A Christmas Carol
Max walked out of the station, his hands dug into his pockets, his head bowed against the wind. The snow whipped around him, settling quickly on the pavement. He hated Christmas with a passion, but it wasn't just because he was a Scrooge, he did have a reason for not liking it. It all stemmed from an accident that had killed his mother on Christmas Eve 15 years ago now, back in his native Poland, but he didn't want to think about it. Christmas was depressing enough without thinking about that. He hurried down the road, wanting to get in, get a drink and settle in front of the TV. As he rounded a corner, a smaller figure hit him.
"Sorry." he muttered, not looking at who he had hit.
"Oh that's ok, it was my fault." the female voice replied, "Oh, it's you!"
Max, confused, looked up, or should he say down, into the blue eyes of Beth Green. "Hi."
"Are you going home to get ready for the Christmas Eve party?" she asked. Max noticed how her eyes were the same blue as a crisp winter sky, and how the snowflakes lightly settled on her dark hair, making her appear almost ethereal.
"Party?" he asked.
"Yeah, you know, the station Christmas party? The one that always happens on Christmas Eve? Oh come on, you must know about it!" Beth said exasperatedly.
Recognition gnawed in Max's brain, he vaguely remembered Stevie banging on about it, "Oh, oh yeah. Nah, Christmas parties aren't really my thing. I'm just going to go home." Max said.
Beth looked shocked, but then again you didn't have to tell her twice when the word party was mentioned, "Really? But it's always good fun! Oh come on Max!"
Max's heart was push him towards Beth and the invite to the party, but his head stubbornly held back. "No, sorry, not this year. I'll see you later. Have a good Christmas." Max said with a small smile, trudging through the snow away from Beth.
"Merry Christmas Max!" Beth shouted after his retreating back. She sighed. Max was a good man underneath it all, but she didn't understand why he couldn't kick back and relax sometimes. She rolled her eyes and tightened her scarf, hurrying to the direction of the warm station.
*
Max got into the house, stomping his boots on the mat, getting all the snow off. He flicked on the lights in the living room before heading into the kitchen. His house was completely bare of Christmas decorations; to him, Christmas was no different to any other time of year. He poured himself a stiff whiskey. Normally he hated the stuff with a passion, but desperate times meant desperate measures. He walked through to the living room with his whiskey, and slumped on the sofa. He felt utterly drained, probably due to the fact that he had offered to work extra days over Christmas for all those who had booked them off to spend it with their families. He hadn't put himself forward to work Christmas day though. Normally he did, but this year he had decided against it. He thought that maybe he could ring his grandmother in Poland, and although that would hardly take all day, his grandmother would probably talk his ear off after not having heard from him in months. He chuckled as he drank his whiskey. His grandmother was a formidable women, a real matriarch of the family. She was small and stout, with long grey hair and dark eyes like her grandson. What she lacked in height she made up for in personality, and when Max's mother had died, his grandmother took over in raising him. His childhood may have had it's down's, but the years he spent with his grandmother were his most memorable. Max sighed; he missed his family. Although he tried to convince himself and his colleagues around him that he was fine with being alone at Christmas, really all he wanted to do was go to Poland and let his babcia take care of him. He turned the telly on, flicking past all the Christmas films before he landed on a really gory action film. He settled himself, and began to watch. Before he knew it, he had dozed off, just as the clock hit midnight.
*
Max felt something cold by his feet. He shivered and pulled his feet up towards his body, drifting off to sleep again.
"Max." someone whispered next to him.
"Go away." he said sleepily.
"Max darling, wake up, I haven't got long." the quiet female voice repeated.
Max forced his eyes open, recognition dawning in his face, "Mum?" As Max's body and senses woke up, his eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of him. His mother, pale and transparent, was knelt on the floor in front of him. Her light hair was piled messily on top of her head as it used to be when she was alive, and she was wearing her favourite dress, a fitted ruby red one with long sleeves.
"Ah my boy. How I miss you." his mother said, tenderly stroking his chin.
Max cringed away from the cold, "Mum? Are you really here or did I have too much whiskey."
His mother laughed, "Always so suspicious. Yes son, I am here. I have come to warn you."
Max's nose crinkled in confusion, "Warn me about what?"
"Your future. When I died, I was punished, because I did a bad thing." his mother said sadly, getting up and perching on the sofa next to him.
"A bad thing?" Max questioned, turning to face his mother.
"Yes Max, a bad thing. I can't tell you what it was, but I have come to make sure you don't end up with the same fate. My punishment is to wander the Earth, collecting lost souls and taking them either to heaven or hell, sometimes to purgatory." his mother said, taking his warm hand in her cold transparent one.
"Mum, I'm not dead though, so why are you here?" he asked.
"Because if you carry on in your ways, you will die alone and end up like me." she said gently.
"My ways? What ways?" Max asked. He felt a bit thick, but his mother was not making any sense.
"Max, my son, you need to open your heart to love and friendship. Do not keep shutting yourself off from everyone, because you will need someone by your side one day. Tonight, three ghosts are going to visit you. They will tell you everything you need to know, and I pray that you will heed what they say and change you ways. Do you understand?" his mother asked, smiling kindly.
"Yes mum, but I'm still convinced that either I'm dreaming or I'm completely drunk. But yes, I understand." Max said.
"I need to leave now. I love you so much, and I am proud of you. But remember, listen to the spirits!" his mother said, before standing up and planting a kiss on his forehead. Max closed his eyes as the scent of orange blossom invaded his senses; that was the perfume his mother wore. He shook his head, trying to make sense of what had happened.
*
Max had just slipped under his cold duvet when he heard a strange noise coming from the foot of his bed. He pushed the covers off, shivering as the clod air hit his bare skin. He slid to the end of the bed, and jumped as he saw a small child sitting on the floor.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked in shock.
The child looked up, an innocent smile on his face. "Matka sent me."
"Matka? Mum? My mum sent you?" Max asked.
"Yes, she told me that you needed help, so here I am." the boy said.
"Oh yes, you must be one of the three ghosts." Max said sarcastically. He had convinced himself that he had been dreaming earlier.
"Yes. Now Max, take my hand." the child said, offering his hand up to Max.
"Why?" he questioned, wary of this child.
"Because you need to. Come on, we can't be late!" the boy warned, shaking his hand for Max to hold it.
"Oh what the hell, I've already dreamt of my dead mother today, I may as well hold a strange child's hand." Max muttered, grasping the child's hand. The room disappeared in a shivering glow, and suddenly they appeared in a familiar front room with a roaring fire place and a real Christmas tree with presents underneath. Max was startled as his mother, father and grandmother walked into the room. "Mum? Dad? Babcia?"
"They can't hear you." the child said matter of factly. "Just watch."
Max watched as his mother sprinkled some snow onto the floor around the tree, and then some glitter by the mince pie and carrot that had been left out for Father Christmas. Max smiled fondly; his parents did everything they could to make sure Max still believed in Father Christmas. Max watched as his father kissed his mother lightly on the cheek before leaving the living room. His grandmother watched, and as soon as his father was out the room she spoke. Max listened carefully.
"Angelika, you know that you can't stay with him, don't you? I love you, my corka, I want you to be safe. He has wrecked your honour, made a mockery of our family. And what about Max? Why should he look up to his father after what he has done?"
"Mama, I know you mean well, but I love Jarek, and I will not leave him. He has not dishonoured our family, has he. You never liked him, and I coped with that, but you cannot tell me to leave him. Max needs his father." Angelika said quietly but firmly.
"Angelika, please. Think of Max." she pleaded.
"I am mama, I always do. Now, I need to go and pick up Max's big present from Mr Gorski. I'll be back as soon as I can." Angelika walked over to her mother, kissing her cheek before leaving the room.
The scene before him changed rapidly, and Max saw his thirteen year old self standing out in the snow as his mother's coffin was gently placed in the ground. He remembered this day, the day his grandmother had sent Jarek away. The thing that hurt Max the most was not that Jarek left, but that he didn't think to take Max with him. Max had never heard from his father again. Not that he minded.
The scene changed again. This time, Max was twenty three, and in his flat with his girlfriend just after they had moved to England. She wanted to marry him, but he had pushed her away. She had been so excited when they moved to England, thinking that finally Max would settle down with her and they could start the family that she so craved. Max watched as his twenty three year old self kissed Serafina goodbye, leaving her crying and all alone in this foreign country where she knew no-one, a month before Christmas.
The scene changed for a final time. Max squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to relive this particular Christmas past. He had just turned twenty four, and it was a month after he had left Serafina. There had been a knock on his door, and he opened his door to see two police men there.
"Mr Carter?" one asked.
"Yes?" he questioned, eyeing them warily.
"I'm afraid to see that your girlfriend, Serafina Czarnecki was found dead in her flat this morning. She committed suicide." the other officer said sadly.
Max just stood there, his mouth open. He had once again be the cause of a death. First his mother, and then his ex girlfriend. "Why?" he had asked them, his voice hoarse.
"She left a note, saying that you had left her and she couldn't bear to live without you. She wanted us to give you this." the officer said, handing Max an envelop with his name on.
"Thank you." Max had said, shutting the door on the officers. Max had never opened that letter, and he never intended to.
The child let go of Max's hand, and he found himself back in the present, back in his bedroom.
"They are your Christmas pasts. Your mother wants you to learn from your past. And she told me to tell you that you didn't cause her death, or Serafina's. Now, await the next spirit. Merry Christmas Max Carter." the small boy said, cocking his head as he disappeared.
*
Max crawled back into bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He had just had a whiskey too many, that was it. Things always became more vivid and real after a drink. And at this time of year, a time when he had experienced so much pain, was it any wonder he was going through past memories? He had just settled down again when he heard a big booming laugh. He jolted up, staring around his room, his breathing quick.
"Ah, you must be Max." a jolly man at the end of the bed said.
Max moaned and collapsed back against the pillows. No way could this be happening. "No I'm not, you got that wrong house."
The man laughed again, "Your mother told me you were a sarcastic one. Come on then, up you get. Take my hand, don't be shy now."
Max sat up, taking the man in properly. If Max didn't know better, he would say the ghost looked like Saint Nicholas. "Do I have to? Tell mum that I learned my mistakes and that I won't end up like her." Max said, talking to the ceiling.
The man chuckled, a deep booming laugh, "I don't think so laddie!" Max felt a warm strong hand take his hand, and he had the familiar sensation of disappearing and then reappearing.
They were outside a hall of some sort, and from inside there was Christmas music blaring, and people laughing and joking. The jolly man walked forward through the snow, taking a bite out of the chicken leg he was holding.
"Well come on then, don't dawdle out here!" the man said, beckoning Max to follow him.
Max hung his head sighing, but trudged after the man. "Why are we here?"
"Because I am the ghost of Christmas present. I have come to show you what you're missing. Now, let's go. We're on a tight schedule as I'm sure the ghost of Christmas past has already told you." the man said, walking through the solid wood door as if it was nothing.
Max followed but more cautiously, not wanting to injure himself. But he found that he too could pass through. The scene in front of him was one of Christmas merriment. He gaped as he saw people he recognised, and then he realised he must be at the Sun Hill Christmas party. There was Smithy, dancing with Stevie, and Sally with Nate, and the Inspector having a sly whiskey. Max couldn't help but smile at everyone having a brilliant time. He felt an unfamiliar pang in his stomach, and the jolly spirit laughed.
"You want to join in, you're missing all this fun and you're wondering what the heck you were doing at home waiting for ghosts when you could be here having fun." the man said, a twinkle in his eye.
"No I wasn't." Max immediately countered. He swept his eyes over the room again, seeing more familiar people, Jess and Callum, Tony and Roger, Will and Mel. And then his gaze fell on Beth. She was wearing a bright blue dress which set off her eyes beautifully. Her hair was loose and wavy, hanging around her shoulders. She had minimal make up on, most of the make up focused on her eyes, making them stand out even more. Max could feel his jaw hitting the floor. She looked simply stunning. But Max saw that her expression wasn't one of pure joy like everyone else's. She kept looking towards the door everytime it opened a look of hope on her face, but when it wasn't the person she was looking for, her face dropped.
"Who is she looking for?" Max asked the jolly ghost curiously.
"She's waiting for a man who she spoke to earlier, who she told about the party and who she really hoped would come. But he never showed up." the man said, looking pointedly at Max.
"Me? Why is she waiting for me?" Max asked, confused.
"Oh dear, we have a lot of work to do." the man said with a sigh. "Come on."
"Is that it? Are we done?" Max asked quickly.
"Yes we are, you still have one more visit left." the man said, grabbing Max's arm before he could move out the way.
Once again Max found himself back in his bed with the jolly spirit at the end of the room.
"I hope you learned something Max Carter, for your next and final spirit will not be like me and your first spirit. Seasons Greetings Max!" the spirit waved as he faded into thin air.
Max sunk back into the pillows, the vision of Beth burned on his eyelids. Had she really been waiting for him? Why?
*
Max was drifting off once more, images of Beth in his head, when there was a sudden coldness in his room. He opened his eyes slowly, looking towards the end of the bed. There stood a hooded figure, its hands folded in front of it.
"Detective Sergeant Max Carter." the spirit stated.
"Yes?" Max asked quietly. He was slightly afraid of this spirit, it wasn't like the other two.
"Come with me. Take my hand." the spirit said, gliding to where Max lay.
Max reached out a hand tentatively, and watched as a small wrinkled hand emerged out of the black robes and took Max's hand in it's own. With a whoosh, they were standing in a graveyard.
"What? Why are we here?" Max asked, bewildered. The pale hand pointed at a grave a few metres away. Max looked at the hand, and then back to where it was pointing. He walked across the frozen ground towards the grave. He walked around, searching for the name of the person who was laying here. With a shock, and a twist of the heart, Max saw his own name on the front of the grave, with the date of death as Christmas next year.
"How? Why? What did I do?" Max shouted at the spirit, his voice catching, being swallowed by the air.
"It's not what you did, but what you will do." the spirit said sadly.
Max froze as he heard footsteps approaching his grave. He turned and his heart beat that bit harder when he saw Beth. She was dressed in a red coat, with dark jeans and black boots on. Her hair was fanned around her face, a black hat keeping her warm. She had a cluster of flowers in her hand, and as she got to Max's grave, a solitary tear dripped down her face.
"Oh Max, I miss you. I didn't even know you that well, but I wish I did." Beth said quietly, laying the flowers gently on the grave.
Max watched as this girl he barely knew cried over his grave. How he wanted to hold her and tell it was ok.
"You can do that." the spirit said, hearing his thoughts, "But you must change your ways. Let people in, let people love you, and love in return."
Max turned to the spirit as it took it's hood down, and Max felt his face freeze as he saw his grandmother there. "Babcia?"
"Oh Max, why didn't you call me more? Let me know how you were doing? I miss you so much. Christmas is the one time when I know you will call me. But you see what your life will be like if you can't let people love you? See what will happen if you don't love?" his grandmother asked.
Max walked across the cold ground until he was standing in front of his small grandmother. He hugged her tight, relishing the familiar smell of her. It smelt like home, like his childhood, like safety. "You're not...you're not gone are you?"
"No my beautiful boy. I am still alive. But your mother knew that you would listen to me the most. She knew you would heed my advice. And will you?" his grandmother asked, looking up at him.
"Yes, yes I will. Thank you." Max said sincerely, hugging hid grandmother one last time before he ended up back in his warm room. His grandmother sat on the edge of the bed, one his large hands held between her small ones.
"Now my boy, I must leave you. But I expect a call tomorrow morning, and maybe even you could come and visit me soon, I miss you Max. I hope you have learned from us all tonight what you must do to be saved. I love you." Max's grandmother smiled kindly as she disappeared into thin air. Max sat upright, clambering out of bed. He knew what he must do.
*
Max pulled on his grey shirt and black trousers, quickly pulling on some socks and stuffing his feet into smart black shoes. He hurried down the stairs, checking the clock as he went. It was just after one in the morning, Christmas day. He grabbed his car keys and drove as quickly as he could to a hall not too far out of town. As he approached the thick wooden doors, he could hear Christmas music wafting out, and the sounds of laughter. He pushed the doors open, and there she was, waiting for him like he knew she would be. He smiled, walking towards her with one purpose in mind. Her smile grew and grew as she realised he had turned up for her, and she held her arms out, ready to receive him.
"You look beautiful." he whispered in her ear, holding her close against him/
"You don't look too bad yourself Max Carter." she giggled back.
"I'm sorry I've ignored you, but secretly I think about you all the time. Do you want a drink?" he asked with a smile.
She nodded, kissing him gently on the lips.
"Merry Christmas Beth." he said, his eyes twinkling.