A Christmas Eve in London

The wooden floorboards squeaked as Susan tip-toed across the hallway

towards her brothers room. It was dark. In her hand she carried a single translucent
candle. Its buttery glow threw soft, warm shadows across the wall. The light flicked
up and down and across as she made her way down the hall. On her right, a few
steps away was the Oldwood staircase tumbling down into deep darkness. Though it
was carpeted, its slightly ornate carvings and steep incline scared her somewhat. As
long as she had the candle, though, shed be alright. She was growing up. Down the
hall, up ahead, was the large door that led to her parents bedroom. Her mother
slept within. Susan could make out the shape of the brass doorknob and, as she
advanced, she affixed her eyes to it. Should it begin to twist, all would be undone.
The floor was cold and it chilled her bare feet which snuck out the bottom of
her nightgown. She drew nearer and nearer to her mothers door and finally reached
her goal. To her left was another door, identical to her mothers that led to her
younger brothers room. The crucial part of the plan had arrived. Susan took stock
before proceeding. She could hear the soft whistle of the snowstorm transpiring
outside. A few moments before now she lay in her bed staring out the frosted
window. Pure white flakes of snow danced violently, bullied by the wind, across the
deep, soundless black. The night was silent and cold and Susan imagined the
darkness completely surrounding her home, plucking it out of the normal world.
From where she was laying she couldnt see the neighbors houses and with nothing
but the wind and patter of snow against glass, the world seemed suddenly a small
place. Like her house was no longer in London and instead in a snow-globe being
bounced to and fro. She imagined it, her tall, skinny home, brown and grey wood
being shaken, the front door flopping open and closed, and the windows being
tapped-tapped-tapped by fat snowflakes.
She hoped the storms polite throws would be enough. She twisted the brass
doorknob and held the door with her other hand in a last-ditch attempt to muffle the
woods groan. She opened the door just enough to squeeze her small body through
the crack. As she moved she released the knob, turning it back to its original
position to keep the door from reporting her behavior with a clack. She stole inside
the room with her right foot and edged around the door. She was careful not to
catch the cloth of her nightgown on the latch. Last in was her left hand with the
candle.
As the light crawled around the room with hesitant licks it fell upon Georges
round face. He was sat bolt upright on his bed, wrapped in covers that he had
draped over the crown of his ruddy-brown hair. His eyes caught the candle light and
took on the appearance of soft chocolate. His mouth hung open slightly, giving him
a rather dull expression that, Susan supposed, should be expected from a four year
old. No wait, Susan thought to herself, George is five now.
Susan rose the index finger of her free hand to her mouth in an attempt to
silence her brother before he gave them up. Her eyes widened and she leaned
forward sharply, bent at the waist to signify her utmost urgency.
What took you so long? came a hiss.
I had to wait til the coast was clear came a whisper.
I thought you werent coming no more

I told you I would, now didnt I? Come on before you wake mum
George shed his covers and swung his legs from under him, trailing his tiny
feet to the tiny rug beside his tiny bedframe. The room was scattered with a
minefield of toys. George made his way to Susan in slow, methodical steps that he
exaggerated greatly to emphasise his furtiveness. Susan rolled her eyes as George
slipped under her arm and crept from the room into the dark hallway and took up
the guise of a sentry. She followed, performing the same operation on the door as
before, though this time in reverse.
At first the two made their way down the hall slowly and with occasional
glances backwards. But, as they approached the staircase their steps grew more
quick and brazen. Susan allowed her little brother to proceed down first. He reached
his hand above his head to grasp the oaken banister. The stairway was very narrow
and allowed only one to pass at a time. George found himself in a pickle. He had
gone first so as not to be left behind in the dark but now, he discovered, he was the
first into it. Susan, having intuited her brothers misgivings, reached her arm out so
that the light might stretch that much further.
Finally they came to the bottom of the stairs and, with a sharp right turn, they
crossed the hall and entered the den. The candles light danced among the three
piece suite, the paintings, and the branches of their Christmas tree. The glass bulbs
and star and tinsel. It loomed like a giant from the fairy tales but did so with a
welcoming temperament. Of course it did though, the siblings thought, their mother
would not tolerate a threatening or ill-willed tree in their home. As they made their
way past, George rose up, as if there was a string tied to the top of his head, his
hands dangling by his sides, and chomped a piece of popcorn right off the string.
George! Dont do that, thats not what theyre for
Nuts
Dont you swear George, its not too late for Santa to turn his sleigh right
round.
Sorry
It was chilly in the den and lighting a fire was out of the question- should the
heat or smell climb the stairs. And, besides, neither of the children were allowed to
do so on their own. So, George plunked himself upon the chesterfield, pulling a wool
blanket down from its peak to cover himself. Susan placed the candle in a pillar and
lifted the great glass column off of the lamp base on the centre table. Carefully
laying it on the ground, she used the candle to light the larger oil lamp before
replacing the glass chimney back upon the collar. The centre of the room was now
bathed in a light that crawled out meekly to the rest of the den. To the tree, the
black window and the door. A few meager lengths of light reached the staircase and
cast a few shadows. But they posed no risk of discovery. Lifting the smaller candle
to her lips, Susan sucked in a big breath.
Wait! cried George, Susan exhaled to the side.
What?
I want to
Susan, rolling her eyes, lifted the candle to her brothers face. With great
aplomb, he sucked in a breath that puffed his cheeks. He held for a moment to
ensure he was on target and let slip a great shot of breath that put out the candle
and speckled Susans hand with a bit of spit.

Happy now?
Yep
Susan climbed onto the immense leather armchair, pulling her own blanket
behind. Susan was a girl who went about her business in a particular way. A way
known only to herself. She wrapped up, taking special care to tuck in her feet before
folding it across her chest and arms. With a final wiggle she came to a rest perched
upon her chair.
Tonights the night, right? George inquired silently, as if to keep from
offending.
Yeah, I think so
Wow, he wondered out loud, were finally going to see St. Nick.
Not if you fall asleep again
The two children sat in the flickering light of the oil lamp in silence, staring
deeply into its smooth, jumpy darts and dashes. They sat quiet for a long time,
watching the wicks tip blacken and snow tap against the frosty windows. Even now,
Susan could not make out anything beyond the snow save for the black. The den
was whisper-soft, until, from the chesterfield, came a peep:
Sus?
Yeah?
Got any sweets?
No
Whatdya mean no?
I mean that I dont have any
No taffy?
No
No wafers?
No
No chocolate chunks?
Nope
What happened to your allowance? You never have any money
What happened to yours? came Susans retort.
I spent mine
On what?
On sweets, George whispered, exasperated by his sisters plodding. And
then, before she could turn his words against him, he exclaimed but I ate those
already.
You should have spent your money better
We barely get any at all, not more than enough for a coupla handfuls. And,
and, look at you! Almost eleven and never a pence to show for it
What we got is all mum can afford
Nu-, George began and then stopped, I guess. Susan looked at her
brother, he was lost in thought, glancing every once in a while to the portion of
blanket covering his round tummy. Without meeting his eyes, Susan descended
from the armchair.
Ill see if theres anything in the kitchen. A moment passed as she walked,
squinting her eyes to exploit every bit of light thrown off by the lamp, and then:
Thanks Susan

Be quiet, youll wake mum

Into the kitchen she went. The floorboards were even colder here than
upstairs. She groped out her hands, feeling for the wall. She moved them along it
surface until she hit a stack of paper nailed to it. The thin, taught string that
suspended the papers snapped with a chunky, mocking sound and the pack
clattered to the floor. She stood silent, waiting for a door upstairs to open and heavy
footsteps. Without moving, her eyes flicked up, she willed them to see through the
floor and into her mothers room.
No sound came.
So, ever so slightly she leaned down and picked the calendar up from the
floor. She took a step back to allow the light to land on it. She flipped to the correct
page. December 1915 it read in big block letters at the top. Her eyes welled with a
bit of salt, it had been more than year. She remembered when the men in the big,
green, dumb-looking uniforms had come to the door to talk to her mum. Susan
remembered how she covered her mouth and keeled over as they walked back to
the curb where a motor waited for them. She remembered when she and George
had been sat down and told that their father was not coming to sit in the leather
armchair anymore. George had balled and then asked whether or their dad would
come back if he was good. Mum had told him to pray.
Blinking away the salt, Susan placed the calendar on the countertop with a
measure of reverence her pastor had never seen. And having done this ritual, she
proceeded to the large rounded silhouette of the icebox. Inside she found a brownie,
maybe half the size of a deck of playing cards. She had brought it home a week
earlier from her schools Christmas festival. She had been saving it. Over the last
seven days she had coveted it and conserved it, taking mousey nibbles from the
corners when the temptation proved too great. She didnt know what occasion she
was saving it for but this one seemed as good as any. She took hold of the saucer it
laid on and brought it to her brother.
As he chewed, George knew the brownie was stale but he also knew,
somehow, that he should not mention it. He sat, twiddling his feet a little under the
blanket, as he worked through the dry, cracked, and occasionally sticky treat. As he
munched he looked at his big sister in quick glances so as not to be scolded. Her
hair was light brown, it looked, at least to George, more like their mums hair. He
was told he took after his father. Susan had curled herself back up on the armchair
and kept her arms underneath the blanket. Her grey eyes were fixed on the flame of
the oil lamp and its light made them seem a pale green. Her breath was slow and
the only sign of life was a blink here and there. Her brow had furled somewhat, she
appeared, to George, as though she was glaring at the flame. He knew better,
though, he knew that Susan was just concentrating- thinking hard thoughts. She
was smarter than him, and taller, and stronger. She would sometimes play toys with
him if she wasnt busy with work from her teacher. He looked off to the side, the
darkness that stretched on for miles out the window began to scare him. As though
their house was way up in outer space.
Sus?
Yeah? Susans gaze broke free of the flame and she turned it to him with a
flick of her hair.
Were going to see him right?

I think so
See Santa?
Yes, George. He looked around the room, at the wood table, the chairs, the
painting of the man on the horse, the window, the Christmas tree, and last of all,
the unlit fireplace. There was something missing.
What if he doesnt want to come? We dont even have any milk and cookies
Even if we did you would have eaten them by now
Nu-uh, not if they were especially for Santa
Hell still come
Howd do you know? If George had the ability to raise one eyebrow, he
would have done so now. Instead, he tilted his head in an impression.
Because he comes every year, you just dont see him Susan could feel the
salt coming back to her eyes, she switched back and looked at the flame.
Remember what you got last year?
A train
And the year before that?
I dont remember
I guess thats because you were still a dumb baby. But Santa brought you
some pjs, the ones with the feet and stuff
Yuck George said with a shake of his head, as though the wretched pajamas
lay on the table in front of him. No wonder I didnt wanna remember
Thats not how remembering works
Nuts to that! Susans eyes darted back to her brother:
If you swear one more time we might as well go back to bed cause Santa
doesnt wanna give toys to filthy mouthed boys. Wide-eyed, George realized his
cardinal mistake and nodded his head up and down and up and down furiously.
Thats better. George regained his composure slowly and thought of a way
to make up for his error. There had to be a way to save Christmas.
We have some milk though, Susan he whispered shyly. With a roll of the
eyes, Susan tossed her blanket aside once again and climbed off the chair. George
followed dutifully. When they reached the icebox George puffed his chest.
Let me pour it, it was me who swore. I gotta do it. Susan tried to think of a
way to say no, but the cold floor was occupying her mind and her little brother was
quite committed. It would not be an easy battle should she choose it.
Alright fine, but be careful. She opened the icebox door and George reached
in and wrapped his tiny hands around the glass milk bottle. He did so with both
hands to keep from dropping it. Susan fetched a tumbler and held it at arms-length
as her brother took aim and poured.
Alright hold it still Sus
Just be careful
Not so fast
Stop stop stop
Okay, its okay, I got it. Look, I did it. Perfect. And there the two siblings
were, standing in their pajamas in the middle of the kitchen, below the pots and
pans hanging by hooks, beside the wooden countertop, in the dark and the chill,
with a perfect glass of milk.

George returned in triumph, holding the glass in front of him as if it were a

crown to be placed on the head of a king. He marched, eyes intent on the top of the
glass, cautious not to spill, and laid it down. Then, like a hunter does after setting a
trap, he snuck quickly away from the table and dove back into his blanket.
With everything now settled time began to move more slowly. Their eyes
flitted from the lamp to the fireplace quickly at first, but, as time went on they
drifted more slowly and began to weigh with sleep. Their world fell silent and lonely
once again. There was only darkness outside save for the snow illuminated by the
lamp and the whistle of the wind. Yawns, big and small, came more frequently now.
Their imaginations wandered dreamily. Susan wondered what it would be like to be
outside in her nightgown and shivered, goosebumps rising on her forearms. George
thought of his father and of being in school a year from now. He thought too of the
milk on the table in front of him and became thirsty for a sip. He restrained himself.
And both children watched the flickering shadows. They played on the wall, against
the Oldwood-framed painting and wallpaper and the shape of its embellishments.
The two imagined great stories in the light and shadow, stories of good and evil, of
knights and damsels, and of dragons. They were hypnotized by them and found that
they could not be sure if the images were created by the oil lamp or their dreams. It
was becoming harder and harder to hide their fatigue. George was alert to this
danger and stirred slowly under his cover. With the faintest of rasps he said to his
sister:
Susan, when is he going to be here?
I dont know George
Im getting sleepy
Have a sleep, Ill stay up
And have you fall asleep too? Nu-uh
Hell come, he always does. He comes back
I know, but I want to see him. Or else how do I know hes real?
I dont know George
The two fell silent once again. Drifting off was inevitable now, their only hope
was that Santa arrived before then. As Georges eyes closed once more and darted
back open, he surrendered.
Maybe Ill get to see him next year
Maybe
Youll be there, right Susan. To stay up with me?
Yes
You sure?
Yes
You wont be too busy?
No George, Ill be here
Promise? Susan felt the salt again.
Ill try
This was not the same as a promise but George believed her. He pulled the
blanket up to his chin and reclined against the arm of the chesterfield so that his
view would rest naturally on the fireplace- his last stand.
I love you Sus
Shush

Okay. I do though. Even though Im a bother to you

I know
Okay. Satisfied, George allowed his eyes to close and, with a sigh, he fell
asleep. This would be the last time, for many years, that George would say this to
his sister.
Susan was alone now. She waited a long time before George was snoring.
Having been satisfied that the sound was not manufactured to take either her or
Santa Claus off guard she rose from the arm chair and scooted down, kneeling and
reaching underneath. She pulled out the secret she had tucked into the corner.
Before turning around she swivelled her head to ensure her brother was still
sleeping. She made her move, George had a remarkable talent for heavy,
undisturbed sleep. He had shifted his body to the side and face away from her,
towards the chesterfields back. Reaching high so as not to disturb him she placed
the secret in the nook between his chest and cloth back. A small stuffed brown bear
dressed up in a khaki tunic, Brodie helmet, and puttees. A little soldier. She had
seen it through the window of a shop while wandering with friends in the
summertime. One of the last toys made before the factories stopped making toys
and started making bullets and army-men clothing. Because of this, the store owner
had raised the price. But, Susan thought, who really needs sweets anyways?
She picked up the glass of milk, returned to the kitchen, and cautiously
poured it, bit by bit, back into the bottle. She came back with the empty glass, wet
on the inside with milk, and put it back in its place at the table. Just before she
climbed onto the couch to join her brother she looked at the lamp. There was no
need to keep it lit if they were both sleeping, but, then again.
Susan decided to let the flame burn. After all, he might still come for
Christmas.