Merry Christmas, everyone! Wishing you all a happy and healthy time wherever you are. This one-off chapter is a gift from me to you. Hope you enjoy it. Wenlock x

Polly raised her eyes to the heavens as she heard the front door crash open. How many times had she told that girl? She turned round from the kitchen counter where she'd been buttering bread for the children who always seemed to return from school starving. As she did, Rose pushed open the kitchen door just as forcefully as she had the front door and locked eyes with her aunt, her eyebrows raised, her face hopeful.

Polly looked Rose and wondered, not for the first time, what on earth she got up to in school every day which meant she came home looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Her woollen stockings had a hole in one leg, her red hair – which had been smoothed with a lot of effort into two plaits that morning – was tousled with strands falling into her eyes, her face was smudged with dirt and her coat had fallen off her shoulders and was hanging off her arms like a shawl. Polly looked at her expectant expression and sighed and shook her head.

"Not yet, Rosie."

Rose's shoulders slumped and her brow furrowed. "But you said, Aunt Pol. You said it would be any day now."

Polly walked over to Rose and pushed the strands of hair out of her eyes. "I know, sweetheart, and it will be. We just have to be patient."

Rose scowled even more and stamped her foot. "But everyone else's dads and brothers are back. Even Tessa's dad and he was in Africa."

Polly sat down on a chair and gently pulled Rose to her. "They're on their way. They wrote letters, remember? You read them."

"But why is it taking so long? What if something has happened to them? What if the Germans haven't heard the war is over and they keep shooting at our boys?"

"They won't. We talked about this, remember? That's not how it works. They've all stopped fighting. They all signed a letter to agree to it."

"What if the soldiers haven't seen the letter?"

Polly stood up. "They know, Rose. The fighting had stopped. Your brothers will be home for Christmas and we'll have a goose the size of small dog to feast on. Go and wash your face now, you look like a street urchin."

Ten minutes later, Finn had also arrived home and he and Rose were sat at the table eating their bread and butter. Polly was sat with them doing the books from the shop which had begun to see an uptake now that the men were slowly returning from the war. Rose looked at her brother who was devouring his bread. She had nibbled the edge of hers.

"Have you written your letter to Father Christmas, Finn?"

Finn nodded, his mouth full. He spoke through his bread, spitting crumbs out as he did.

"Have you?"

Rose shook her head. Finn frowned.

"Why not?"

Rose shrugged. "I've been busy."

Finn laughed, more crumbs landing on the table. "Busy with what? Fighting boys in the yard?"

Polly looked up sharply. "What?"

Rose scowled at Finn. "Shut up, Finn."

Finn looked at Polly. "Can I go, Aunt Pol? Isiah is waiting for me."

"Go on then."

Finn jumped off the chair and started for the front door. As he passed her, Polly clipped him on the ear. He put his hand on his ear and looked at her in surprise.

"What?"

"Put your plate in the sink. Like I ask you to every day."

Finn rolled his eyes and grabbed his plate. He put it in the sink and headed out of the back door, slamming it behind him. Polly muttered under her breath and went back to the books. She kept her eyes on the page as she spoke to Rose.

"Why haven't you written a letter to Father Christmas, Rose?"

"Cos he's not real, is he? But Finn thinks he is, so I didn't want to say anything."

Polly looked at her and put the pen down. "How do you know he isn't real? Did one of your friends tell you?"

Rose shook her head, picking crumbs off her bread and rolling them in her fingers. "No, they all believe in him."

"So, why don't you?"

Rose took a small bite of bread – a tactic Polly recognised as her not wanting to answer the question. So, she waited until Rose had swallowed her food and then raised an eyebrow, making sure Rose knew she expected an answer. Rose put the bread to her mouth to take another bite. Polly had run out of patience and spoke warningly.

"Rose?"

Rose slowly lowered the bread to her plate and began to pull off crumbs again. She kept her eyes on what she was doing as she answered.

"He's not real because he doesn't read my letters."

"How do you know he doesn't read your letters?"

"Because I asked for the same thing for the last three years and didn't get it."

"That doesn't mean he hasn't read it, just that he couldn't afford to get it. Even Father Christmas has been affected by the war."

"The thing I want doesn't cost any money though."

"What is it that you want then?"

Rose didn't answer, just continued to pick at her food. But Polly knew what she wanted.

"Rosie, Father Christmas couldn't bring your brothers home because he's not in charge of the war. He's just in charge of bringing presents to boys and girls who have been good."

"Do you think they haven't come home because I've not been good? Because I tried so hard to be good so that he'd bring them back."

"What? No, Rose, that doesn't even make sense. Them coming home has nothing to do with Father Christmas or you being good. Stop thinking like that. And I told you, the war is over – they're coming home, I promise."

Rose looked at Polly, tears in her eyes. Polly reached out and took her hand.

"What's going on, Rose? Why are you upset?"

Rose's brow furrowed as she thought about how to answer her. When she did, her voice was small and uncertain.

"I don't think I can remember them, Aunt Pol. They've been gone for so long."

"Oh, Rosie. I'm sure you'll remember them once you see them. It'll all come back to you – Arthur with that mustache of his and his deep voice; John with his cheeky grin and those fingers which always tickle you; And Tommy with those blue eyes and dimples when he smiles. It'll be like they never left."

"What if they've forgotten me?"

Polly laughed softly. "There is no way on earth they will have forgotten you, my love. You are their baby sister, their sweet Rose. They've asked about you in every letter, you know that."

"But I'm different now, Aunt Pol. I'm seven and not sweet anymore. I've got bruises on my shins and some my teeth haven't grown back yet and my hair is all messy. What if they don't like me now?"

"Rose, you're their sister! They will always be love you, no matter how old you are or how messy your hair is. I can promise you that they're longing to see you."

"You really promise?"

"I really promise."

Rose smiled. She was excited and nervous, scared and happy at the thought of seeing her brothers again. Polly's words had reassured her however, and she hopped off her chair to put her arms around her aunt's neck and hugged her. Polly held her little niece tight, then kissed her on the head.

"Go and play now, I have work to do. And be good – Father Christmas is watching you."

Rose laughed as she put her plate in the sink and went outside to find Eliza. She felt a lot better. But she was impatient – if only her brothers would hurry up and come home.

Two days later, school broke up for Christmas and an atmosphere of celebration descended on the streets of Small Heath. Christmas was coming, the war was over and the boys were home. Of course, there were many boys who hadn't come home and the sorrow of that loss was felt with every glass that was raised and every embrace that had been four years in the waiting.

Rose must have asked Polly every two hours if her brothers were coming home yet. Polly worked hard to keep her patience, she knew Rose was as nervous as she was excited. When she wasn't pestering Polly, Rose sat on the front door step looking down the road, not wanting to miss her brothers arriving home. She stayed out until she was too cold to sit there any longer or until Polly pulled her in for her tea. She would have gone straight back out afterwards but it was dark and cold and Polly wouldn't allow it.

Ada got frustrated with her sister tossing and turning in the night, not being able to sleep in case she missed her brothers arriving home. For the third morning in a row, Rose work Ada up at dawn whispering loudly.

"Ada? Ada?"

Ada turned over and groaned. "Go back to sleep, Rose."

"Do you think it'll be today?"

"I hope so, Rose, I really do."

Rose hugged her knees to her chest. "Me too. It's Christmas Eve soon."

"I hope they come back today, Rose, because then you'll shut up about it and I can get some sleep."

Ada pulled her covers over her head and turned her back on Rose. Polly had forbidden Rose to get up before seven o'clock in the morning, so Rose leaned her head against the wall and pulled the curtain back a little so she could watch the road.

The little girl spent the day much as she'd spent the previous ones – waiting, watching, hoping. When Polly finally called her in for food, Rose was disappointed. She sat despondently at the table, playing with her food, ignoring Polly's prompts to stop messing about and eat.

Polly opened her mouth to give Rose a piece of her mind when the front door opened. She wasn't expecting anyone and stood up quickly, reaching for her bag where her gun was. A voice called out and she froze. Ada and the children all looked at her, then, as Polly rushed to the front room, all three jumped up and followed her.

Rose, not really sure what was going on, followed Finn into the front room to find Polly with her arms round a soldier. A soldier with a mustache. It was her oldest brother, Arthur. He swung Polly round.

"Aw, it's good to be home, Aunt Pol." He put her down and held her face between his hands, grinning at her. "I've been dreaming of this moment for months."

Polly eyes were full of tears as she looked at her nephew. Despite her reassurances to Rose, she hadn't been entirely sure if she'd see her boys again. But now, looking into Arthur's blue eyes which were twinkling with joy at being home, she finally began to believe it. Arthur looked at his siblings.

"Well now, aren't you all a sight for sore eyes? Come 'ere."

Ada and Finn rushed to Arthur and he put his arms around them both, pulling them close. He'd longed for home so often and holding his sister and young brother in his arms, he couldn't believe he was here at last. Letting go of them, kissed Ada on the cheek and ruffled Finn's hair. Then he looked around for someone who was missing.

Rose had sidled over to Polly and was hiding behind her skirts. She recognised Arthur from the photos in the house, but she didn't really remember that much about him. His voice was loud and his presence filled the room. Rose wasn't used to having a man in the house and was suddenly shy. This man was her brother, but he may as well have been a stranger from the next street. Arthur caught sight of her behind Polly and smiled. He crouched down and leaned his head to one side trying to catch her eye.

"And where's my Rosie Red, eh?"

Rose leaned further into Polly's legs who tutted frustratedly and tried to pull Rose forward. Rose resisted. Polly gripped her arm firmly and maneuvered her in front of her.

"What is wrong with you, Rose? It's Arthur. He's finally home. You've been on the front step waiting for him for days. Don't play shy now."

Rose leaned back into her aunt and timidly raised her eyes to Arthur. He stayed where he was, smiling at her, giving her time to come round.

"It's been a long time since you last saw me, eh, Rosie? Four years is a long time when you're small, ain't it?"

She kept her eyes on him, instinctively drawn to his kind face. She didn't say anything.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of you, my Rosie. Aunt Pol wrote and told me all about you – how you lost your teeth and started school and had a temper just like mine. I missed you. I missed all of you. And now I'm back, you can get to know me too. Would you like that?"

Rose nodded, still unsure of him. But he was her big brother and she did want to get to know him. He opened his arms and, helped significantly by a shove from Polly, Rose moved into his arms which folded round her tightly. She put her arms round her neck and felt herself being lifted off the ground as he stood up with her. He held her for a few seconds, clearly emotional. Rose didn't know what to feel. Nothing about him felt familiar – the rough material of his uniform, his unwashed and musty smell, his deep voice. But she wasn't afraid, she could tell he loved her and that he knew her – and that was enough for now.

Ten minutes later, the family sat at the table watching Arthur wolf down three plates of stew before sitting back and lighting a cigarette. Polly then allowed herself to ask the questions they all had and Arthur gave answers. John was also home, they'd arrived together, but he'd gone to see Martha and meet the child that had been born whilst he was away. He would come and see them the next day. Tommy was on his way back to Britain but was a few days behind them. He'd been with his company further away in France. A few minutes later, he stood up and patted his stomach.

"That was delicious, Pol. I'm going to nip to The Garrison for a bit. See who's back, eh?"

And so, as suddenly as he'd appeared, Arthur disappeared to the pub. Rose heard him come home a number of hours later, drunk and walking into furniture. He could hear Polly's voice shushing him and urging him to go to bed. Ada was also awake by now and the sisters lay in bed listening to Arthur stumble up the stairs, swearing and cursing as Polly calmly persuaded him on. Eventually, everything went quiet and soon the deep rumbling sound of Arthur's snoring came through the wall. Rose whispered to Ada.

"Is Arthur alright, Ada?"

"Yeah, he's just drunk. He always gets drunk. You'll get used to it."

"Oh."

Ada fell back to sleep, but it took Rose a while before she drifted off. She had the feeling that life was going to change quite a bit.

The next day, after lunch, John came round. Rose had the same reaction – she recognised him from his photo but didn't really remember him. He grinned at Rose and hugged her. She liked him, he had a mischievous smile and she sensed a caring side to him that made her feel comfortable with him. Both he and Arthur seemed restless, not being able to get comfortable, fidgeting and on edge. It wasn't long before they left for the Garrison, Polly watching them go worriedly. She sighed as she cleared away the lunch items. Rose helped her.

"Is it nice to have Arthur and John home, Aunt Pol?"

Polly shot a quick smile at her. "Yes, of course."

"Are they ok though? I mean, they don't look injured or anything, but they seem a bit sad."

Polly nodded. "It'll take them a while to adjust to being home. Don't worry about them, Rose, they'll be fine."

Rose found herself getting used to having her brothers home. They were nothing but kind and gently with her and she began to enjoy their company. Christmas Eve came and the family spent time with each other, hanging up stockings and enjoying the various treats that Polly had bought in. Sure enough, as evening approached, Arthur and John headed out to the pub, but not before promising everyone that this Christmas would be the best one they'd ever had. Polly spoke up.

"Not unless we're all together. We're missing Thomas."

Arthur nodded solemnly. "He's on his way, Pol. Could be a few more days yet though. It's a bit operation transporting all the troops back."

"Let's just hope he's back for New Year then."

Later on, Polly helped Finn and Rose put out a mince pie and a glass of sherry for Father Christmas by the fire. Finn was excited.

"Does he like mince pies, then?"

Polly smiled. "Course he does! That's why we leave it for him. Give him a treat when he's so busy."

Rose said nothing, just wondered how Father Christmas managed to fit down every chimney in England in one night. Eating a mince pie at every house wouldn't help, she was sure.

As Polly tucked her in that night, she looked at her curiously.

"You were quiet tonight."

Rose shrugged. "It's silly leaving a mince pie and sherry for someone who doesn't exist."

"You don't know that for certain, do you? He must have read your letters – Arthur and John are home, aren't they?"

"Three of my brothers went off to war and they're not all back, are they?"

Polly tucked a strand of hair behind Rose's ear. "Tommy will be home soon. You heard Arthur."

"Yeah, I heard him."

"Get some sleep, and in the morning, we'll celebrate Christmas as a family like we should, eh? And we'll keep a look out for Tommy. He can't be far away."

Rose nodded and turned over, snuggling down in her bad. As Polly kissed her and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her, Rose wished she felt as confident as her aunt. Things just didn't seem right without the whole family there.

A few hours later, Rose woke with a start. She sat up in bed, listening keenly. Something had woken her up, a noise downstairs. She looked over at Ada in the light of the moon which shone through a gap in the curtains, but her sister was fast asleep and hadn't stirred. Rose was just about to lie back down when she heard the noise again – a shuffling downstairs. She was nervous. She wanted to wake Ada up or Aunt Pol, but knew she'd be in trouble if she was just hearing mice. She decided to investigate.

Pulling the covers back, she swung her legs round and put her feet on the floor. It was cold so she put her dressing gown on as she stood up. She padded to the door and opened it slowly. She stepped onto the landing and closed the door quietly behind her. She crept to the top of the stairs, listening for any sounds. As she headed down the stairs, she could hear the clink of a glass. She frowned. An image of the glass of sherry on the hearth filled her head. She shook her head – it couldn't be. He wasn't real, she was sure of it.

She tiptoed cautiously downstairs and made her way to the front room. As she got closer, she knew there was definitely someone in there. She should have run back upstairs to get Arthur or Aunt Pol but she was curious now. As she pushed the door open just a fraction, she wondered if she'd catch a glimpse of a white beard.

She saw a figure stood by the mantelpiece. There were a couple of candles lit and in the flickering light, she watched the man as she tipped his head back to finish his drink. Sensing someone was watching him, he turned to the door and looked at her. She gasped when he saw his face. She didn't see a white beard, but a shock of black hair and two blue eyes. Dimples appeared in his cheeks as she smiled at her and as she looked into his face, tears filled her eyes. She knew him, not just from photographs, but from inside her. He was as familiar to her as Aunt Pol was.

She pushed the door open and ran towards him. He put his glass on the mantelpiece and reached out for her. Running into his embrace, Rose hugged him tightly round his neck. He lifted her up and held her to him. She breathed in the small of whiskey and shaving soap and knew that he was home. Her brother, her Tommy, her everything.

He, in turn, buried his face in her hair and allowed a few tears to form. He had been afraid that she'd forgotten him. His baby sister, his Rose, his everything. But he knew in the instant that she ran to him that she hadn't. He breathed in the familiar smell of honeysuckle and knew that finally, after all the horror and pain, he was home.

The next morning, when Polly got up, she found the best Christmas present she could have wished for in the front room. Tommy, the missing family member, was on the sofa, Rose curled up in his arms, both sleeping peacefully. She cried grateful tears at the sight in front of her. She caught sight of the plate, a few crumbs left on it and the empty glass on the hearth. She smiled – maybe Father Christmas was real after all.