I am SO sorry that this wasn't up in time for Christmas - my computer contracted the 'Trojan Horse' virus and died once and for all on the 22nd December. Luckily I'd already saved all my documents so nothing vital was lost and finally I can post this. I hope you've enjoyed it and can forgive me for the huge delay!

oOo

A TB Christmas Carol

Chapter Five

The torch was his own.

The floor on which he knelt was his own.

The bedroom was his own!

He jumped up, put the torch on his bedside table and flung open the window. It was morning, no doubt about that, but which morning?

"The past, the present and the future," he repeated to himself, scarcely able to believe it. "The spirits of all three shall strive within me! Oh, Richard Handford I thank you!"

He checked his wardrobe for bikers and also his chimney for damage but found none. Nor were there karma beads in any of his pot plants or trouser turn-ups, or any ghostly faces on the intercom. He seized his TV listings magazine and observed Jim's name in the cast list.

"The shadows of things that might have happened," he said to himself, grinning from ear to ear, "but have not and will not! Oh, happiness! It was not a dream, no, it was real! Handford on the intercom, Honey meditating, Juliet in the wardrobe … they have saved me and The Bill!"

He began a little dance of victory around the coffee table and was just getting the hang of pirouettes when a thought suddenly struck him. He dashed to the phone and dialled the number of the studios.

"Good morning!" he called down the receiver to his secretary. "Marquess here. This might sound like a daft question but what's today?"

"Sorry?" a confused voice said on the other end.

"Today, my dear," said Marquess. "What happens today?"

"It's worse than I thought," he heard the voice whisper to someone else – it was muffled as though somebody had their hand over the receiver. "He doesn't even know what day it is now. Oh, sorry, Mr Marquess – why, today it's the Christmas episode, of course!"

"YES!" Marquess cried, almost dropping the phone. "It's not too late! The spirits did it all in one night!"

He remembered the phone. "Caroline?" he said quickly, "are you still there?"

"Um, yes … are you all right, Mr Marquess?"

"Never better!" he cried, and meant it. "Listen, I need you to do me a favour. You know that gigantic Christmas hamper on sale in Abbey Mills?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Take an early coffee break, go down there and buy it; tell them to send the bill to me. The bill? The Bill? Get it? Ha ha ha! Anyway, yes, get a taxi back because it will be far too heavy to carry – there's a ten pound note inside my top drawer; use that. Then have it brought through and hide it where nobody will dare look – Tony Stamp's locker should do the trick. Is that all clear?"

"Erm, yes, I think so," Caroline sounded bemused.

"And don't tell anyone – this is to be our little secret! Thanks, Caroline; what a star!"

"What next, what next?" Marquess muttered excitedly to himself. "Oh my goodness, the script of the Christmas episode! It can't stay as it is; how depressing for them! I'll go there now and rewrite the whole thing, I might just have time before filming starts!"

He hurriedly packed his briefcase, throwing in a box of Christmas cards he would no doubt find time to write later and flung open the front door, ready to face the world and make other people happy.

He came face to face with the milkman who could not have looked more startled if he tried.

"Good morning!" Marquess beamed, reaching into his pocket and offering a generous tip. "Merry Christmas to you!"

He locked his door and made to walk down the stairwell.

"Um, mate?" the milkman uttered, uncertainly.

"Yes?"

"I know it's none of my business," he stammered, trying desperately to keep a straight face, "I could be wrong, but do you think … you might have forgotten something?"

After thanking the milkman profusely for being honest and reminding him that he was actually still wearing his pyjamas, Marquess dived back into his flat to change and emerged minutes later, clean-shaven and wearing his best suit and a pair of musical reindeer socks.

He did not snarl at the traffic warden as he usually did but greeted her with a cheery 'Good Morning!' as he drove past her at three miles per hour, just to be on the safe side. Nor did he wish death and damnation upon the children crossing the road to go to school but hummed 'Little Donkey' cheerfully as he slowed down to let them cross safely.

When he arrived at Bosun House, he spotted the two charity collectors he had spurned the day before hastily climbing into their car as they saw him approach. The driver started the engine but it was too late, Marquess was already upon them and knocked gently at the window.

"Good … good morning, Mr Marquess," he stammered, winding the window down only a short distance. "We were just leaving …"

"I offer my most sincere apologies for yesterday," said Marquess, before the man could say another word, "and I hope you will accept my donation of …" he whispered in his ear, just loud enough for both to hear.

"Wha …? Oh, my goodness, are you sure about that? Such generosity, such …"

"Not a penny less," said Marquess, grinning. "Investment in the stars of tomorrow is no doubt a worthy cause; drama schools often rely on such contributions, do they not? Merry Christmas to you both!"

As they drove away narrowly avoiding flattening one of the fence posts, Marquess noticed that the group of now silent carolling forummers had reappeared but were hiding behind the row of parked cars, no doubt in fear of the threatened bucket of icy water he had promised them the day before.

"Come out, come out, whevever you are!" he sang, peering around the side of one of the cars. "Aha, there you are. What a pleasant surprise!"

As the bemused forummers emerged nervously from their hiding places, Marquess fished around in his briefcase and produced a large handful of signed cast cards.

"Here you go," he beamed, handing them over. "I'll ask one of the security guards to bring you out a nice hot cup of tea in a moment, and of course I'll mention to the cast that you're out here in search of autographs. Merry Christmas to you all!"

"Um, would you like one of these?" a small dark haired girl asked uncertainly, offering Marquess a packet of sweets. He thanked her and took one, pretending not to notice the word 'Warheads' on the wrapper.

"AAARGH!" he spluttered, his eyes watering and his face contorting into expressions which are rarely seen outside a BAFTA award ceremony. "My goodness, wherever did you get these! Yeeeuuuurgh! But what fun; thank you very much!"

He then turned and skipped happily up the steps and into the studios, wishing the security guard and desk staff a very good morning before disappearing into his office to rewrite the script for the Christmas episode.

And what an episode it was! Reg was given a much bigger role, as were all of the long-term characters and a script that made everyone laugh with genuine humour rather than pity. The whole episode was traditional and light hearted, just the way everyone liked it and while it was true that it probably would not be the biggest ratings-grabber of the year, it was immensely enjoyable to film and watch, and not one person had a bad word to say about it.

And the best was yet to come. When filming was finished and Reg had managed to climb back down the chimney, Marquess called all of the cast and crew into the canteen. He announced that big changes would be happening in the new year to make The Bill more realistic while still keeping it exciting and that there would definitely not be any more sackings in the near future. The older cast would be respected more and not given storylines that undermined all their previous years' work and the new ones would not all have to have dark secrets that interfered with their jobs.

After the applause and looks of disbelief had stopped, Marquess brought in a portable CD player and the giant hamper and announced that it was party time! Not wanting to jinx anything, everyone was only too happy to oblige and it was only a matter of minutes before the scene shown to him by the spirit of The Bill Present actually repeated itself, only this time he was in the midst of it, enjoying himself and appreciating all around him like never before, knowing that the future was bright and everyone around him was happy.

Many wondered if perhaps something strange and illegal had been slipped into his drink but it became evident in the weeks that followed that he really was a changed man. Storylines suddenly became realistic without losing their ratings or becoming boring; some real crime was introduced in the form of some good old fashioned burglars and fraudsters and not every officer had to have frequent disasters in their personal lives.

To Jim, who was not sacked, he gave the long awaited happy storyline in which he and June finally realised they were soulmates and were married in a joyful and amusing episode in which he finally turned up at the church on a milk float. Marquess became known as one of the nicest, most well humoured, fairest Executive Producers that TV land had ever known. He did not see any more spirits or ghosts but it was always said that he knew better than most how to keep the true spirit of The Bill alive, thinking of the past, present and future with every episode.

May that be said of all of us – and as Jim said, Carlton bless us, every one!

oOo

Happy New Year!