exhausted its possibilities for adventure. Maybe Seamus could have written about more, using a typewriter designed to make reality out of any situation he could write. But it had seemed like the right time for that phase of their lives to end, and for the children to learn to live fully in the real world. Seamus still wondered if that had been the right choice. But when he missed those adventurous days, he had sought refuge rewriting their older quests, and somehow turned his imagination into a real career. Telling stories of magic, rather than taking part in them, and Inspector Brightside’s collection of impossible cases had certainly found success in school libraries and bookstores.

David was talking about the books now; trying to remember the title of one he vaguely remembered. Seamus spoke up to suggest that the details he recalled might have been from 101 Love Stories for Fairies, which had proved surprisingly popular among older children. But Seamus wasn’t really reminiscing about his days as a successful children’s fantasy author now. He was thinking about when magic used to be more real. When he had written just to fill his own kids’ lives with wonder, and conjured up a confused genie trying to grant them fishes, or the worn rag rug in the nursery gaining the power of flight and carrying them to another world.

His fingers rested on the keys still, waiting for inspiration to strike. Somehow, it felt like he was back in the mindset of a writer even if he hadn’t touched a single key yet. Thinking about how this story would play out, with himself and Martina as children while their children became the parents. But first, he needed to pick names for his characters. True names had a magic all of their own, and so he would never write a story using anyone’s real name. His fingers rose and came down on two keys, and then he hesitated.

“El”

Elsibet Spangleson. It had been the first name that came to mind, but now Seamus wished that he had never heard it. Maybe it made sense for a story asking what would have happened if the world had taken a different path. It could so easily have been Lily’s name, after all. But that name was a little too real for a cheerful festive story. Seamus only knew it because he’d volunteered to help picking up litter in a local park once, and had run into a man called Ernest who he later learned was her biological father. It was a terrible secret, because although Seamus hated lying to his daughter, he could only see her being shocked and hurt if he were to tell her the whole story. That was something better unremembered; and so the name didn’t belong in this story.

“You okay, Dad?” David asked. “Bit of writer’s block?”

Seamus nodded. He noticed that their plates were all empty now, and he knew that it had probably taken him twenty minutes to write just two letters. He mumbled some excuse about how he wanted to make every keystroke count, wondering if he might appear wise and enigmatic, and then changed the subject to suggest moving back to the lounge. There was more conversation and joking as they moved back over, and as Martina presented everyone with a fresh platter of snacks, but Seamus joined in the conversation only out of habit. His mind was fully occupied with the story he was writing now, and as soon as he was back in his armchair, typewriter now in his lap, he had three more letters to add.

She couldn’t be Elsibet. That name was too unusual, and Lily might ask why he had chosen it. So he finished the word on the page as ‘Ellie’ instead, a name that sounded a lot like Lily if you thought about it the right way. As far as the man of the household, ‘Dave’ seemed to fit oddly well. It was a name that David had never answered to, but close enough to his real name that the connection would be obvious. He was the character most like the real person anyway, Seamus thought, as he constructed a simple narrative in his mind. And once both names were typed out at the top of a clean sheet of paper, the words just flowed as if they had a mind of their own.

“Ellie and Dave smiled as the sun set, glad that their preparations for Christmas had gone so smoothly. It was important for every moment to be perfect this year, knowing that their children were young enough to appreciate the true magic of a childhood Christmas celebration.”

The children needed names too, of course. ‘Seamus’ sounded too much like an old man’s name, although maybe that was just because he felt like an old man writing this story. He hesitated just a second before choosing ‘Sam’ instead. And Martina could easily become ‘Mary’, which was almost a shortening in any case. Four characters, named, and ready to play their parts.

They were watching the seasonal special of That Boy on TV now, and Seamus found that he could almost follow the interactions of the characters as well as writing his own. He did his best to type quietly, the chattering of his keys a muted staccato in the background. And every time he heard his family talk about the most magical elements of the season, it gave him more ideas.

He was coming to the end of the second side of the second page now, and the story was nearly over. He wasn’t writing a real manuscript, after all, but some words to provide inspiration for the magic. Something that would set his family’s imaginations on fire, and allow them to set their own worries to one side in favour of feeling the joy of the roles he had written them into.

“Dad’s really getting into it,” David commented while the TV showed another set of commercials. “Did he always used to be this intense?”

“I think so,” Lily answered with a smile. “I remember when he was writing one of those books Mom let me braid his hair, and he didn’t react until he finished the chapter. He had that weird concentration when he was telling us bedtime stories as well, like he was casting a spell or something.”

“Must have been when he had more hair,” Martina answered with a smile. “And it must have been a pretty powerful spell, if it could make two children sit still and listen for more than five minutes at a time.”

Their conversation drifted on, providing a comforting backdrop as Seamus worked. He heard them discussing their old adventures, the kids trying to work out whether there was some kind of trickery to make them feel real, or if everything had just been a dream. He smiled to himself, wondering if they would still find it so hard to believe in magic when this story was finished.

The sky outside had grown completely dark by the time the story was finished. His back was starting to protest from leaning forward over the typewriter for so long, but he was satisfied with the story in a way he had never really been before. A tale about a Christmas miracle, when a family woke up to exactly the gifts they needed, even if they hadn’t really understood what they were asking for.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he announced, seeing that someone had already turned off the TV. He carefully closed the cover over the typewriter, and set it down on the coffee table while he pushed himself to his feet. “We should probably all get some rest. I guess that you’re not kids now, so I can’t tell you to get to bed before Santa comes. But I’d strongly suggest some sleep after all the travelling you’ve done today. You must be exhausted.”

“Santa’s tomorrow,” David said, then thought for a second before adding “In this country, at least. I think they do it differently in some places.”

“Can we read it?” Lily asked, pointing to the page Seamus had just pulled from the typewriter as she stifled a yawn. “You made it sound so special, and it’s a long time since I even thought about your books. I want to know if you’ve still got the magic touch.”

“I think I have,” Seamus said, hoping that it was true. “We’ll find out tomorrow, anyway.”

Lily nodded, and didn’t have any arguments. She really seemed tired, and was only too eager to get straight to bed. Her room was practically as she had left it when she went to college; the queen size bed making it perfect as a guest room. David’s old room was mostly used as a box room now, but putting up the Christmas decorations had freed up enough space in the attic for most of the junk that normally lived there, so the house was big enough for a family of four again. Having so many people there meant there was a little queue for the bathroom, but that was a small price to pay for reuniting the family this year. The first time in thirteen years, Seamus thought, though he wasn’t quite sure he had counted right.

He set the typewriter on the desk in the master bedroom, exactly where it had lived so many years ago. He hadn’t even realised that he was keeping a space clear for it; but now it seemed like it was home again. And there was just space beside it to slip two sheets of paper beneath, to let the story settle and the magic ferment. He could only hope that he still had what it would take.

Martina sat in front of the mirror, carefully taking out her earrings.

“You think you can make us all young again?” she asked, her tone gently teasing but with an undercurrent of hope.

“We’ll see in the morning,” Seamus replied. “It’s so long since I’ve tried that kind of writing, you know? I don’t know if I’ve still got the old magic. But I hope so.”

“You going to tell me any more about the story?” she asked, climbing into bed beside him. “Or would that be spoilers?”

“Wait and see,” he said. “It should grant your wish, anyway. If it works.”

“I have faith. In the magic, and in my husband.”

That meant a lot to Seamus. She was the first person he had told about the existence of magic, after returning to the mortal world from the College of Ethereal Studies. The first person to trust him, and the only one to believe without having to see some evidence. He could still remember how much he had been impressed by her unshakeable faith, and how good it had felt to see her awestruck gaze when he introduced her to her first real dragon. It warmed his heart to see that she still believed, when even he wasn’t sure how long the talent could remain without being used.

“I guess it might be like riding a bike,” he said with a smile. “You know, I think the kids have somehow stopped believing.”

“They said. David thinks that he is mixing up childhood memories and old dreams. Lily thinks we went to elaborate lengths to fake it all, special effects good enough to fool little kids. Wow, they’ll be in for a surprise in the morning.”

“I certainly hope so,” Seamus answered. And then he drifted off to sleep with the gentle clicking of typewriter keys still echoing in his mind, and dreamed of all the wonderful things that might develop from a story combining Christmases past and brand new.

[kerry]

I LOVE this! It is beautifully written and I'd think you should be able to sell it when it is finished. 🙂

[Kitty Angel]

2 hours ago, kerry said:

I LOVE this! It is beautifully written and I'd think you should be able to sell it when it is finished. 🙂

That would be nice  Fingers crossed I can afford to commission a cover image before next Christmas 😛

[Kitty Angel]

Here we go  This chapter was a little harder to write, but I hope you're enjoying it. And I managed to post it on the right day, at least.

While I was writing this, I thought some more about the magic. And although this isn't going to be mentioned directly in the story, I thought you might be interested to know that I'm writing this as if there are alternate universes; two timelines that branched apart at a single point. I'd really like to know how many things about the other one you can figure out.

 

 

Act 2: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Martina Mary, a festive princess

Mary could see that the bedroom was starting to get light, even with her face pressed into the mane of Laurely, the snuggliest unicorn in the world. She squeezed the toy tightly for a few moments, enjoying how comfortable her bed could be with the thick winter duvet on. It was almost like being under a mountain of extra-soft toys, and she felt like she’d slept better than ever before. Her dreams had left a smile on her face as well, though she didn’t really remember what they were. But eventually the lure of soft sheets couldn’t hold her attention any longer. She was simply too excited.

Mary started rolling out of bed, but jumped away before she could tumble onto the floor. She landed on her feet, and only wobbled a little bit before she turned the movement into an awkward pirouette, like a real dancer. Her duvet tumbled onto the floor, but she managed to rescue Laurely and the two of them did a twirl together in the middle of the bedroom floor. Spinning around was fun, even if it made her feel a little bit dizzy, and as she slowed down Mary could look all around her room.

The sun coming in between the curtains painted a little rainbow on the wall over her bed, and Mary thought it looked really pretty. She pointed Laurely at it, and the stuffed unicorn agreed that it was pretty too. On the other side of the room, Sam was sleeping in his own bed. He still had guard rails on the side of his bed, in case he fell out, but sometimes he called Mary a baby. She thought that was really silly, and he must be the baby. He was smaller than her, after all. That was what mattered, even if she wasn’t sure who was older.

She didn’t want to wake him yet. She was excited about Christmas, because it was the middle of winter and she wasn’t sure how many days were left, but she thought he would only be mean if she woke him up early. So she danced instead, feet bouncing quietly on the thick carpet as she moved from side-to-side, imagining the music in her head. Even without music, it was fun to bob and to run around, amazed by her new freedom of movement.

She twirled across the room, arms outstretched, nightgown swishing around her legs. The movement was so effortless, so joyful, that she couldn't help but giggle. Another spin, faster this time, watching the world blur into streaks of colour. Her pigtails bounced against her shoulders with each turn. When was the last time she'd worn pigtails?

The thought made her pause mid-twirl. Why would she be surprised by pigtails, or how she didn’t feel stiff when she danced? She was seven years old, and there was nothing in her life but play and having fun. Well, and school, sometimes, but not at Christmas. She had never felt stiff. But some part of her expected moving to be harder, and that made it even more fun to see how well she could move.

She stopped spinning a bit, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked just like always: a cute little girl with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, wearing a big smile and her second-favourite pale blue nightgown with silver stars. But when she looked at herself, there was a sense that she was taking all of this in for the first time. And when she wondered why, she could remember.

Last night she had been Martina. All the memories were still there; she knew that deep down she was closer to seventy than to seven. But at the same time, she felt like she was seven, and that was the age that came to mind until she started thinking about it.

Now she could compare her memories as Mary to her memories as Martina. They all happened at the same time, so she could remember doing two different things at once, but that was kind of normal with magic. It meant the magic had worked, and Sam still had his special touch. It had been years and years since they did any real wishes or anything, but it was still so natural to just accept all the changes. And she could kind of guess how this was going to work now. She looked around again, and saw that the table with the typewriter on wasn’t there. Well, that was no big surprise. There had never been a typewriter, it wasn’t the kind of thing Mummy and Daddy would put in the kids’ room. And looking at the sheets of paper under it would have been cheating anyway. Mary knew that cheating was no fun, so after that moment she put it out of her mind.

A creak from the springs of Sam’s bed made Mary freeze mid-twirl. She wondered if she had woken him up, or if he was just turning over in his sleep. She looked over at him, trying to guess if he was going to be grouchy when he woke up. It seemed like he was stirring slightly, one small hand clutching his blanket while the other reached out for something that wasn't there. Mary held her breath, not wanting to wake her. She knew from experience that he could be grumpy if anybody woke him up too early, even if she had some really important and exciting game she wanted to play. She thought about that, and remembered from Martina’s memories as well; Sam found it hard to sleep well now, because his prostate always wanted to get up a few times in the night.

It looked like he wasn’t going to wake up yet, anyway. So Mary slowly backed away from him, the carpet brushing the soles of her feet as she slid them quietly along the ground. She did her best not to laugh, and not to think too much about the possibility that moving through the grass might wake up a snake or something. And then she was at the door. If she was out of the room, then there was no way she could get in trouble for waking her brother up in the middle of the night again. Besides which, she couldn’t remember how many days were left until Santa came with all their presents. She needed to check the lounge, as well, in case everybody else forgot and there were hundreds of presents with nobody opening them. She didn’t want to be rude to Santa.

By the time she got onto the landing, Mary was less sure about which way to turn. She was really excited to open her presents, but she knew that she shouldn’t. She wasn’t supposed to go downstairs on her own in the morning, and she’d been in trouble for that before. But there were still things she could do upstairs without disturbing Mommy and Daddy. She could see how small she was, for one thing. She could kind of remember being Martina yesterday, so she knew she was smaller now. She could still kind of feel it; something inside her was surprised by how many steps she took, and how quick, because yesterday she’d found it hard to move quickly. But she was also surprised how long it took her to get to the door, like her steps didn’t take her as far.

It was really interesting to think about something like that. She knew that Martina’s legs must be longer, but she didn’t know how much. So she decided to start over by the banister, and walk back to the door to her room. Then she could count how quick she moved. She tried walking back and forth a few times, and measuring how fast she moved. But that didn’t help, because she didn’t have a watch on to measure the time. And even if she did, the hands moved so slow that you couldn’t see it moving unless you stared for ages. So it wouldn’t be any good if it took her less than a minute to get to the door.

She thought again, and realised that she could count her steps instead. Longer legs meant less steps. So she walked across the landing and back again, counting her steps twice. She almost got the same number both times, so now she had a number. It was a little victory, and Mary felt so proud of herself. Until she thought back to being Martina, and realised that she couldn’t remember how many steps it had taken when she was Martina. She didn’t think she’d ever counted it, which was kind of weird.

And that left her thinking again about the presents downstairs. What if they were magical? Magic didn’t like being ignored, so she couldn’t just leave them. But when she thought of that, her mind went straight back to the golden rules that had been drummed into her as soon as she could talk. She shouldn’t talk to strangers, she knew, and she shouldn’t go anywhere with somebody without telling Mommy and Daddy first. And more than anything, she knew not to touch magic things without asking Daddy first, or someone she trusted.

That raised the question of whether Santa was a ‘stranger’ or not. She thought he probably was, because she’d never really talked to him for more than five minutes. But then he knew her name, and he came to their house every year, so did that mean he was like a friend really? It was hard to be sure. But now she thought about it, she knew that she had to be a good girl. Even if there were magic presents, she couldn’t let some magic sneak up on her. She didn’t have natural protection like a real elf, so she should always, always get a grown-up to look at things first if she even thought they might be magic.

And that was when a little connection clicked in her mind, which she knew she should have thought about a lot sooner. The magic had worked! She was a little girl again now, and she was having so much fun playing and dancing, just like she had wished for. She didn’t know if this was exactly what she had meant when she wished to be young again, but it was certainly magic. And like with anything magic, the first thing she was supposed to do was tell a grown-up. You don’t even touch it, if there might be fey spirits involved. They could lie in ambush, waiting for you, like a snake in the grass.

Mary had never actually met a snake, but she thought they were kind of tricksy, from some of the stories she’d heard. They did things like biting people, or telling lies, or stealing apples from fig trees. Maybe they were a bit like dragons, only smaller, though she’d never met a dragon either. She imagined that to avoid a snake, you had to be extra careful to not step on them. Sliding your feet along the ground, like she’d done with the carpet in the bedroom when she didn’t want to wake Sammy.

She’d already been doing it right! That was a wonderful thing to realise, and made her feel like such a big girl. Mary was so happy that she was almost bouncing up and down with joy. But you’re not supposed to jump when you’re hiding from a dragon, she’d just worked that out, and Mary was doing her very best to be a good girl now. She had to sneak along the landing and get to Mommy’s room, so she could tell Mommy and Daddy all about the magic that had worked. And she needed to do it as fast as she could without waking up the dragon.

She darted across the landing quickly, and hid behind the bathroom door. But she couldn’t see the dragon, so she thought it hadn’t seen her. That was better than going straight to Mommy’s room, wasn’t it? She darted from one door to another, sometimes running and sometimes trying to tiptoe so the dragon couldn’t hear her. And every time she stopped, she looked around carefully to see if there was a sneaky dragon hiding in the grass or sticking its head out of one of the other rooms. She didn’t see it at all.

And then, maybe ten minutes later, she finally reached the door to Mommy’s room. She felt so good, knowing that she got all the way here without waking up any dragons, or snakes, or raindeers. Now all she needed to do was tell Mommy about the magic, and she would have done everything she was supposed to do so she could go and open all her presents. She might even get an extra one, for being so good! She was so excited by that, she couldn’t wait any longer. This was so important that she didn’t even remember to knock, she just put her hand on the doorknob and pushed.

The door whispered across the floor, impeded only by the carpet beneath, and arrived with just enough force to make a light tap against the wall opposite. Mary didn’t notice the sound though, as she was charging through the door as soon as it was wide enough to let her through, heading for the big bed in the centre of Mommy’s room. She was barely able to contain her excitement as she jumped up at the side of the bed, eager to share everything she knew with the indistinct shape beneath the covers.

“Mommy! Daddy!” she squealed. “The magic worked and everything’s different! I’m little again and Sam’s even littler than me and it's so much fun, and I can dance without getting tired and–” She had to stop then to catch her breath, no matter how excited she was, but she kept on bouncing on her toes as she spoke.

“Mmmmph?” came a sleepy voice from the bed. It sounded like Mommy was taking a little while to wake up, which wasn’t really unusual when the kids wanted her attention this early in the morning. But Mary kept going as soon as she’d breathed in a couple of times. She had way too many amazing things to say, and she couldn’t wait in case there wasn’t time to say all of them.

“I was dancing around!” she said. “Like I can really dance and it doesn’t hurt or anything. And it’s always been like that, I’m not old, but I can still remember last night when I was Martina, so I know it’s the magic that worked, the wish we did for Christmas! And… and I didn't wake up Sammy at all, and if he said anything he’s just talking in his sleep, or he dreamed or something, or he’s just not sleeping good like when he was bigger. But the magic still works, and I came to tell you right away, ‘cause you always said to tell grown-ups about magic if you see any, and I didn't even look at my presents or anything, I’m such a good girl. And I counted my steps and it was seven steps but I don’t know what that means ‘cause I don’t know how many steps that is usually, and I came straight here to tell you and I didn’t step on a dragon or anything, I tried extra hard to hide"! And I–”

“Woah, woah,” Mommy said, clumsily reaching out to put a finger somewhere near Mary’s mouth as a call for quiet. But as her head poked out from under the covers, Mary could see that she was smiling. That had to mean she’d done the right thing after all. Mommy folded the duvet back and then propped herself up on one elbow, rubbing her eyes to make herself a bit more awake. Her long dark hair was all messy from sleeping, but Mary thought she still looked really pretty. After a few blinks and a sip from the glass of water on her nightstand, she continued: “Slow down, sweetheart. What’s all this about magic? Has Daddy been telling you silly stories–”

Mary didn’t start speaking again right away. She knew that she had to wait for Mommy to catch up a little bit first. She would ask more in a second, letting Mary know where to start. But right now, she looked like she was really surprised and she didn’t know what to say. Mary was really excited, but she didn’t want to upset her Mommy, not at Christmas.

“Ohh…” Mommy said eventually. “That magic story? It really worked? But how could it… Are you sure you’re not imagining it? You know how excited you get when Daddy tells you one of those silly stories, or you’ve been watching… Wait, you’re… You’re six?”

“Yeah!” Mary said, and smiled. That was an easy question.

“It worked, then. So you’re little, and I need to make sure your Christmas is perfect. All the Christmas dinner, all the presents… That sounds like so much work.”

Mary didn’t think she’d ever seen Mommy smile so wide before. She was like the happiest person in the world, even more excited about Christmas than Mary was, and that didn’t seem possible.

“You don’t need to do presents, Mommy,” Mary said patiently. “Santa bringed them. But I gotta ask a grown-up before I open any, in case they’re magic. And I told you. Can we go and open presents now, Mommy? Can we? Please? Please don’t say we gotta wait for Sammy, he’s all sleepy, and I don’t need breakfast today, I wanna open all the presents and it’s Christmas and I’m wide awake now, please?”

Mommy sighed deeply, and then glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It took her a second or two to thing, which seemed like an eternity to Mary as she kept on trying to think of reasons why it was a good idea to open presents now without waiting for her annoying little brother to get in the way. But finally, Mommy reached out to smooth Mary’s rumpled pigtails, and Mary leaned into the touch without thinking. That was all it needed to soothe the little girl. It felt so natural, so real that she could ignore all of the magical memories that said Mommy was just Lily, who she remembered as a child, playing a different role. Those thoughts slipped away as quickly as they had come, and all Mary needed to know was that this would be an extra-magical Christmas, and Daddy would do everything to make sure it went well.

“It’s Christmas Eve, darling,” Mommy said softly. “There’s still one more sleep until Santa comes. But I promise, tomorrow, if you’re good, you can go down and open all your presents as soon as you’re awake and dressed. Now, why don’t you tell me all about this magic? But maybe a little slower this time?”

[kerry]

I love the way you write, especially Mary's thoughts that seem utterly perfect. But oh no: how can she possibly wait until tomorrow???

[Kitty Angel]

On 12/25/2024 at 9:54 PM, kerry said:

I love the way you write, especially Mary's thoughts that seem utterly perfect. But oh no: how can she possibly wait until tomorrow???

She'll have plenty of fun to occupy her attention.

You might have to wait longer, unfortunately. This story is coming out a little longer than I expected. Hope you'll keep on enjoying it

 

 

Ellie, joyful mother

“Are you sure you’re not imagining it?” Ellie mumbled. “You know how excited you get when Daddy tells you those silly stories.” The deepest sleep she’d had in months had left her feeling very rested, but a little disoriented. From being submerged in some forgotten dreamworld, now she was treading water in the shallows of incomprehension as Mary rambled on about magic and dragons. Ellie wasn’t upset about the way she’d been woken, of course. She loved her family so much that even a rude awakening like this brought a smile to her face naturally; and the first thought on her mind was waking up enough to understand what was exciting Mary. Was it a happy dream, or was there something actually important she wanted to say?

Ellie stretched, and then realised what she had missed. Mary had talked about being little again, as if she’d ever not been, and that suddenly made something click in the back of Ellie’s mind. A fragmentary memory from last night, when she might have had one more glass of sherry than was wise in celebration of the upcoming festivities.

She could remember double-checking that they had all the ingredients, that all the presents were wrapped, that the Christmas lights on the outside of the house were all working, and that there would be no need for her to focus on anything other than her gorgeous husband and adorable kids for the next three days. But she could also remember last night talking with her parents, and hoping that a fantasy story written on a supposedly-magical typewriter would distract her from the woes of her own life. She could remember being childless and distraught, but in those memories her name was Lily. And Mary, well… Mary was her mother, somehow. Mary was sixty-eight, but still doing her best to make everything perfect for her family.

“You’re six?” Ellie asked, not quite able to believe it. She couldn’t question those memories, because she knew they were real. And she knew that Dad had done some magic that was supposed to change their world. But could magic ever be this real? Could Mary really be six years old, less than a tenth of her age the night before?

Ellie might play the sceptic when Dave started warning the kids about mythical creatures like the Lorelei rather than just telling them not to play close to rivers and lakes; and she might roll her eyes when his father, Mr Whitesmith, started teaching them about the myriad superstitions of his people. But she wasn’t about to deny the evidence of her own mind, and her own memories. Lily was real, and now Ellie was real. Mom had become Mary overnight, and now Ellie had the one thing she had wanted more than anything else. And Lily’s excitement about having kids to look after was even stronger than Ellie’s, which she would never have thought possible.

It was a Christmas wish come true. But if she was going to make the most of it, she needed to reach past her surprise and make sure that the day was just perfect for Mary and Sammy.

“It’s Christmas Eve, darling,” she said, finally understanding enough to assess the primary facts behind this excited babble. Mary must have gotten overexcited and opened an extra door on her advent calendar. But Ellie knew how to let her down gently, and help maintain her enthusiasm for tomorrow. “There’s still one more sleep until Santa comes.”

She was already reaching out to straighten her daughter’s pigtails, the gesture coming naturally even before she thought about it. Her muscle memory was pure mommy, right the way through.

“Now, why don’t you tell me all about this magic? But maybe a little slower this time?”

Mary repeated what she had already said and did her best to stay on topic, but her mind was still buzzing with a hundred new ideas, spinning like a top, and it was hard enough for Ellie to figure out what was real there. She was pretty sure there hadn’t been anything in the story about a dragon, at least not that Sam had mentioned; so that was probably just a game. But the magic that had helped the children to be children? That had to be real. There were so many little details, though, which Ellie couldn’t immediately guess at the truth or fantasy of. And as she asked Mary to go back and revisit little details of the story in order to give her a clearer idea of what had happened, the stories morphed and twisted like any little kid’s fantasy.

“The magic really worked,” she said again, smiling this time. Ellie was starting to realise that it didn’t matter how the world had changed, or why. Her wish, and Mary’s wish, had both come true. But it took a little effort just to remember Lily’s memories, and if she stopped focusing on it all her instincts came from a life where she had always been Ellie. And that was the world she was living in now; so why did it even matter what things were like in some so-called “real world”? All that mattered was the life she had now, and the joy that she would get from making Mary and Sammy’s Christmases perfect.

“Yes!” Mary exclaimed, practically glowing with pride. “And I came straight to tell you, ‘cause that’s what you’re supposed to do when you find magic things! Are you sure Santa didn’t come yet? Can we go see if there’s presents?”

Ellie laughed, her heart filling with joy at her daughter’s enthusiasm. Every moment was a new surprise, a new glimpse of perfection, and she was sure that she would never stop appreciating how wonderful it was. She wanted to treasure every second of this gift.

“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing a little. “Let’s get you dressed in your special Christmas clothes for doing Christmas things. And if you’re good, we can have a look under the tree in the lounge. If Santa’s been early, you can open one present, while you’ve been so good. And if he hasn’t, then you’ve still got your special advent calendar, haven’t you? And you can show how clever you are, being patient and going to bed at a good time so that you won’t get in Santa’s way when he’s trying to bring all the presents in. And you’ll have so many presents tomorrow.”

“I bet Santa’s been!” Mary said, as enthusiastic as ever. “All the magic happened, I know, it’s all wonderful. Come on, get dressed so we can go and play!” And there was no way that Ellie could deny it.

“We should get dressed,” Ellie said, swinging her legs out of bed. She smoothed down her silk nightgown, a deep emerald that complemented her dark hair. It had been Dave's anniversary gift, chosen to make her feel beautiful rather than just sexy, and it worked perfectly. Even if the hem was a little rumpled from sleep right now.

As she straightened the bedding, she noticed Mary’s impatience from the corner of her eye. Her instincts told her to go right away to make sure her little girl was happy, but she knew that Mary would grow up much happier if she learned to wait just a little occasionally. Mary hopped from one foot to the other, not saying anything, and Ellie was so proud of her. She still had the joy of childhood, but she knew that the whole world wasn’t about her and she was capable of showing her maturity if she didn’t have to behave for too long.

Ellie made the bed properly; neat hospital corners that she probably wouldn’t even notice even if they were immaculate when she came back to bed tonight. And that bought her just another few seconds to contemplate her own feelings, and to think about why everything didn’t feel entirely perfect. She quickly found her thoughts drifting back to her memories Lily. Poor Lily; who was really Ellie, in some kind of magical way that she didn’t really understand. Lily had known all her life that she was born to be a mother; unlike Ellie, who had fallen for Dave the first time she saw him working out and been pleasantly surprised by how much joy their children had brought her. Lily who could never realise those dreams, and was now living vicariously by experiencing Ellie’s life.

And that was the problem. Lily couldn’t have children. She’d wanted a life where that was different, and so she had asked for this. But what if this was temporary? What if, next week, the magic wore off and Lily could never feel her children taking her hand again, or bubbling over with excitement on Christmas morning. That would destroy her, to have a brief glimpse of something she could never really have. And the more Ellie thought about it, the more scared she was of that outcome. She couldn’t just devote herself to her children today, in case it broke her completely when they were no longer there.

Ellie straightened the pillows as well, while Mary bounced on tiptoes by the door. “Come on, Mommy!” she called. “We gotta see if there’s presents.”

Ellie nodded, and tried to gather her thoughts quickly. She remembered Lily’s memories, but they weren’t hers. Not really. She didn’t know how it felt to be so desperate, and to feel so alone even with friends all around. She could do her best to imagine it, but she was sure that what Lily was going through would be much worse. And to Ellie, that meant she needed to be careful. She had to take Lily’s feelings into account, and not make anything she did today too intense. Perhaps she could distance herself from the children, just the tiniest fraction, so that it wouldn’t hurt so much when Lily was Lily again and all this vanished like a daydream. Or she could try to remember that as wonderful as her family was, it wasn’t the only thing that mattered.

Yes, that was good. She would just need to focus on anything else that made her feel good, in addition to the kids. She would do what she needed to do for her family, like always; but if something other than the kids got her attention, and gave her positive feelings, she promised herself that she would throw herself into it one hundred and twenty percent. Just so that Lily could remember that the kids weren’t the only good thing in her life; and that there were other things that could bring them a little dose of happiness. Whether it was her husband, her home, or even her confidence in her own abilities, she was sure that she had so much good going on in her life.

“Okay, honey, thanks for waiting,” Ellie said, after one last glance at the mirror in the corner to see that sleep hadn’t messed her hair up too badly. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Mary didn’t need telling twice. She pulled on the door handle, and then dashed back towards her own room, looking forward so much to the day ahead.

They stepped onto the landing, and Ellie heard the stubborn squeak of a door refusing to open to her right. After a couple of seconds Dave emerged from his room, dark hair still tousled and eyes cloudy with sleep. He was heading towards the bathroom, which could mean that he wasn’t even fully awake yet. Even in that state, his dressing gown revealed enough of his chest to remind Ellie why she wanted him. He seemed happy enough though, and seeing Ellie always brought a smile to his face. She couldn’t help starting to wonder what he would have got her for Christmas this year; he wasn’t always the best at finding things that would be safe for the kids to see.

But Mary was already opening the door to the kids’ room, and Ellie knew there wasn’t time to stop and talk to her husband now. She had her duties to attend to, and she was going to do them to the best of her ability. So she just caught his eye and gave a half-nod that she hoped would express her enthusiasm to talk to him later, if not the questions that she wanted to ask. And without breaking stride she hitched up the hem of her silk nightgown just enough to give him a glimpse of her thigh, a promise that he would get to see more later.

As her husband paused to stare after her, she allowed herself a little smile. There were so many wonderful things in her life that Lily’s laser-focus on motherhood clearly hadn’t allowed her to recognise, and Ellie hoped that a few moments of pleasure today would be enough to show her other self how wonderful the world could be. And then she followed Mary through the doorway, still unable to hide her smile as she imagined the effect her little display would have on Dave. That precious spark of romance between them was something real, something that would always be there no matter what magic came along to change their lives.

Mary bounded into the children's room, and Ellie followed a just a second behind, sure that Mary had completely missed the moment of unspoken communication between her parents. Sam was already starting to stir, one hand stretched out from under his dinosaur-print duvet as if searching for something. He looked so young and vulnerable, and she just wanted to hug him so tight. But he was five now, and just starting to get embarrassed about too-large displays of affection. A part of Ellie wished that his friends at school weren’t so determined to grow up faster; but she knew that this was all a part of growing up and she was happy to abide by his wishes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said as she moved across the room to open the curtains. Warm winter sunlight spilled across the carpet, illuminating the scattered toys that hadn't quite made it back into their boxes last night. “Time to get dressed for Christmas Eve. Last chance to impress Santa before he comes with your presents.”

“Have I been good?” Mary asked. She’d been pushing a toy train around the carpet with her foot, trying her best to look like she was helping rather than playing, but now she quickly moved on to giving her blanket a sharp tug. Maybe she cared more about Santa’s opinion than her little brother did; because one question was all it took to get her trying to be good.

“Really good,” Ellie said with pride, taking the other side of the blankets in her hands and then lowering them onto the bed a little more neatly than Mary’s current coordination would allow. She took a moment to look at the sheets beneath while she held the blankets in the air, and saw that they were only slightly rumpled. “I think you’re really a big girl now, aren’t you?” That was enough to set Mary beaming with pride. Ellie didn’t want to praise her too obviously; after more than a week of dry sheets, Mary certainly wouldn’t want to be teased about it by her little brother again. But Ellie tousled the little one’s hair, and hoped that Mary would understand why she had earned those compliments.

“I am!” Mary beamed, then turned to her drawer and started looking through a pile of shirts and sweaters without being prompted. “Can I wear the red dress today? The one with the sparkly bits? That’s super Christmassy, so it’s the best time to wear it.”

Ellie nodded, and quickly found the dress in question in the closet. It was some kind of synthetic velvet with silver threads laced through it, catching the light whenever it moved even slightly. Mary loved it so much, but it probably wasn’t as hard-wearing as most of her other clothes, and for months Ellie had needed to remind her that fancy clothes are for special occasions. It might be a little elaborate for a day at home, but there was no way she could deny that it was a special occasion now, and Mary loved how she looked in that dress. She would look so adorable… but Ellie reminded herself that she needed to not think so hard about that, for the sake of the Lily who didn’t exist right now.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll look wonderful. Now, let me find something for your brother. Do you know what you want, Sammy?”

Sam just shook his head, and waited to be handed something. Typical for him; he loved to make a mess of his clothes when he was playing outside, but never showed any kind of preference. Ellie quickly searched through his clothes for something that would look good alongside Mary’s dress, so that they would have nice pictures to send to the kids’ grandparents, aunts, and uncles. After a little thought she selected a forest green jumper with white snowflakes across the chest and dark corduroy trousers. Smart enough for Christmas Eve, but comfortable enough for playing.

“Don’t wanna wear that,” San mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “It’s green.” But there was no real protest in his voice. He was still too sleepy to put up much of a fight, and most likely just protesting so he would feel like he had some choice.

“You’ll look so handsome,” Ellie assured him, laying out the clothes on his bed. “Just like Daddy does in his Christmas sweater. Why don’t you try it?”

She busied herself helping Mary with the buttons of her dress, looking away from Sam’s clothes. They’d been through this more times than she could count, and she already knew how to deal with her son’s little obstinate moments. Then she picked out some hair ribbons to match Mary’s dress, and helped her to tie them. When she turned back, Sam was wearing the sweater and doing a little twirl in front of the mirror. The smile made it clear he loved it; and she could be sure his objection had just been because the boys at school would have said it wasn’t “cool”. But those boys weren’t here, they wouldn’t see it, so it didn’t matter if Sam was dressed in whatever he liked the most.

Ellie lifted out some socks for him as well, and suggested that he put them on. This time, there was no reason for him to protest. And she could see that both children had enough layers that there wouldn’t be a real problem if they wanted to play outside despite the seasonal chill. Everything was about as perfect as she could make it.

“Mommy, mommy!” Mary seemed to have noticed the lack of attention. “What about the presents? Can we open them now?”

Ellie laughed as she thought about all the presents still stashed away at the back of her closet; ready to be carried downstairs once the kids were in bed tonight. But she had promised Mary a chance to check in case Santa had come early, and she realised that she was getting caught up in the Christmas spirit just as much as the kids were. She could let Mary check, at least. And the kids were so adorable that she knew it would be a perfect day no matter what else happened. Right now, the only possible response was to be caught up in the magic of this Christmas morning.

 

[dmavn]

Always thought families that dress up to open presents in movies and stories was always weird. In my family we grew up opening our presents in our feety pajamas and never really got dressed unless we were leaving the house for some reason. Why dirty more clothes if you don’t need to. Of course we were a family of 6..

[Kitty Angel]

Sorry for the delay… it seems that once I get beyond 3k words in a chapter, I'm not always capable of writing them in a day.

I've also been doing some "expanded universe" worldbuilding for this one. So I know a bunch of background for the characters which will probably never be shown directly; but might get a few little hints.

And I've decided that rather than a transformation, they're actually experiencing Christmas as their variants somewhere out there in the multiverse… bonus points if you can see the differences between their histories in the two different worlds; or even identify the one moment in the past after which everything went in two different directions. (Yes, there was a single decision which could lead to Seamus/Martina/Lily/David or Sammy/Mary/Ellie/Dave).

Would love to see how much you can figure out as I try to avoid loredumping too hard.

On 12/29/2024 at 12:10 AM, dmavn said:

Always thought families that dress up to open presents in movies and stories was always weird. In my family we grew up opening our presents in our feety pajamas and never really got dressed unless we were leaving the house for some reason. Why dirty more clothes if you don’t need to. Of course we were a family of 6..

I have vague memories of dressing up smart for Christmas so that Mum and Dad can send pictures of us opening things to all the aunts and uncles; and maybe because church on Christmas is even more important than usual. Footie PJs do sound like a good option, though.

 

So… here's part 7 for you:

Sam, adorable ball of trouble

Sam said he didn’t want to wear the green jumper. That was what kids did, right? They complained about their clothes and made everything difficult. He hadn’t expected this to be so hard. He’d woken up feeling on top of the world, but almost rolling out of bed and the sudden realisation that a part of him expected several feet more mattress to his left had quickly brought all of Seamus’s memories back into focus. Sam was excited about the Christmas celebrations ahead, and Seamus just wanted to enjoy feeling like a child who was looking forward to those things, so their goals were completely lined up today. But Seamus had been planning to write a story about how these two days went, like he’d done so many times when they were so much younger. So Sam knew that he needed to make sure that he behaved like a real little kid, to make the story seem realistic. Sam wasn’t sure how well he understood that, but it made him determined to lean into the role, and to act like he was only a kid, so that Seamus would be able to feel what that was like.

It was harder than he had thought, though. He tried fighting back against Mommy for no reason, because on some level he thought that was how a kid was supposed to act, and she just nodded and went back to helping Mary, who was like a baby and couldn’t do anything by herself. Sam shrugged, and pulled on the green jumper. And when he saw himself in the mirror, he knew that he looked like a perfect little Christmas prince. This was the best kind of fitting into the role, and he couldn’t get over how right it felt when he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t see the back of the outfit, and when he tried he ended up turning round so many times that he almost fell over on the bed, but he knew that all the bits he could see looked perfect, and that was enough.

It was a little bit weird to think about Seamus’s memories. Sam still felt like himself, but he could remember being somebody else, who thought in a different way. It was really interesting to think about the world in a different way. But when he thought about those memories, one of the first things he remembered was that he didn’t have any elfs in his family tree, so he wouldn’t keep on remembering these things for long. By tomorrow, he might not even remember that anything magic had happened; and he would just be Sam like always. So he wanted to do the most he could to explore all the differences today, and have lots of fun for Seamus to write a book about it. Sam decided, with a big smile on his face, that he was going to try his best to write about everything that happened today so that he could make a book about it too. That sounded like so much fun!

It was going to be such a wonderful story. Maybe Santa would be in it, or his elves. Sam knew that he needed to pay attention so that he could write everything properly, but that would be hard as long as his thoughts kept jumping around like a happy puppy. It was hard to make mental notes about how everything felt different, especially when there were so many ideas jostling for space in his little head, and so many wonderful things he wanted to experience. Like the softness of his pyjamas when he was waking up, or the way the knitted snowflakes on the jumper weren’t quite symmetrical if you counted the stitches.

He loved that jumper. It suited him perfectly, and that moment of joy was  exactly the kind of detail he would want to include in his story. If only he could remember to write it all down before something else caught his attention and he forgot again.

“Can we open presents now?” Mary asked, practically dancing with excitement. She had barely stopped talking all the time they were getting dressed, and Sam smiled a little to see her so happy. She was having he time of her life, it was clear, and that had been the most important thing to Seamus. Sam was just as happy to see his sister enjoying herself, even if the words washing over him had made it a little hard to understand anything. Or maybe his confusion was just from being a child; it was hard to be sure, while he didn’t have anything to compare it to.

A little voice in the back of his mind said that she shouldn’t be skipping and dancing as they went downstairs; but that was easy to dismiss when he remembered that Mommy was right there to keep them safe. And she’d never fallen before, not even when she was super little, or super old. Mary was always like that, and it wasn’t something he needed to worry about; just something to make a mental note of in case it was important to this story. And whether he was thinking about his own memories or those of the older person he could have been, there was nothing he could think of that compared to this; this was a real new experience for both of them, and Sam couldn’t wait to see how he felt when they' reached the gifts in front of the tree.

The tree looked as amazing as it had the night before. The lights glittered in all the colours of the rainbow: there were red and green ones, but blue as well! And some of them even changed colour. He noticed the pattern they made on the ceiling as they twinkled, as well, and he was sure that was something he hadn’t seen before. But Sam’s eyes weren’t really on the tree as the kids barrelled into the lounge, desperate to attack the mountain of wrapping paper and see what Santa had brought for them.

“Pressies!” Mary cheered, and leapt forward towards her prize. But Sam found himself hesitating for a moment. He knew that something wasn’t right here, and as excited as he was about the piles of presents, he wanted to understand what was happening before he let himself go wild with joy.

There were no new presents. The ones under the tree were mostly from family who had visited already. Auntie Lettie had left a big box wrapped in silver paper, which Sam thought might be another construction set. Uncle Nicodemus and his husband Gavin had come last week, and given both of them presents that felt like they could be books. But Daddy had insisted that even if somebody gave them to you, Christmas presents had to be left under the tree until it was Christmas. That was all that was under the tree. The presents that couldn’t be hidden away because some aunt or uncle had given them to Sam or Mary, and had reminded them not to open them yet. Well, nearly all aunts and uncles. There were two little parcels from Gramps, too, wrapped in brown paper and string, and labelled in a deep brown ink that made Sam feel a little nervous even if he didn’t know why. Those were the ones that would be under the tree every morning even if Mommy and Daddy tried to hide them away; a test for anyone who might be feeling greedy. But even Mary, in her headlong excitement, wouldn’t go for those ones first. Still, it was strange to see that Santa hadn’t been. But as soon as Sam looked at something other than the presents, it was obvious.

No new presents. No obviously-fake sooty footprints in front of the fireplace, and no evidence at all that Santa had been. They hadn’t even put out a drink and a little cake for him the night before, so why would he have come? For a moment Sam was confused, because leaving Santa a treat and hanging up their stockings was a tradition he could remember taking part in for the last two years at least. And with the help of some of Seamus’s deductive skills, he was sure that he could figure out why this year was different. But when he looked at Mary’s wild excitement, and at Mommy trying to draw her back to the kitchen for breakfast, Sam knew there was something missing. And then he looked at the two advent calendars, and it was obvious.

They had really fancy ones this year. The words ‘Adventure Calendar’ were written across the middle in big letters, and every day had a real present behind; something that made all the ones that came before even better. Mary’s calendar had little dolls in, or bundles of clothes and accessories so that all the dolls she had so far could dress up for a different theme party. He could remember seeing them as shepherds, and as Romans, and in fancy suits for a Christmas party. And Sam’s own adventure calendar had a construction toy, with a few new parts behind every door, along with a set of instructions for an even bigger thing you could build if you didn’t mind taking yesterday’s one apart again. And both calendars had one door left to open.

“Awww, Mary!” Sam said, and laughed. “Listen to Mommy! It’s the last calendar day today, Christmas isn’t until tomorrow!” She’d been so excited that she made him forget for a moment, but now he understood he felt so silly.

And then he remembered that he was trying to be a little kid. Mary was standing with a gift in each hand, but she didn’t object when Mommy put them back under the tree.

“You said I can open a present!” Mary insisted. “If there’s presents under the tree, I can open one before breakfast. You promised!”

“I guess,” Mommy said. “But don’t you want to be a good girl? If you eat breakfast and be good, you might get something extra when Santa comes tonight.”

“Mmmmmaybe…” Mary mumbled. But it was clear that right now, food was luring her more strongly than the few little boxes that were there. Sam too; but he remembered that he was supposed to be a little kid today, enjoying himself without thinking so much. And trying to work out what was best to do felt more like a Seamus thought. And he decided right then that even if Mary was going to be good, Sammy would be a little rebel. He wouldn’t think anymore, he wouldn’t understand what was going on, he was just going to grab his presents and get carried away in play like there was no tomorrow, so that he could enjoy feeling like a real kid by the time tomorrow came. And he would forget about all the serious stuff, he was sure.

He looked at the calendars again; one shaped to look like a castle with primary-coloured cranes putting it up, and one pink with sparkly glitter around the letters. He couldn't wait to open today's door and see what was inside. His tummy rumbled at the thought of breakfast, but the calendar was more exciting. And he knew that opening it was exactly what a little kid should do, so that today would make the best story possible when he wrote it.

“I'm gonna have this one!” Mary announced, picking up a small package wrapped in shiny red paper. It was almost as wide as her head, and about as thick as a book; but books didn’t have rounded corners. Sam could easily imagine one of the baubles on the tree looking like that if you could squish them. Sam remembered that it had come from Grandpa Ernest, who was old and sad and always wanted Mommy to hug him when they visited. He’d given them both presents last week, and Sam had been trying to guess what was in Mary’s red one the whole way home. His one was sausage-shaped, and didn’t seem nearly so interesting.

“Are you going to come and eat your breakfast?” Mommy asked, standing in the doorway and waiting for Mary to come with her.

“You said I can have one present! You said there wouldn’t be presents under the tree, and I was right!” But Mary looked up at Mommy, who didn’t look so excited about this display of festive cheer, and added: “So I’m gonna take it to the table. Maybe it’s a plate and I can eat breakfast with it!”

“Okay, sweetie,” Mom said, and her smile returned so quickly. “Come on.”

Mary moved after her, but Sam’s eyes were focused on the two adventure calendars, one propped up against the wall on either side of the tree. There was only one door left now, and it had to hide the biggest, bestest present of all. And Sam had already decided that he was going to be a real kid this Christmas, so he could write about everything he felt.

“I’m not hangry,” he announced proudly, as a muted rumble from his tummy called him a liar. “I don’t need breakfast yet. If Mary gets an early present, I’m gonna open my calendar.”

Mary nodded, and turned around right away.

“Yeah, I wanna do adventures!” she agreed. “We can do breakfast after. Please, Mommy? I promise extra hard we’ll be good all day, and I’ll even tidy up after!”

Mommy sighed, but she was smiling. “Well… I suppose we could do that. Just this once, since it’s almost Christmas. But there will be extra rules, okay? And you both have to promise to do what I say, or we won’t have Christmas at all next year.”

“Okay! We’ll be good!” Mary said cheerfully, bouncing back to the middle of the lounge and dropping down to sit on the floor. She glanced up at the two calendars, and then down at the present in her hands again. She clutched it tightly against her chest like she was afraid somebody would try to take it away; but Mom just watched her for a second, before softly closing the door behind her.

Sam watched as his sister started to relax, turning the gift over and over and looking for a place to start. Her fingers skittered over the glossy paper, and she couldn’t seem to find any leverage. She managed to pull up a tiny little bit of tape, but her progress was interrupted by more tape crossing over that one. In most places, there were enough crisscrossed layers of clear tape that she couldn’t even touch the shiny paper beneath. And while this might have started out as a fun challenge, it wasn’t long before Sam realised that she was starting to get frustrated. This wasn’t the way to start a happy Christmas.

“Do you want some help?” he asked, and his gaze darted around the room. He quickly spotted what he was looking for: some of the earlier days from his adventure calendar had come together to make a little robot that turned into a forklift; and the robot was holding a sword. He quickly grabbed it. “Look, I got a saw! That will cut through the tape.”

Mary nodded, and the two kids worked together to attack the paper. The little plastic sword was less than an inch long, and wasn’t really sharp, but using tools felt like it might help. And after scrabbling at the tape for a while, they started to realise that there was a space inside the present. Somewhere that you might just be able to jab a toy sword through the paper, if you used the edge of the tape to stop it slipping off to one side. And once there was a hole big enough to get a finger inside, Mary started widening the gap, in between holding the present up to her eye and trying to see what was inside.

Sam laughed a little, seeing that she was having so much fun. Mary had grasped the idea that you should close one eye if you’re trying to look inside something through a little hole; but it took her a few tries to work out which eye she should be closing. And then she probably couldn’t tell anyway, because she was still as eager as ever to get the gift open.

“I got it!” she cheered just a second later, as the wrapping started to separate. The hole was bigger now, and Mary would surely be able to pull the paper apart once she got her hands inside. And there were more layers, but they weren’t so tightly connected together. Now she could open it by herself, and have all the joy of a new present. Sam felt so proud of helping her, but a little grown up as well. And as curious as he was about the toy, he was even more eager to find out what kind of party the last day of the calendar adventure would lead to. As soon as he was sure Mary was fully occupied with her early present, he turned back towards the tree.

The last door before Christmas, he was sure, had to be something very special indeed. And Sam was just about to open that last door when he was distracted by the squeak of the door handle behind him. He turned to see Mom coming in with a tray, and he guessed that this was breakfast. Mommy wouldn’t let him go hungry, even when he’d said that he wasn’t. He turned around to wait, and Mary also looked up, although her hands kept working at the difficult gift while Mom came closer.

The tray had an extra-special Christmas breakfast, even though they hadn’t come to the table. There were little paper plates with Christmas trees printed on them, ringed around with little loops of tinsel. Each plate held neat triangles of toast with the crusts cut off. Some had jam and some had honey, and the different coloured slices were arranged to make a kind of star on the plate. All carefully spread, with jam going almost up to the edge on every side, but thinly enough that they wouldn’t drip. There were apple slices arranged in the shape of a Christmas tree, and a couple of the breakfast bars Mom had made using her Christmas-shaped cookie cutters. Sam reached out and selected a reindeer right away.

“Okay, my little angels,” Mommy said as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “Here are the rules. You can eat in here and play with your presents, but you have to promise to be extra good. That means using your quiet voices, and no running around while you're eating. Keep your food off the carpet, and if you drop anything pick it up before someone treads it into the carpet, and put it on the edge of the tray, okay? And when you’re done eating, you can open the doors on your calendars. Mary, you’ve got one early present there, but that’s an extra special gift so I expect you to be extra good. Those calendars will give you plenty to play with, anyhow. So you can save everything else for tomorrow morning, after Santa’s been, right? Just play nicely this morning. Indoor voices, no arguing, no being mean, no breaking things. You shouldn’t need to disturb me and your dad until you’ve finished with those toys for now, okay? I expect that with a present and two cards, you’ve got enough to keep you busy all morning. Think you can do all that?”

“We’ll be good!” Mary promised, still working on getting her present open. “Super quiet, like we’re hiding!”

“You won’t even know we’re here!” Sam added. “You’ll have to do a search party. With streamers and music and everything.”

“But only in the lounge,” Mommy reminded them. “No wandering off and hiding anywhere else, okay? And you’ll both eat properly, not just the cookies?”

Sam nodded. Now that the food was here, his tummy was definitely telling him that breakfast was a good idea. “Promise! I’ll eat all the apples before they go brown. And then we can have our adventure calendars?”

“Can I have a ‘nana?” Mary asked. “Sam always eats the apples faster, and he likes them more.”

“Okay, sweetie,” Mom said with a smile. “Just be extra careful not to make a mess. I’m so proud of you, and I hope you’re both going to show me just how good you are at staying here and having fun. I really don’t want to be writing a letter to tell Santa you’ve been naughty when he’s already so busy loading his sleigh for tonight.”

Both of the kids were hunched over the coffee table now, wolfing down breakfast as they realised just how much they wanted some food. Mom returned with a banana for Mary just a few seconds later, and then softly closed the door behind her as she went to deal with whatever was on her mind.

Sam was determined to be good now. He munched his way through the apple pieces, trying to eat them before they turned brown like he’d promised. He was picking up the last slice when he heard Mary gasp with delight. She’d finally gotten through all the layers of paper, and now she was holding up something that sparkled in the Christmas tree lights.

“I’m the Christmas Princess!” she declared, placing a plastic tiara on her head. It was pink and green, but it was see through as well, and caught the light as she moved like it was full of glitter. In her other hand she held a matching wand, covered in glitter and topped with a star. “I decree that everything has to be magic today!”

She jumped up and started twirling around the room, waving her wand at different things. “The tree is extra sparkly now! And the presents are all full of surprises! And the sockings are bottomless, so Santa can fill them up forever and ever!”

Sam watched her dance around, and thought just how much Mom always loved to take pictures when Mary threw herself into a new role like this. But Mom was busy now, and that was when Sam realised that he didn’t know what his parents were actually doing.

He could have just brushed that thought off, but he wanted to write a story about this Christmas, and how much fun it was to be a little kid again. He couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what half of the family was doing. He tried to think of ideas, but nothing came to mind. His first thought was that they had extra special presents for each other, the kind that Mary and Sam weren’t old enough to watch them open. But that couldn’t be right, because it wasn’t Christmas yet. Maybe Mary was silly enough to open a present early, but Mom and Dad were a whole lot more grown-up. They were more grown-up than Sam could even imagine right now, and that was the problem. Because when he tried to think of serious things they might be doing, like paying bills and taxis, or planning a vacation to fairyland… Seamus’s memories were just words that didn’t seem to mean anything, like he was trying to explain something he was sure he’d understood in a dream.

Sam really wanted to write an extra special story about this Christmas, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t understand what was happening. And right now, he didn’t even know what questions to ask. And even if he could remember some important things that the grown-ups needed to do, he knew that everything would have been done way before Christmas, and not left to the last minute. Or it had to be done on the day, like cooking the fancy dinner. He was drawing a blank, just like the worst kind of writer’s block. And it had to be something worth writing about, just from Mom’s giggles when she left the room after giving Mary her banana.

“Don’t be sad!” Mary’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Sam felt a plastic wand tap him in the middle of his forehead. “You stopped eating, but you didn’t open your adventure yet. Don’t be sad, the princess commands you.”

“I was just thinking–”

“Well don’t! We’re supposed to be playing, not sitting there like a big sulky-bum. That’s boring. Open the calendar!” She tapped him with the wand again, and a couple of flakes of loose glitter tumbled off. Sam tried to brush the sparkles off his jumper, but they just stuck to his hands instead. She was right though – he was supposed to be having fun, not trying to figure everything out. That's what kids did at Christmas.

And Mary was right there, holding the adventure calendar out towards him, when he’d been so excited to open it just five minutes ago. Maybe he didn’t know what Mom and Dad were playing, but he didn’t want to miss writing about his own adventure as well. So he took the calendar from her and started looking over all the glittery pink numbers on the doors, hurrying to find the one that wasn’t open yet.

This was exactly what Christmas was supposed to be like when you were five. He had an adventure to enjoy, and he knew this was going to be the best Christmas ever…

[Kitty Angel]

Now we're a third of the way through the story… I didn't expect this one to take so long! I hope it's not getting late enough that readers are all Christmassed-out yet. This part kind of evolved out of the initial situation, but I hope it doesn't spend too long on things other than festive magic.

 

Dave, guilty husband

Dave sat on the edge of his bed, trying to make some kind of sense out of his feelings. He was sure that he’d been awake for more than an hour now, though it was hard to judge how much time had actually passed. It had been such a strange day that things as mundane as the passage of time seemed to have almost no meaning. His hands were shaking now, not from fear or shock but from some feeling that he couldn’t really describe, never mind put a name to. The first sign of strangeness this morning hadn't shocked him, as such. Out of the whole family, he had guessed that he was the one magic would be least able to change; and so the differences between Dave and David were relatively small.
“Still in advertising,” he had muttered to himself while running through what seemed the most salient of his alter-ego’s memories. “Different city, different company, different people, but the same office dynamic. He tends of over-analyse everything, well that’s not a surprise. And can’t let a good tagline slip through his fingers.” Most of David’s memories seemed like exactly the kind of scenes Dave would have expected to see, had he known those people. His instincts were just as they had always been, and it felt like nothing significant had changed in his life, which seemed underwhelming even for a human scéalurgical construct.
The biggest realisation hadn’t been that the Christmas magic had worked at all, but that there was a David out there in all the possible realities who hadn’t even believed in magic the night before. That had been a pretty big surprise, like finding out your target demographic had been systematically lying to your focus groups for years as some kind of joke. As soon as he had realised, he had known that this was an important topic, and to properly understand it would have needed the opportunity to bounce ideas off someone.
His first thought had been to seek the counsel of his father, as much as he dreaded the thought. At least he could have the advice of someone more familiar with magic, and with living in multiple worlds. But he would have settled for being able to bounce ideas off Ellie. Even if she didn’t know as much, his wife was much more pleasant to talk to; and knew exactly how to take his mind off anything that really bothered him. And whether or not she believed when he told her what had happened, she would have been happy to hear him out. A willingness he had to balance against his own desire to keep her far away from anything magic could do. He hadn’t known which option was better, even as he left his room with the intention of interacting with someone beyond his own thoughts.
But on emerging from his room, Ellie had been right there in front of him. And any thoughts of discussing current events were quickly dismissed. She hiked up her nightie at the back to give him a sneaky glimpse of her underwear as soon as the kids were out of sight, and her smile hadn’t needed to make a mystery of anything. Whether she had any inkling of her other life or not, Dave was sure that she knew how she was making him feel right now. Any thoughts of magic, and of David’s disbelief being the one thing he couldn’t quite believe right now, quickly fled his mind when he was confronted with his wife, the mother of his children, and the woman he loved more than anything. This was his real life; it wasn’t a dream. And as he’d washed his face and dressed for breakfast, the thought of sharing in his children’s joy hadn’t done much to dilute his eagerness to find a quiet moment alone with his wife.
It had been simple and clear in that moment. Love and desire, the same thing in every way that mattered, left no room for existential debate. But once he was clean, back in his own room, and admiring his outfit in the mirror, doubts had started to creep in. Those doubts, in fact, had swelled so quickly that he was questioning his own judgement.
It wasn’t that his eagerness had vanished when he contemplated the memories of the other David; that would have been at least understandable. But his thoughts right now had turned to something more complicated. He’d looked around the room, and wondered what he was doing here. Of course, he could have been in Lily’s room; where there was a queen bed waiting for him. And he was sure that he had slept there often enough; they were married now. But because the magic didn’t affect him so strongly, there was just a fraction of David’s instincts hanging on in the back of his mind. In David’s world, they had grown up in this house. This had been his room, occasionally shared with a partner as he explored his first romantic instincts. And even though he had moved out long ago, he still saw this as his room, rather than his parents’ spare room. Dave, on the other hand, had only ever known this as the box room; and yet it seemed so natural to think of it as his room.
That shouldn’t have bothered him. It was just the interference between different universes; different ways things could have gone. And maybe if he’d chosen to study that kind of magic, integrating these changes into his personality would have been second nature by now. But he had chosen to deny that side of himself, and to aim for integration with mundane society. So now, he was seeing a mixture of two lives and that was something unfamiliar to him. Magic may have been his birthright, but that didn’t mean he was used to it.
More than anything else, what bothered him was that it didn’t really bother him. He could call on David’s memories like he was reading a novel, and he knew how David would have felt. And once the tiniest thing had jogged his memory to make him consider his other self’s reactions, he had wanted to shut down all of his instincts. He’d been staring after his wife; hoping that the kids wouldn’t demand too much of her attention today so that she would be back up here to give him his Christmas present. And then he’d looked around the room, and that had prompted him to think about David, and this time he had wondered about his family. About Lily.
He didn’t want to probe any more into the things he had known as David. He didn’t want any more detail. But Lily had been his sister, not his wife. How was that even possible? He knew that David and Lily had been close, but he couldn’t imagine his alternate self buying her a luxury lingerie set for Christmas. Even if he had, it would have been as a joke. The note in the parcel wouldn’t have included a solemn promise to make love to her the first time he saw her wearing them, regardless of when and where she decided that would be.
David wasn’t the kind of guy who would say something like that.And really, Dave wasn’t either. But he knew it was exactly the kind of gesture that Ellie appreciated the most. Would Lily have similar tastes? He didn’t know, and he didn’t even want to think about that.
“David is just a fantasy,” he told himself. And that was easy enough to believe; even if it was real, the other world was just a narrative structure as far as this world was concerned. But he knew that David should have been disturbed, if he’d been able to observe all this. And that was another layer of complexity, because he didn’t have David here to test his responses. He didn’t know how David would actually feel. He only knew how David should have felt, after feeling such wholesome and justified desire for someone who, in his world, was his sister.
Or stepsister? He had called her that, when they were younger, though the reality of the situation was harder to unpack. There were some memories from the other side that weren’t so emotionally charged, so Dave could think of them without worrying too much about how they would make him feel. Older memories, for sure, but easier.
David had called Lily his stepsister. Because he’d heard somebody talking about something, and he hadn’t understood. Lily was the only redhead in the family; did that mean they weren’t really related? To David it had seemed a possibility. But when Dave thought back to being that age, he could imagine himself – or his other self – picking up the idea that just having red hair was proof that you weren’t really related. In the distant recesses of David’s memory, he could recall hearing the expression ‘red-headed stepchild’ and not really understanding the subtext; but it had prompted him to claim they weren’t really related when he was teasing his sister. He’d addressed her as ‘stepsister’, and repeated various jokingly-cruel jokes about her not being a real part of the family, until he had been old enough to understand where some of those tropes came from. Then he’d cringed at years of unknowingly-inappropriate comments, and done his best to forget those words.
Maybe he’d been right after all. From what Dave could recall, Lily had rich red hair that would always make her stand out in a crowd, though she shared Ellie’s green-brown eyes, faint freckles, and athletic curves. There weren’t really any features in common between her and David’s mental images of his own parents. In fact, Lily seemed to resemble Ellie’s father more closely than her own. If David had doubted her parentage in the past, could he think of those things again? Might he accept Dave’s feelings for his wife if David could be convinced that they weren’t actually related? Could they really be related in some other world? Could David have been right with his childish teasing? Or had those jokes been a way of dismissing his unconscious attraction to her, at an age when he couldn’t really understand it?
There was no way to know. Looking through the things David had said and done was like reading a book, and only gave the shallowest possible interpretation of how he might have felt. And regardless of how this enchantment resolved itself, Dave’s instincts told him that it would be easier to follow a path that both of him could be comfortable with. And both of the women in his life, as well. Until this morning, he had made sure that Ellie never saw anything to suggest the existence of magic. So how would she feel about sharing her memories with a woman who was suddenly her husband’s sister? He hoped that the spell didn’t work like that. Maybe Lily was seeing a different dream, where her own desires were fulfilled. Or maybe Ellie, with less resistance to mental magic, would be completely overwhelmed so that Lily was in control. Either way would be easy enough to deal with, so long as he kept his instincts under wraps. But if they were both there, he would have to tiptoe carefully through their thoughts, in order to make sure that everyone had a happy Christmas. And if Lily was riding in Ellie’s mind as a silent passenger, without his wife even knowing, then how could he explain that he couldn’t satisfy her needs today?
It was hard to know what to think, though. He knew that David should have been disgusted by the way Dave felt about his wife. But he couldn’t feel it. Maybe that meant that the feelings were the same, even in different circumstances. Maybe it meant Dave was more like his father than he wanted to admit, and he was free to act on his urges. But it seemed just as likely that the lack of revulsion was just because David’s emotions weren’t open to him; and in that case anything he said or did could be traumatic to the man. Even his thoughts could be too much.
“I’ve got to keep it cool,” he said. “Focus on the kids. Happy family Christmas, you only get a couple of those while you’re young enough to believe in Santa.” And when he heard those words, he could be sure that they were true. Even without the complexities of who he might have been, and who Lily or Ellie could have been to him, it wouldn’t be fair to take too much time for themselves at this special time of the year. That was something Ellie could understand as well; since Mary and Sammy had been born, she had started to show that she really cared about their family, and that their relationship was built on something much deeper than great sex.
“We need to be parents first and foremost,” he said, staring at his hands as he willed them to stop shaking. “That’s what they wished for, right?” But before he could give himself an answer, the sound of the bedroom door handle rattling jolted him out of his reverie. The door opened and Ellie slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.
“The kids are opening their advent calendars,” she said, her voice practically a purr. “That should keep them busy for an hour.”
“Yeah,” Dave answered, trying to focus on innocent thoughts. Things that wouldn’t be problematic for David and Lily’s happy holiday memories. “I think it said there’s something special behind the last door. A… rotating Christmas tree for Sam to build, with a motor, and Mary gets some kind of costumes so all her dolls can be in fancy dress for a Christmas party.” He tried to remember the leaflets he had flicked through when they first unboxed the two calendars, before giving them to the kids. There had been more detailed instructions there, so parents would know in advance which days their kids might need help on.
It really was an amazing thing for the kids to explore, learning more with each gift they opened. One packed a cleverly-gamified introduction to the principles of basic engineering, while the other could get an introduction to the various historic and literary characters all those dolls could dress as. And when the last door was opened, the calendars themselves could then be disassembled to become a cardboard stable for the dolls’ nativity scene or push-out panels to support a giant tower crane using all the parts so far. However, it was hard for Dave to focus on his appreciation for innovative new toys when his wife was sitting in his lap. In fact, it was very hard.
“They’ll… I’m sure they’ll really enjoy their new toys,” he said. “A perfect way to lead up to Christmas for enquiring minds. Do you think Sam would like the geology one next year?”
“A perfect Christmas for us as well,” Ellie said, and leaned in to kiss him. Dave responded automatically, holding her close while his hands started to wander across her back. It wasn’t until they broke apart for a second that he remembered his earlier intentions, and how bad he was supposed to feel for giving in to temptation. “Something wrong, babe?”
Ellie’s first response when she sensed his hesitation was to move closer, nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder as she considered her options; which meant that Dave’s attention was occupied with the exotic floral fragrances mixed with the coconut in her shampoo for the next couple of seconds.
“I thought we could take advantage of the quiet time,” she whispered into his shoulder, while her right hand delved beneath the waistband of his pyjamas; just resting on his hip for now, but eagerly anticipating the inevitable invitation to get closer.
“We shouldn’t,” Dave managed, though his hands betrayed him by staying exactly where they were. “There’s magic…” He hesitated then, but rallied as he felt her hands freeze. She didn’t even know that magic was real, he remembered. As Ellie or as Lily. “It’s complicated. But there are things you can’t understand, and I don’t know how to–”
“I understand everything I need to,” Ellie whispered against his neck. Her lips found the sensitive spot below his ear, and for a second Dave almost forgot all the complex issues of who he was and who she was. “The kids are happy. We have time to ourselves. Stop overthinking things. Stop overthinking this, baby. Please?”
“Look, Dad’s done some magic,” he tried to explain, although he was sure that the question of who had worked the spell, and why the answer ‘Dad’ jumped immediately to David’s mind, would have been too complex for Ellie to even comprehend even if Dave fully understood. “I know it’s weird, I’ve been keeping it from you, but–”
“I know,” she said, and kissed him again. He could lose himself in the sensations, feeling without speaking, for what felt like forever even if he wished it could have been longer. “The typewriter. Making your dreams come true, I remember. But this is my dream, and I know what I wished for. We don’t need to go over the details, Dave. But you don’t need to think about this.” A part of his mind wanted to know how she knew; or what she meant when she talked about a typewriter. Had she somehow come into contact with an enchanted item? But as he thought about it, Dave realised that there was something about a typewriter in David’s memories as well. He didn’t understand why, but Dave knew there were more important things to think about right now.
“But you’re my…” he stammered, breaking off the kiss as quickly as it started. He resolutely took his hand away from her back and rested it on her shoulder, pushing her gently away. But a more cynical observer might have noticed that he didn’t move the other hand at all; letting it remain on her ass with the folds of her nightie hanging over his arm.
“Your wife,” she said, and there was no mistaking the feeling in her voice. Maybe Dave’s judgement had been off the mark after all, and there was something between David and Lily that neither of them had the courage to admit. Maybe that was why they were here now, and this was the real purpose of a spell designed to grant their wishes. But could he risk it now, when even holding his wife close was suddenly taboo?
A crash from downstairs made them both freeze, and even if Ellie had allowed him the choice, he was sure that it was out of his hands now.
“Moooooom!” a voice wailed in distress. “Daddy! He won’t give it back!”
The words cut like a knife through the intimate mood, and Dave was getting to his feet before he even thought about it. He knew right away that there was going to be no problem more serious than two little ones screaming at each other, but the tone flipped a switch deep in his mind. They were his children, and he needed to react. Ellie was already starting to move, but tumbled off his lap as he stood up. She didn’t say anything, though; just grabbed the edge of the nightstand to regain her balance and then went straight for the door.
“Coming!” he called down, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. His pulse was still racing from moments before, but now from a different kind of urgency. Ellie didn’t shout, but put all her energy into running down the stairs. They could hear both children crying now, adding to the urgency even as it proved that there was no real danger. Mary’s wails had a theatrical edge to them, while Sam’s protests were more indignant. They were shouting over each other, each trying to plead their case before their parents even arrived. Something about mistakes, or not sharing… Dave wasn’t quite processing the details yet, but it seemed strange if they were supposed to be opening their calendars, of which they clearly had one each. There was nothing there that needed them to share. But Dave pushed those thoughts aside for now, and focused on getting downstairs before the situation escalated further.
Ellie hesitated before the lounge door, so both parents could enter the room together. Her earlier seductive demeanour had been completely cast aside, in favour of body language that screamed “MOM” in every possible way. In a way, Dave realised that he was glad of that; because as much as he wanted her, it meant that he didn’t need to deal with all the complex issues of their current situation.
“Remember what we said about indoor voices!” she called before the door was even fully open, causing a momentary ceasefire in the barrage of words. But it wasn’t long before Mary and Sam were both talking again, trying to convince their mother that they were the one in the right. The advent calendars were both thrown in the corner; there were construction pieces scattered all across thew floor, and a vivid red mark showed that Sam had knelt on at least one of them. He had a doll in his hand, and was gesticulating wildly with it as he claimed that his sister had taken his house apart.
Dave took a deep breath when he saw the chaos, and he knew that this was the important part. These weren’t just fictional children created by some magic typewriter; they were the real heart of his life, and he wanted to make them happy more than anything. But at the same time, he knew that eventual happiness would come more quickly if he was just a little mean right now.
“Shush!” he said, raising his voice. “I can’t hear you if you’re both talking. Now, let’s get everything sorted out, okay?”
Sam looked up at him, mouth closed. Mary took a deep breath as if to scream, looked up at her father, and then thought better of it. She turned her head towards Ellie next, but apparently didn’t see the support she might have hoped for.
“Now,” Ellie asked. “I see you’ve both opened your calendars. And Sammy’s built a little… is that a Christmas tree? Perfect for tomorrow!”
“It spins!” Mary piped up, beaming. “All by it self!”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Dave said, channelling his best dad voice. “Now, Sammy, who’s that dolly in your hand? Did Mary say you could play with that?”
“She took my ticket office apart!” Sam answered indignantly, pointing to a half dozen coloured plastic pieces which had become a tiny toll booth near the start of the month. “I was gonna put Persephone in to sell tickets for the tree, but Mary took the booth apart, and now–”
“He won’t give me all the pieces!” Mary interrupted. “I wanna build the stable for the nativity and Sammy won’t give me all the pieces, and he’s taking their clothes off when I’m trying to do the captivity party, and he doesn’t want a–”
“But it’s my party, you shouldn’t knock down–” Sam cut in again, not giving her a chance to finish. Seconds later they were both yelling again, and it was hard to make out any comprehensible words from either child.
Dave sighed. It looked like this situation would be harder to resolve than he had thought, but this was exactly the kind of family drama that he had gotten used to since the children had been born. There was nothing mysterious or occult here, there were no lives at stake, and he didn’t have to worry about whether his wife was in some sense technically his sister. The only likely outcome was that they would all be playing together happily before lunch time, and that was exactly the Christmas miracle that Dave needed right now.

Edited December 11, 2025 by Kitty Angel
Tweaked for continuity with chapter 14

[Kitty Angel]

Sam, trying to be the bigger man

“She broke my ticket booth!” Sam protested, pointing at the pieces on the carpet. His voice came out higher and more petulant than he’d intended. “We got everything for a nativity party, like at the theatre, with all costumes and a tree too, but we can’t do tickets ‘cos she broke the booth!”

“But you need the bits for the crane,” Mary started whining before Sam could even finish explaining. It was just like her, she couldn’t even tell a story without a tantrum.

“Mary, shush honey,” Mommy said, suddenly. Sam grinned, glad that Mommy could trust him. “We’ll ask you next, but we won’t know anything if you’re both talking at the same time.”

“But he’s got Penny and he won’t give her back, and the –”

“One at a time,” Dad said firmly, kneeling down beside them. “Sam, please, can you just tell me what happened?”

“Persephone doesn’t want to play with vandals!” Sam snapped; he knew that Mommy would tell him off if he had one of Mary’s dolls without a good reason, so he had to explain that. “That’s naughty.”

“Please, champ,” Dad said. “Start at the beginning. You both opened your advent calendars?”

“They’re adventure calendars,” Mary corrected, showing her typical know-it-all attitude. Sam opened his mouth to tell her off, because it didn't really matter if Daddy said the wrong word. But then he saw the look she was getting from Mommy, and he knew that he should try to focus on the important things.

“We opened the calendars,” he said, and gave a vigorous nod. “And there’s like all the different costumes for the nativity, and I found somebody that fits all of them. And…”

He took a deep breath, trying to think about what he needed to say. He wanted to show off that he was being a grown up, he was the good one. And he didn't want to get in any trouble when he hadn’t done anything wrong, so he had to show Daddy how good he was being, even being nice to Mary when she was being all horrible and shouting like a little baby.

“Mary made a tree too, she was helping. But when I picked up the ticket booth it was all broked. It’s not fair, I made that and she broke it!” He tried his best to stay calm. He was so upset that Mary had broken something he tried so hard to make; and then acted like it was nothing. All she cared about was her dolls. But Sam was sure that he had been nice, he’d even said something nice about his sister’s tree.

“Oh?” Daddy asked, and he seemed to be expecting something more. “And which calendar do the dolls come from?”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He looked down at the doll in his hands like he’d never seen her before.

“He opened my calendar!” Mary answered, as soon as she saw that he wasn’t sure what to say. And in a way that was true, but it wasn’t the same thing at all. It wasn’t like he’d meant to open the wrong one; he’d just been so excited about getting to the last day, and the calendars were so similar.

“But you need dolls to do the nativity story!” he said. “And she opened my one, she built the tree thing! It’s her fault!”

Daddy reached out and put one finger on Mary’s lips before she could interrupt again.

“Okay, you both opened the wrong one. That’s a mistake, maybe. But did you ask for the tree back? Did Mary ask for her dolls back? I don’t think there’s anything to be upset about there, is there? If you both got to play with something new, and you enjoyed it, then you can just change around and try out the other thing. There’s no need to fight over it.”

“But she broke it!” Sam shouted. He couldn’t understand why Daddy didn’t understand. This wasn’t the same thing at all; it didn’t matter that he’d opened the wrong calendar, because they would both have the dolls whoever opened it. But the ticket booth was something he had made, and Mary had just pulled it apart like that didn’t matter at all. It wasn’t just a toy, it was his thing, and that was supposed to be special.

“I see,” Mommy said with a sigh, but Sammy knew she wouldn’t understand. She would always take Mary’s side because she was a girl. And he felt so helpless, not knowing how to make her understand. “Did you take Sammy’s building apart, Mary?”

“Yeah, you need the bits for–”

“No,” Mommy said firmly. “I know you both like building bricks, and you both like dolls, so it doesn’t matter so much who opens them. But that’s something Sammy built, and you shouldn’t take it apart without asking him first. Now, do you think you should apologise for that?”

“No!” Mary answered. “We gotta take it apart to make the crane, and he opened my–”

“But the booth is for the dolls!” Sam interrupted, eager to make his point because he knew that he was right. There was no point in a big Christmas tree if there wasn’t a booth. “They gotta pay to get in, and they can’t if you took it apart.”

“They should make it free for Christmas,” Mary said, folding her arms in front of her in an effort to show physically how stubborn she could be. “They’re nice people, they want it to be like a present for everybody.”

“Then what do we do with the booth?” Sam answered right away. It hadn’t taken him more than a second to spot the obvious flaw in Mary’s plan, and he didn’t know why she was still arguing. She was going to be in so much trouble.

“You need it for…” Mary started, and then wrinkled her brow. “Oh! The stripey pole goes on the end of the crane. And the booth…”

“You can use the booth for the crane’s cab,” Daddy said with a smile. “So the doll doesn’t get clouds in his hair when he’s up high building stuff.”

“High?” Sam answered, and this time he felt a little lost.

“Yeah!” Mary chipped in. “You can build a huuuuge crane, that’s even taller than us! But it needs all the pieces out of the other toys.”

“Ohh,” Sam said. “I knew that. But they’re my buildings, you gotta let my dolls take them apart.” He reached out for one of the dolls. She was wearing a party dress with a long skirt, but there was a hat around here somewhere that would help her to be a construction worker. Sam looked around and found the piece he was looking for. It might have been supposed to be a wise man’s crown, but it looked enough like a hard hat if you turned it over. And the dress was kind of yellow, like builders wear, so he thought it would be close enough.

“Okay!” Mary said. “You gotta be careful though, if you’re knocking stuff down you need a… a…”

“You gotta have a safetyman!” Sam guessed, dashing across the room so quickly that Daddy had to take a step backwards to get out of his path. He came back with another action figure; this one a man with a clipboard who had probably been in the bottom of the toy box for more than a year. But Sam knew he was perfect for watching stuff get taken apart and ticking little boxes to make sure they didn’t lose any bits. He wasn’t quite sure how a clipboard helped you not to lose stuff, but that was probably a grown up thing, and Safetyman must know it. There was still something else, though. “And a…”

“And a elf?” Mary guessed. “All the Christmas stories have an elf helping out.”

“Yeah! Elf and Safetyman!” Sam giggled excitedly. He was sure that was an expression he’d heard before, and it made so much sense. He quickly went looking for some elves; he was sure there had been some in with all the new dolls he’d gotten from Mary’s adventure calendar. “I’ll get them and start knocking down all the buildings that aren’t Christmassy enough. And you can build a… a staple. For the nativity.”

“We haven’t got one of them!” Mary said. “I wanna build a crane.”

“There’s a stable in the back of your calendar, Mary,” Mommy pointed out. “The calendars come apart. Yours turns into a stable, and Sammy’s turns into more bits for the crane, so there’s nothing wasted. Didn’t you open it?”

“No,” Mary shook her head, picking up Sammy’s calendar and peering through the last door. “Look, there’s just a little bit of the crane instructions here at the back, but…”

“There’s a thing to pull!” Sam said, leaning over her shoulder and reaching for his calendar again. “Look, you pull this and all the foil at the back of the doors comes apart, and you can see all the instructions!”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to figure out that with the foil out of the way, as well as the big instruction book they could see some things to twist to make the back come off the calendar, so they could get out a set of instructions that was almost as big as a real book. And behind that, the back of the calendar and the bits in between all the doors really did press out to turn into yellow and black striped pieces that might be part of a giant crane.

They were both so excited to build it, and they wanted to start in different places. Mary said they should start with instruction number one in the book, but Sammy was finding it hard to remember which number was which; and anyway, he wanted to focus on the fun parts. So instead, he set about arranging a mismatched assortment of dolls and action figures, and getting them to clear a space in the middle of the floor ready for building the giant crane. Some of them needed popcorn as well, or little cups of tea so they didn’t get cold while they were watching. And then he went back to taking apart some of the other things he had built since the start of the adventure; getting all the pieces that Mary might need.

“Do you want to make the stable too?” Mommy asked, as Mary finished putting all the cardboard bits for the crane in a pile.

“Umm…” Mary thought for a second, and Sam almost answered. But he realised that this should be Mary’s choice, because it was her calendar. He was happy enough that she was helping him to build his crane, and he didn’t want to mess about with her staple. But Mary had the right answer for that too, after a minute of thinking: “I think we should do the crane first. Then Sammy can help me with the stable, ‘cos you need a crane to build things. And then we can do the captivity party.”

And that was the plan. They were working together, in a way. Sam liked building stuff, but there were some things he wasn’t so good at, and he kept losing the pieces he needed. So he stuck to knocking down buildings, which Safetyman was really good at. And then the elves would help him take all the pieces apart, and sort them into different piles to help Mary find the ones she wanted.

He made a pile of square pieces, and a pile of yellow pieces, and a pile of cool pieces, and a pile of all the ones that were funny shapes. Some pieces didn’t really go in any of those piles, so he just put them in with the square ones, because that was the pile with least in and he didn’t want it to feel left out. And some of them were yellow and cool, and a lot of the cool ones were funny shapes too, so he put them in whichever pile looked like they would fit in better.

It was hard to decide sometimes, especially when Mary started taking pieces out of his piles or moving them around. But he kept on doing his best, and giving the watching dolls more tea at the same time. And it wasn’t long before the crane started to get bigger and bigger, way taller than any of the dolls, and even bigger than the calendar it had come out of.

“A crane should have lights on,” he said, after a while. “On the top, so planes don’t fly into it in the dark.”

“It’s gonna have the ones off the Christmas tree,” Mary said, pointing at the little tree. It wasn’t spinning now, because the motor was already somewhere in the crane’s base, but the lights still twinkled merrily. “We gotta put the lights on when the crane’s finished.”

“But what about now?” Sam said. “What if a plane hits it before the lights are on?”

“I don’t think…” Mary answered, and Sam could hear the confidence fading as she spoke. “Yeah, maybe we better do that sooner. But we can’t put them up when it’s not done, because there’s not bits to clip them to.”

Sam smiled, and reached down for the tree. One of the dolls, with angel wings and a halo, quickly balanced it on top of the crane, where it wobbled a little bit but stayed put.

“That’ll make it safe,” he said. “Until we can have proper lights.”

“Kids! Lunch time!” Mommy called from the kitchen.

“We’re not done yet!” Sam protested. The crane still wasn’t finished, and the dolls were waiting for their stable so they could have dinner. The builder in the yellow dress was just standing around waiting for some traffic to direct, and Sam quickly sent him around to the other side of the site to see if anybody needed anything.

“You can come back to it after lunch,” Daddy promised. “But you need to eat something.”

“We can let Penny and Safety Elf work on the crane?” Mary suggested. “They can be in charge of everybody while we go and eat Christmas food, and they might be finished when we come back.”

Sam looked at his carefully arranged piles of pieces, worried they might get mixed up while he was gone. But Mary was already heading for the kitchen, still wearing her princess crown, and she probably had the right idea. It didn’t seem so much fun to keep on playing by himself, especially when he didn’t know which instruction they were up to.

Mary had one of the dolls in her arms, coming to eat dinner with them. Maybe they were going to talk about the project, to make sure she knew what was going on. Sam reached for Persephone; the one who knew the most about the crane. But she wasn’t there. She must have been the one who had gone with Mary. Well, that didn’t matter, because there were so many dolls who would have something interesting to say. He paused for a moment, and decided to take Gabrielle, the doll in the yellow dress who would have to tell everybody about the nativity play later. And as he followed his sister to the kitchen, Sam was already thinking about how he would write about all this stuff in a book. There was so much story here that it would be hard to decide what mattered the most.

“Did you have fun making your crane?” Dad asked him, almost before he sat down.

“Yeah!” he answered, beaming with joy. “We’re making the biggest crane ever, and we’re going to use it to put the stable together after. For the nativity.”

“Pennyloopy helped lots!” Mary added, standing Persephone up on the table. “She’s so clever, and she knows all about buildings.”

“What did you call her?” Sam asked. “Her name’s Persephone.”

“No, it’s Penny,” Mary said. “It said on the Adventure Calendar.”

“No, it said Persephone,” Sam said again, trying to stay calm. But could he be sure? It was hard to think about complicated things now, and he thought he was probably a bit littler than he had been first thing in the morning. That had to be a good thing, because it meant he could enjoy this adventure better, and he didn’t want to fight it. He needed to feel like a real little kid so he could write his book, but it made him a bit confused about some stuff. Like reading was harder now, so he couldn’t be sure if he made a mistake about Persephone’s name. “I think so?”

“I’m sure it will be a very good stable,” Mommy said, and ruffled Sammy’s hair; it made him feel so proud when his parents were impressed by something he’d done.

“Yeah! I’m gonna write a book about it too. About the best Christmas ever.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” Dad said. “Did you have lots of advent adventures to write about?”

“Yeah!” Sam beamed, in between bites of his dinner. They were only having crackers and cheese and meat paste, so eating didn’t take a lot of thought. And he thought this would be a perfect time to think about how to tell all the story, so he could make sure his book was right. “First we got a load of presents, and Mary got one even before Santa came, because she’s special. And we both opened our Adventure Calendars, and Mary opened mine by mistake, but that’s okay cos she didn’t mean to I think. And she made a Christmas tree, that was super flashy and spins round and stuff and flies.”

“And it’s got a motor in!” Mary reminded him. “So it spins all by itself.”

“Right! But then it flies so high we got to make sure a plane doesn’t hit it, like the tower. So we went to put lights on it, but if it lights up then dragon might come to see what it is, and then we had to make it fly higher and higher to get away from the dragon, and it landed on top of the crane. It’s safe up there, because dragons are scared of cranes. But if we have to start flying again, we might have to go to space and see if we can find some aliens to help. I think they will.”

“Oh wow, you’re a spaceman now?” Mommy asked, and she sounded so serious. “You have an amazing imagination.”

“Yeah! And I can–” Sam carried on for a second, before he really thought about what he was saying. He was trying to tell a story now about all the things they did for Christmas, not making up new stories. “I mean, I… uhh…”

“It’s okay,” Mommy said, and reached over to pick up a piece of cheese he had dropped. “You’re having fun, and that’s what really matters.”

“Yeah, but I wanna tell it properly, like a real story,” he answered. And he tried starting again, with presents and adventure calendars, and building bricks and dolls. He did his best to describe all the characters, like Gabrielle and Persephone. But then he wasn’t sure who to mention next.

“And Safety?” Mary suggested, and that was all the help Sam needed.

“Yeah!” he said. “Safety Man got a magic clipboard, so he ticks all the boxes and it makes things safe, and stops bricks getting lost. It’s extra special, and when he waves his clipboard the tree starts spinning, and then it flew up on top of the crane, so everybody can see it and help build while we have food. And all the dolls are trying to help, cos they know they can’t have a stable until the crane is done, and we need the stable to do the nativity play. We’re going to do a super good play this yer, and maybe even make a movie about it. It’ll be so much better than a regular nativity, with actual flying reindeer and stuff. And…”

It was easy to get into the flow of the story this time; it just came naturally. And Sam knew that he didn’t need to worry so much, because he could remember every little thing that had happened without really thinking about it. Maybe he dropped a little more food on the table than he would normally, as his hands waved around to emphasise how big the dragon was, or how Santa laughed. But he was having fun and he didn’t want to stop. He was born to be a storyteller, he was sure, and he was certain that he would remember every little thing when the time came to write about all the adventures they’d had today.

“And then the reindeer landed on top of the stable, and there were lights everywhere, like on a runway. And he gave us some extra special presents to say thank you. And…”

He paused in waving his hands to highlight how exciting the story was when he wanted to reach out for another cracker. But this time, he found that his plate was empty. The only food left was a dusting of crumbs across the tabletop, and Mommy was already helping Mary down from the table so she could go back to building the crane.

He blinked, looked down at his food, and then at the doll beside his plate. Somehow she’d gotten cheese in her hair; but then she’d always been a messy eater.

Sam blinked, and looked at the doll. He’d been telling a story about how fun it was to build the crane, and build the stable, but then he’d gotten carried away. He was pretty sure they hadn’t really met Santa and challenged the Winterwright; that was one of Seamus’s memories, so it wasn’t a part of this story. And when he tried to think back, he wasn’t entirely sure which parts of the story had been real. He couldn’t smell reindeer, so they probably hadn’t been real. Persephone and Gabrielle were real, he was sure of that much. But had they really flown a plane? He could clearly remember Mary talking about the plane before dinner, so maybe that bit was real, but he couldn’t actually remember what it had looked like. His imagination was just too good, and every time he tried to think about something hard, it started coming up with a million new stories at once. But that was probably the hard part of being four.

“Wait,” he said, trying to count in his head. He was sure it wouldn’t have been that hard. “I’m four? I don’t think I was before. Are we still getting littler, like the wish takes a bit to get started?”

“Of course you’re four,” Mary said with a laugh. “You’re four and I’m five, that’s one more. So you’re the little one.”

“But we were bigger numbers before!” he said, and found himself laughing when he realised what that meant. It meant there were more adventures for them to have, and more magic to enjoy still.

“Nope! You’ve always been four, ever since you were a baby! I’ve always been the big one.” She turned around and dashed back to the lounge, leaving Sam with his own thoughts.

“But…” Sammy mumbled to himself, and Mommy must have noticed the momentary cloud crossing his face.

“Oh, did your doll get messy?” Mommy asked, quickly picking up Gabrielle and taking her over to the sink to carefully wash the sticky bits out of her hair. She must have thought that was what was bothering him. “It’s okay, Penny, you can have a little shower and then go back to playing with all your friends.”

“Gabby,” Sam corrected. Penny was Mary’s doll. Or… there was something more complicated, but he couldn’t quite remember it now. He really was starting to think like a little kids.

“I can’t do stories now,” he whispered to himself. “I don’t know stuff, or big words. I better just have fun, and maybe I can do the writing later. But what if I don’t remember?”

He almost jumped when he felt Daddy put a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed somebody was there.

“Don’t worry about that, champ. It’s always hard to think straight when you’re so excited. But we’ll have all your memories safe here.” He held up his phone, and turned it around to show Sam a picture of the crane earlier in the morning, with Mary putting another piece on the top and Sam telling Persephone to help out. He hadn’t even realised that his parents had been watching. “We’re taking loads of photos, to remind you of everything. So even when you’re grown-up, you can look back on them. And show them to your girlfriend as well, no doubt. Won’t that be fun?”

“But…” Sam started to answer, then thought about it again. It was getting harder to think about grown-up things like writing stories, and there was nothing he could do about that. So maybe that was okay. He didn't need to remember everything perfectly, he could just try to be the best little boy he could be, and leave writing the books to Seamus later. And he knew that Daddy would have plenty of pictures in case he forgot.

It felt strange, trying to think of writing as somebody else’s job. But he knew that once he got caught up in playing with his toys again, he could go hours and hours without giving it another thought. And that was all it needed to send him running back to the lounge, eager to see how much Safetyman and Elf had managed to build without them.

[kerry]

This is a really nice exploration of how kids' minds—and their imaginations—work. 

[Kitty Angel]

On 1/8/2025 at 8:29 PM, kerry said:

This is a really nice exploration of how kids' minds—and their imaginations—work. 

I do my best  Glad you're enjoying it.

This story seems to have drifted a little while I was turning the initial idea into an actual plan. We seem to have less diapers and more focus on childish thoughts than most of the stories around here. But I hope that for some people at least, that's a positive thing.

And here we have one of the chapters I didn't really expect to see when I was planning it, but which now seems an important part of rounding out the story:

Lily, a woman with dreams

Ellie nudged the door closed with her knee, and then walked back towards the sink. She was sure now that she had collected up all the dishes from lunch, as well as all the cups and glasses from which her family had been drinking this morning. It was slightly more than one woman could comfortably hold, so she struggled to put everything down; having to bend slightly to set one glass on the counter without moving her arms, and then using the hand freed up by that gesture to unload the plates trapped in the crook of her opposite arm, before she could finally breathe a sigh of relief and set about washing everything.

Usually, Dave was the one to do things like this. Somehow he seemed to have a little more coordination, and made it look less of a struggle. Maybe that was a sign of his unusual flexibility; and that was a thought that brought a smile to her lips for entirely different reasons. But today he was looking after the kids, so Ellie was sure that she could manage washing dishes by herself.

In a way, she was enjoying the moment of quiet. Everything had been so hectic this morning, especially with the sudden revelation that magic could actually have been real. There had been nothing in her life so far to even hint at that; but the way Dave took it so easily made her wonder if this was a common thing in his life. Ellie thought she needed a little time to think about it, and while she washed up was sure to be the best opportunity of the day.

She heard raised voices from the other side of the door; but nobody sounded upset. She would know Sammy and Mary’s voices anywhere; getting louder and louder as their emotions grew stronger, but with no sign of anything but enjoyment. She could hear Dave’s voice as well, the patient ‘dad voice’ that he only seemed to adopt around those little terrors. He knew exactly how to remind them to behave without disrupting their fun, and by now it seemed like both of them would start to dial back the irrational exuberance when they heard that tone; maybe without even realising. Ellie partially wished they would get just a fraction louder so she could hear what they were excited about, but a part of her knew that if she wanted to process her own thoughts, it would be easier if she didn’t think about her husband, or about the kids she loved so much.

“They're in good hands,” she murmured to herself, carefully fitting all of the different dishes into the sink and then turning on the hot water. Dave had proven time and again that he could handle the kids beautifully, giving her these precious moments to catch her breath. But hearing him in full father mode, so natural and caring with their children… well, it only made him more attractive, if that was even possible. A part of her wanted to rush in there right now and drag him away so that they would have three kids to look after next year. But now, she wanted to take her mind away from that, and to think about what she really wanted. His behaviour earlier had her a little confused, not sure where she stood. She was still his wife, wasn’t she? Was he getting tired of her, or was this magic thing more complex than she could have imagined? And while she thought about that, she could only get more curious about whether her husband’s life had included something like this before. He’d never even mentioned magic before, but could this have been something he was hiding from her? It was hard to believe, given the natural way he talked about it, that he was as lost as she was in this lost world.

She stopped, and took another deep breath. Outside the window, her reflection stared back at her. For a second she wondered if it had gotten dark while she was dwelling on her own thoughts; but a quick glance at the clock quelled that fear. Yes, lunch had been a little late today, and yes, they had taken longer than usual to eat as Sammy got lost in his flights of fancy. But the darkness outside was more likely because of the dark clouds overhead, and Ellie found herself wondering if that meant they could expect snow later. That would make this Christmas extra special.

Her arms were aching a little after the morning’s activities; Christmas was always more work than she had expected. But it was exhausting in the best possible way, and she felt that she could be proud of herself. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to do, and that brought her more pleasure than she would ever have anticipated. And now, she decided, while she washed these dishes, was the time she would allow herself for any kind of navel-gazing. If a thought took longer than the chores then it was too abstract and philosophical to be worth bothering with, and she should just lose herself in her husband’s embrace rather than worrying about it.

It really was dark outside. That probably explained the lights spilling around the door from the lounge. But right now, with the blinds still open, Ellie could see her own face reflected in the glass as clouds of steam rose around her. Dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her eyes looked tired to her own gaze. Dave, of course, would say that she looked beautiful at all times, but would still know when she needed a break. But today, there was something in her reflection that made her pause for just a moment. She waited as the steam built up around her, and as the face she knew so well faded from view.

As the steam turned her reflection into a silhouette, Lily could imagine the red hair she was used to; although it still seemed a little strange. She vaguely recalled doing this once before, when she was much younger. Watching your own reflection, meeting your gaze, was a good way to protect your mind from enchantment. It had been Dad who taught her that, when one of their madcap adventures had turned more serious than they expected. Strange to think that she’d dismissed all those memories as dreams, or the world of a child with an overactive imagination for so many years; but right now it was exactly what she needed.

She rested her hands on the counter, looked at her imagine, and tried to remember who she really was. Her emotions were conflicted now; her own desires and Ellie’s kind of mixed up, and she thought that a few moments to think about how she really felt would make all the difference in the world.

The face she saw in the window was Ellie’s, she knew. And everything about it was familiar, from the faintest hints of red as her dark hair caught the light, to the faint lines around the corner of her eyes, hinting at a tiredness she would never admit to herself. That half-smile, and even the pattern of her freckles was the same, but these women were different too. Her hair should be the first thing people noticed, and her stance should be more athletic. They had very different backgrounds as well, and had grown into different people.

Ellie’s thoughts were still there; but they could both think right now. When she recalled one particularly incident with fey glamour when she was too young to understand its risks, Lily remembered her parents warning her sternly not to rely too much on tricks like this to see through the illusion. Ellie had no such memories; her childhood had been overshadowed by a tired father struggling to make ends meet and a vague sense of resentment from her aunts, which she had never understood.

But thinking about the differences between them could wait until later. Right now she had chores to do. And, she realised as she glanced down, a sink close to overflowing with hot suds. She quickly moved the faucet over to the second sink, and let herself fall into the rhythmic actions of washing dishes. She turned each plate over, rubbing both sides with her cloth, and then held it under the water to rinse the suds away, also watching for ripples in the water which might suggest more stubborn stains. She wasn’t quite sure which set of memories had led to such fastidious details in her muscle memory, but it felt like the natural way to do things. And she was glad that she had a task that didn’t require any real thought right now. The repetitive movements gave her something concrete to focus on while she sorted through her tangled thoughts.

She had gotten exactly what she wished for, that much was clear. Ellie’s life was everything Lily had ever wanted – a loving husband, beautiful children, and a home filled with joy. But that was exactly what made it so dangerous. This was like one of their old festive fantasies; chasing after a genie trying to take back one of David’s ill-considered wishes, or challenging Santa to a friendly sled race. And just like those dreams, sooner or later it would have to end. She would go back to her normal life, and today would be nothing more than an uneven memory. In ten years, she might not even believe that it had been real.

Lily’s hands moved mechanically through the familiar motions as her mind raced. The more she allowed herself to love these children, to feel the fierce joy of motherhood, the more it would tear at her when she returned to her own life. And she knew that sooner or later, the choice wouldn’t be hers. This fantasy couldn’t go on for ever; even if she wished for it more than she ever had as a child. This was her perfect dream. Even Dave… Lily had always imagined spending life with her children, but had never thought too much about their father. But it seemed like Ellie had taken the opposite path to get here; and when she started thinking about Dave, it was impossible to think about this situation without involving him too. He was perfect for this scenario. He was so hot that Ellie never even thought of anyone else, but once the kids had come along it had turned out that he was a perfect father too; just by doing the opposite of everything his parents had shown him.

She would have to give up both of those when the magic ended; the family and the stud were both just wish fulfilment. But one of them, she was sure, might happen for real at some point. Not likely, she had to be realistic, but there was no reason to think that she couldn’t find a guy so loving, so energetic, and so skilled at some point in the future. And maybe, if she convinced herself, she could somehow manage to be content with just love.

Lily stacked the last of the plates in the drying rack and pulled the plug, watching the water spiral away as she dried her hands. She had gotten exactly what she wished for – more than she'd dared to dream of, really. The kind of family she'd always wanted, and a man who seemed custom-made for her needs. Her body remembered what it felt like to wrap herself around Dave when the kids were finally asleep, and those memories were… distracting, in a way. In a very good way.

She sat down at the kitchen table, giving herself a moment to breathe. She didn’t want to get too distracted by those feelings, after all. Not when the children could need her at any moment. But what if they did? Dave was doing a great job of looking after the little monsters. And that made her jealous, because Lily wanted to look after children more than anything else in her life. It was what she had been made for. But these weren't her children, she reminded herself firmly. Not really. She could remember Mary’s first steps, Sammy’s first words, but those were only Ellie’s memories. Beautiful, perfect memories that would fade like morning mist when the magic ended. And it would end – these holiday adventures always did. She couldn’t let herself get too attached, couldn’t let herself believe this was real.

Dave, though… She found herself smiling at the thought. Ellie’s love for him burned hot enough to make her forget everything else. And why shouldn’t it? He was everything anyone could want in a husband. The kind of man who could make you feel like the only woman in the world; she could feel the heat building up inside her as soon as she remembered the way he could look at her. She had been amazed by how much affection he could show for the children as well; a completely different kind of love, but it was never in short supply. Dave was perfect for her. And when she thought about his limbs wrapped around her, the two of them lost in each other without a thought in the world…

She shook her head, trying to focus. The point was, men like that existed in the real world. Maybe not exactly like Dave, but close enough. She just hadn’t been looking for them before, too focused on her dream of motherhood. But if Lily couldn’t ever have children of her own, perhaps she could at least have a man like Dave.

It was hard to imagine, really. Lily spent half her life in the gym, but she had never in her life seen a man as hot as him. And it was hard to imagine anyone could get there if he wasn’t a regular in the gym. But then… Dave’s looks were just natural for him. And that had to be good enough.

Ellie knew now that she could enjoy this fantasy. She just had to stay away from the kids as much as she could. She would never neglect them, she knew how much that could hurt. But she wouldn’t come running whenever they called; she would trust Dave to do all the heavy lifting there, just for a day or two. Ellie… or Lily, whoever was doing the thinking now… she would focus on the husband she loved more than anyone. She would indulge her feelings for him, and enjoy their time together as much as it was possible for any two people to enjoy each other.

When the magic ended, Lily would be able to view it as a good memory; and something to hope for in her own future. She wouldn’t be left with bittersweet regrets about the children who could only ever exist in her dreams. Dave would fill her memories of this Christmas as easily as he filled Ellie’s needs. And to thank him, Ellie decided that she wouldn’t leave everything to him today. She would start making dinner, so that he could escape that particular chore for at least a day before Christmas. It was only fair, when he would have to pay closer attention to the children as well.

Standing up with renewed purpose, Ellie opened the pantry to survey dinner options. She could still hear the kids playing in the lounge, Dave's low rumble of laughter joining their excited chatter. And as she compared the recipe cards pinned to the back of the door against the available ingredients, a voice in the back of her mind told her that she was making the right choice. Better to stay in here, to avoid joy that would only hurt her when reality returned. Focus on the parts of this life that would never be impossible. Later in the afternoon she could find a way to get Dave's attention for a while. She didn't need to get any more emotionally invested than she already was, and she knew that she wouldn't find it hard to turn her husband on. But before that, she needed to pick something she could make for dinner.

Ingredients were crammed in wherever they would fit right now; but a lot of those were already spoken for. Ellie and Dave had both grown up in the era before 24-hour supermarkets opened on Christmas day, and were used to seasonal markets making the streets even more crowded around the local farmers’ market, so they tended to stock up so that they wouldn’t need to go shopping for a couple of days before or after the big day. And a traditional Christmas dinner was something they rarely had an excuse for. Dave wanted to do it properly even though they weren’t expecting any cousins, siblings, or niblings to show up this year. Just in case someone else’s plans fell through; or because he was still getting used to the novelty value in the handful of years since they had gone from a couple to a family.

Christmas dinner took up all the space in the refrigerator, and most of the freezer as well. But she was sure that there was enough food here for a whole variety of other meals, if she could just work out what the different items were. She opened the freezer and tugged at a green and red package, trying to remember which of these things were reserved for tomorrow. The package turned out not to contain the frozen pies she had expected; but was a bag of frozen minced mutton. She stared at it for a second, then looked at all the items in the freezer which had quickly fallen over to take up all available space. She wasn’t in the mood for grocery tetris now, so it would be better to use the ingredient that was in her hands.

She looked at all the recipes stuck to the walls, searching randomly for one which might use this stuff. Before long, she found one with a doodle of a sheep in the corner; which should probably have caught her attention sooner. It was decorated with green sticky dots, which was probably a good sign. Dave was a little over-focused on organisation sometimes, and would put dots on the recipe cards to indicate which ingredients they were getting low on. Today, she was sure, there would be red dots for anything that needed to be saved for Christmas dinner, and recipes involving items they didn’t have would have been separated out and tucked under the corner of the coffee machine when he got back from the last shopping trip.

Ellie had teased him about this attention to detail once or twice; but right now it was really useful. She could make a shepherd’s pie, which called for two hours in the kitchen, and leave Dave to have fun with the kids. A hearty meal like that was perfect for a cold winter evening, and she was sure that she could manage it. She lifted out the scale, and started carefully weighing out five hundred grams of meat. That turned out to be most of the pack, so she quickly put the plastic clip back on the top, and returned it to a space in the freezer that now seemed barely large enough.

She checked the card again, trying to remember all the other things she would need and the relevant weights. Then she moved around the kitchen gathering potatoes, butter, salt, frozen mixed vegetables, and everything else that the recipe called for. She might have retraced her steps a little more than necessary when she needed to consult the recipe again, but she felt that she had done pretty well when it came to weighing everything out. And after a short while, she felt she was getting into the swing of things. She was making something, and she was sure that she would feel proud of herself when it was done, just like every other little chore.

Next she moved onto chopping the things that needed to be chopped, and getting out a big pot to parboil the potatoes and a skillet to defrost and brown the meat. This was another happy time of the day. Not just because she knew how much her family always enjoyed a good home-cooked meal, but because there were so many things to do. All the time that her hands spent in motion, her mind could freewheel without any need to think about difficult topics. And each instruction checked off on the recipe card was a tiny step closer to a discrete goal; something she could say she had achieved with no doubt about the matter.

She was just stirring the meat mixture, waiting for the timer to tell her it was done, when she heard a voice from the next room.

“It hurts!”

She didn’t even need to wait for her brain to make out the words. The wooden spoon clattered to the counter and threw droplets of meat to the counter around it. Ellie was running towards her daughter’s voice, heart racing, with everything else forgotten in an instant. Her baby needed her, and that was one thing that Ellie could never ignore.

[kerry]

Don't worry about the diaper thing. This Xmas fantasy is already one of the most complex narratives I can ever recall seeing here. Honestly, I get as confused as Lily/Ellie at times, and I love it!

[Little Lamb]

I could see some abdl stuff going on with david from his early thoughts and coments. But even if there's nothing of the sort there, this one is a real gem.

The way the characters get lost in their own fantasy selves, and the conflict arising from just this bit of roleplay but actually not, is really great.

And the way you go about it, mixing their voices as the thoughts flow around... Just getting to read it is a damn awesome Christmas present.

[Kitty Angel]

Thank you so much!

I've not been writing as quickly over the past few days; anxiety about other things is starting to build up again. But hopefully if I can schedule some time with Aunty Amy in the next few months, that will help my confidence.

Hope you didn't get impatient waiting for this one 😛

Dave, a loving husband and father

Dave framed the shot carefully through his phone’s camera, trying to capture the concentration on Mary’s face as she tried to connect the section she had just assembled to the top of the tower. She was following the instructions like they were some revered sacred text; and so far everything was working well for her. This particular step was a little more complex, though, as it required her to use both hands to connect up both ends of some lever assemblage at once, and her coordination wasn’t perfect.

Sam was theoretically helping too. Although after taking apart the last of the models from earlier in the month, his contribution had mostly been rearranging dolls on the periphery of the construction site, helping them to marvel in a variety of squeaky voices how amazing the construction was. And it really was impressive; each of the individual projects in the advent calendar had been small enough to fit in the palm of Sam’s hand. But now they were all brought together, twenty-four different sets plus the larger cardboard pieces from the back of the calendar itself, it stood almost as tall as the children. It was certainly the largest thing either of them had built, even if a large portion of that height was empty space in the middle.

Both kids were getting really excited now, and their anticipation made for perfect candid photos. Especially when Sam tried to pose the dolls to help with the construction process. He’d knocked a few pieces off already; but it had been easy enough to go back and repeat the previous step before rebuking the toys in question. And it seemed that having such a large project in front of them helped both of the little ones to stay focused.

“Safety Elf says we need more supports here,” Sam declared, waving a small figure in a green outfit towards a point at the bottom of the tower. The costume might have been meant as a Christmas outfit, but even in the festive season Dave found himself laughing at the idea of an elf taking on a role that seemed more like some kind of bureaucrat or auditor. “And then we can make it even taller!”

“But you gotta follow the blueprints!" Mary beamed, finally getting the operator’s cabin to stay on top of the crane. “Even if they’re not really blue enough. It’s super tall enough anyhow! I bet we can see the whole town from up here and– AAAAAH!” She had taken a step back to admire her creation, but apparently someone had been a little less than thorough when it came to checking for little pieces of the toy that might have been scattered across the floor.

Dave flinched; the cry of pain cutting through him like a knife. He knew that it couldn’t be anything serious, but in that first instant he felt Mary’s pain as if it were his own. Just another of the joys of fatherhood. He occasionally wondered if this concern for his children was an automatic part of the human experience, or something he only felt because of his upbringing. But that was a question he could never answer without being someone else, and right now the only thing that mattered was that his child needed him. And as he rose from the couch and stepped towards her, she was already stumbling towards him with tears welling in her eyes.

“Here, princess, let me see,” he said softly, and quickly lifted her to sit her on the couch. He didn’t quite know what had happened yet, but his instincts told him that her foot was hurting, and in that case it would be good to save her even a couple of steps. And when he looked at the proffered foot, he could immediately see the problem. She’d stepped on a piece with enough force that it was still stuck to the bottom of her foot, and when he gently pulled it away he could see the angry pink impression it had left on her sole. It was only a thin plastic plate, but it had corners, and he could remember just how much it had hurt to step on similar toys when he was a child. That was exactly why he had gotten into the habit of looking carefully before putting his feet down in the lounge, ever since the kids had gotten into construction sets. There was something about making two beams or bricks stick together that apparently required them to be painful.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”

He gently massaged her foot, making soothing noises as she sniffled. He made sure not to actually touch the mark where a stray piece of plastic had hurt her so much, but the mark was already starting to fade. As he lost track of the minutes passing, he was entirely focused on comforting his daughter; checking that she could wiggle her toes and making her laugh by pretending her foot was trying to escape. She wasn’t crying now, and he was pretty sure that she had almost forgotten the pain, but she still hugged him close. His daughter had never been one to let go when she was the centre of attention.

“You’re being so brave,” he told her, and she gave a little giggle. “Want to tell me what happened?” He knew already, having seen her stand on the piece, but he had spent enough time looking after kids to guess that as soon as she was regaling him with tales of her exploits, she would forget all about hamming up her need for comfort.

“I was making the crane bigger,” she explained, excitement quickly overtaking the shakiness she was still trying to put into her voice. “But I stepped on one of Sammy’s pieces.”

“My pieces are for building!” Sam protested from the other side of the room. Dave was pleasantly surprised to see that he was peering at the instruction booklet for the crane now, and attempting to put together one of the sub-assemblies it required. “You’re not supposed to stand on them!”

“You left it on the floor!” Mary countered. “It’s your piece, so it’s your fault.”

“Is it still his piece when you need it for the crane?” Dave asked, wondering if that detail could head off this conversation before it turned into another argument.

“I… uhh…” Mary mumbled. “Maybe I dropped it when I was building? It wasn’t my fault though.”

“Accidents happen,” Dave nodded sagely. “And the important thing is that everyone's okay. Right, Mary? It stopped hurting, so everything is good. But in future, maybe we should try to keep the pieces where we can see them. Can you do that?”

“Yeah!” Sammy answered quickly, and then knelt down and set about passing the message onto all of the dolls; some of whom apparently understood better than others, or needed telling off because they didn’t agree.

Mary nodded, experimentally putting her foot back on the ground. The pain seemed to have completely vanished now, and Dave was eager to see if she would go right back to building, or if she might prefer to try something else for a while. She opened her mouth as if she were about to speak, but before she could say anything her head turned towards the kitchen door, where a creak heralded the arrival of her mother. And, right on cue, Mary was trying to cry again in order to earn a second dose of parental sympathy.

Dave’s eyes stayed on the kids, and the everyday excitement in their eyes. He didn’t need to turn his head to know that the footsteps coming from the kitchen were Ellie’s. But like always, he felt the magnetic pull to turn and look at her; admiring how beautiful she was to him right now. Even after the years they had been together, he felt grateful every time he saw her. And on days like today, when she quickly knelt on the floor to ask Mary if she was okay, Ellie looked more beautiful than ever.

“What happened?” she was asking, her voice already heavy with concern. Dave found himself remembering how she’d looked the first time Mary had fallen off her bike – the same fierce maternal instinct that made his heart swell. He raised his phone automatically to capture the moment as Ellie knelt beside them, gathering her daughter close. Even with Ellie in a loose t-shirt and yoga pants, this was the kind of Christmas memory most worth preserving.

“She stepped on one of the pieces from Sam’s crane,” Dave explained as soon as he realised that Mary hadn’t realised the question was for her. “But she’s being very brave about it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ellie murmured. She leaned forward to examine Mary's foot, and Mary pointed to where the injury had been; but it was clear that there was no visible sign of redness now. Ellie still leaned in to kiss it better, and the neckline of her shirt fell open just enough to make Dave's mouth go dry. He quickly looked away, but not before catching the knowing glance she shot him. When she shifted position, the movement was too deliberate to be accidental, shifting her skirt just an inch or two to give him the best possible view of her thigh.

Dave was already looking forward to getting a quiet twenty minutes later, so he could see exactly what his wife wanted to show him without any distractions from the kids. But that impulse only survived a fraction of a second before he remembered that they needed to be innocent today; it wouldn’t be right to traumatise Lily and David, whether you considered those alternate lives real or not. He wanted Ellie almost as much as he loved her, but even for her he didn’t want to be a villain. No matter how hard abstinence was for him.

“I should…” he said abruptly, then paused to consider his options.

“Are you gonna help us build?” Sam asked, excited as ever. He was darting around the room now, for no reason more complex than because he could. “You gotta watch, and do pictures, and make sure Safetyman knows all the rules.”

“Maybe you can teach your Mom how to help Elf and Safetyman?” Dave suggested. “She’d be so excited to learn. And I’ll be back soon, okay?”

The kids nodded reluctantly, but as they saw that he was heading out into the hallway, they quickly turned their attention back to the crane; and to trying to explain mechanisms to Ellie that they didn’t really understand themselves. Dave hurried to the restroom, where he could get a moment to collect his thoughts with neither boisterous children nor an amorous wife demanding his attention. He couldn’t stay in there forever, though. He would have to decide how he was going to deal with this situation. He wanted Christmas to go well, but how could he do that without disappointing his wife? There didn’t seem to be a good option at all.

“I’ll sort out dinner,” he told himself in the mirror. That seemed like a good option; he had been able to see that there was something cooking on the stove as he passed, so he guessed that Ellie had already started cooking. And he was quietly confident that he understood flavours and ingredients well enough to keep an eye on those pans and ensure nothing burned.

“Yeah, dinner,” he whispered to himself. He flushed, and then went back to the kitchen and washed his hand while trying to assess what Ellie had decided to prepare. The smell told him it was likely to be shepherd’s pie, and a quick glance at the mixture bubbling away in the pot confirmed it. A recipe he was familiar with; and a perfect choice when cold breezes were just starting to attempt their annual infiltration of the house.

He closed the kitchen door now, and leaned against it for just a second. He should probably stay out of the lounge as much as possible for the rest of the afternoon. He didn’t want to be tempted by things that would have been natural any day but today. And so he would throw himself into cooking instead, and leave Ellie to look after the kids. Would that be better or worse from the children’s point of view? Dave had no real idea, but his first guess was that it would be a good thing. And the comforting minutiae of food preparation would be perfect for clearing his head as well.

He looked over at the mixture simmering in the pot. Because they were using frozen meat it would have to reduce for a little longer before going into the oven; but he thought that Ellie hadn’t accounted for being distracted by Mary’s injury when she planned the cooking times. The sauce was already looking a little thick, and would certainly need more liquid before the potatoes were ready. He took a clean latte spoon from the drawer and took a spoonful of the mixture to taste; his estimation of the consistency had been right, but it didn’t have as much flavour as he would have hoped. Even the best frozen produce lost something in storage, so adding more water would likely make the meal a little bland.

He opened the window between the kitchen and the conservatory; which seemed to trap enough sun to be almost like a greenhouse in summer. Ellie’s plum tomato plants were just below the window, dormant now there was frost on the ground outside, but with a few fruits still clinging to life. He carefully plucked a dozen off their stems, washed them quickly, and then halved them before tossing them with a few sage leaves, some oregano and white pepper from the spice rack, and a small pinch of ancho flakes into the blender. Dave thought for a second and then added just a splash of milk to help the ingredients combine smoothly, then blitzed it for a second or two before tasting the mixture. It seemed perfect, so he stirred it into the meat mixture before tasting again and turning the heat down by a fraction. That would add all the moisture and flavour it needed, but he made a mental note to test the sauce again before transferring it to the oven.

Once the sauce was warming happily, he turned his attention to the pan of potatoes on the back burner. A cautious stab with a fork revealed that they were soft enough for mashing now. He lifted the pan with a little effort, and tipped the hot water out over the sink. For a moment clouds of steam filled the room, and then the windows went grey. If you didn’t know better, with the Christmas decor making a showing even in the most utilitarian room of the house, you might think they were covered with frost on the outside.

Mashing potatoes was hard work, but almost always worth it. And maybe a simple, physical task was what he needed now to distract him from all the complex questions about the nature of reality and whether or not his alternate should be considered a person. He grated some cheese, and added just a little salt and cream to the mixture. After tasting the potatoes, he decided that a little more would be appropriate, and added some black pepper to give it some character as well. He’d been toning down the heat of his dishes for the sake of young palates over the last few years, but he felt that they were probably ready for a very mild kick by now. And then there was nothing to occupy him for ten minutes but repetitive movements of the masher.

As he worked, he could hear laughter from the lounge. Mary’s voice rose in excitement about something, followed by theatrical groans from Sam and Ellie’s warm chuckle. They sounded like they were having so much fun. Dave smiled to himself as he mashed the potatoes, letting the familiar motions soothe him. This was good. The kids were happy, and he was doing something useful. He definitely didn’t need to think about how beautiful Ellie's laugh was, or how much he wanted to join them. Or how much he wanted to be there to hold her, and to tease her whenever the kids looked away, which she loved so much.

By the time the mash was smooth and fluffy, the smell from the meat was making his mouth water. He stirred it through again, confirming that there were no frozen parts remaining, and then lifted out another spoon to taste it. That brought a smile to his mouth, because it was as good as he could have hoped.

The pie came together quickly after that. He layered the meat mixture in the bottom of the dish, and then covered it with extra-thin slices of the one potato he had removed before mashing. Then came a layer of soft cheese, and he carefully spread all the mashed potato over the top. He used a fork to trace out ridges that would crisp up beautifully in the oven, and then dusted it with a little more grated cheese.

Once it was baking, he realised that there was nothing else to do here. His first instinct was to join his family in the lounge, and he took a step towards the door right away when he heard Ellie’s laugh. But somehow this dish felt a little special. It was Christmas Eve dinner; not constrained by tradition like tomorrow’s was, but something he and Ellie had both worked on to make it perfect. And yet it still seemed like a part of the festivities, or at least a part of the festive season, so he wanted to make it extra special.

After a moment’s thought, he decided that preparing an appetiser would make the meal feel special for the kids; and maybe even introduce them to the idea of ‘posh’ Russian-style dining so that they would know how to behave if they ever wanted to take the family out for dinner somewhere very fancy. A quick glance through the cupboards confirmed his suspicion that they had all the ingredients necessary to make mushroom vol-au-vents. Maybe with a hint of garlic; although he’d have to be careful not to overdo it. A single clove would probably be more than he needed for a small batch.

The more he thought about that idea, the more he liked it. Emulating the restaurants that Ellie had liked so much, and maybe the main thing that she missed now they couldn’t go out so often; and it would be another way to make the season special for the kids, and maybe subtly teach them something at the same time. Yes, it was perfect, and the fact that it would keep him busy in the kitchen for another hour while the pie cooked, rather than sitting next to Ellie on the sofa, didn’t enter into his decision-making process at all.

He reached for a bag of flour, and let the precise movements of baking occupy his mind. From the next room came the sound of Sammy explaining something about his wonderful crane, with Mary interjecting corrections when necessary. He wished that he could hear them properly, but he was sure that they would be just as eager to repeat the explanation after dinner. In fact, it would probably be a few days before he could get through a day without the two of them boasting about their creation; and he couldn’t wait. He could hear Ellie encouraging them as well, and that brought a smile to his face. She always knew just the right things to say to build on their enthusiasm.

The pastry came together quickly in his hands. His fingers knew exactly what they were supposed to do, and for a blessed moment of peace he didn’t need to think at all.

Time was a blur as he tried to judge the ingredients he would need, and then set about mixing all the ingredients. And then he could lose himself in the familiar motions of and rolling pastry, trying to focus only on achieving the perfect thickness. The shepherd’s pie was filling the kitchen with tantalising aromas by that point, and he estimated that he had maybe fifteen minutes before he needed to put them in the oven too. They could be baked at the same temperature of the dinner, but that meant he would need to leave them in for a little longer than usual. He estimated that was easily enough time to finish cutting out and filling all these cases, if he could maintain his concentration.

He was concentrating so well that he didn’t even acknowledge the faint squeak as the door opened. But he felt the presence beside him, and knew right away that it was Ellie. His rolling pin quickly stopped moving, and then her hand came to rest on top of his.

“They almost got the stable put together for the nativity,” she said. “Now the dolls are having a committee meeting to decide if they should start rehearsing for the play, or wait for building to finish. But I don’t think Sammy and Mary have much of an opinion either way, they’re playing both sides.”

“Are they expecting you back soon?” Dave asked, not sure what else to say.

“They’re used to us making dinner,” she said, with a shrug that somehow suggested things not even hinted at by the words. “They’re caught up in their game. We’ve got half an hour to ourselves, at least. I can see you’ve been busy in here, so is there anything I still need to help with? I thought it would have been ready by now.”

“If you can cut the rounds…” Dave started quickly, and then paused while he tried to assess how much Ellie already knew. “I thought we could make it extra fancy. Like Christmas dinner, but without traditions dictating what we have to eat. So I started on an appetiser. Need to get it done quickly, though.”

“It’ll be better to have some help then,” Ellie said, quickly moving to stand right beside him. A little closer than was really necessary, but he didn’t think that should be a problem. They did need to hurry to get this done now. “Show me what you need.”

Dave quickly looked at the pastry he’d been rolling out, and tested its thickness against his finger. They could probably use it as it was, but it would be better to stretch it one more time. He would rather do that himself, because it wasn’t easy to explain in a hurry, and he wasn’t sure how much experience Ellie had working with puff pastry.

“Can you grease a tray while I finish this?” he asked. “Then we can start cutting out rounds.”

Ellie did as he asked, and for a few minutes they stood shoulder to shoulder, working carefully on simple tasks that didn’t ask any questions. When that was done, Ellie lifted out a set of pastry cutters; thinking ahead to make things easier.

Dave showed off the proper technique for cutting out rounds; requiring just a little more care than with most other pastry types. Ellie watched attentively, and then Dave took her hands to show how much force to apply. He could feel her pulse as he held her hands; or maybe that was just his imagination. He found that he didn’t want to let go; but reminded himself that they needed to restrain themselves for a day or two. And that they needed to focus on cooking, if they wanted everything to be ready at the right times.

He reluctantly stepped away, and left Ellie to cut the rounds while he organised the filling. He had already prepared a simple garlic mushroom paste; but he was sure that at least one of the children would object to any new food simply because it was unfamiliar. He knew his children well enough now to predict their responses; and giving them a couple of flavours to choose from would almost certainly ensure that everything was eaten. So he quickly pulled out the smallest skillet to sauté and braise tiny quantities of a few different ingredients. By then, Ellie had finished cutting out all the cases and had moved closer to put his arms around Dave as he worked. Her touch felt so natural that it wasn’t until he drew his attention away from the cooking again that he remembered he was supposed to be keeping his distance.

“We should be good today,” he said, but didn’t move away. Ellie released her grip when he knelt down to slide two trays of canapés into the oven. “I mean… I know anything I do with you is good, but we should be… We should try not to let our impulses get the better of us, while we have the memories of the people we could have been.”

“You think they’re some kind of… multiverse thing?” Ellie asked with a giggle. “Like in those sci-fi movies? I guessed it was just a different kind of world. Like, a genie’s wish. I mean, I can’t imagine there being some point in the past where somebody different winning a war or something means we’re related.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. He hadn’t even thought of that. Everything he could remember about magic from his childhood suggested that the typewriter should have transported them to the nearest world where their wishes could be met; but it was never anything he’d thought about in any depth, so maybe he knew even less than he had thought from a couple of half-remembered childhood lessons. “Anyway, if we want those wishes to work like they hoped, we should enjoy Christmas as best we can. Thinking about it doesn’t help anybody.”

“We should be ourselves,” Ellie said, running one hand up the inside of his thigh.

“Yeah,” Dave nodded, and leaned in for a brief kiss. But he pulled away again as soon as his thoughts caught up with his actions. “I mean… we shouldn’t get too intimate, because that would be shocking for the other us. But aside from that, yeah. Be ourselves, and be there for our kids.”

Ellie didn’t argue, but her movements kept on trying to persuade him. But it was only a minute before Dave remembered that they were in the middle of cooking. He decided on a slightly modified recipe today, pretty sure that it would work effectively. He brushed the cases with egg, added the fillings, and then returned them to the second oven to crisp up. It wasn’t actually turned on, but he thought that the pie cooking right below would provide enough heat to help dry out the little morsels. Most of the fillings were already spooned in; mushroom and garlic, pancetta and caramelised onions, and a few other slightly eccentric variations. Only the spinach and ricotta ones needed to be filled before taking them to the table, so that the cheesy goodness wouldn’t be too hot.

“This is a complicated recipe,” Ellie said. “You haven’t got the same number of each?”

“I guessed,” he said. “Wasn’t sure how many each filling would make. But slightly fewer of the healthy ones; because they’ll probably be seized first by little hands who don’t want to miss out.”

“You know them too well,” she said with a laugh. “So… next step?”

“Fifteen to twenty minutes,” he answered. He noticed that Ellie was already checking the timer on the cooker, although he hadn’t thought to set it. He expected the smell to tell him when everything was ready. “Then we put this stuff in the last few, sprinkle some extra cheese and the remainder of the egg mixture on the top of the pie to help it brown, and serve our appetisers.”

“So…” Ellie purred. “I’ve got you all to myself for fifteen minutes?” Her arms slid around Dave’s waist and she pulled him close against her. The kids’ games were just barely audible from the next room, but Ellie showed no signs of being distracted. When Dave glanced towards the lounge door, she gripped his chin and gently turned his head back towards her, meeting him in a kiss.

His hands knew exactly where they were supposed to be, moving to their usual position on Ellie’s back, and when he felt the warmth of her under his hands Dave knew that this was exactly where he was supposed to be. The kiss deepened, and the flour-coated counter tops and various cooking timers retreated to the back of Dave’s mind. Now there was only Ellie, the heat of her and the taste of her as she pressed hungrily closer. Her hand on his butt left no doubt about her intentions, and made Dave realise where his own hands had wandered. They didn’t need to think now; their instincts could take everything from here.

Dave took a half step forward, pressing Ellie back against the counter. She was soft in his arms, while he was so hard. The little sounds she made as his hands moved over her body gave him all the reassurance he needed that he was doing everything right. It was a perfect moment, and each moment more perfect than the last. His pulse quickened, urging him to move more quickly now, and there was nothing to make him hesitate. Ellie’s hands grasped clumsily to unfasten his belt, and then they embraced again, one of her hands caressing his back inside his tshirt this time. And just when it felt like they couldn’t get any closer, every time, the next heartbeat could make–

“Daaaad!” a voice yelled from the lounge. “Daddy, come look! Safety Elf says you gotta help!”

Ellie and Dave broke apart reluctantly, both breathing hard and trying to recover their composure. The shout might as well have been a bucket of ice water, but in the back of Dave’s mind there was just the faintest voice saying that they could recapture the mood before it got too far away.

He knew he wouldn’t do that, though. The kids had to come first, always. And Ellie was of the same mind, already hurrying back towards the lounge.

“Later,” she shot back over her shoulder, and the intensity of her gaze made it clear there was no space for questions now.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Dave mumbled to himself as he straightened his shirt to follow. He paused to assess whether going to play with the kids now would lead to anything burning in here, and once he was thinking rationally again the thoughts came flooding back. About his intentions to keep his distance today, and to concentrate on just the Christmas traditions that didn’t need to be hidden from young eyes. That had slipped his mind for a moment, but Mary had saved them. Dave hoped that she wouldn’t need to do that again, and then hurried after his wife to make this the best family Christmas possible.

[Kitty Angel]

Wow… half way there. I never expected this story to run to more than novel length.

I keep thinking I should focus more on The Littlest Spy, but it feels wrong to step back from this one before it's finished (probably because it was supposed to be a "short story")

 

Mary, acolyte of Santa

Mary couldn’t stop smiling, even after dinner was over. They'd had two dinners, and she didn’t really understand why. Daddy said it was something you did sometimes for really fancy days, like Christmas Eve, and that kind of made sense. It was good there was two though, because the first one was a bunch of little things that were kind of like mini pies and kind of like biscuits, filled with all kinds of different toppings. She’d started out looking down at the knives and forks next to her plate; there were two there. But she was sure it wasn’t a mistake, because everybody else had two as well. She hadn’t known which one to use, and when she’d started to ask Daddy, she noticed that Sammy was already eating some of his biscuit pie things. Mary didn’t want to let him eat all the good ones before she started, so she snatched a couple of each from the big plate in the middle of the table and ate them with her fingers.

She half expected to get in trouble for not doing it right, but Mommy was eating with her fingers too, so maybe that was okay. And she was probably doing better than Sammy, with a fork in each hand. There were all kinds of different flavours, too, and she wasn’t sure which one she liked the most. And by the time she had reached a final decision, realising that she needed to try them all again, they were already running out. Mary promised herself that next time, she would take more time to work out what the different things tasted like, and which ones she liked the most. She especially wanted to try the white one with green bits in again; and to see if there really was a difference between the different light-brown ones.

“If we take you to a fancy restaurant someday,” Mommy said as Sammy put his forks down, “you start using the knife and fork from the outside. A little fork for a little dinner, and then a bigger fork for a bigger dinner.” That made perfect sense to Mary. She already felt really posh. She was wearing a princess crown and everything, so she could be a princess for one dinner time. It would be good practice.

“Oh!” Sammy said. “What’s for dinner?” He’d already picked up his two knives as Daddy carried the empty plates away. But Mommy decided that wasn’t a good idea, and asked Mary to share one of her forks with him so that he could eat like normal.

The second dinner hadn’t been as interesting, but it had still been really nice. It had been shepherd’s pie, and that wasn’t special because they had it lots of times before, but it was still really nice. It even had the bubbly bits of melted cheese on top, which Mary really liked. Mommy had even teased Daddy a bit, because he didn’t know how to use the kitchen scales and just guessed how much stuff to put in. Mary thought that sounded very silly, but she could believe it because Daddy was never too serious about anything. She said she could teach him how to use the scales if he wanted, and it was only when he said thank you that Mary remembered she didn’t know how it was supposed to work either. It didn’t matter too much though. He must have been a good guesser, because there was exactly the right amount of pie, and everybody finished what was on their plate.

The worst thing that happened at dinner had been when Mary spilled her water. And maybe the best thing had been that Mommy helped her to mop it up with napkins but nobody told her off at all. They said it wasn’t a big deal, which seemed right because it was just water, and they didn’t want to interrupt the fun at Christmas.

After dinner, Mary was just as enthusiastic as Sammy to get back to their crane and stable. Everything was built now, but there were so many more games to play, and she was already wondering whether it would be possible to turn the crane into a spaceship so they could go and meet Santa while he was bringing all the presents. But Sammy wanted the crane to stay a crane for now, and Safetyman and Elf wanted to race climbing to the top.

Daddy wasn’t playing much today. He just sat on his armchair and watched, taking lots of photos. And when Mary noticed, it made her feel even more like a princess. They always had people trying to take pictures of them, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe the newspapers wanted to make sure they got a picture if her crown fell off. So she took extra care not to let it fall, and not to drop her royal magic wand, as she played with all the dolls. Later, when she noticed Daddy giving her a big smile, she tried to wave like a princess as well. She thought that it was a very good, stylish wave. And she hugged Daddy for helping her so much when she was playing; because Mommy kept inviting him to sit with her on the couch, but Daddy thought it was more important to sit where he could see Mary better, and take lots of pictures of her opening the new stable ready for Christmas.

After a while, Daddy stopped taking pictures to get up and close all of the curtains. That only made Mary more excited, reminding her that Santa would be flying around later. When they woke up tomorrow, it would really be Christmas. She could run downstairs to see millions of presents under the tree, not just the few that were there now, and Santa would have brought snow and everything.

“Is Santa coming?” Mary asked, bouncing up and down and trying to stick her head under the curtains as Daddy drew them closed. “Is it time for Santa yet? Can we watch?”

“Not just yet, sunshine,” Daddy answered, and patted her on the head with a little chuckle. “Santa comes later, when all the good children are in bed.”

“Aww, but I wanna see Santa!” Sammy protested.

“We can watch him on TV if you want?” Mommy suggested, and that idea got approval from both of the kids. They quickly bounded over to sit on either side of Mommy on the sofa, so that they could all see the screen. And then they watched a movie about Santa. It was incredible, and it was really complicated. Mary couldn’t really understand the whole story, but she liked the bit when the thieves slipped on all the baubles under the tree, and then fell down. Mary was old enough now to understand some very grown-up things; like it’s okay to laugh at somebody falling over if they’re bad people. And trying to steal Santa’s sleigh was probably the worst kind of stealing ever, to Mary’s view of the world. Almost as bad as trying to steal Christmas.

Some time while they were watching all the flashy magic stuff, and a sleigh racing over the rooftops of Paris, Daddy came down with a big warm blanket for the three of them, and even brought Laurely for Mary to snuggle. It made the movie even better, watching it with a unicorn in her arms. There was hot cocoa as well, to help them sleep Daddy said. But Sammy didn’t need that, because he was asleep way before the movie ended. Mommy and Daddy whispered a bit, and decided that they would carry him to bed when the movie ended, so they didn’t have to wake him up.

Mary didn’t fall asleep. She was too big for that now; and besides, she wanted to wait until Santa came. So she did her best to stay awake, even when the thieves were in prison and the two little kids in the movie got so many presents under their tree that they couldn’t even get in the lounge. Mary wondered if she would have that many presents in the morning, but she didn’t ask Mommy and Daddy about it. She didn’t need that many, anyway. There wouldn’t be room to play with them all, and she hadn’t saved Christmas yet.

“Can I help save Christmas?” she asked, fighting back a yawn. “I wanna do something good for Santa. Can I stay up and see if he comes, so he knows I’m gonna help if anybody tries to steal Christmas?”

“Sssh,” Mommy whispered, and pointed towards Sammy. “Your little brother’s already asleep. You don’t want to disturb him, do you?”

Mary shook her head. She wanted to be good so she would still be on the nice list when Santa came. But she was still extra excited.

“Do you want to hang up your stockings, and leave a treat for Santa?” Daddy asked, and that was a lot easier to answer. Mary wanted to yell, she was so excited. But she knew that waking Sammy up would be naughty. So she tried to laugh quietly, and bounced up and down on the spot instead.

“Yeah, sockings!” she beamed. “Can I do Sammy’s too, if he’s asleep?”

“Can you promise to be good and do it properly?” Mommy asked. “And you have to let him take the presents out in the morning. Can you do that?” Mary opened her mouth to protest about what a good girl she was, but then hesitated and just nodded instead. She might be very little, and very excited, but she still wanted to make sure that everybody had fun. And on top of that, it felt extra special to be trusted with something important like that.

She took the rolled up stocking from Daddy with great ceremony, and then unrolled it and hung it up next to the fireplace, so that Santa would see it when he came down the chimney. And then she hesitated, taking a little step back and contemplating. She was sure that in the movies, kids always had a real fireplace for Santa to come in through, even if they didn’t have a fire in it. But the fireplace here didn’t have a chimney even; there was just a heater on the wall. Daddy had put a picture of a real fire on the TV, but Mary wasn’t sure if Santa could get in without a chimney. She thought about it for a couple of seconds, and then thought she might understand.

“Santa’s magic, right?” she asked.

“He is,” Daddy said with a chuckle, and that was all the answer she needed. It didn’t have to make sense if it was magic.

There were two high table things with some of Grandpa’s sculptures on, a couple of metal dragons looking over the lounge. Normally Mary would get in trouble for even touching them, because they were very expensive dragons. Daddy said they were air loop dragons, which she assumed meant they could do all kinds of fancy flying tricks, but she’d only ever seen them sitting there and looking grumpy. They were scary, anyway. But once a year, on Christmas Eve, Santa’s magic would protect her from getting scolded, even by angry dragons. She walked over to the pedestal on the left and reached up very, very carefully to tuck the top edge of a stocking underneath.

Mary stepped back, looking proud of herself. She’d done it all by herself this year, and she hadn’t even needed anybody to help her.

“Presents!” Sammy’s voice startled Mary, and she almost bumped into the pillar again. “Did Santa come? Did we save the bank?”

“It’s not Christmas yet, champ,” Daddy said. “You fell asleep watching a movie. Remember? Now we’re just putting some treats out for Santa, and then you can go to bed properly.”

“Ohh,” Sammy mumbled, and rubbed his eyes. Then he stood up and asked Daddy for his stocking. Just like Mary, he went and hung it under the dragon closest to his toy box. And then they stood back happily, knowing that the next time they saw those stockings, they would be full of silly little presents, chocolate coins, and bags of nuts.

“And Santa’s snowball!”

That made Mary even more excited. She always thought it was funny that kids in movies sometimes left Santa a glass of milk; like they didn’t know much about Santa. She could still vaguely remember Sammy seeing the word ‘Snowball’ in the supermarket when he was first learning to read, and asking if you can get snowballs in bottles. Daddy had explained that snowball was also the name of a drink; and the pictures of reindeers on the advert were because it’s what Santa drinks to keep him warm. Mary had remembered at Christmas; and every year since then she had insisted on putting out a snowball for Santa, and a slice of carrot cake to share with the reindeer.

“Here we are,” Daddy said with a smile, bringing the bottles through. He was carrying a fancy glass too, one of the fancy sparkly ones that maid rainbows everywhere, normally kept in a cupboard too high for little hands to reach. First he poured out a little tiny bottle with a reindeer on, and then mixed in a big splodge of thick yellow stuff from a big bottle covered in foreign writing, and another little bottle that Daddy just put in a few drops of. He stirred it with a fancy glass stick with a bauble on the end, until it was all mixed properly. By the time that was done, Mommy had already brought the cake, on a little plate with a red and green pattern around the edge. And they’d been doing this for a few years now, so Mary and Sammy remembered what they were supposed to do. They were both looking in their toy boxes, in the little section that held paper and pens and colouring books, for some little letters they had written. Not their Christmas lists; they’d sent those weeks ago. But two little thank you letters for Santa. Mary was extra proud of hers, because she had also written that she hoped he enjoyed the snowball. And that was a very polite, grown-up thing to say.

“Reindeers like carrots,” Sammy said authoritatively, adjusting the position of the little plate with the cake on the coffee table. And nobody could argue with that. “Can we have some cake too?”

“I don’t think you need any so late at night,” Mommy answered. “Aren’t you sleepy already? You’d better get to sleep, so that you can be wide awake to open all your presents in the morning.”

“Do we have to?” Mary asked. She knew that sleep was a good idea, but she also knew that Santa would be coming soon. Maybe if they stayed up just a little longer, they would be able to meet him. And that was a really exciting prospect for Mary. “What if Santa comes?”

“He’s gotta come!” Sammy answered right away. “We got the best treats, and we know he likes snowballs too, so he’s gonna give us the best presents ever!”

“Yes, so you should try to get some sleep while he delivers all your presents,” Mommy answered patiently. And Mary knew that it sounded reasonable, but she wanted to see Santa for herself, just like the kids in that movie. They’d waited up, and then they got to go on a big adventure and stop bad guys using Santa’s sleigh to rob a bank. Mary was sure that things like that didn’t happen in real life, but there were all kinds of adventures that might happen if they got to see Santa.

“Okay,” Mary said, with a smile and a nod. But her mind was still on Santa, and how great it would be to meet him. Or even just to see him arriving, if she could stay awake long enough. So she continued: “I’m not tired yet. Can we stay up a little bit longer?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Sammy mumbled, and then gave in to a yawn. Maybe Mommy would take him to bed, and Mary would get to stay awake a little bit longer because she wasn’t yawning. She did her best to look excited and awake, and it really wasn’t that hard. It was hard to keep from dancing, when she thought about how much fun she would have talking to Santa.

“I think you are, champ,” Daddy said. “Now, why don’t we get you two ready for bed? I’m sure this place will look a whole lot more exciting when you wake up and there’s presents everywhere.”

“But what if Santa comes while we’re asleep?” Mary asked, trying her best to sound reasonable. Her heart was racing with excitement, but she needed Mommy to know that she was thinking about this seriously and not just being childish. She needed to show that she was trying to be grown-up. “We put out his favorite drink and everything. What if he wants to say thank you?”

“Santa can’t come until all the children are asleep,” Mommy reminded her gently. “That’s always been the rule.”

“But I’m bigger now!” Mary bounced on her toes, her crown slipping slightly. “I could be really quiet and just peek a little bit. Please? I promise I won’t disturb him!” She knew that she was starting to whine, but she couldn’t help it. Mommy wasn’t letting her see Santa, and that just wasn’t fair. She was sure now that she wouldn’t be able to trick them, staying up a few more minutes at a time until Santa came. So the only option was to make them understand how important it was.

“You’re still too little to stay up that late,” Daddy said solemnly. “You can get some sleep, and then you’ll be able to play with your toys in the morning.”

“But I’m not tired!” Mary insisted, even as she stifled another yawn. “I want to wait for Santa. Please? Just a little bit longer?”

“Santa won’t come if you’re not in bed like a good girl,” Daddy reminded her gently. “Santa only has presents for the good kids. You know that, don’t you?“

“He will!” Mary insisted. She knew she was close to shouting now, getting more excited as she got more desperate. It was hard to keep still now, but she couldn’t give up. Not when she was so close to getting to meet Santa. She was bouncing on her toes, her crown slipping slightly with the movement as she continued: “But I wanna see him! I’ll be super quiet and hide behind the couch. He won’t mind, he won’t even know I’m here!”

“Santa knows everything,” Mommy said. “He knows when you’re sleeping, and he’ll see if you’re awake. You don’t want to spend a year on the naughty list, do you?”

“That’s not fair!” Mary's voice rose a little. She could feel herself getting worked up, but she couldn't help it. All the feelings were so intense, and she couldn’t just let go of her dream after all the build up. She felt her tiny fists clenching, and desperately tried to think what she could say that Daddy would actually understand. “I’m a big girl now, just like Mommy. I can stay up a bit more! And then if Santa doesn’t come soon, I’ll go to bed, I promise. Please, just a little bit more.”

“Even big girls need their sleep on Christmas Eve,” Mommy tried to explain, but Mary wasn’t listening anymore.

“No!” she stamped her foot, feeling her face get hot. “I don't want to go asleep! I want to see Santa! I’m gonna get up again even if I go to bed.” A moment after those words came out, she knew that she shouldn’t have said them. Even if that was the plan, she didn’t need to tell Mommy and Daddy about it. Maybe she could have sneaked down after, without them seeing. But it was hard to think properly, and she couldn’t hold back the tidal wave of emotions.

Mommy was saying something, but Mary wasn’t listening. She was just too excited, too caught up in the dream of meeting Santa, and too angry that her parents wouldn’t let her have what she needed to much. She knew she was being naughty now, but her chest felt too small to contain the pounding of her heart. She wanted to see Santa so badly she could barely breathe. Her hands were clenched into tight little fists at her sides, and she could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes as she bounced from one fit to another.

“I’ll be good!” she promised, her voice getting higher and wobblier. “I’ll help you do everything tomorrow and and I won’t make any noise and I’ll sit really still and… and…” She was practically jumping up and down now, getting more worked up with each word, and she knew that there was no way this could end now except getting to see Santa. No matter how many times they said ‘no’, she couldn’t listen. “Please please please! I just want to see him! I–”

And then she felt it. A sudden sensation that she hadn’t been expecting, reminding her of all the feelings she’d been ignoring. Her legs were suddenly warm, and she froze mid-bounce, eyes going wide with shock as she looked down to see her dress suddenly clinging to her legs, and the dark mark spreading across the sparkly fabric and the floor around her.

Mary couldn’t believe that it was happening. She was nearly five now! It had been months since she last wet herself, maybe even last year, and she was sure that had just been when she was super excited about something and not paying attention. It couldn’t be happening now, not when she had such important plans for the evening. But overwhelmed by the shock and embarrassment, she didn’t even think to stop. She could only watch as the puddle on the carpet spread, and all her excitement quickly turned to mortification, and she could only wait to see how Mommy would respond.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mommy said softly, and moved towards Mary to hug her. Warm hands and a smile started to make her feel better immediately, and Mary didn’t know what she was supposed to say now. All the fight had gone out of her, and she didn’t even think about her previous tantrum. All that mattered was that Mommy was going to make everything better.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, feeling so small and silly as she watched the wetness ruin her beautiful Christmas dress. “I…”

“It’s okay,” Mommy answered quickly, picking her up without a word. “You were just thinking about Santa, weren’t you? It was too much excitement for a sleepy little girl. Now, how about we get you all cleaned up, and maaaaybe if you’re really good you can have one present a little early. I think you’ve got some nice new reindeer pyjamas that are extra snuggly, would that help you feel better?”

Mary nodded slowly, and buried her face in Mommy’s hair so that she wouldn’t have to look down and see the state of her beautiful dress. Then she heard another voice in the background; the little intake of breath to signal that Sammy was about to speak. Mary closed her eyes tighter now. She was already embarrassed, and she couldn’t take it if her brother was mean about this. But Daddy spoke first, cutting across whatever Sammy had been about to say.

“Can you get yourself ready for bed, champ?” he asked. “So we can all be in bed out of the way before Santa gets here? If you can get yourself ready, I’ll be up to read you a bedroom story as soon as I’ve cleaned up in here. Think you can do that?” Sammy’s response was pure wordless enthusiasm, and the next sound Mary heard was little feet thundering up the stairs.

Mary didn’t say anything as Mommy carried her up the stairs. Her cheeks were still streaked with tears and her heart was racing as fast as ever, but she tried to tell herself that Mommy would make it all better now. They went to Mommy’s room first, where she quickly helped Mary to change out of her wet clothes. Mary started to feel better as soon as the fabric wasn’t clinging to her skin, but her heart sank when she saw the state of the damp velvet; it didn’t look nearly so soft, or so sparkly.

“It’ll be okay once it’s had a wash,” Mommy reassured her, understanding what was bothering Mary with just a glance. “Don’t worry, it’ll be as good as new.” Mary nodded slowly. She still felt a little bad about not wearing her fanciest, christmassiest dress to meet Santa; but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. And she felt a lot better once Mommy draped a thick, fluffy towel around her shoulders.

“Now, princess, do you need a quick bath to help you feel clean?” Mommy asked. “You can if you want, but you have to be really quick and not make any trouble.” Mary nodded, and a smile came back to her face. She could remember doing this before, after every little accident, and she knew that baby wipes were usually good enough to make her clean again. So this was just Mommy’s attempt to make her feel better, but it sounded like a really good idea. And in a way, it was an admission that she was a big girl now, and Mommy knew that she would be embarrassed.

Mary nodded, and hopped down from the bed. She walked towards the door on her own, and didn’t need any help at all. Mommy came right after her, holding the door open, and paused just a little bit to pick something up from her dressing table. Stepping out onto the landing, Mary was surprised to see Daddy coming up the stairs. She probably could have heard him on the steps, but she hadn’t been paying much attention.

“Hi princess. Feeling better now?” he asked, and as soon as she gave a tentative nod, he turned back to Mommy. “Thought I should probably put the washing machine on. We don’t want stuff to pile up over the holidays, right? I’ll do that while you get Mary ready for bed, we’ll see if little man can manage pyjamas by himself, and then I’ll read to them.”

“I don’t think they’ll stay awake for a whole chapter tonight,” Mommy said with a little smirk. “Thank you. Oh, and I think you should have this. It’s suitably festive for Santa once the kids are asleep.” She handed over the thing she had just picked up; she must have heard Daddy coming upstairs and decided to give him a present early. But the mention of Santa made Mary give it her full attention; was Daddy actually going to talk to him, after telling Mary that she wasn’t allowed to?

Mary looked closer, and she could see a couple of leaves on the thing. She thought for a second, and then she understood. It was on a kind of strap that looked like a belt, but when she thought about it in a different way it could be a kind of headband. It was a piece of mistletoe, so you could put it on your head to let people know you want a kiss! That was such a cute idea, and Mary wondered if Santa even needed something like that. Or maybe it was for Daddy, some kind of joke that Mary didn’t really understand. Had he said that Mommy didn’t kiss him enough? Mary felt like she should almost be able to understand that, but she didn’t want to think about it too much now. It wasn’t her business.

“Thanks,” Daddy said with a smile, but he didn’t reach out his hand. “But I don’t think I need that. Not now, anyways. I thought I’d better sleep in the spare room tonight, yeah? With all the magic stuff, so I can deal with any help the kids need overnight without disturbing you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Mommy said, but she even sounded a little grumpy. Mary didn’t understand, and she tried to think more. But all she could think of was that Daddy was being super sweet and romantic, trying to make sure that Mommy got a good sleep without anybody bothering her. And Mary knew that even when she was trying to be good, it was hard to avoid causing problems. So Daddy was being super nice… why wasn’t Mommy really happy about that?

She kept on thinking about that while Daddy took the laundry hamper downstairs, and while Mommy gave her a quick bath. At least until the warm water turned super relaxing, and Mary didn’t even need to play with the duckies anymore because they were so happy just swimming there. She didn’t get her hair washed today; Mommy tried extra hard to keep it out of the water. But Mary was clean again, and Mommy snuggled her up in the thick, fluffy towels before wrapping her up in new fluffy pyjamas that were almost as thick.

Mommy offered to carry her back to her room, but Mary could walk on her own. She was feeling a lot more cheerful now, and had almost forgotten her earlier embarrassment. Daddy must have been waiting for them, because he appeared at the door while Mary was still pulling the covers up around her.

“Ready for your bedtime story?” he asked, lifting the big story book down from the shelf. Sammy perked up instantly, and Mary gave a big smile. Bedtime stories were wonderful, and it was even better if she could remember them, so she could correct Daddy when he said the wrong word. Even if it happened every day, this was a moment to look forward to.

“Can we have one with robots?” Sammy asked. Mary already knew all the stories in the big book, because Daddy had read it to them a lot of times, and she knew there weren’t any robots. But maybe Daddy would make one of the maids a robot or something, and that would be enough.

“How about the one with the caterpillar?” Mary asked, but she didn’t know if Daddy would have heard the last word, as a yawn made it too hard to talk at all. But he must have understood, because he sat down on the little wobbly chair between the beds, and opened the book on his lap.

Mary lay back to listen, immediately surprised by how soft and comfortable the pillow was under her head. She yawned again, and lay back. Warm and clean and safe, she felt so good now. She decided that she was still going to try to wake up again later, so she could watch Santa drinking his snowball. But for now she would listen to the story, and pretend to sleep.

“Lawrence wants a kiss good night,” Sammy piped up, holding up a threadbare teddy who had shared a bed with him for as long as Mary could remember. Daddy put the book down with a smile, and moved closer to give snuggles to both Sammy and the teddy. When he came to her bed, Mary held out Laurely for a kiss good night as well. Daddy snuggled the unicorn, then patted Mary’s head and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. It made her feel so safe.

“Okay, story now,” Daddy said, with just a little bit of firmness in his voice. “No more distractions, okay?” Mary nodded, as much as she could with her head heavy against her pillow. She wasn’t going to make a sound; she fully intended to let Daddy think she was asleep once the story finished, so nobody would be mean and stop her going to watch Santa once Mommy and Daddy were in bed. She had to be quiet and listen, and not make a sound now. And tomorrow, she would be such a good girl that they wouldn’t suspect a thing.

She heard the rustle of pages, and couldn’t help smiling. Her plan was flawless this time. But when Daddy carefully enunciated the first words of the story, Mary wasn’t paying too much attention to whether he had picked the story that she asked for. Her eyes were already closed, and her mind wandering through a dreamland filled with reindeer unicorns, Christmas elves, and magical presents.

[Kitty Angel]

Well… I didn't finish the story like I'd hoped this year, but I can add a few more chapters and see how far that takes me… Merry Christmas!

 

Act 3: A Child is Born

Dave, a responsible father

The first thing Dave felt as he woke was that everything was perfect in his world. There was no alarm blaring now, just Ellie’s soft breath beside him. She was beautiful; and any time he woke before her, the day started with a sense of bliss at how everything was right in his world. They had been born into such different worlds, but he had been lucky enough to meet the one woman who could make his life feel complete.

His fingertips moved instinctively to her shoulder blades; touching gently so that she wouldn’t wake yet. He could trace gentle circles on her skin, wake her slowly, and by the time her eyes opened there would only be one thought on either of their minds. It was a ritual that had played out so many mornings in the past, and Dave knew it was always a thing of beauty. He shivered with anticipation, wondering where exactly instincts would lead his fingers today. They had already started to crawl down her back a little, marvelling at how she could maintain such perfect muscle tone. In the back of his mind, an idle voice started to wonder whether she was sleeping naked tonight; he could see that her shoulders were bare, but the duvet that encased them both hid the rest of her body. He didn’t remember what she had been wearing when they went to bed, but he was sure that it would be a pleasant surprise either way.

It would be so easy to just lose himself at the moment, because some detail was ticking at his memory now, trying to get him to realise that everything wasn’t as it seemed. If he was in bed before Ellie, he would always watch her change. So why didn’t he remember getting into bed last night? There was something that just didn’t add up, and in his half-asleep state he couldn’t put his finger on it. He told himself it couldn’t be that important; that his wife would be just as happy for his fingers to stay on her skin. But then the memory came to him, things that had happened the night before and things that couldn’t have.

He didn’t remember seeing her change because he had gone to bed in the box room. Or the spare room, he thought. He remembered that it had been his room when he was younger, and that it had barely changed since he left home. But he also knew that last night, it had been a tiny room with just a bed and a desk, which they had never bothered to decorate. His mind still foggy with sleep, it took Dave a little while to put the pieces together. But then he remembered yesterday, and everything snapped into place. He had two sets of memories in his head; David’s and his own. And in the moment of confusion just after waking, it had been easy to get confused between the two. He had tried so hard to stay away from magic, and to keep the supernatural out of his family’s lives as much as he was permitted. But it had a way of sneaking back in; and now it seemed that a simple human construct had succeeded in changing his life where all his grandfather’s attempts at trickery had failed.

There was an enchanted typewriter, he knew. A part of him expected it to be sitting on the desk in Lily’s room… in this room, the master bedroom. It had changed everything, and was still making changes. The day before, he had easily been able to analyse the magic and to read through David’s memories like a book. But now, he could see two different sets of thoughts leading to the same moment, and he could feel David’s emotions in the back of his mind. Although his own studies had never included human magic, he felt that he understood the spell well enough. The typewriter had to be nearby; there always had to be a clause allowing him to escape the spell if he chose to take it. But David had no idea where it might be other than right here, and Dave had never even seen it.

He blinked. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, but he was sure that giving in to his instincts would be some kind of trauma for David and for Lily. So he had to stop himself now, and maybe the safest way to do that would be to let David’s instincts guide his body for a while. And as much as he had hated those lessons when he was younger, how much he would always hate his father for the way he had been treated, he knew his own mind well enough to find where David’s thoughts were cowering. It felt like two parallel worlds were colliding, and maybe the safest way to navigate that would be for Dave and David to work together, just for today.

David shook his head, and tried to make sense of all the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. Memories of a life that wasn’t his own were mixed in with abstract equations and speculations about the theory and practice of several schools of magic. He remembered so clearly going to bed in the spare room last night, in a box room that had none of the decor remaining from his childhood. But he had woken up in Lily’s room, her body so enticingly close to his fingertips. He was… He was David, he was Dave, he was a confused mass of memories. The wish, he thought. The typewriter. They were living out some fantasy story that Sammy had created for them, where he and Lily had become the parents, and now everything was different. It felt so natural, though. For minutes after waking, he had seen the world through Dave’s eyes, stroking his wife as she slowly drifted back to wakefulness, and thinking about all the things he wanted to do for her. It felt so natural, so real, like Dave was a real person in his own right.

After a long pause, he removed his hand from the small of Ellie’s back – Lily’s back, he reminded himself. This was his sister, no matter how much Dave’s perceptions wanted to insist she was his wife. She let out a little sigh, maybe disappointed that he didn’t go further. Ellie would have found that odd, he was sure. She was never shy to admit to physical desires, and he never wanted her to go unsatisfied. But Lily would have been just as disturbed to wake with him touching her in the first place, and while she was still sleeping there was no way for David to guess which identity would come out on top when they awoke. Keeping things innocent while the spell lasted was only natural; so why was it so hard?

David turned and rolled out of bed, and Ellie still didn’t seem to wake. He hoped that when she did open her eyes, whoever she was today, she would remember that he’d been sleeping in the box room and never think he had been here.

He let out a quiet sigh, trying to disentangle his heart from the threads of magic that wrapped so tightly around it. Everything felt so genuine, so wonderfully complete, and he was frightened by how much he wanted it all. The idea of returning to his old life, his old pains, was a spectre he couldn't ignore, no matter how vividly the present shone. He feared the cost of happiness was too high, yet the temptation was so great he didn't know how long he could hold back. It was hard to separate his own mind from Dave’s memories, and the feelings that would have been so important if this was all real. But even if Ellie didn’t look so much like Lily, he was sure that she was still his sister. His stepsister, maybe. A different hair colour didn’t make her a different person, and it seemed the burden was all on him to remember what was true.

The more he thought about it, the more tangled his feelings became. Joy. Guilt. Love. Doubt. They all jostled for position, refusing to line up neatly for long enough to let him catch his breath. It wasn’t just confusion about the nature of the magic; wondering what kind of spell could move him to a different room, redecorate the house, and change all of their memories. He was just as confused about how Lily’s hair had changed colour, while he looked almost the same, and the kids seemed to have lost sixty years. It was like the rules were different for each of them, but that was just a distraction, while the real quandary was how he was supposed to feel about this, and how he actually felt.

With a titanic effort of will, he managed to get to the bedroom door and slipped out into the hallway. Now, perhaps, he could focus on the intellectual problems, without having to confront love and lust at every turn.

Should he go back in there? He wanted to, he knew that, and Ellie had made no secret that she wanted to step away from her real life and enjoy this fantasy while it lasted. Was he being selfish by clinging to the rules of his own life, when it seemed to be only him that cared? But as that thought crossed his mind like the crest on a whole new wave of indecision, it made him think about the children as well. About Sammy, confused and scared, and Mary adapting to her return to childhood. Did they know? He couldn’t remember clearly who he had talked about this with yesterday.

But his love for the children was as strong as his feelings for his wife; a very different kind of love, but he knew that he couldn’t hurt them. And he couldn’t not be there if they needed him; so he decided that he needed to check on both of them before he even considered returning to Lily’s room.

There was no doubt in his mind. He moved quickly over to the door to the kids’ room, and pushed it open. The door whispered softly on thick carpet, and his steps were muffled by the thick pile. It was just like walking on plush, but he could see that there were already areas starting to wear down from the children’s constant play.

In the predawn light, he could see two faces sleeping peacefully. In an hour or two, he was sure that they would be tearing through the house like twin tornadoes, tearing through giftwrap in a frenzied desperation to open the coolest things first. But now they were little angels, lost in dreamland and probably not even aware that it was Christmas Day. They would figure it out quickly when they awoke, even if they didn’t remember right away.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, David noticed something amiss with Mary’s bed. The way she was curled up, pushed to one edge of the mattress, told a familiar story. He lifted the edge of her fairy-patterned blanket and wasn’t surprised to see a dark patch spreading across the sheets. Mary had wet the bed again. David sighed; not frustrated but just wishing he had made better plans to deal with this situation. While accidents like this had been rarer this year, he knew that he should have expected that the excitement of Christmas coupled with a more erratic sleep cycle would have made some difference.

He could have woken her, and rushed her to get cleaned up before Sammy could notice. The boy had started to take some pleasure in embarrassing his sister lately, and this really wasn’t the time for any bad blood. But it was easy to guess that Mary would be louder than she needed to be when she discovered herself lying in a puddle, so any kind of secrecy was unlikely. Unless he could manage to change the bed without waking either of the kids, which seemed kind of unlikely. Still, he knew that he had to try.

David drifted silently across the room, his bare feet finding the safe spots between scattered toys with practiced ease. He opened Mary's dresser drawer, extracting fresh sheets and a clean pair of pyjamas – the backup Christmas ones with little snowmen that she loved almost as much as the reindeer set she was wearing. His movements were automatic, muscle memory from countless similar mornings. Then he left everything he had gathered in a small pile next to Mary’s bed, and moved stealthily out of the room again. He quickly gathered wipes and towels from the bathroom, and then returned. Luck must be with him today, because there was still no sign that the children were waking.

He pulled back Mary’s blankets, being careful not to disturb her. One blanket had a wet patch; but the duvet cover seemed clear. That would make it easier. He folded it over and laid it on the battered recliner in the corner; so he had somewhere to carry Mary over to while he changed the sheets. But he would have to get Mary herself clean first, and that was the part most likely to wake her. He thought for a moment, then gently lifted her legs into the air and tugged at the waistband of her pyjamas. Soaked garments quickly piled up on top of the sheet on the floor. He cleaned Mary up with baby wipes as best he could, and then sat her on a thick towel. And with a single graceful movement, he lifted her over to the chair.

Thankfully, there was still a mattress protector on the bed. Once the sheets were all bundled up in the centre, Dave could put the wet blanket and pyjamas in the middle, and bundle the whole thing up with no further spillages. Then he quickly stretched out new sheets, and the bed looked as good as new. Next, he lifted Mary again and carried her back to her bed. He was holding his breath the whole time, sure that she would wake at any moment. The bed was clean now, but she would still be embarrassed to realise that she’d had an accident, and that wasn’t a good way to start Christmas Day for any child. But somehow, this time, luck seemed to be on his side.

Once he panicked for a fraction of a second as Mary’s left arm reached out and flailed around in the air, but she didn’t seem to be aware of where she was reaching. Dave took half a step back, feeling carefully for the edge of the rug underfoot so that he didn’t step on it, and somehow Mary managed not to dislodge her mushroom-shaped bedside lamp. As she continued to move, he bent his knees and grabbed blindly towards the soft toys atop the toy chest. His arm came back holding a fuzzy creature that might just have been a duck, if ducks had stubby little legs and no wings to speak of. He remembered winning it as a prize on some fairground game; where the label had described it as a Google, although Ellie had said she thought it was supposed to be a platypus. Regardless of the yellow creature’s ancestry, it was a memory now. One precious moment with his children among so many. But right now, as soon as the creature was placed where Mary’s arm would catch it, she pulled it close and buried her face is the downy fur. That was all Dave needed, something to calm her down. So he set her on the bed, still hugging the strange creature, and seemed perfectly happy to return to sleep as her father pulled the sheets up over her.

Satisfied with a job well done, Dave turned around and picked up the bundle of soaked sheets, pyjamas, and towels. He would have to put the washing machine on now, but that wasn’t exactly a new experience. He wondered again about asking Mary to wear some kind of protection overnight, but he didn’t want to disturb her. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed at all today, because this needed to be a special day for the kids. Tomorrow, maybe, he would find a quiet moment to ask her.

But today, all that mattered was that the kids were happy and ready for the big day. That was all any father could hope for, so he picked up the bundle of laundry and tried to focus on all the chores he needed to do before his family awoke.

[Kitty Angel]

Sammy, a kid at christmas

Sammy instinctively pulled the blankets tighter around himself as he awoke. They were his new ones, he was sure, the ones with the dinosaurs on. He could tell because the blankets still felt new and fleecy, and extra nice to touch. He didn’t think about much else, but he could hear movement in the room, and that quickly aroused his curiosity. He buried his face into the blankets before sneakily opening one eye, so that it wouldn’t be too obvious he was awake. Sammy was really good about being sneaky, and thought he might be a spy someday.

He didn’t see anything particularly interesting today. Just Daddy standing by Mary’s bed and helping her into clean pyjamas. Sammy was still half asleep, but it only took him a couple of seconds to figure out that his sister must have wet the bed again. And she kept on saying he was her little brother, and she was the grown up one. He wanted to laugh, and point out that she was the baby now, but before he could open his mouth he noticed her flopping around like a ragdoll in Daddy’s arms, and waving her arms like she didn’t even know where she was.

Mary was still asleep. And Daddy was trying extra hard not to wake her, so if Sammy was loud that would make Daddy angry. His mind raced as he tried to work out if that was worth it, but then another thought came to him. He looked up at the little knitted elf sitting by his bedside, on two wooden blocks. The blocks had numbers painted on, one red and one green, and Daddy had helped him to turn them over to the right number every day in case that helped him to learn the order the numbers come in when you’re counting down. But today’s numbers were extra easy to read, because both blocks had a big circle on their front side.

00. No days until Christmas. That meant it was today, and Christmas was one day that Sammy especially didn’t want to be in trouble. He wanted to be extra good today, but he wanted to go downstairs and open his presents already. He didn’t care what time it was, he still wasn’t awake enough to read the clock this early in the morning. But he knew that he didn’t want to upset Mary, so he rolled forward and tried to get out of bed. Only to be stopped by the rails on the side of the bed, holding him in like crib bars.

Sammy pouted, and then tried to tell himself that this wasn’t a big setback. He shouldn’t be angry, and he didn’t want to be in trouble. But it seemed so unfair that he was trapped behind bars. Why did he have to be stuck in his bed like a baby, when Mary was the one who had wet the bed?

“Mary’s a baby,” he mumbled, but quiet enough so that she wouldn’t hear if she was still asleep. “Little baby. She should be the one with bars.”

“Hey, champ,” Daddy whispered. He’d been right at the door, about to leave the kids’ room, but Sammy’s words had apparently been loud enough to bring him back. “Can you keep it down? It’s too early to be awake yet.”

“But… but…” Sammy stammered, knowing that he should just give up, but not able to bottle up the confusing mix of emotions inside him. “Why do I gotta have bars, when she’s the one who’s a baby? I should be the big brother!”

Daddy glanced around the room, maybe he was looking for something to help him make a decision.

“You’re both three,” Daddy said. “Mary has a mattress protector because she still has little accidents sometimes. And you’ve got rails on your bed because you might roll out of bed sometimes. It’s just to keep you safe. Okay? So can you be a good boy and keep quiet until it’s time to get up? And don’t upset your sister, because it’s an extra special day today, and you need to be extra good.”

“But I’m awake!” Sammy said, suddenly sitting up. “I don’t need bars when I’m awake. And… and… I’m good tho, I won’t laugh at Mary until she’s awake.”

“That’s not what I said, champ,” Daddy said. “I said, we’re not going to upset her. You have to be nice today, or the Yule Cat will come and take you away. Do you think you can be good, hmm? I don’t want you to hurt your sister’s feelings at all today.”

“Ummm…” Sammy mumbled, already thinking about all the different fairy stories Daddy had told. The different tales ran together in his head, but he thought that the Yule Cat was one of many elves who lived with Santa at his icy Fortress of Solitude in North Poland, and came to eat children who didn’t say thank you for their new socks. Maybe he didn’t have all the details right, but he knew enough to be nervous when Daddy talked about scary creatures. Still, he was embarrassed about the rails on his bed, and he really wanted a chance to tease his sister just so he wouldn’t feel like the little one. “Can I laugh at her until she wakes up, so she won’t hear me?”

Daddy gave him a long stare then, and Sammy wondered if he was going to get in a lot of trouble anyway. Would Daddy set the elves on him? Or even worse, invite Grandfather to visit? But then Daddy’s face broke into a smile, as if he was laughing on the inside as well.

“So long as you don’t wake her up,” Daddy whispered. “And you don’t say anything while she’s awake. If you can promise, really promise, not to be mean to your sister all day, then maybe you can get up a little early. Okay?”

“I promise,” Sammy said solemnly, putting his left hand over his heart like it was the most important thing in the world. It wasn’t until Daddy turned his head to look at Mary again that Sam realised he had spoken too loudly when he was trying to be all serious. But she was still snuggling her teddy duck, and she didn’t look like she was going to wake up. Sammy froze for a moment, and then hissed “Sorry!”

They didn’t say anything else. Daddy helped Sammy out of his bed, and then held out his fancy dressing gown to put on over his pyjamas. That made the day extra-special, even more than it already was, because he didn’t have to get dressed before he could get up. Of course, he looked kind of smart anyway. The dressing gown was printed with a picture of a kind of suit, so that it looked like he was wearing all his posh clothes even with his pyjamas underneath. Sammy giggled, but did his best to keep silent, as they walked out of the bedroom and Daddy closed the door behind them without making any noise at all.

He started down the stairs, putting one leg at one side of the staircase and one at the other. He thought the bits where the floor squeaked were all somewhere in the middle, so this way he could be really quiet. Behind him, Daddy walked exactly the same way, and that made Sammy super proud. He was doing something right, keeping super quiet like a spy so he didn’t wake Mary or Mommy.

This morning was shaping up to be the best day ever. Sammy knew that he was bigger than Mary today, and that made him feel good. He could see all the decorations as they came out onto the landing, reminding him that it was Christmas. He was allowed to get up early, when normally only Mummy and Daddy were awake, and he would be the first to go downstairs, even if it was just so that he wouldn’t wake up Mary. And he would be the first to see…

His eyes widened as he rounded the corner in the middle of the staircase and caught sight of the faintest suggestion of foil and glitter where the lounge door wasn’t fully closed. He realised that Santa must have been. Santa! The thought drove everything out of his mind. Presents! Real Christmas presents, from Mummy and Daddy and from Santa too! Sammy froze for a heartbeat, and then bounded down to the lounge as fast as his legs would carry him.

“No running on the stairs, Sam,” Daddy called after him, but by then he was already off the stairs and pushing the lounge door open. There were presents everywhere, even more than there had been yesterday. Sammy ran around trying to decide which present to open first. There was shiny paper like metal, and paper with tiny santas printed on it, and paper with stars. He wanted to start with the biggest gift, but it was hard to know which one was really the biggest. Some of them were hidden behind the bottom of the big tree, after all, and most of the really big ones had other presents on top of them. And then there were presents in long thin tubes, and some leaning against the walls. Which one of those was going to have the biggest present in it? He ran over to one of the piles and started moving boxes, trying to get to the big one underneath.

“Hey, calm down, champ,” Daddy said from the doorway, and then came a little closer. “You can’t just start opening things. You have to check which ones are yours first.”

Sammy paused, and reluctantly released the ribbon that his little fist had just closed around. He knew that Daddy was right; he could remember the chaos when Lily had sneaked downstairs to make an early start on her presents. And as soon as that image appeared in his mind, Sammy could remember how it felt to be a proud parent, giving thanks to the peculiarities of fortune that had given him such amazing children.

He was only three, surely that wasn’t old enough to have children. But as soon as his mind drifted in the right direction, he could remember being an old man. Yes; he had written this story using Venturus’s Typewriter, one of the last magical items in his collection. Today was all a fantasy, a way the world could have been different. But this was more different than any wish he had ever imagined. He had somehow made himself a child again. It was reassuring to know that it was only for a couple of days, but at the same time Sammy knew that he could spend forever playing with all these new toys. It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

He had to make a story about this, he knew. His best books, the ones that everybody had loved, were the ones that were based on true experiences in the world of magic. So he had to be sure he paid attention to everything going on around him, and all the fun his whole family were having, so that he could write the story really well when it was all over. That would be another good memory, wouldn’t it? A way to keep on living the dream when he was back to being an old man whose children were away from home for most of the year.

He had written so many books when the kids were younger; chronicling their childhood adventures. But none of those fantastical voyages had ever transformed him into a child again, so this one would be a little different from most. He thought that he would have to remember how it felt, because telling the story from a different point of view was always the hardest part. But aside from that, he hoped that this would turn out to be fun for everyone. He wondered whether he should try to act like a little angel; or like the devil he was sure was hiding deep in Sammy’s heart. He didn’t know which would be more interesting, but as his eyes danced over the pile of presents again he started to realise that it might not really be his choice.

The gifts were so sparkly, and Sammy’s curiosity was almost bigger than he was. He needed to know what was in them all, and it would be so hard if he had to wait. But he could remember that Daddy – Dave – Daddy had told him to slow down. Could he do that? He didn’t know, but he had to try if he wasn’t going to get in trouble with Santa, or Grandpa.

He picked up one present, a short tube shape wrapped in gold with a green ribbon around it. And he tried to read the label, but he wasn’t quite sure what the letters were. When he tried to slow down and read them one by one, he found it hard to wait. And before he could do something very silly, he held it out to Daddy instead.

“Is this one…” he mumbled.

“To Sammy,” Daddy read. “From Dan and Peggy. Do you remember them, Sammy? They’ve got the big garden down the street, with the apple tree.”

“Yeah!” Sammy said, but there was no time for any more thoughts before he snatched the gift back and tore through the paper, pulling at every bit he could reach and using his teeth when he didn’t have enough hands. There was no time for thinking now, Sammy was having too much fun. And for a couple of minutes at least, Sammy wasn’t looking at anything except the tube in front of him.

The tube turned out to be a tube on the inside as well. It was shiny and red, like it was wrapped up in more of the wrapping paper, but this one didn’t seem to come off. And when he looked through the hole in one end, it was like looking into a completely different world. There were stars, and sparkles, and all kinds of shiny things he didn’t have words for. And when Daddy showed him how to twist one end of the toy, all the patterns changed. He couldn’t even get back to the first one, but there were already more patterns than he could count. And every little twist just made more, faster than he could think about them. It was amazing.

“Hey, champ?” Daddy’s voice cut into his play, but it wasn’t until he felt a tap on his shoulder that Sammy put the kaleidoscope down. He turned his head and saw a green plate with high sides on the carpet beside him; and on top of the plate were two cookies. One of them was all green, and looked like a Christmas tree, and the other was normal cookie coloured but it had horns like a reindeer.

“Thought you might like some breakfast,” Daddy explained. Sammy’s eyes widened; this was something really special, having breakfast in the lounge instead of being lifted up to the big table in the dining room. Christmas really was a magical time.

He paused for several seconds, not sure which cookie to pick up. But then he realised that he didn’t have to choose, because he had two hands. He quickly grabbed one cookie in each, and then raised one to his mouth to take a bite. They were really nice, just a little bit sweet, but with some other flavours that Sammy didn’t recognise. He looked down at his hands for a second, and saw that the one with the bite mark in it was the Christmas tree one. He wondered if that was what trees tasted like, but he didn’t think so because it didn’t taste green at all.

He stopped, thinking about that for a couple of seconds, but then he decided that it didn’t matter. He took another bite from one of the cookies, and then went back to opening his presents. Of course, picking up a glittery box made him drop one of his cookies, and that made him hesitate for a couple of seconds. Did he want to eat cookies, or open presents? He really couldn’t imagine giving up on either of those. But then he saw Daddy’s hands at the edge of his vision, moving the dropped cookie back to its plate, and he told himself that it didn’t matter that much after all. He could carry on eating it later.

The next box to open was a big gold one. He shook it for a couple of minutes, and listened to the noise it made. Maybe he could guess what was in this one? But he didn’t really know. There was something thumping around in there, but it didn’t move much. He didn’t have any ideas, and he turned towards Daddy in case he might get some kind of clue.

“‘From Uncle Brandon, to Sammy,’” Daddy read. “‘Will you become a big man like your Daddy?’ I don’t think I’m that big, am I?” He gave a little chuckle, but Sammy didn’t quite know why, so he settled for laughing too for a second. He was sure there was something funny, even if he didn’t know what it was.

“You’re not big,” Sammy said, shaking his head fast from side to side. “Not big like Santa, or Mr Brandon.” And that got an even bigger laugh out of Daddy, so Sammy smiled. He was just glad that he could make everybody around him happy too. Then he turned back to the present. Daddy had said it was for him, so he didn’t have to wait at all before he opened it. He grabbed at a flap of paper on one side, in between little bits of tape, and cookie crumbs went flying everywhere as he tried to pull on it. But the paper held together, so Sammy had to change his grip and pull even harder. He knew he could do this, and he didn’t need anybody’s help.

Sammy just focused on the present, and on the crinkly yellow paper that was way stronger than it needed to be. He wasn’t looking at anything else around him, just tugging on every bit he could reach until a piece of tape finally came off with a loud snap. He didn’t notice Daddy darting around to gather up the surviving pieces of cookie; he barely even noticed that he had started using his feet as well as his hands when he tried to attack his present. But when the paper was loose and he could start ripping bits off, he paused to look at the present inside.

It was a toolbox! It was orange and green, according to the picture on the box, and it had a big handle on the top, and there were all kinds of drills and screwdrivers and things Sammy didn’t even know the name of. The box showed a cartoon builder too, with even more tools on his belt and a hard hat and everything, but Sammy didn’t think he would be in the box. He looked almost but not quite like Handyman John, from one of the cartoons that Mary liked to watch when it was her turn to choose. Sammy wondered for a second, but then he went back to trying to work out what was really inside. He rolled it over and over on the carpet, pulling at the edges and wondering which side would come open first.

Finally the box burst open and spilled pieces across the carpet. There were millions of building blocks in there, more than Sammy could count, and they all had lumpy bits that kind of looked like screws. And then there was the workbench, as well. It was just big enough to put one of the blocks underneath, and it had a kind of clamp thing to hold one on top, as well as the weird screw things sticking out on the sides.

Sammy stacked up some of the brightly coloured plastic blocks, but then his attention was captured by one piece that was a different colour. There was a long thing, bright yellow with black stripes, and when Sammy picked it up he realised that it was a wrench. He searched for other yellow and black things, and found a screwdriver as well. And then he had to try them. It didn’t take him long to realise that his building blocks would lock together if he turned the screws with one of his new tools, and he didn’t even need a grown-up to show him that.

For a moment he tried looking through the book of instructions that came with the set. It had lots of pictures showing which blocks would fit together to make different shapes, but they were all too complex for Sammy. First, he decided he was going to make the biggest tower he could, bigger even than Mary’s Christmas crane thing. So he lay on the floor screwing different blocks together, and when one wouldn’t stay he just tried it a different way around. He was so caught up in playing with his new toy that he didn’t even notice when Daddy left the room. He didn’t think about anything at all apart from how the blocks clicked together. And he was sure that with such a fancy, grown-up toy he would be able to show his family that he was still a big boy really.