Smack! Something wet and cold hit her in the cheek, and she heard Lisa laughing.
"Caught you daydreaming!" Lisa laughed, "Come and get me!"
Lisa charged away, kicking up snow behind her.
"You're in trouble now!" Sarah said, grabbing two big handfuls of snow and squashing them together to make a snowball the size of a football. She ran after Sarah, roaring like a monster and Lisa screaming in pretend terror. Sarah backed Lisa into a corner between a car and a pile of shoveled snow.
"Got you now!" Sarah declared. She raised the snowball over her head - and slipped, falling headfirst in the snow, her own snowball hitting her in the back.
Lisa laughed so much she was nearly crying. Sarah pulled herself up to her feet, and was about to gather more snow for another try when - smack! - a snowball flew over her shoulder and hit Lisa straight in the face, stopping her laughter straight away.
Sarah spun around. Adam, the boy who lived two doors down, had his arms raised to the air in victory.
"Gotcha!" He said.
Sarah and Lisa looked at each other. Then they chased after Adam. Soon, every kid on the street was in a huge snowball fight, and the air was thick with balls of white flying through the air and exploding on faces, jackets, walls and windows. By the time Mum called them for dinner, Sarah was wet, cold and very, very happy. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun. Saying goodbye to the other kids who were now teaming up to make a giant snowman, Sarah and Lisa headed back into number 12.
Inside, the house was warm and full of the smell of cooking meat and vegetables. Mum, Dad, Uncle Foster and Aunt Tilly were bustling about the little house carrying trays, pots and pans.
"You two look like ice lollies!" Said Aunt Tilly, peering at them from the living room, "Sarah, go ask your Mum if you can have a quick bath before dinner. There's a bit of time left before the food is ready.
There wasn’t enough time for the boiler to heat up, so Mum boiled a couple of kettles of water and poured them into the bath. The bath was tiny, barely big enough for one person. But Sarah and Lisa were still quite small, so to save time they squeezed into the bath together, and continued their snowball fight by splashing water at each other, then making waves that sloshed over the edges of the bath and made the mat underneath all wet. Sarah couldn’t stop giggling the whole time.
Mum knocked on the door. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” she said, “You two should get dried off now.”
It was difficult to get out of the warm bath, but the smell of the food downstairs somehow made its way through the door and to Sarah’s nose. She and Lisa stood up, shivering in the cold air, wrapped towels around themselves and ran to Sarah’s room to get changed. Sarah’s cheeks still hurt from laughing and smiling so much.
“Oh, you got the Uberwoman books,” said Lisa, picking up the still-open book from Sarah’s mattress, “That’s cool! I have some other books in the series. Do you want to swap for a while when you’re finished?”
“Sure!” said Sarah, and they talked about how great Uberwoman was and how they couldn’t wait to see what would happen next on the episode as they pulled on warm and dry clothes. Lisa hadn’t brought a change of clothes but Sarah happily let her borrow some of her own. Just like her, the clothes fit Lisa really badly, but it didn’t matter.
They headed down the stairs, skipping over the broken step and tiptoeing around the sleeping Tinder. The house didn’t have a dining room, so Dad had brought in the plastic table from the garden and squeezed it in the kitchen. The table groaned under the weight of all of the food on it. None of the food was that fancy: there were crisps and sweets next to the boiled potatoes and baby carrots, and although they had no turkey Uncle Foster had brought a couple of chickens with him, and Aunt Tilly had also brought a roasted ham. “Saved up for ages for it,” she said proudly, “It’s from France and everything!”
Uncle Foster had tuned the radio to find some Christmas music, and although it was crackling and hard to hear Sarah thought it added to the Christmassy atmosphere.
Mum lit a match and lit the candles. They were only small tea candles dotted around the table, but Sarah thought that they looked nice, glowing like fairies sitting on the table.
“That should do it,” said Mum, taking a seat, “Okay everyone, what are we waiting for? Dig in!”
Chapter Eleven
Christmas Jokes
Sarah and Lisa grabbed a knife and fork and started filling their plate. At first, she went straight for the sweets, but with a look from Mum she added a couple of spoonfuls of vegetables to her plate as well.
If Sarah was completely honest, the food wasn’t that great. Of course, she didn’t say that: Mum had a small kitchen with a cooker that always kept breaking, and she knew that everyone had really tried their best to make Christmas dinner look good. In fact, as she chewed on chicken and drank a mouthful of orange squash from one of the really fancy cups that they only used for special occasions, Sarah actually appreciated it even more than the Christmas dinner from the rich house. And anyway, the food didn’t really matter that much: there was lots of talking and joking, and after a couple of glasses of whatever it was Uncle Foster was drinking, his face was as red as the tablecloth, and he started telling some of his best jokes.
“There’s a reason why we don’t have a turkey this year, do you why?” he said. “Well, the turkey is in a band. He has the drumsticks.”
Sarah and Lisa laughed so much that their stomachs hurt, and Sarah was nearly begging him to stop. Dad kept rolling his eyes, and Aunt Tilly playfully hit Uncle Foster on the arm.
“Stop telling those stupid jokes, you’re embarrassing me,” she said.
“Oh, don’t be so rude,” said Uncle Foster, taking another sip of his drink, “You’re like that reindeer. What’s his name? Oh yeah…Rude-oph.”
When all of their plates were clear and Sarah had stuffed her pockets with the leftover sweets, they all worked together to clear the table and tidy up the kitchen. Sarah took the job of drying up all of the washed plates and cutlery, while Lisa grabbed the broom and swept the floor of all of the crumbs before Tinder started eating them.
When everything was nice and tidy, Mum turned to the fridge, and from it pulled out a huge Christmas cake. Sarah stared at it as Mum carried it carefully to the table and Dad laid out clean plates and spoons.
“We should thank Sarah for this,” said Mum, smiling at her.
“Me?” said Sarah, “What did I do?”
“You you remember Mrs. Fennick, the old lady on the corner of Brindle Lane? You cleaned her front garden last month.”
Sarah nodded slowly. She really had done that in the real world, as part of her mission to be as good as possible this year. So that happened here, in this world too? Funny, my parents in the rich house didn’t mention it at all.
“Well, she used to own a bakery. And she was so grateful for your help that she made this Christmas cake, just for you.”
“I can’t eat all of that!” Sarah pointed at the cake, “It’s bigger than my head!”
Everyone laughed.
“Well, in that case we’ll help you eat it,” said Lisa, grabbing a spoon.
Dad sliced up the cake and passed the slices around. It was extremely fruity and very tasty.
“This is fantastic,” said Uncle Foster, “Sarah, are you planning on cleaning up any more gardens? Because Mr. Cobbs is a car mechanic and I could really do with someone checking my car…”
“You are ridiculous, Foster!” said Aunt Tilly, even though it looked like she was avoiding the urge to laugh as well.
With the clock coming up to 4pm, everyone piled into the living room to watch the Christmas special of that soap opera that Mum and Aunt Tilly seemed to really like. Dad and Uncle Foster talked about more grown-up stuff that Sarah couldn’t quite understand – something to do with computers, it sounded. Sarah found it all a little bit boring, so she and Lisa sat in the corner of the room reading books and playi
ng with Lisa’s new card game. After the soap opera, everyone turned to watch that really funny comedy that everyone liked. There were lots of famous special guests and singing of Christmas songs, and by the time it finished it was dark outside.
The adults started playing a game which Sarah had never heard of before, but looked fun so she decided to join in: everyone had a sticky note of a celebrity on their forehead which they couldn’t see, but they could ask questions about and try to guess who it was. Sarah wasn’t sure how it worked at first, but the more she played, the more she liked it. Sarah had put the word ‘Uberwoman’ on Uncle Foster’s forehead, and she and Lisa laughed as he asked lots of questions and scratched his head, wondering who it could possibly be.
When Uncle Foster's face was as red as a beetroot and looked like he was about to fall out of his chair and Lisa was yawning twice a minute, Aunt Tilly stood up.
"I think it's about time we left you alone," she said. Uncle Foster stood up too, swaying on the spot.
"But I don't wanna go!" Lisa said though another yawn.
"Neither do I, dear," said Aunt Tilly, "But we'll be back soon so you can play again with Sarah. We promise."
All the adults exchanged hugs as they headed towards the door. Uncle Foster, Aunt Tilly and Lisa put on their coats, and so did Sarah.
"I'll see you out to the car," she said, and Sarah followed them out into the night. The streetlights glowed yellow, shining down on the snow and turning it to the color of butter. Uncle Foster, Aunt Tilly and Lisa all climbed into the car, with Aunt Tilly at the steering wheel.
"Thanks for the lovely day," said Aunt Tilly as she turned on the engine, "We'll see you all again soon."
The car steered away through the thick snow, and Lisa waved at her through the back window. Sarah waved back, and kept waving until the car turned the corner and disappeared. Sarah put her hands into her pockets and let out a long sigh. Steam floated out of her mouth, and she shivered, even though inside she felt all warm and cozy. What an amazing Christmas Day! Even though this version of her family were poorer than her real family and much, much poorer than the rich family, she'd had a much better time here than she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe...maybe I could stay here?
She turned, and was about to head back into the house when she spotted something that made her heart sink as low as her stomach. Through the iced window of number 12, Sarah could just about make out Mum and Dad in the living room. Dad had her arm around Mum, and Mum was leaning forward, head in her hands. Like she was crying.
Chapter Twelve
Tears Yet Again
Sarah crept towards the house, wondering what on earth she could be crying about. Today’s been perfect! How could they not be happy?
Opening the front door as quietly as he could, she stepped inside and listened from the narrow hallway.
"She deserves better than this," Mum sobbed, "We couldn't even give her a proper present this year."
"You're being too hard on yourself," said Dad, "Didn't you see her playing with Lisa? She's perfectly happy with what she got."
Sarah longed to run into the living and give Mum and Dad a big hug and tell them that she was fine, that she'd had the best Christmas ever, but Dad was talking again.
"Anyway, she's gonna get a few more things in the January sales, isn't she?"
But Mum cried even more. "Didn't you read that notice? If we don't pay that bill before the end of January they're going to kick us out of the house. We can't afford to spend any more money on presents."
Sarah swallowed. For a fleeting moment, she felt a wave of anger pass through her. But Santa gave that money so I could get more presents! Why is it going to be used to pay a bill? But then she heard Mum crying again, and her anger melted away.
"I don't think I can tell her," said Mum, "It's so unfair on her. She really deserves more than this for Christmas."
"We'll think of something," said Dad, "Come on, I'll make us some tea. Is Sarah still outside?"
Sarah heard Dad stand up, and Sarah looked around, panicking. If they came out into the hallway she'd be spotted, and they'd know she'd been listening to them talk. There was no way she could make it up the noisy stairs. She laid a hand on the cold handle of the front door and silently stepped outside again.
Sarah stood there for a while in the cold night, back against the door and watching the last few snowflakes flutter down. She held the two remaining tickets in her hand.
Why did Santa bring her here? What was the reason? Well, if Santa thought that this was supposed to make her feel better, that this was supposed to teach her some kind of lesson, then Santa was making a big mistake.
True, this poor version of her family had been a lot of fun, despite having only three tiny presents. But all of the fun had nothing to do with what Santa had brought her. Actually, Santa was even more mean and unfair than she had ever imagined! This family needed his help more than ever, and his answer was to give them less than ever! These house visits are just making me more and more angry at you, Mr. Claus. When I see you I am going to give you such a talking to!
She had half a mind to stay with this version of her parents a little bit longer - it made her feel bad to leave when they were feeling so sad - but Sarah had to get moving. One more house to go after this, and the sooner I get through that the sooner I can meet Santa.
She walked up the driveway and peered up to the far end of the street. As always, there was the postbox, gleaming an orangey color under the streetlight. Taking big steps through the thick snow, she made her way towards it. Bright light spilled out of the slot.
Her hand shook as she held a ticket to the letterbox. What was next? She'd seen her family if they were rich, and now her family if they were really poor. What else did Santa want to show her?
"Let's get this over with," she muttered to herself, and she slotted the ticket into the postbox.
The postbox door swung open, and Sarah climbed inside. The door clicked shut behind her, and the light went out.
Chapter Thirteen
The Saddest Christmas Tree
More than ever before, Sarah felt cold. She reached out and felt the duvet. But this duvet felt...different, somehow. It was thin, and not very warm at all. She pulled the thin sheet around her, shivering. The wind howled somewhere nearby, shaking the window. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to see what was beyond this bed. This place...it seems scary.
Creak. The bed moved slightly. Someone else was in the room with her. She leapt out of her bed - and smacked her head against something hard. "Ouch!"
Rubbing her forehead and stars popping in her eyes, she looked up. The ceiling was low, low enough to reach out and touch. Wait, no, it's not a ceiling...I'm in a bunk bed, and there's another bed above me.
The bed above creaked. Sarah scrambled into the corner of her bed as a girl's head popped out from the ceiling above, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.
"What are you doing?" said the girl.
"I...I was just..." Sarah felt as though her tongue had been stolen.
“Keep it down, you two!” someone called from across the room. Sarah looked out across her bedroom, and knew straightaway that this wasn’t her bedroom at all. Instead of just her bed, there five other bunk beds against the walls. Each bed had a girl sleeping in it. There was a table and chairs in the middle, a sink in the corner and a door in the corner marked ‘Toilet’. What is this place?
The girl above Sarah looked across the room. “Sorry, Becky,” she said, “Sarah just made me jump, that’s all.”
The girl called Becky slumped back into her bed, muttering something about being ‘too early’. Sarah leaned forward and looked out of the window. Like all the other days, weak sunlight pushed through the snow and window, which didn’t have any curtains. Was this Christmas Day too? She looked around but couldn’t see a clock or calendar. Now that she came to think about it, where were all of her belongings? She couldn’t see any wardrobe, chest of drawers or closet. She
looked down at herself, and noticed that she was in an old nightgown that had a big stain down the front of it. Cold horror washed over her. Each day she’d put them on, the remaining tickets were safely in her jeans pocket. But her jeans, always right next to her bed every morning, were now gone. If I can’t find those jeans, then I cannot leave. I’ll be stuck here forever!
Sarah stood up quickly, careful not to headbutt the top bed again.
“Where are you going?” The girl in the top bunk whispered.
“Err, toilet,” Sarah blurted out, staggering across the room and nearly bumping into the table on the way. She walked into the toilet, locked the door and sat down. She took a deep breath. One thing was for sure: this was not her house. Or was it? Maybe in this version my parents just have a lot of kids? She shook her head. Don’t be silly. All those other girls are my age as well! She rubbed her head. What was this place, then? She thought hard. If she’d seen what her family would be like if they were really rich, then really poor, then what else could there be? I have to go and investigate…
She poked her head out of the toilet door. The girls in the room were all fast asleep again. Spotting the other door on the opposite side of the room, she crept across the thin and scratchy carpet to the door and left the bedroom.
The corridor was cold and bare, with a concrete floor and pipes running along the ceiling like the strings of a giant spider web. The windows on the left-side wall were big and thin, letting in a lot of the cold as well as the morning light. Sarah saw her own breath rise in front of her like a little cloud.
She passed a door marked 'Boy's Room'. Looking back, she saw that the door she had walked out of was marked 'Girl's Room.' She also passed what looked like a meeting room and a small interview room with a single desk and three chairs: two big, one small.
Aside from the snow outside, nothing in this place gave a clue that it was Christmas: no decorations, no smell of food, not even a calendar. Is it really Christmas? Nobody is awake and excited. It's not that early, is it?
She came to a crossroads of corridors. At one far end, she spotted what looked like the main entrance: two big, heavy-looking doors that had a giant lock bolting them shut. This place...it was a lot like a school, only even less happy. Slowly, it was dawning on her just what this place was, like a something creeping up her spine. It couldn't be...there was no way...