SANTA LIVES - BY ANTHONY HEDGER *(published)*

SANTA LIVES
BY ANTHONY HEDGER

“Look Roy, there’s no such person as Santa.”
“Is too.” Roy shouted at his older brother. “He left us presents two years ago.”
“Nonsense, that was only dad, dressed up in a red suit.”
“You’re lying, John. It wasn’t dad at all.”
“When are you going to grow up and realise that Santa is just a myth and Christmas is just a huge con to get people like us to part with money we haven’t got?”
“Oh, shut up you two.” Their sister Caroline shouted. “Can’t you see I’m busy writing out my Christmas list?”
“Not you as well?” John asked. “You’re a bit late with your list, Christmas is tomorrow and you won’t get anything this year now that dad has gone away.”
“You hush your mouth, John. Just because you are 15 and a non-believer, don’t you ruin it for Roy and me? Santa is real; he probably was too busy and just forgot us last year.”
“Yeah, John, he forgot us.” Roy said copying his sister then hid behind her back.
“What a load of rot, if Santa was real he wouldn’t have forgotten us. It was only dad dressed up in a stupid red suit.”
“Now you’ve made Roy cry. Why don’t you just go away and fix your precious bikes that you love so much, better still, go and help mum in the kitchen.”
John left the bedroom, he knew better than to push the issue with Caroline. She was 10 but acted 16. Roy was just 5 and being the youngest, had been spoilt rotten by his father when he was alive.
“It’s all right, Roy.” Caroline said. “He’s gone now. We both know Santa lives, and is going to call on us tonight, don’t we?”
“For sure, he will.” Roy sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“That’s better. Now dry those eyes and get yourself into bed. I’ll bring you up some supper in a few minutes.” Caroline left her brother with his back propped up against his pillow sobbing slightly while looking through a comic book.
“What’s for supper, mum?” She asked as she entered the kitchen.
“Well, Caroline.” Mrs Smith said. “You’ll have to make do with bread and jam.”
“That’s all right.” She said smiling. “I’ll make the sandwiches and take a couple up to Roy if you like?”
“There’s a good girl. I wish your older brother was more helpful like you.”
“I do what I can, mum.” John said. “It’s just so un-cool to do house work.”
“I’ll take your word for that, John.” Mrs Smith said. “So, I gather you’ve finished your paper-round for a while?”
“Yeah, two measly days off, the way I feel I could do with a week.”
“Take one.” Caroline said spreading butter on the bread. “But you won’t get paid.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m just so tired of getting up at 5.30 every morning just to earn £10 a week delivering newspapers and in the blasted snow as well.”
“At least you get some money.” Caroline said. “Roy and I don’t get anything, and while we are on the subject of money, what do you do with all yours?”
“What?”
“Your wages. Where does it all go?”
“Oh, er, well, on this and that, you know, teenage things.”
“Well did you get any tips from your round?”
“Er, tips, no. I’ve only had the paper round for six months.”
“Well, they are all mean then.” Caroline said giving him a cuddle. Maybe next year you’ll get some?” She rubbed and patted his back as she had seen her mum do to Roy when he was just a small baby.
John couldn’t make out why his sister was being so nice to him but he forced a burp out making them all laugh. “Yeah, maybe.” He said.
“Where’s my supper?” Roy asked standing in the doorway with his Poo Bear hanging from one hand and rubbing his tired eyes with his other.
“Sorry, Roy.” Caroline said. “It’s done now, so have it down here with us.”
“Okay.” He said sitting on a chair at the table smiling.
“Right you three.” Mrs Smith said. “Finish your sandwiches then off to bed with you and when you wake up you can see if Santa has left you anything for being good this year.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” John said.
“John, that’s not very nice.” Mrs Smith said. “You better go up to bed now.”
“Oh, mum. I was only…”
“Bed, John.”
“Yes mum, good night.” John slammed the kitchen door on his way out followed by his bedroom door a minute later
Roy smiled behind his sandwich, pleased his brother was in trouble again.
“Right you two, up you go and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay mum, night.” Roy said giving her a kiss on her cheek. “I love you.”
“Night, night, Roy, I love you too.” Mrs Smith said patting his head. “Now shoo, and not too early, please, I want to sleep in.”
“Okay, mum.”
“Sleep tight, mum.” Caroline said taking the dirty dishes to the sink.
“And you, darling.”
When Mrs Smith heard the bedroom door close she went to the front room. There was a photograph in a gold frame standing on the mantelpiece over the empty fire place. She picked it up and stroked her fingers lightly over the glass; it was of her late husband, playing with the children a week before he had died.
“Those poor kids.” She said under her breath with tears running from her eyes. “There’s nothing for them this year except for an orange and a chocolate biscuit each. And there’s no Christmas tree or decorations. Why did you have to go and leave us?” She replaced the photograph in its place, went to bed and cried herself to sleep.
At 6 in the morning, Roy came running into his mother’s bedroom.
“Mum! Mum, wake up.”
“Wh, what is it Roy, what’s the matter?” She asked. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know mum, I haven’t learnt yet.”
“Go back to bed then, there’s a dear.”
“But mum, come quickly, I’ve just seen him.”
“Seen who?” Mrs Smith asked rubbing her eyes to wake herself up.
“I’ve just seen Santa and he’s left a pile of presents in the front room for all of us.”
“That’s nice dear.” She said noticing the time. “Tell me again at 10.”
“Mum, please come and see.”
“Oh for pity’s sake Roy, give me a minute will you?” She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, stood up and put on her dressing gown then was tugged down the stairs to the front room. She walked in and found John and Caroline sitting by a very large and completely decorated Christmas tree and all around its base was a large pile of presents.
“Where on earth did this lot come from?” Mrs Smith asked puzzled at the transformation around her.
“It was Santa, mum.” Roy said excitedly. “I saw him climb out of the window, take a look, you can still see his footprints in the snow.”
“But Santa isn’t…”
“Come on mum.” John said stopping her from going on. “Come and see what Santa has brought you this year for being such a super, hard working loving mother.”
“I told you Santa lives, John.” Roy said.
“I guess he does little brother.” John smiled.
Mrs Smith pulled John to the side while Caroline and Roy were busy unwrapping their presents.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here John.” She said softly. “Was all of this you’re doing?”
“I don’t know what you mean mum.” He said smiling because his brother and sister were so happy.
“John?”
“Yeah, ok, of course it was me.”
“But how?” Then she realised.
“You used all of your paper round money, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“And I bet you did get some tips?”
“Yeah, I did quite well, considering. I even managed to get us a turkey for dinner.”
“But even with all the money you got, it still wouldn’t have been enough for all this.”
“I know, that’s why I sold my bikes as well.”
“Oh John, you didn’t? You loved those bikes.”
“I didn’t need them anymore, so what the heck. It’s Christmas mum and young children need love and presents, you always supply us with a never ending stream of love and never wanting anything in return, so I lent a hand with the presents.”
“Thank’s son. That was really thoughtful of you. Your father would be proud of you if he were here today.”
“If dad were still alive I wouldn’t have had to sell my bikes would I?”
“That’s true, John. All the same, thank you very much, you have made Christmas very special for those two and me.”
“It was nothing, mum, really. I couldn’t see Roy and Caroline’s Santa killed off, could I now?”
“No, not for a few years yet, son. Happy Christmas.”
“Happy Christmas mum.”

END

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Tags:

anthony, christmas, death, family, happiness, hedger, lives, loss, love, presents, sadness, santa, short, story and tony