Santa Baby

‘Oh. Would you just look at him,’ said Mrs Christmas, leaning over the opened stocking.

‘How precious,’ said Grandpa. ‘His nose is like a little red cherry.’

‘His cheeks are like roses,’ crooned Grandma, pinching the baby’s red raw skin.

The infant’s eyes twinkled, not with merriment, but because the glow from the Christmas lights was glinting off his welling tears. And his mouth was not a cute bow, but a tight knot. Then the sound came - a piercing cry, echoing across the North Pole.

Sarah Chistmas glowered at him. If she had her way, she would stuff his little bald head back in the stocking and tie it shut with the Christmas ribbons that littered the floor. Then she’d shove her baby brother back up the chimney and fan the flames that burned beneath him. Christmas had always been her day, and nowhere on her Christmas list did it say ‘baby brother’. Anyone would think he was the baby Jesus himself the fuss they were all making. Just because he was the family’s first-born male. Just because he would inherit the family business.

Father Christmas lifted the baby, still crying, from the stocking and bounced him on a giant knee. ‘Ho, Ho, Ho,’ he laughed, clearly delighted to have a new audience for his tired old routine.

Sarah sat down by the fire, picked up the colourful doll from her own stocking and began unplaiting the thick braids of her Sami hair. ‘Doll,’ hadn’t been on her Christmas list either. In fact, she’d asked for her own sleigh, a pet reindeer, a hunting knife and a copy of Northern Highlights: A Revisionist Feminist History of the Arctic Circle. She’d worked with the elves for long enough to know that no-one got everything on the list but surely this was breaking protocol? Everyone should get at least one thing they wanted though, in truth, the only thing Sarah Christmas really wanted was an adventure.

But her destiny had been set out for her when she was just a twinkle in the old goat’s eye. She would stoke the fire, bake the mince pies and help the elves to pack Santa’s sacks with gifts. And he, this red screaming pustule of a baby brother, would get to wear the red suit and the big black boots and travel the world. That was the way it had always been.

The family were still gathered around the baby, cooing. Sarah jabbed at the hot coals with a poker, trying to get their attention. But no-one noticed the girl by the fireside. In fact, it occurred to Sarah, no-one would notice if she wasn’t there at all. No-one noticed as she picked up the doll and tiptoed across the wooden floor and no-one noticed as she slid out through the door and into the darkness.

The snow was thick and deep. It creaked underfoot as she walked acorss the yard to the stable. She could hear the reindeer munching on their well-earned breakfast as she heaved the door open. Rudolph was in the first stall, his nose dull and pale now that the night’s antics were over.

‘Ssh, Rudey,’ she said. ‘There’s a good boy.’ She patted the reindeer on the nose and he nuzzled her cheek. She might not have her own pet reindeer but at least she still had Rudolph.

Her father’s sleigh stood over on the other side of the stable, shrouded in blankets. Sarah walked towards it and dragged the coverings off one by one until the sleigh was revealed in all its glory. Christmas bells still dangled from its sides and the reins hung loose but the interior was cavernous and empty. Or was it? Something was glinting down in the foot of the sleigh. Sarah climbed over the railings and reached down to pick up a small red box, tied with gold ribbon. Someone had been forgotten!

She scanned the label. The address was clearly visible in the glow of the lamplight - Vancouver. She should go and tell her father, or at least alert the elves. Canada, she knew, was the last place they delivered to. If she fetched them now, perhaps they could still get there in time and (she read the label again) Madeleine Boniver might still get her gift. But Santa was stting by the fire with his belt undone and by now he would have a whisky in his hand. Would he really want to be disturbed?

Sarah clambered back out of the sleigh and opened the gates to reindeer pens. ‘Come on Rudey,’ she said. Rudolph knew exactly what to do. He stopped munching on the hay and pranced across the stable floor until he was standing proud and erect in front of Santa’s sleigh. Sarah attached his reins and then called to the other reindeer in the way her father had taught her: ‘Come Dasher, come Dancer, come Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen.’ One by one they came and, one by one, Sarah fastened their reins, then slowly she opened the stable doors.

She could hear baby Santa’s shrill cry echoing into the dark of Christmas Day as she flicked the reins and sent the reindeer’s hooves pounding into the snow. A great puthering cloud formed around her as she called out, ‘To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, dash away, dash away, dash away all’ and as the air cleared Sarah Christmas flew up into the air and over the house. Down below, her family looked up in amazement and even Santa Baby stopped crying as he witnessed his big sister flying off into the sky. She tossed her Sami doll over the side of the sleigh. ‘Catch!’ she shouted as the doll tumbled through the darkness and into her father’s arms. Then, even though it was almost time for lunch, just for good measure, she sang, ‘Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight.’