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Author’s Note: “Silent Night” is the fourth story in a series set in the fictitious neighbourhood of Eyre’s Crescent. The first three, “Nightlight”, “Pooky Night” and “Night Blooming”, can all be found on my profile.
SILENT NIGHT
“Ding dong merrily on high, in heaven the bells are ringing...” Tabbie runs out of steam and looks down at the hymn sheet again. She doesn't like this carol. She prefers Jingle Bells, or Away In A Manger. This one is full of old, long words and the tune isn't much fun. And why does she have to sing in church anyway? In Tabbie's eyes, church is for grown ups, not seven year olds.
But Mum had insisted, and Tabbie knows that the elves are out at this time, doing last minute checks on who is being good or bad. Dad says he saw one yesterday, but when Tabbie ran to the window to look, there was nothing. Still, she supposes he could have seen something. At Halloween, Tabbie thought she saw a ghost – Mona had said it was just Lara Fife in a costume, but she didn't quite buy it.
“That sounds lovely, Tabs!” Mum's head pokes round the bedroom door. “Getting in some last minute practice?” Tabbie nods, smiling, not wanting to tell Mum that she doesn't want to do this anymore. She thinks that if she doesn't want to sing, but does it anyway to please Mum, then that will definitely put her on the Nice list, and maybe Father Christmas will be willing to overlook the fight she got into at school last week, with Jack Stowe, who said that there was no such thing as elves or Santa. Maybe Santa will even think she's extra nice, for defending him. You never know.
“Ready to go?” Mum looks more excited about the concert than the fact that it's Christmas Eve, which means Santa is coming tonight. Do grown ups lose interest in Santa as they get older? Or do they just treat him more like one of those old friends that you like a lot, but only see from time to time? Tabbie asks Mum, and Mum says that she's sort of right.
“Santa still leaves presents for your Dad and me,” she explains, “but he's like us, in that he wants to make Christmas extra special for young ones like you.” This is one of the less crummy answers that Mum has given to one of her many questions, so Tabbie nods, smiles, and looks back down at her hymn sheet.
It's his fault, really. Okay, so there is no chance whatsoever that he got her pregnant, but that doesn't stop him being responsible. The only reason that Lara went out, got drunk, and slept with somebody she had never met before was because she'd been trying to forget about Scott and the feelings that she had for him. Feelings that she still has.
It had been the night that Scott went to the pub with Jasmine. Lara had been so out of her head with jealousy that when she got a phone call from a friend about a party one town over, she'd jumped at the chance. She hadn't got well and truly caned since the night that she met Scott, and a party seemed like the perfect cure for her fixation. Of course, just like all of her other ideas, it turned out to be a huge mistake. Lara had killed a bottle of wine within an hour of getting there, then moved onto spirits...
She'd ended upstairs on a bed with a barely conscious guy whose name she thought was Roger. It might have been Rodney. He grunted and hummed over her in such a way that Lara wasn't sure if he wanted sex, or chips with gravy. The second it was over, she regretted it, but by then it was too late to do anything about it. You stupid, stupid girl, she'd thought to herself as she made her way home, sitting in the back of a taxi before realising she had no money. The driver kicked her out of the cab just under a mile from the Crescent, and she made her way home alone in the dark. Her dad was already in bed when she got in, so thanking God for small mercies, Lara went up to her room, crawled under the covers, and cried herself to sleep.
She'd hoped that nothing from that night would come back to haunt her. Then she missed her period. Staring at the white stick, Lara knows that consequences don't get more serious than this. She'd probably have to drop out of school, or at the very least give up on the thought of university. A short time ago, that would have felt like a dream come true – now, Lara feels like she is trapped in an invisible cage of her own making, already imprisoned by the imaginary consequences of her actions. She can wave goodbye to any chance with Scott, she'll have to get used to those scornful looks on the street as she pushes her pram to and from the park, Dad will probably say something like “I'm just thankful your mother isn't around to see this...”
She's tearing up, and she doesn't even know if she's pregnant yet. Not that a blue line will change much – she's still a dumb bitch who can't do anything right.
“Please, God...” she closes her eyes, whispering. “Please, just give me one more chance...” She remembers these platitudes from the many times she had to make up for her screw-ups when her mother was alive. “I'll never let you down again, I promise.” That's a pretty familiar line, too. “If you do this for me, I won't waste my time anymore. I'll tell Scott the truth about how I feel, and one way or the other, things will work out. I'll finish school, I might even go to uni... no, I will go. I promise. And I'll have a family one day too, I swear, just not today, alright? Please.”
She checks her watch – time's up. One way or the other, she can look at this strip of plastic now and know the truth. Her hands are shaking as she holds it up, and she feels like she might puke. Here goes nothing, she thinks. Unbelievable; it's a Christmas miracle. Not pregnant. Lara looks, then looks again, then picks up the box and re-reads the instructions. It's for real – she's not having a baby. Does she experience any two-mindedness, any pang of regret? Not a one. Laughing with sheer, ecstatic relief, Lara throws the test and box into the bin, and vows to make good on her promise.
Don’t be taken in as if butter wouldn’t melt; her charm and looks are just tools she uses to hide her wickedness and get whatever she wants.
Mona has read this note at least once a day, every day, for the last month. And every day she has come up with a new theory, a new scenario in her head that explains what Jasmine did and why she had to flee her home in London. Surely there can't be anything that can make a mother so unsympathetic towards her own child?
She hasn't told Jas about the note. She's been hoping that eventually Jas would tell her about what happened with her mother, but as time has gone by, the subject has grown more and more distant. Mona remembers telling herself that if she hadn't got the truth out of Jas by Christmas, something would have to be done. But what? It's Christmas Eve, and she's no closer to knowing anything. Should she draw a line under her recent hospitality? Mona imagines the conversation:
“It's time for the truth, missy, or there'll be no more room at the inn.” Ridiculous.
Maybe she should just call Lindy and ask for the truth, straight from the horse's mouth. But no; she's already thought of that over the last few weeks, and the only thing that's stopped her is, she knows Lindy. Her former daughter-in-law doesn't work that way, she's very big on responsibility and learning lessons. She would insist that Jasmine tell Mona herself, so as to take accountability for herself. And that would be fine, except every time Mona has asked Jas about the fight she had with her mother, Jas would say: “ask her.” It's the definition of frustration.
Jasmine is in the kitchen when the phone rings, meaning that Mona is the one to answer it in the hallway. It's Lindy, the last person Mona would have expected to hear from on Christmas Eve.
“Hi, Mona... I know it's been a long time.”
“It's alright, love. I think I know why you're calling.”
“Is she there?”
“I'll fetch her.”
When Jas hears who is on the line, her face freezes up. But Mona insists that she take the call, and when she finally retreats into the kitchen with the phone in her hand, closing the door behind her for privacy, Mona wonders if she is finally going to hear the full story. She busies herself in the living room for the next hour while mother and daughter speak on the other side of the wall. Mona resists the urge to eavesdrop, occupying herself with some last minute gift wrapping, including the book of fairy tales for Tabitha. She can call on the Parkers tomorrow afternoon, when they've finished their Christmas lunch, and she can give it to the little one then.
Finally, Jas comes out of the kitchen, and the first thing she does is come over to Mona and wrap her long, toned arms around her grandmother. Mona knows in that moment, that Jas is going home.
“When you said it was her on the phone, I thought she was calling out of some sanctimonious Christmas spirit, to 'forgive' me... I was ready to scream down the line at her, but it wasn't like that at all. She wanted to say she was sorry. She'd got it all wrong, she'd believed the wrong person...” Jasmine pauses, then goes on.
“It was her new bloke. They got married in August, and as soon as he had his feet well and truly under the table, he started giving me the eye. I ignored it at first, mainly because Mum seemed so happy with him. Happier than I could remember seeing her for a long time. But he got worse. He'd walk into the bathroom while I was in the shower, saying he hadn't known I was in there... the lying bastard. Then, one night...”
She stops talking again, for a couple of minutes. Mona doesn't push it, just reaches forward and strokes her dark, soft hair.
“One night, he came into my room while I was sleeping. I woke up, but it was too late, he was already in bed with me, on top of me... he clamped his hand down over my mouth, and I remember he was so heavy, I couldn't move... I was so scared, Gran. More scared than I'd ever been in my life. It was so quiet! He didn't make any noise, and I couldn't scream no matter how hard I tried. It all happened in silence. His face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath on me... I shut my eyes and I didn't open them until he had left. The next day, I tried to tell Mum about it, but he had already got to her. He told her that I was a disgusting little whore who tried to seduce him. And she believed him, Gran, she didn't even listen to me. In her mind, it was right to stand by her husband, so we had the hugest fight. I hit her, I was so angry, even though it was him I really hated. And then I left.”
Mona doesn't know what to say, what to do. So she just pulls her granddaughter closer, and feels her trembling against her, crying.
“What does your mother say now?”
“She came to her senses, I guess. She said he was acting so carefree, even though she was heartbroken about what had happened... It didn't ring true, and she finally wrangled a confession out of him. She's good at it, trust me – when she wants to know something, it's like God is working through her.”
“Oh, I remember.”
Jas snorts at this, not a laugh, but something close.
“Anyway, he's long gone, and she wants me home for Christmas, so she can make everything right.”
“But don't you feel betrayed?”
“Of course. When she took my side over his, I felt like I did when Dad died – like I'd lost her too. But she's my mother, and no matter how much I might have grown to hate her lately, that doesn't mean I can just stop being hers, or she can stop being mine. Do you know what I mean?”
Mona understands. Her son had been a terrible person at times, but she still would have done anything for him. The only truly good thing he ever did was help bring Jasmine into the world, the rest of his life was wasted. But that didn't stop Mona wishing that God had taken her instead, after he died.
“So,” Jas says, “I'd best start packing. And I need to call a taxi.”
“On Christmas Eve?” Mona shakes her head. “Don't be a fool. I'll drive you. I'd like to see Lindy again, too. She's a good girl, even if she has acted like a madwoman lately. I just need to drop off a gift at the Parkers' before we go.”
It's A Wonderful Life is on TV, just like it is every Christmas. Scott loves it, but he doesn't think it's a particularly Christmassy film. The main character spends his whole life trying to escape his family and hometown, only to get more and more deeply rooted. Then he tries to kill himself. This cynical critique of the movie usually evaporates when he sees the ending, which brought an unfamiliar sting to his eyes even when he watched it as a boy.
His least favourite part is when George Bailey is shown what the world would be like, had he never been in it. Pottersville is a seedy, violent place, and nobody is happy. Scott harbours a secret fear that, had he himself never been born, the world might be a better place. He would never have trashed somebody else's flat while on the comedown, paranoia would never have driven him to attack one of his friends... His mother's heart would never have been broken because he claimed to hate her.
Scott nods off on the sofa, the film still playing. Clarence, an angel, second class, is explaining a few things to George Bailey. Behind Scott's eyelids, an elf-like creature conjured up by his sleepy mind talks in the same genial, Southern voice as Clarence.
“You do think some shit,” the elf says. His ears are pointy, but he doesn't look like one of Santa's little helpers, at least not to Scott. For one, he's smoking.
“What do you mean?”
“What you were just daydreaming about... 'oh, woe is me, everyone would be better off without me'... Get over yourself. The likelihood is, the world would be much the same, even if you hadn't ever been born. Obviously, your parents might not be together today without their son to bring them closer. But what do you care? You don't even exist, in theory.”
“Now you're the one coming out with shit,” Scott says. “How is anyone to know what would happen if I wasn't around? It's impossible to tell.”
“You're right, I suppose,” the elf nods in agreement, and puts out his cigarette under his curly toed shoe. “What I do know, however, is that you could be doing a better job with this less-than-wonderful life of yours.”
“You don't need to tell me that, I know I've made a mess of things up to this point.”
“Oh, no, I'm not talking about the heroin and wallowing in filth for a few years... you've sort of made up for that. But you're very close to passing up a huge opportunity, one that could change your life.”
“You've lost me.”
“Oh, for heaven's sake...” The elf thinks for a minute, then snaps his fingers. “Okay! Take a look at this.”
A nativity scene appears in front of Scott. Tabbie Parker has a tinsel halo stuck on an Alice band, which Scott thinks makes her the Archangel Gabriel. Not a bad role to get, he supposes – when he was seven, he'd been Shepherd # 2. Didn't have any lines. The Three Wise Men are played by Evan Parker, Mr. Fife, and Scott's own dad, Harold Dalton. The innkeeper is Mona Brown. Jasmine and Louise are shepherds, he thinks. Lara kneels over the manger. She is the last person he would ever choose to play Mary, but tonight she looks just right.
“There's no Joseph,” he murmurs. The elf rolls his eyes, and pushes Scott forward. He kneels down in the empty space next to Lara. The manger, he notices, is empty.
“Where's the baby?”
“On his way,” the elf says. “He might arrive in a few years, it's hard to tell yet.”
“I honestly have no idea what you are talking about, do you know that?”
“Do I have to spell it out to you?”
Scott looks from the elf, to rest of the stable, to Lara. He remembers the disastrous date he went on with Jasmine last month, and how he'd kept thinking of Lara even though he didn't mean to. He remembers telling Lara that he wasn't attracted to her, that she was magic but she was also five years younger than him...
Lara is older at seventeen than Scott is at twenty-two. She makes him feel young, foolish, naïve. She's no Virgin Mary, that's for sure, but Scott thinks he knows what this imaginary tableau is trying to tell him.
“I love her, don't I,” he says, amazed.
“Finally!” The elf lights another cigarette.
He looks exactly the way he did when he was six, and tried to stay up all night in the hopes of catching one glimpse of Santa Claus, only to fall asleep.
She sees him tonight, her beautiful, lost little boy, and likes to imagine that nothing has changed.
