Writing for Fun
December 2019
Conviction - Sue Barker
11 o’clock on Christmas Eve and the snow was falling silently, settling wherever it touched; making the ordinary street look magical, even the dustbins looked like mini snowmen, just missing a hat and some coal and a carrot.
Lizzie had been in bed for hours and hours and hours; or so it seemed. She had trying desperately to fall asleep but she just couldn’t, for every child knew without doubt that Father Christmas would be here soon; she also knew that if she was awake when he came in she wouldn’t get any presents. Lizzie had been as good as she possibly could be, even eating up the disgusting vegetables at dinner tonight. Santa must come soon. She thought she heard sleigh bells ringing in the sky above her.
She had written to Santa ages ago asking for a dolly but not just any dolly, she wanted an amazing doll. She was called Miranda and she was nearly as tall as Lizzie, who at 5 years old was quite tall. Miranda had her own unicorn; could you imagine having your very own unicorn? wow, thought Lizzie, that would be wonderful. She was already thinking of all the adventures she could have with Miranda, they could dance together and Lizzie would tell her all her secrets. Like the time she tried to feed her little brother Freddy with flowers and mud from the garden. She had been very lucky that it was Nanny Jan who caught her and not mummy or daddy. She would have been in even bigger trouble, and they would have told Father Christmas and she would be on the naughty list. No-one wants to be on that list, that’s for sure.
Anyway tonight she was tucked up safely in bed, all cosy, in her new pyjamas; trying to get to sleep when she heard a noise. She knew she should stay in bed and pretend to be asleep but she just couldn’t resist taking a peek out of the window. She slid as quietly as she could out of bed and tiptoed across to the window; her eyes grew larger and larger.
There he was! Father Christmas; he was just going into Mr Jones house; that’s funny she thought, he had an empty sack. Oh no! had he run out of gifts. Did that mean she wasn’t getting any presents this year? Her eyes looked up to Mr Jones roof; where was the sleigh with Rudolph and the other reindeer? She couldn’t see them anywhere. With a huge lump in her throat and tears running down her little rosy cheeks, she sadly got back into bed. She couldn’t call out for mummy or daddy as she was supposed to be asleep and she would be in big bother if she woke up Freddy.
Across the road from Lizzie, a very drunken Billy Finn was trying to break into a house; his eyes dancing with the effects of the last scotch he downed in The Swan pub. He’d ‘borrowed’ the Santa outfit from the landlord of the pub. It was genius he thought; well, sought of thought; as much as his drunken addled brain was capable of thinking. No-one would be suspicious of Father Christmas entering houses on Christmas Eve.
Billy was a petty criminal, well known to the local police. He was not an evil man, just lazy and a bit of a gambler. He tried the front door, no joy, it was securely locked. He made his way around the back; there was a gate to get over. Normally Billy would have been able to scale this with no trouble; but he’d had too much Christmas cheer and half way over the gate he fell. Landing heavily on his ankle he cried out. He could see lights coming on in the house; first upstairs, then the hall and finally the kitchen. Billy could do nothing to help himself; not sober enough to make up a good story and unable to run away. He lay dormant and awaited his fate.
Mr David Jones, aged 88; phoned the police who luckily for him were in the neighbourhood. They sent a patrol car round and arrested Billy Finn, who went off singing ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’ at the top of his voice.
Billy spent Christmas Day in the cells; he had a good sleep and his hangover wasn’t too bad. He was even given a Christmas dinner and released later that night, to attend court at a later date. On reflection he had a better Christmas day than he normally did; he didn’t have to visit his Mum and have her moaning on about how useless he was; he hadn’t had to listen to the Queens speech and he still had time to pop round to his mate Ernie’s for a sherbet or two.
When Lizzie’s mummy and Daddy heard what had happened to poor old Mr Jones, they invited him over to for dinner; Mr Jones was delighted as it meant he didn’t have a microwave meal for one and he got to see the little children opening their presents. It had been the best Christmas since his Connie had died 12 years ago.
Squirming with excitement Lizzie ran into the room. The Christmas tree twinkled with jewelled light, she squealed with delight. There under the tree sat Miranda, with her long eyelashes and big brown eyes, oh she was the most beautiful dolly in the whole world. Santa with the empty sack was already totally forgotten. Lizzie spent the morning opening presents and she was totally convinced that this was the very, very best day of the year.
Freddy sat happily sucking on a chocolate Santa, a trail of brown dribble covering his Christmas pudding outfit; he didn’t say much but as he was only a little baby what would you expect.
A good day was had by all.