Secret Santa
Can Christine fool the children into thinking she’s the real Father Christmas?
R“ ob, wake up will you. We’re supposed to be at the Christmas Fayre in another half an hour. You haven’t even started to get changed.”
But as Christine tried to wake Rob from his slumber, she was greeted by the strong smell of scotch and a half empty bottle of whisky earmarked for the tombola. The deep sound of snoring from his inert body on the sofa only confirmed her worst fears. He was in no fit state to be appearing there this afternoon as Santa.
“I could swing for you, I really could,” she groaned, feeling her way around the room in the dark, trying to think of who she could get to replace him. But with such little time, she could only see one option – dressing up as Santa herself.
The freshly pressed outfit was still hanging on the back of the bedroom door as Christine dashed upstairs. The next ten minutes were a blur of red and white beards, cushions, trousers and jackets as Christine tried to convince herself that she looked anything like they’d be expecting up at the village hall.
But convincing herself was one thing, how would she manage to pull the wool over the eyes of the inquisitive little faces queuing up to meet the real thing?
Christine put that thought to the back of her mind as she applied another thick layer of blusher and practiced her deepest “Ho, Ho Hos.”
Looking in the mirror, she was sure that most of the children were going to recognise her as their school dinner lady but perhaps, without her glasses, and hiding behind her new bushy white beard, maybe she could pull it off.
As Christine left home the snow was coming down quite thick. How appropriate for the Christmas
The only option was to dress up as Santa herself...
fayre. Reaching the village hall she suddenly realised she’d forgotten the sack of presents and had no option other than to go back to fetch them. With the snow even deeper by the time Christine pulled up in the car park and entered through the front door, it was clear that the event had already finished and that they were now clearing away.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped to the organiser, moving back the tables. “Everything that could have gone wrong, has gone wrong today. Were the children very disappointed?”
“What do you mean, sorry? You were great,” he grinned. “The whole event’s been a tremendous success. The kids thought you were brilliant!”
Embarrassed and unsure of what to say, Christine slipped quietly out of the back door, just catching a glimpse of a sleigh pulled by reindeer disappearing over the horizon...