The Rooftop Run
A woman’s work is never done – especially at Christmas time…
You’ll have to do the round tonight,” Santa croaked to his wife. “Me!” Ivy shrieked. “I can’t do the round! I’ve got to stuff the turkey, make mince pies…”
“We can’t let the children down.” Santa sneezed. “And there are more than ever of them this year.” “I’m not doing it,” Ivy repeated. “You’ll have to.” Santa blew his nose. “I’m not well enough.”
Ivy went downstairs to make him some lemon-and-honey. If she dosed him up, perhaps he’d recover in time.
Robin and Noel rushed through the back gate followed by their sister, Holly.
“They’re a nightmare. I’m never taking them Christmas shopping again,” Holly grumbled as she stomped into the kitchen.
“They’re over-excited because it’s Christmas,” Ivy said as she opened a jar of mincemeat. “I bet most kids are playing up today. Calm down and behave yourselves,” she told the twins. “I don’t want any fuss, especially not tonight…” “What happens tonight?” Noel asked. “Dad’s not well,” she replied, sidestepping the question. “So be good and keep the noise down, or Santa won’t visit.” “Yeah right,” said Noel. “As if!” Robin rolled his eyes. Holly and Ivy exchanged glances. The twins didn’t know their dad was Santa; they thought he worked in despatch. Ivy knew the pretence couldn’t last much longer but she hoped to get away with another year.
“You’ll have to babysit later,” Ivy told Holly when the boys were out of earshot.
“No way!” Holly snapped. “I’m going to the disco – I’ve bought a new top.”
“It’s lovely,” Ivy said as Holly pulled a sequinned T-shirt from one of the bags. “But I’ve got to do the round.”
“You?” Holly giggled. “You’ll never park the sleigh on all those tricky rooftops. And you always confuse Venice with Vienna.”
“But I don’t have a choice. Your father is ill and we can’t ignore all those letters and lists from the children.”
“You’re right.” Holly sighed.
Afew hours later, Ivy frowned at her reflection. “How do I look?” “Shame you’ve lost weight,” Holly said. Santa’s gown and trousers doubled around Ivy’s slim waist and his boots were like canoes on her small feet. She was wearing a false beard which made her itch, but once she’d rammed the hat over her blonde curls, she didn’t look too bad. “It’s midnight,” Holly said. “Time to go.” Outside, eight reindeer, already harnessed to the sleigh, pawed the ground.
Ivy climbed aboard and, after several failed attempts, finally managed to start it.
“Good luck, Mum,” Holly said. “Give me a ring later, let me know how you’re doing. Well, assuming there’s any signal.”
The sleigh took off and shot through the sky, battering stars as it went…
The next few hours passed in a ballistic, queasy blur. Ivy felt ill, her head ached, and at times, she didn’t know which way up she was.
“Perhaps I’m sickening for Santa’s flu,” she muttered.
Luckily, the reindeer knew the routine and all the presents were delivered on time.
Back home, Ivy wanted nothing more than a fortnight’s sleep on the doormat.
Holly crept downstairs and made her some hot chocolate.
“I’ve stuffed the turkey and peeled the sprouts,” she said. “You’ve just got to fill the stockings…”
Ivy grabbed the gifts and stumbled up the stairs.
Every child is special but for Ivy, hers were the most special of all. She hung a stocking on each of the twins’ beds, and then headed for Holly’s room… “Did you see that?” Noel whispered. “What?” Robin asked groggily. “Santa was here. I saw his red robes.” “Don’t be daft,” snorted Robin. “That was never Santa – it was just Dad dressed up.”