It was the last week of Christmas of December 1979, and it was indeed a time to rejoice. Last weekend a cold wind had blown in from the North Sea, and with it had come a surprise showering of snow that now covered even the southernmost parts of the British isles in a thick white blanket. The city of London, draped in its gaudiest Christmas garment, bristled with life and commotion as people tried to get ready for the celebrations. They plodded hither and thither across poorly shovelled pavement under shimmering street decorations, thickly dressed in coats and hats, and overloaded with myriads of boxes and bags.

Victoria and her three friends had skipped the lectures at uni for once and instead had had a fabulous day out and were now on their way home in the early night. They would soon be on their way to their respective families over Christmas, so they took the chance to enjoy the yuletide festivities together before that. They had been shopping among the luxurious stores around Covent Garden, then watched the musical 'Chicago' at the Cambridge theatre. Lastly they had eaten a late dinner at Rule's. This was Victoria's first Christmas in London, as she had arrived in the UK to study just a couple of months ago. So far she really liked London, and the last couple of days had been full of holiday spirit, with all the snow and Christmassy gimcrack in storefronts and streets. She and the other girls at her dorm had decorated the common areas of their living quarters with a bonhomie that made Victoria's heart warm, until it was more glitter and lights than walls and windows, and with a nice tree in the sitting room. For the first time in many years, Victoria felt happy about Christmas.

The night was bitter and dark when Victoria, Marc, Peter and Alyssa, her three closest friends from uni, tottered along the street in search for a cab, but the four friends felt high spirited and warm inside. Still, the cold was nipping at their cheeks and noses, and the wind was chilly, especially for the girls who were only wearing thin cocktail dresses and pumps under their coats.

"I can't believe you left that huge tip to the waiter," Alyssa said to Marc, who she held tightly around the arm. They were a couple since a few weeks back.

"Do you really think the service was worth that much?"

"Well," Marc answered with a grin, "Not at all, but you never tip out of the kindness of your heart anyway. At least I don't."

"Yeah," Said Peter. He and Victoria were mere friends, so they walked side by side with a bit of a distance between them. "Me neither."

"So?" Alyssa laughed and pushed Marc in the side. "Why do you do it, then? It's not some kind of rich boy's secret, is it?"

"No, it's quite simple," Marc answered with his signature crooked smile that probably had broken many a girl's heart, "You tip because you want something, and as with everything else; you get what you pay for."

Victoria had heard versions of this speech, about tigers and lambs or monkeys and lions or whatever, from her father many times before, but Alyssa apparently hadn't, and she looked admiringly up at her boyfriend. Or maybe she was just a good actress. Victoria's dad had a knack for making the most foppish majordomo bend over backwards just by shifting an eyebrow, but from what she had observed today Marc had a long way to go. Victoria hoped Alyssa was just acting.

"So, what am I buying with my tip?" Marc continued.

Alyssa shrugged.

"Don't ask me."

"It was a rhetorical question, dear," Marc said, "You pony up if you want to be remembered and get the attention you deserve next time, or maybe you want to impress your friends or colleagues. Or maybe you want to impress the waitress if she's cute enough. First time she'll remember you, next time she'll be extra attentive and charming, and the third time she's ripe for the plucking."

He shrugged and glanced at Alyssa.

"So to speak."

"I had no idea old moustachioed fellas in cravat and white gloves were your style, Marc." Victoria said, "I guess you can still surprise."

Peter burst out laughing, but choked on it after a look from his friend.

"Such a witty girl, Vickie." Marc muttered, "Too witty for your own good."

Victoria shook her head so the tussle of the ridiculous Santa's hat she was wearing swung over from one shoulder to the other.

"You can never be too rich or too thin," She said, cocking an eyebrow, "Or too witty. You can quote me on that."

Alyssa giggled.

"Truth!"

The boys just looked at each other and sighed.

Around them a magical glitter of snowflakes began to swirl about in the lamp light as they walked along the street, sometimes landing on their collars or melting on their faces. It was a beautiful night.

They walked by a small fish and chips-store that was still open. Festive red and green lights blinked in the windows.

"Hey," Peter said "Can I go grab something here? I'm hungry."

The oily smell of frying fish potato chips oozed from the door.

Marc sighed.

"We just ate, man, but all right. I can't believe you are so thin, the way you are stuffing yourself."

"I've got good genes," Peter said as they entered the store to the sound of a small bell ringing.

Victoria was about to follow them inside to get a bit of warmth when Alyssa grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"I met Dana the other day. Do you know she's going back to New York for good?"

"Uh-huh? I didn't."

"Aren't you two friends?"

"Yeah, kinda, we have ended up on the same flights to and from home a couple of times. I guess I'll have to go by myself from now on then."

"She said she would fly home before the weekend. Are you going back to the states for Christmas too?"

"No I'm not. My parents are in Kenya over the holidays. But I don't care much for skulking around in the bush to shoot animals. Dad has never managed kill an elephant yet, so that's why they're there. Last chance before he turns fifty."

Victoria made a grimace to show what a silly Christmas present that was. Truthfully, after the last dreadful thanksgiving back in New York, Victoria had decided to take a pause from her family. Indefinitely.

"But you could be with Nathan and his family?" Alyssa continued, "Wouldn't that be romantic? You and Nathan alone at Bemelmans on Christmas eve. Who knows what could happen after that…"

Alyssa wiggled her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I guess." Victoria said, "But it won't happen for several reasons. One, we're not old enough to get in, New York isn't like London, and two, Nate would never be able to get away from his folks over Christmas, they are all super obsessive over family. And let me tell you something else; I can't stand his father. He is such an asshole."

"Vickie!" Alyssa laughed, "You can't talk like that! It makes you sound like a fallen lady, or worse."

"Well, he is a fucking arse."

"Oh no, you did it again."

Alyssa grabbed a fist of freshly fallen snow.

"Now I'll have to wash your mouth with this!"

Alyssa tried her best to mash the snow into Victoria's face, but she stood no chance against Victoria, who was at least six inches taller and a lot stronger than her. But she fought well. Giggling, Alyssa ended up close.

Victoria didn't particularly like Alyssa. She was too needy, and too worried what others would think of her, which was perfect if you wanted to get chewed up by this harsh world, else it was not. Oh, And her name was pretentious in all the wrong ways. Also, she was sadly blind for that she was just the latest in a long row of Marc's girlfriends, and not a marrying prospect, for many reasons. Victoria always had problems with people who couldn't spot reality even if it was written on their noses. But having Alyssa this close; it didn't feel as wrong as it might have done. Victoria's heart made an extra beat when Alyssa leaned in closer, eyes glinting. Her breath burned on Victoria's cheek.

"I think Peter has a thing for you," Alyssa whispered and winked conspiratorially. "If you want to jump the shackles, that is."

"No way," Victoria said. "We are just friends."

Then she stared down at Alyssa with a frown.

"Really?"

"Truth. And he's also very well off."

"Not like the Prescotts, for sure."

"No, but well enough. His family owns an airline and several resort hotels. You could travel wherever you wanted whenever you wanted for the rest of your life. Think about it."

Victoria was just about to give a sarcastic retort about Peter's family's probably meagre money compared to her own banker family's billions when she was interrupted by a laugh.

"Who-ho-ho, what is this? A bit of girl-on-girl action?"

The girls let go of each other. Marc and Peter came out from the little shop. Peter had his face buried in his fish and chips that he carried in a greasy newspaper, while Marc sauntered out after him with a bored expression on his face.

"No, please continue," He said, "Don't mind us, we want to see where this leads."

Victoria crossed her arms in front of her.

"You're a very funny young man, Marc."

"We were just talking." Alyssa said.

"Sure you were."

Alyssa threw the snow she still had in her hand at Marc, but it was too cold for the snow to stick, instead it ended up as a spray of silver that he dodged easily.

Standing still had chilled Victoria, and now a cold wind started to sweep through the streets. Cold air hit Victoria and soon its icy fingers had found its way under her coat and right up through the short kimono style silk dress she wore underneath. Her head and hands were warm though, which made it more bearable. The oversized Santa's hat she had bought in a store for fun earlier today, and also to protect her long and newly permed hair from the falling snow, protected her head surprisingly well, and her favourite leather gloves, though old and worn, were very soft and sufficiently chic.

"Well, this place is dead." Marc muttered, "We will have better luck grabbing a hackney out on Bedford street."

They turned a corner and came upon a pale girl about their own age, her arms clinging to her body to protect against the cold. Her long blond hair was unkempt and grimy, and she was dressed in a mishmash of what looked more like dirty rags than proper clothes, especially for a cold night like this. Her old trainers were stuffed with strips newspaper to keep out the cold and cover the many rips and holes in them.

Marc turned to Peter with a grin on his handsome face.

"I spy… a magnifique fille de joie!"

"What?" Peter said and looked up from his fish and chips that must be close to finished by now.

"I see her!" He said, grinning back. "Do you really think she's soliciting?"

"That was a joke, dude." Marc scoffed. "Look at her; I wouldn't touch her with my elbow. Even less with other body parts. Let's go find a taxi before curfew kicks in shall we? I already got my fair share of warnings."

Students living at the Swankton Butte student housing under the age of twenty had to be home before ten o'clock, even during weekends, but it was all too easy to get a warning. Even Victoria already had one for staying out too late, and she had only been living there for four months.

As they passed by the scrawny girl on their way to Bedford street, she took a step towards them, with shoulder hunched against the cold.

"Excuse me, sir," the girl stuttered, "d'you've any spare change?"

"No, regrettable I have not." Marc said without looking at her.

The girl reached for Alyssa. "You then, miss? Please?"

Alyssa involuntarily took a step backwards and shook her head while staring at the filthy girl. The disdain was clear on her face. "Uh, no?"

The girl didn't give up, with unbending optimism she turned to Peter.

"Hi mate, maybe you–?"

"I am sorry," he answered with a shrug, "just got enough money for the Taxi and its too bloody cold to walk home tonight."

Victoria noticed how the girl's eyes were drawn like magnets to Peter's almost finished roll of fish and chips. Peter noticed it too. He gave Marc a quick glance, then he turned back to the girl.

"Hungry?" Peter said and gestured with the paper roll towards her. Ashamed, the girl looked away, but Peter took a step towards her and held out the paper with the leftovers.

"You can have it if you want."

The girl looked back.

"Can… can I?"

"Sure, I was done anyway." He gestured with the paper roll. "Here."

She released her hands from under her armpits where she had kept them warm and reached for the leftovers. When she was about to grab it, Peter held it out of her reach.

"I only want half a quid for it," he said with a smirk. That was probably nearly the full selling price.

The girl stared at him, then she started to search through her pockets. Her hand came up with some small coins that she counted through, then she searched her pockets once more, but this time came up empty. The girl looked up with a disappointed face.

"I… I only have eleven pennies," She said, her voice trembling with cold. She held up the hand with a few brass coins, her eyes pleading. "You don't think I can have it for eleven p?"

Peter pursed his lips and hummed and hawed theatrically, which made both Marc and Alyssa giggle quietly in the background.

"I guess you could." He said at last , "It's Christmas after all, isn't it?"

Carefully, he picked the three small coins out of her shivering hand, then gave her the newspaper with leftovers, almost. Just before she was about to take it from his hand, he turned it, letting the last bit of half eaten fish flop down on the pavement, accompanied by a rain of cold fries and dollops of mushy peas. It splattered around in the dirty snow around her feet.

"Oh no, how clumsy of me." He said with feigned remorse, "I am really sorry."

A smothered snort of laughter was heard from Marc while the girl, with a low cry, sat down on all fours and started picking up pieces of food from the dirt, and with trembling fingers began cramming them into her mouth as fast as she could.

The four of them stood watching the girl, fascinated by how she searched around with bare hands in the brown-speckled snow to find and pick up the last scraps, while snow flakes swirled around them, glittering like fairy dust in the lamp light. Their breaths were like white mist in the beautiful advent night. Peter chuckled.

"What a bum," He said, "She's eating right out of the gutter. I really didn't hink she would."

"Yeah," Marc said, "She looks like something straight out of a Dickens novel."

"More like a dog," Muttered Victoria, sensing a slight nausea spreading in her gut.

Peter laughed. "You hit the nail there, Vickie. A dog."

Marc joined in the laughter.

"It's really not that funny," Victoria said, looking around her friends faces. They still stood staring at the girl down on her knees.

Alyssa nodded absently.

"I agree, I think it's sad. I mean, I can't believe she's actually begging rather than getting a job. Why not just die rather than be so unambitious?"

"Exactly." Marc said and gave Alyssa a squeeze, "Die and decrease the surplus population, I say. Would be better for everyone."

Home in New York there were lots of homeless people and beggars, and Victoria had since an early age learnt to not see them whenever she happened to walk by one, which was rare. At first she had had a hard time understanding why it was okay to go and feed the swans and ducks in Central Park, but not the humans. Her parents and various nannies never gave her a satisfying answer, but eventually she learned that life was every man and woman for themselves, and every kind act was a weakness that could be exploited by others to get the upper hand, and the more money you had, the more important it was to always be on your guard. And Victoria's family, even if she didn't understand it at first, was very rich. That didn't hinder her and Lizzie to dream about running away from home together and live like tramps, train hopping around the states and have adventures and meet exiting people at the fringe of society. Or maybe to get lost and end up with a strange family with lots of children, poor in possessions but rich in love, like in that old Shirley Temple movie the had watched at the dorm just the other day. Elizabeth had looked a lot like Shirley Temple when she was a child, with her pretty face, wholesome character and with blonde ringlets to boot, authentic ringlets. Everyone had said so. Victoria herself had had more likeness to the Michelin man. Victoria had went back to her room halfway through, it had brought back too many painful memories from long ago. And luckily she and Lizzie never made reality of their plans. The real world had no mercy for foolish young girls.

When Victoria grew older she stopped to give the homeless and beggars much thought because they lived in such different worlds, and her own, admittedly petty problems in comparison, took up all of her time. But it was something about this girl that made it hard to ignore her. Maybe because they were the same age, and both were blonde and tall with light eyes. Maybe this could've been her if she and Lizzie really had run away from home when they were children. Maybe that was what ate her, but probably not. Whatever it was, this situation gave her the creeps. While the others seemed to relish in the homeless girl's undignified misery, Victoria just wanted to get away from here.

"Come on," She said and grabbed Alyssa and Peter by their arms, "let's go get that cab now, shall we? I'm chilled to the bone."

They began ambling along the street. The beautiful winter's night didn't feel as beautiful anymore, and Victorias cheery holiday spirit was as blown away. Marc caught up to her and the others and patted her back.

"Hey, Vickie, don't be such a bore," He said "It's that bum's choice to be where she is, so we have all the right to laugh at her if we want, right? If you act like a monkey, you'll have to accept getting laughed at. And it's not like giving her any money would help her in the long run, you know that."

"Yes, it would be counterproductive," Peter filled in, "it would only reinforce that bad behaviour."

"Exactly," Marc said, "It's a simple question of supply and demand. You should read Ayn Rand–"

Victoria scoffed. She had practically been forced by her friends at school to read Rand and had hated every last boring and badly written bit of it. In pure defiance she turned abruptly and walked up to the girl who still sat down in the snow, still searching for the last scraps of food in the sludge.

The others gave out exclamations of surprise, but Victoria just opened her purse and dug out all the money she had left after tonight. It was not much, just a pair of notes and a small stack of coins. In thought she jangled them in her hand a couple of times before handing them down to the girl.

"Here, have this."

The girl stared at her hand, then looked up with a suspicious face while wiping her mouth with a threadbare coat arm.

"Are… are you sure?"

"I can spare it, don't worry." Victoria said with a smirk, then immediately regretted it, feeling like an ass. The girl didn't seem to notice though, instead she stood up and grabbed the money with stiff fingers, and whispered a quiet "thank you."

This close, Victoria saw that the girl was almost her own height, and they both had bluish eyes and long blonde hair, though under all that grime and dirt the homeless girl was actually beautiful, with delicate features, a long straight nose and lively blue wide-set eyes, while Victoria herself were much more average-looking, though she did her best to hide that fact with makeup, expensive trinkets and stylish clothes. Her long blonde hair was the one thing she was proud of, 'her one beauty' as her mother often said. This girl had everything. Victoria couldn't help but wonder what series of unfortunate events had brought her to the situation she was in now. She guessed it was a long and sad story. Whatever the others said, she couldn't believe it was by choice only.

Their eyes met briefly, searchingly, then the girl glanced up at Victoria's Santa's hat.

"I must confess I haven't believed in Santa for a long time."

Victoria reached up and touched the white tussle.

"Oh," she mumbled, still in thought." Merry Christmas."

The girl smiled.

"Thank you, and good wishes to your friends and family too."

She gave a slight bow. Victoria couldn't help but return the smile, but then forced it away. There was an awkward silence when neither of them moved, but instead stood looking at each other.

"It's really cold tonight," Victoria said at last, to have something to say. Why was she even trying to make conversation? She felt pathetic talking about the weather, but it would've felt even worse to just chuck the money in the girl's hand and leave.

"Don't you have anywhere to go?"

The smile on the girls face disappeared.

"No, miss, the shelters are all full on nights like this. But I'll find somewhere to kip, don't worry." She raised her fist. "This will save my hide tonight, and the next fortnight. Thank you so much."

"Sure, and take care," Victoria said, though she felt in her bones how hollow the phrase sounded. But, she had done what she could, now she just longed to get back to her room and fill up a nice hot bath to warm herself up and forget all about this strange girl and the unease she brought. Victoria gave her a curt nod and left.

"How much did you give her? Peter asked when she came back.

Victoria frowned.

"Why do you care?"

Peter glared at her.

"Don't be such a prat and just tell me."

"I gave her everything I had."

Peter stared at her and his mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. After a couple of seconds of sputtering, Marc came to the rescue.

"Everything? " He said, "Why? Didn't we just tell you giving money to bums is a bad idea? Now she'll just buy booze or drugs or whatever, you do realise that, don't you?"

"I can do whatever I like with my own money, thank you for reminding me," Victoria answered, "Besides, it was just ten pounds."

What was left after all those Harvey Wallbangers she had had at the fancy salons back at Rule's restaurant.

"Fine, suit yourself," Marc said, "But I can't see how you will be able to pay for the ride home without money."

Victoria gave him a stare.

"But we are sharing a cab?"

Marc stared back.

"No, not if you can't pay."

"Yeah, no piggybacking." Peter added, "We're not commies, miss."

Victoria looked around.

"Are you guys serious? Just loan me what's needed. I'll pay you back when we get home. It's not like I'm short on cash."

"Nu-uh," Marc said, "You go and get that money back, or else you're walking home tonight."

Victoria gave him a cold smile.

"You're joking."

"I'm not," Marc answered. Two rosy dots had appeared on his cheeks, "And trust me, I can be just as pigheadedly stubborn as you."

"Oh, come on, guys." Victoria said, "Alyssa?"

Alyssa gave her an unhappy look, but before she could say anything, Marc shoved her aside with one hand, while jabbing a finger at Victoria with the other.

"No, she won't help you either. This is a thing of principle."

It was a lengthy walk home to the student houses at Swankton Butte, and hour on foot at least. She wasn't even sure of the way. And it was bitter cold. And, she wasn't dressed for walking, at all. And also, she already had been given a warning for getting home after curfew. With a second warning she would be one step closer to risk being thrown out. Expensive as Swankton was, it was also undisputedly the best and most classy student housing in London.

"Fuck it." Victoria grumbled and turned back to where the girl was still standing. The others followed her, one on either side like a pair of prison guards, except Alyssa who trailed behind with a miserable expression. Apparently the bum girl had heard their conversation, because she held up the money to Victoria when they came closer. Still, Marc and Peter went and stood towering around the girl as if to catch her if she would try to make a run for it.

"I'm sorry, miss–" the girl began.

"Is that everything?" Marc interjected in a harsh voice, but the girl didn't even give him a look, instead she whispered in a quick, pleading voice to Victoria. Her jumbled words came out so quickly they threatened to trip over themselves.

"Can I please keep twenty p it would mean a lot miss I could sneak into the public loos at St:Pancras and maybe stay the night there if I could just have the entrance fee–."

"She wants all her money back." Peter growled, "Now."

Anger flared up inside Victoria. Who the hell where Marc or Peter to tell her what she wanted to or could do with her own money? Furiously she ripped off her Santa's hat and gloves and mashed them into the girl's arms.

"Take these, you need them way more than I do. And keep the god damned money. I gave them to you, they are yours."

The girl gave her a big-eyed look before she nodded and hastily absconded the scene, probably to get away before Victoria changed her mind, or her friends intervened. But the others didn't move; they stood in dumbstruck silence as the girl disappeared around the corner, until Marc muttered in a seething singsong voice.

"Someone's walking home tonight."