Mr and Mrs Christian spend the night with Father Christmas, part 1



The narrow way sparkled in the evening light. Mrs Christian glanced down and saw bits of foil and candy wrappers littering it. Strange, she thought, it looks more like a street in Vanity Fair.

Mr Christian was leading the way, his head down and coat collar turned up. On either side of the way the wall of hedges was dusted with snow. With the setting sun behind them, a large house suddenly emerged from the darkness before them, candles winking in its many windows. Towering over it was a magnificent evergreen lit by countless lights. Mrs C shivered as she recognised it – it was the home of old acquaintances, Father Christmas and his wife.

She snugged her scarf around her ears and watched her husband tilt his head back to gaze up into the tree –

“THWACK!” A window shot open near the top of the house, and a cheerful face with a beautiful white beard gazed down, its breath freezing in the air. “So it’s you – ho-ho!” cried Father Christmas. “Come in!”

Mr C thought for a moment and then held out his hand to Mrs C. “We’ve got to stop for the night somewhere, so it might as well be here. We don’t have to get involved…”

Mrs C slipped on a patch of ice and Mr C caught her hand to steady her. Together they climbed slick steps over the wall, abandoning the narrow way.

To be continued…

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