A CHRISTMAS PARTY

Emalina scowled at the Christmas do email.  It looked like something more fitting for Hallowe’en; dinner at a theme park hotel after a ride on the ghost train.  Alice who was into all that nonsense had been the organiser. 

 

The sound of giggling trickled round the open plan office as the team read the email.  Emalina looked up sharply and everyone went back to what they were doing, except Natalie who was approaching, a determined smile on her face.

“Excuse me, Emalina, I was wondering if you could spare a moment?”
“If it’s to listen to an idea you have about making the company more money or a sales contract you’ve brought in, I’ve got all the time in the world.  I’ve noticed you haven’t been as productive as when we first employed you.  Don’t get too comfortable will you?”
“Actually, it’s about a sponsored sky dive I’m doing in January – I know brrr! - for the children’s charity I raise money for.  I was wondering how much I could put you down for.”
“Nothing.”
“It’s a centre for child victims of domestic violence.  It gives them and their Mums a safe place to stay and …”
“The men are aggressors and the women are fools,” Emalina interrupted, “their children will grow up to be one or the other, why should I help?   Alex, you’re staring at me.”
“I’m admiring your strong stance, Emalina,” Alex replied smoothly as Natalie hurried back to her desk, “are you going to the Christmas do?”
“Yes.  I need to keep an eye on you all,” Emalina got to her feet and walked slowly into the centre of the office.  Once she was satisfied she had everyone’s attention, she added; “At the Christmas do there will be no wine on the tables, no free bar, it will be a teetotal affair and it will finish before 2230 hours.  Gloria, you’re an intern, you don’t get to come.”

 

On the day of the Christmas do, Alice, Alex, Natalie, James and Lucy walked to the theme park from work.
“If we’re not there directly she’ll suspect we’ve had a drink,” Lucy said.
“I’m walking as fast as I can,” replied Natalie tottering on her high heels.
“So awful about Ashley, fired before Christmas,” Lucy continued.
“And she’s told Gloria she’s got to work tomorrow, so she can’t fly out to her family for Christmas Day.  The poor girl doesn’t even get paid!” James added.
“Our intervention will save them,” Alice stated, dressed in white as always and looking ethereal.
“Your intervention,” Alex said, “sounds like weird shit to me.  James, she said she didn’t like that Christmas tie, take it off.”
“I’ll put it on after she’s been on the ghost train,” James said because he had faith in Alice.
Emalina was waiting at the theme park entrance, looking round anxiously.  When she saw them, her face hardened; “What time do you call this?”
“I was slow in my heels,” Natalie replied.  Looking around she could see why Emalina had been rattled, a dark, deserted theme park, with the ghost train and restaurant open for one winter evening just for them.  Alice’s friends ran the place, but there was no comfort from knowing that.

A man approached the theme park gate and opened it; his face was hidden in the hood of his raincoat.  Despite this, Alice recognised him; “Hi Kevin.”
They followed Kevin past the deserted rides, to the ghost train.
“This looks rather neglected,” commented Emalina, “are you sure it’s safe?”
“Yes,” Kevin replied.
“I don’t want to get on it,” Lucy shivered.
“Anyone who doesn’t get on it doesn’t go to the meal,” Emalina stated, “I assume you all decided among yourselves this was what we’re going to do, so you can all suffer the consequences.”
Her staff got into their separate cars, each with a different kind of creature of the night on it.  The last carriage had a vampire, Emalina chose that one.

 

One by one the cars were spat into a dark tunnel, Emalina heard the screams of her staff, Lucy’s and Natalie’s sounded particularly frightened.  Good.  Emalina’s carriage jolted, interrupting her thoughts and she hurtled into the dark.  She couldn’t see anything at first only feel spiders’ webs caressing her face.  Then she saw her mother just as she remembered her with her limp blonde hair and watery eyes, a weak and cowed woman.  Towering over her was her father, barrel chested and brawny, dirty from working on the farm.  He was shouting that his dinner had been burned, he smashed a fist into her mother’s face and her mother fell knocking over the Christmas tree, banging her head on the hearth.  She saw the tiny form watching from behind the bannisters, calling; “Mummy?  Mummy?”

“Shut up, Emalina!” roared her father, aiming a kick at her mother’s prone form, then he thought better of it and knelt down; “Marion?  You OK?”  But her mother was not OK.
The carriage rattled past, showing her all the places she’d lived in as she’d grown up in care; the Henleys who had made her do all the housework, the Bensons who had told her she’d never make anything of herself and the Crockets who were lovely alcoholics.

The carriage roared round a corner into blazing light and Emalina saw her own front room.  Her husband was sitting on a sofa with Patricia the woman who lived next door, they were kissing passionately.

“She’ll be late home, she’s got this Christmas do,” her husband was saying, “she’s working tomorrow too but I’ve got the day off.  We can see each other…”
“But not Christmas day,” Patricia had the cheek to look disappointed.
“That’s the only day of the year the bitch doesn’t work.  We can text though and I’ll see you again Boxing Day, she always checks the accounts then.”
The carriage continued, Emalina saw her children tucked up in bed, oblivious to what was happening downstairs.  Her youngest son was awake; “Mummy, want Mummy,” he was whispering in the dark.  Emalina reached out her hand to touch his, but her fingers went right through him.
The carriage careered on and Emalina saw the living room of a cheap flat and the body of Ashley hanging from the light fitting.  A note was next to his body and she caught the words ‘Losing my job was the last straw …”, before the ride whirled on.
Then she saw Gloria’s kitchen, the intern was unloading her shopping; turkey for one, Christmas pudding for one, a mini bottle of bubbly …

Gradually the present faded into the future.  Emalina was at her own funeral – Alex and James were there, nobody else, but the mahogany coffin was beautiful and the flowers, oh the flowers!

“Well, at least the bitch is getting the send-off she wanted,” Alex said, his rich voice still the same, even though his hair was white.
“Yeah, all these flowers.  She left it in her will, don’t give any money to charity, buy me flowers,” James shook his head, “she never changed.”
“Did she leave you anything?”
“Not a penny.  You?”
“Nothing.”
“But you were her PA all these years!”
Alex shrugged; “I got paid for it.”
The carriage moved on, Emalina saw her sons, successful and sharp suited, in her empty house, sorting through her possessions, counting what they would inherit, satisfaction honeying their voices.
“I hate funerals,” Edmond was saying, “Mummy won’t mind us not going.”
“No,” agreed Eustace, “and she was never there for us, so why should we be there for her?”

 

The carriage hurtled its way back into the theme park and Emalina could breathe again.  She alighted from the ride, face flushed.  She could see the eyes of her co-workers upon her and she smiled genuinely for the first time in years.

“How was it?” Alex asked.
“Very good,” she replied, “a very personal experience, I wonder how that was done.”
“I didn’t get a personal experience,” James stated.
“Well, you’re not very important, are you?” Emalina said, “right, what time is it?  Eight o’clock, let’s get this dinner over with.  Remember what I said, I want you fresh as daisies in work tomorrow, I know it’s Christmas Eve and in past years you’ve expected to leave early, but let me re-iterate it’s a day the same as any other, you come in at eight, twelve hours from now and you leave at six with half an hour for lunch, so no going to the pub.”
Her staff looked so disappointed; Alice especially looked as if she might cry.
“Well, you’re getting Christmas day off!” Emalina said.
At the table in the hotel, Emalina made sure she sat next to Alice; “Alice, tell me how you managed to make the ride so relevant? “ She raised her voice, “Do you know what everyone?  I’m proud of myself.  I didn’t have the best start, but I’m a self-made woman.  Sure, I’ve made some ruthless decisions and perhaps there have been casualties, but you can’t be successful and not cause some collateral.  My sons are going to grow up to be fine, independent men - especially after I’ve made a few adjustments at home.  Great heads up about my husband, Alice, I’m impressed.  James, take off that dreadful tie!”

PEACE ON EARTH

I don’t mind the Slackers getting away with stuff, as long as they are polite and helpful towards the Customers.  The ones causing me anxiety are the Workers.  They’re so grateful to have a job they forget to take breaks, to switch off by walkin’ in a winter wonderland ...

I patrol the aisles, ensuring no-one is feeling the effects of the conditions because even the Slackers know it’s Christmas time at all ... and are getting involved, decking the aisles with bows of holly tra la la la la ... I mean, they’re working hard for once too.

“Mr Fulton,” Jenny rushes to me, “it’s happening again, aisle ten.”
Emma is staring at the shelves swaying side to side; “Ring ding ding ding ding ding-a-ling ...” she moans, surrounded by anxious colleagues.
“Take her outside.  Let her sit in her car,” I order.
They lead Emma away, past bemused Customers.  I smile reassuringly thinking longingly of outside where it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with ...

I continue my rounds.  When I reach the mistletoe and wine aisle, I can take my break.  Several customer queries and the incident with Emma have caused me to run behind.  My name is called over the tannoy, summoning me to aisle eight.  Jenny intercepts me; “There’s loads coming down with it, Mr Fulton.  You’re going to have to change the ...”

“Not now!” We’ve reached aisle eight.
All my life the Customer has come first, not the staff, not the Corporation that pays my wages.  I take pride in looking after their every need, in making sure they have a happy holiday, that their experience shopping with us is ... is oh I wish it could be Christm ... Oh God, I didn’t take my break, I can’t think!  There is a Customer down in aisle eight, standing over him is his wife, a frozen turkey in her hand, she’s weaving slightly and mumbling under her breath; “In the meadow we can build a snow man ... he’ll say are you married, we’ll say no man ...”  She starts to laugh.  I’ve seen staff this bad, but they spend hours in the store.  Could this over-exposure be due to the Corporation’s insistence we change things round regularly so that no matter how they write out their list, Customers will never get the order right and spend ages doubling back?
“What happened?” I ask.
“He told her to cook the turkey upside down so it wasn’t dry like last year, that’s all he said ...” Sandra reported as she moved the Customer into the recovery position.
“Give me the turkey,” I said gently to the woman, “I know how to make things right.  But you have to be quick, I didn’t take my break and ...”
“But baby it’s cold outside,” the woman whispered clutching the turkey.
“The weather outside is frightful ...” I begin to agree, then remember it’s not.
“Mr Fulton,” Jenny sounds edgy.  They can’t take me outside, not in front of the staring Customers.
I do the unthinkable, I snatch the turkey from the woman.  I have to save them, the Slackers, the Workers, my beloved Customers.  I sprint heading for the mistletoe and wine ... the booze aisle where the door leads out back.  Jenny is right, but I’m not going to change the playlist, we’re going to have a complete change from this constant sleigh-bell infested loop, we’re going to have silence!
“Mr Fulton!  What are you doing?” cries Gary in the warehouse, but Jenny has followed me and she holds Gary back.
“Go Mr Fulton!” she urges me as I bash the frozen turkey into the sound system again and again.
Finally we have what we crave, no sleigh-bells, no cheesy singing, no mention of enforced joy, presents or snow.  We have silence, we have ... peace on earth ... Oh God no.

FESTIVE FAYRE

Gabrielle and Katrina arrived at Madeline’s front door simultaneously.

“Hope she’s OK,” Gabrielle murmured.
“She really liked him,” Katrina whispered.
“What was he this time?  A stockbroker?  A venture capitalist?”
“An investment banker.”
The door opened and both women chorused; “Merry Christmas!”
Madeline looked lovely in her dress; “Dinner’s nearly ready!” she grinned, as if forcing herself into the spirit of it all.
“Dinner first, then presents, like last year,” Katrina suggested.
“Champagne first!” they all said together.

The women gathered in the kitchen and champagne was poured.

“Who wants to carve?” asked Madeline.
Katrina and Gabrielle looked at her imploringly.
“I’ve just had my nails done,” Gabrielle said.
“You cut meat so beautifully,” Katrina gushed.

Madeline sighed and took the meat from the oven.  A scent similar to pork filled the room.  Katrina and Gabrielle made appreciative noises.  While Madeline cut and divided the meat onto plates, they put vegetables into bowls, carried them through to the elaborately laid table and made sure glasses were refilled.

In the dining room, the women toasted the year that had been, then Gabrielle asked; “Do you miss him?”

Katrina shot her a look.
“Course I do,” Madeline replied, “it’s one of those things, isn’t it?  I met him in the New Year, he was new and love was new; but we all know that can’t last.” she sighed, putting a forkful of meat in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“They go off don’t they?”  Katrina stated.
“Start neglecting their bodies,” Gabrielle said, “nice and fit when you meet them, then the gym visits stop and they sit in front of the TV, drink beer and eat doner kebabs ...”
“They start wearing jogging bottoms.  Then they fart on the upholstery and belch.” Katrina wrinkled her nose.
“They expect us to keep our figures,” Gabrielle continued, cutting meat off bone and skewering it on her fork.
“And they get irritable with you just for being alive.”
"You forget what you saw in them.”  They stopped, realising that Madeline hadn’t said anything.  She was staring nostalgically at her plate.
She looked up; “It’s better this way.  Why not feed them up?  Accelerate the inevitable decline?”
Gabrielle’s face softened, “You did seem to like him ...”
“He’d have turned out like the others,” Madeline’s eyes narrowed, “got mean, taken me for granted, spent all his time at work, forgotten my birthday.  Little by little with these City men the love ebbs away.  No, let it stay new forever and then we three get something out of it, this lovely party, this delicious meat.”
“They don’t all taste the same,” Gabrielle said, “this one is the best so far.”
“Yes, he was,” Madeline said sadly.
“We can’t wait to give you your present,” Gabrielle handed Madeline a parcel, “go on!”
Madeline opened it.
“Careful!” Katrina giggled.
Madeline stared at the sharp, bejewlled dagger in her hand; “Thanks ladies, you shouldn’t have!”
Katrina grinned, raising her glass; “Here’s to January ...”
“And hunting in Canary Wharf!” cried Madeline and Gabrielle.