Rose Red Rhymes
A Rose Red crime thriller short story
The Night Before Christmas
by
Saffina Desforges
Copyright Saffina Desforges 2012.
All rights reserved.
This story is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN Number: 978-1-908961-22-8
Published by Mark Williams international Digital Publishing.
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Chapter 1.
"I so love that poem."
Red held the book steady, misty-eyed, momentarily transported back in time to when she was a four year old like Ruby. A felt-tip scarred Sindy doll in her hand. Sitting between Mum and Dad on the green vinyl sofa with the taped-up rip in the arm. On her lap, that wonderful nursery rhyme book with the Mabel Lucy Atwell illustrations.
The cute Atwell water colours slowly dissolved into the glossy, garish twenty-first century images of Ruby's latest addition to the bookshelf. The green sofa with the taped-up rip in the arm became Ruby's pink bed. The little girl sitting between Mum and Dad became Ruby, hugging a long-since fluffy rabbit, faded pink ears flopping wistfully. Pink pyjama-clad legs stretched out on top of the quilt, barely reaching a third of the way down the bed.
Ruby's loud sniffle broke the spell.
"Rubes?" Red set the book down as she saw the tears forming in Ruby's sienna eyes. She drew the child to her. "Rubes, what’s wrong? Didn’t you like the rhyme?"
Ruby nodded slowly. Sniffed loudly.
"Okay, honey, help me out here. I thought you wanted a Christmas story."
"I did."
"So what’s the face for then, gorgeous? It's the night before the night before Christmas. This was supposed to get you all excited, not all upset. Santa's coming tomorrow."
"But he can't," Ruby said. "Not like in the story. How can he get down the chimney?"
"Down is easy, sweetheart. He just jumps down. And to go back up he just puts his finger on the side of his nose and gives a nod, like this."
Red managed a fair imitation of Santa preparing to ascend a chimney, but Ruby just stared at her, oblivious to the Oscar-winning potential. A tear began to roll down the child's cheek.
"But Cassie, we haven't got a chimney," Ruby whispered.
Red reached out and wiped away the tear from Ruby's cheek. "Sweetheart, we didn't have a chimney last year, either, but Santa still left a big sack of presents for you, didn't he."
Ruby nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"You see, babe, Santa's elves are very clever. You know how I've got that sat-nav in my car that shows me where to go? Well, Santa has an extra-special sat-nav on his sleigh that not only tells him where all the children live and whether they've been naughty or nice, but it also tells him which houses have chimneys and which don't."
Ruby raised her eyes to Red's. "Really?"
"Would I lie to you, Ruby Tuesday? Do you remember that Santa sleigh that came round a few evenings ago?"
Ruby nodded. "But it wasn't the real Santa, because it was being pulled by a car. The real Santa has reindeer."
"Very true. But the Santa sleigh being pulled by the car was still special. The driver was one of Santa's agents."
Ruby looked unconvinced.
"Honestly," Red said. "Do you remember when Ella showed you our house on Google? Well this was the same sort of thing, but this time it was Santa's elves driving up each road photographing each house without a chimney, so Santa will know where the gate to the back garden is, so he can come in the back door."
A smile began to spread across Ruby's face.
Red leaned in and whispered to Ruby, "Last year it rained Christmas Eve and Santa left muddy footprints all across Mum's new carpet!"
Ruby's hesitant smile burst into a full-blown laugh. "Did Mummy tell him off?"
"You're kidding, Rubes. No-one can tell off Santa. It's against the law. I'd have to arrest them."
Ruby's face became solemn again. "But Cassie..."
"Yes, gorgeous?"
"We've got a new gate, with a secret number. How will Santa get in?"
"Where's Grandma taking you tomorrow? To Santa's Grotto, right?"
"Yes, but it's not the real Santa."
"Of course not. It will be Christmas Eve. The real Santa will be in bed getting some rest. He's going to be very busy at night delivering presents all over the world. But when you go to the Grotto you can tell the pretend Santa about the gate and then he'll pass on the message to the real Santa."
Ruby beamed, the tears vanishing. "Will the reindeer stop on the roof?"
"Of course, and they'll be hungry for a carrot or an apple. Or both! Make sure you buy some tomorrow when you're with Grandma. But right now, bedtime, young lady. Remember, Santa knows who's been naughty and who's been nice."
Ruby scurried beneath the quilt. "I know, I know. He's making a list and he's checking it twice."
"He certainly is. And don't forget the reindeer list," Red added.
Ruby popped her head out from beneath the quilt. "What's a reindeer list?"
"It's a special contest Santa runs," Red improvised. "What you do is, Christmas Eve morning you write down the names of all Santa's reindeer, and then you have to find their reindeer names somewhere around you. Like, if you look up in the sky and see a comet then you could cross Comet off the list. If you can find all eight, Santa brings you an extra present."
Chapter 2.
"Ruby, last warning. Will you kindly sit down and eat your breakfast like a normal, civilized human being," Pippa said for the third time.
"But Mum..." Ruby craned her neck towards the kitchen window, scanning the clouds.
"It's no use looking for Santa in the daytime, Tues," Ella laughed. "He only comes out at night."
Ruby turned to glare at her sister. "I know that, silly. I'm not looking for Santa. I'm looking for a comet. Jack said you can see them in the sky. He said they look like a bright star, but with a tail."
Pippa stared in astonishment at her youngest daughter. "Since when did you become interested in astrology, young lady?"
Jack let out aloud sigh. "It's astronomy, Mum. Astrology is horoscopes and stuff."
"You're going to meet a short, fat, white-haired man in a red suit bearing gifts, Rubes," Red said as she emerged from the hallway, toothbrush in one hand, blackberry in the other. "And you, Pip, are going to have a day of unexpected surprises in the company of Jack and Darren."
"Don't remind me," Pippa said, gently pulling Ruby back to the table. "Mind you, Mother will have her hands full with Miss Patrick Moore here, looking for stars with tails. No doubt she'll be asking Father Christmas for a microscope in her stocking."
"Telescope, Mum," Jack groaned.
Pippa waved a dismissive hand. "Same thing."
Red pecked a kiss on Pippa's cheek. "I don't think so, Counsellor. There wouldn't be much forensic evidence if SOCO used were using a telescope. Not unless it was a crime committed on Mars. Anyway, gotta go. Some people have to work for a living, unlike you part-time lawyers. See ya later, kids!"
"Kids are baby goats, Cassandra," Pippa protested to the closing door. "Though in the case of Jack and Darren I may just have to make an exception."
Chapter 3.
"Pucker up, Guv." The shadow of Barry Taylor loomed over Red’s desk like Godzilla over a New York skyscraper, as the DCI unenthusiastically sorted paper into small mountains on the makeshift desk. What away to spend Christmas Eve morning. Luckily it was a half-shift.
"Sorry?"
"It’s only right, being Christmas an’ all."
"What’s only right, Barry?" Red didn't look up. Too soon after breakfast for a close up of Taylor's ugly mug. "Can’t you see that I am attempting to catch up here?"
"Sorry, Guv," Jez Harris chimed in. "But I think Bazza has you banged to rights."
Red dragged her eyes up to the two DCs, grinning inanely. Abbot and Costello had nothing on these two.
"Mistletoe." Taylor jabbed a pudgy finger in the direction of a dusty sprig of green plastic hanging from the coat stand. "You’ve got to oblige. It’s the law."
"You wouldn't want to go breaking the law, now, Guv, would you," Harris added.
Red sighed. She could see a smiling Terri Miller and Anne Hargreaves watching with interest. Or perhaps it was pity. She took a deep breath. It's only once a year...
"Alright, Barry. If you insist." Red positioned herself toe to toe with Taylor. Placing a hand on either side of his moon face, she pushed his cheeks together. Planted a kiss directly onto his lips. Held him there as he struggled. Lips locked together as he flapped his arms out at his sides like a clown on a unicycle.
Whistles and jeers filled the briefing room. Harris clapped Taylor on the back as Taylor's face went from pink to crimson, then purple.
"Steady on, Guv," Anna Hargreaves beamed from the sidelines. "You’ll finish him off."
Red finally let Taylor go. Wiped a hand across her lips. She nodded appreciatively. "Not bad. For a bloke."
"Jesus!" Taylor bent double, hands on his knees. Gulped in a huge lungful of air.
A smattering of applause broke out. Red bowed. "Thank you everybody. I’m here all week, and available for private bookings for a very reasonable fee." She turned to Harris. "Your turn next. then, Jez?"
"Er, I’ve got a report to finish up, Guv." Harris ducked away.
Red cast a fleeting glance at Terri Miller. Now that would be a treat. A flashback of Terri bending over drying her hair that morning at the apartment. Cracked walnuts sprang to mind. She chased the image from her thoughts.
"Right, if we’ve finished with the festivities, how about someone gives me a round-up of where we are with the cases Jim handed over, before I head off?"
"Not much doing to be honest," Anna said. "Just a few drunken brawls to clear up and a couple of shoplifting incidents. The usual seasonal stuff."
"You going somewhere, Guv? You just said you was here all week." Taylor's colour was slowly returning to normal.
"Yes, Barry, it was a figure of speech. I’m out of here at lunch time. Christmas shopping at Harvey-Will’s new toy department."
"But you’re off Christmas, and New Year too?"
"Again, Taylor, affirmative and very perceptive." Red clapped him on the back. "You should be a detective? This is the last you'll see of me until the New Year. So, anyone got anything else for me that can’t wait until January?"
"I’ve taken over the Lewis case whilst Mac is on bereavement, Guv." Terri Miller sauntered across. "Gonna mull it over while you lot are celebrating this Boxing Day thing. I can never get my head round that. Christmas is a one day holiday back home. I'd be bored to tears if it wasn't for this OT."
Harris's eyes lit up. "On your own for Christmas, Terri?"
"Don't even think about it, Jez," Terri warned. "You've had me in bed the once. There won't be a second time."
Harris seemed undeterred. He flicked his eyes at a threadbare gold and red Merry Christmas banner slung across the light fittings. The spines stuck out at odd angles, mistletoe clinging to it for dear life. "How about it, Tex? I’m sure they have this kind of thing back in the States. I’ve seen it on Grey’s Anatomy."
Terri leaned closer to him. She straightened his tie lovingly. "Oh they do, Jez," she whispered with a seductive pout. She patted his tie to his chest. "They definitely do. Shall I tell you what else they do on Grey’s?"
Harris bobbed his head up and down.
"Vasectomies."
The smile fell from Harris’s face like a curtain dropping at the end of a play. He coughed into his hand. "Better be getting on with that report."
Chapter 4.
"Don’t run, Jack!" Pippa grabbed a handful of air as her son's coat hood flew past. "You'll get lost."
"Chill, Mum!" Jack tapped his friend on the arm. "Tag! Race you to HMV. Last one there buys the milkshakes at Maccies!"
"Darren! That means you too! I—" Pippa’s protests were drowned out by a blast of Noddy Holder and Slade from a nearby street stall.
"Oh, leave them be, darling." Cynthia Crichton nudged her daughter's arm. "The
y’re not going to get lost. They’re just boys having fun."
"That’s all very well for you to say, Mother. You’re not the one stuck with them all day." Pippa scrolled through the messages on her phone as they battled their way through the procession of last-minute Christmas shoppers. "How is it you always get the thick end of the wedge in these situations?"
Cynthia pulled her granddaughter closer as they muscled through the crowd. "As I recall, Philippa dearest, I suggested that you might like to escort Ruby on her visit to see Santa, but you pooh-poohed the idea without so much as a second thought."
"Yes, well that was before I knew what Option B was." Pippa turned to Cynthia with a further thought. "And Mother, please do not use vulgar lavatorial terms in front of Ruby."
"Philippa, pooh-poohed is not a lavatorial term. It's—"
"Mummy," Ruby tugged at the hem of Pippa’s coat as they stopped outside Fortnum & Mason’s. "Isn’t Jack and Darren coming with me to see Father Christmas?"
"Hmm?" Pippa’s attention was focussed on the huge Christmas hamper spilling its wares out onto a fake snow display in the window. "Oh, look at that! I simply have to have one of those Christmas puddings!" Pippa pressed a finger to the glass, her eyes shining.