The Ghost of Christmas Present
Mr Brittas had returned to bed after ghost of Christmas Past left him and, at two minutes to two o'clock, was still there, sitting perfectly upright, patiently awaiting the next ghost. Helen was still sleeping by his side. He watched her fondly as he waited.
He had almost woken her after the first ghost had left to tell her what had happened, but when he had reached over and tapped her shoulder, she'd sleepily mumbled "geroff" before rolling away from him. As she settled back down, he thought he heard her say something about "Uncle Simon" and decided to leave her to dream about her holy actions.
So, instead, he had set to thinking about what the ghost had shown him of his life and tried to reconcile it with idea that he had somehow done something wrong, was doing something wrong. The idea baffled him. He thought about all the people he had supported through the daily catastrophes of life. He never boasted about it, of course, but many of them owed him their lives. Admittedly, he still had a lot of work to do on getting his staff, at least, to understand the true value of going above and beyond in the name of public duty, but he had honed his team to be second-to-none in dealing with life's endless crises and was immensely proud of them.
He was basking in this contented pride when the clock struck two. At the exact moment the second hand reached the hour, there was a crack in the air, the familiar rush of coldness, and the ghost of Christmas Present appeared. In the relativeness smallness of the Brittas' bedroom, she took up all the available space.
"Gordon Brittas, " her voice boomed around the room. "I am the ghost of Christmas Present. I am here to show you the impact of your actions on those around you this very Christmas." She spoke firmly but quickly, intending to retain control by giving Mr Brittas absolutely no chance to interrupt her.
Mr Brittas, however, did not even attempt to. On her arrival, he had jumped straight out of bed, put on his slippers and was now standing by the bed, beaming widely, with the air of an excitable puppy. He held out his hand. "Gordon Brittas. You must be the ghost of Christmas Present."
The ghost stared at the outstretched hand. After a couple of seconds, Mr Brittas realised the problem, "Ah yes, I've already made that mistake, you aren't able to touch anything, are you?" He went to pat at the ghost's shoulder instead. Intending to pass through her, he swiped his arm rather forcefully and was jarred when his hand crashed into solidity, the rest of his body shaking in compensation.
As he recovered, the ghost placed a heavy hand on his shoulder to steady him and took the opportunity to assess him. Now she was seeing him in person, he looked rather average and, not the first time since they'd received his case file, she wondered how such a man could have caused so much harm in the world. She also remembered how singed Past had been upon his return to their office, which meant he'd even somehow managed to break through the causal time continuum. If he could do that to a non-corporeal being… It was quite the feat for a man in tartan slippers.
"I am the ghost of Christmas Present," she said, when he'd stopped swaying. "Unlike my colleague, I exist fully in the here and now. I represent the world as it is at this exact moment. Consequently, I am every bit as real and as solid as you. The present is the key to our existence, Gordon. It is the only place where we can act. My solid corporeal form reflects the tangible reality of that fact."
Mr Brittas didn't look as impressed by this speech as the ghost was expecting. "Is that why you're so big?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you do seem to be a rather larger lady." He made a show of looking her up and down. "A little too much living in the now and not thinking of the future in terms of health, diet and exercise, eh?"
"Are you calling me fat?"
"No, no, no, no, no, not at all." Mr Brittas held up his hands in a defensive gesture. "But you could perhaps benefit from my twelve week course 'Our physical form and the impression it makes on others'. We run it at the centre twice a year. Unfortunately, nobody has made it past week two yet so some of the later stages haven't been fully tested, but I think it might be useful nevertheless. I've got a leaflet somewhere…"
He made to move towards the door, but the ghost tightened her grip on his shoulder, holding him in place.
"Gordon Brittas, I am here to show you the impact of your behaviour on the people around you now."
Mr Brittas eyes glanced around the room, "On Helen? What have I done to Helen."
The ghost's grip tightened further. "The metaphorical now, Gordon. The people currently in your life. I am going to show the consequences of your actions; the harm you have inflicted."
"What harm? I have spent by life working to improve the lot of mankind. I'm afraid I really am failing to see why you all think that's wrong!"
Not for the first time that night, Mr Brittas looked rather hurt and confused by the idea he was at fault. The ghost almost felt sorry for him and, realising that she had been quite harsh, she loosened her grip on his shoulder and decided to try a kinder approach.
"Gordon, let's start with an example. Do you remember the decision you made this afternoon?"
"I make hundreds of decisions every day. That's the role of a responsible leisure centre manager. The buck stops here!"
"This afternoon, your staff asked if they could finish early as it was Christmas Eve."
"Yes."
"And you said no."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"As I explained at the time, we are a public service. It was our duty to be there so our customers had access to our services."
"Did you have any customers?"
"That's not the point."
"Do you think your staff were happy to stay?"
"Of course! They are a dedicated team." He paused. "Most of them."
"Do you think they were still happy when they were stuck for the entire evening?"
"They know that things happen and we just have to deal with whatever live throws at us as best we can. They all took it in their stride and went off to enjoy their Christmases."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, one or two of the younger, newer staff may have grumbled a bit but I know that my core team will have gone home with a sense of pride in a job well done. And that pride will ripple out into their families, and beyond, spreading a sense of contentment over their Christmases, across Whitbury and the world!" Mr Brittas' eyes shone brightly. "My dream is being fulfilled."
"But are their dreams being fulfilled, Gordon?"
"Of course!"
"Let's take a look, shall we?"
The ghost clicked her fingers and they were transported to the brightly lit interior of a small country church. Midnight mass had just finished and the congregation were milling around the altar, drinking wine, eating mince pies, and wishing each other "Merry Christmas".
They had appeared next to a white-haired elderly gentleman who was talking to the vicar, although his eyes keep glancing over to the door of the church. He looked anxious and was saying, "I'm so sorry, I'm afraid she got stuck at work. You know what he's like."
The vicar's brow furrowed at the thought of whoever 'he' was. "Yes, yes I do." The frown passed and he smiled sympathetically. "I'm really sorry I couldn't persuade the bishop to stay any longer, Edward. I do know he was incredibly keen to meet her. He waited as long as he possibly could."
"Not to worry, Ernest, I know it can't be helped. Just damn that man." Realising where he was, he added "Sorry."
"Oh, I doubt God would mind in his case."
They shared a grim smile. Edward gave the door another concerned glance.
"I'm sure she'll be here any minute," the vicar said, giving Edward's arm a comforting pat. "She can't possibly be stuck there three Christmases in a row."
As if in answer to their thoughts, the church door opened and a very stressed looking Linda appeared. She scanned the crowd. She looked straight at Mr Brittas with no hint that she recognised her boss. It was only when she saw Edward, waving at her, that she broke into a smile and pushed her way through the crowd towards them. Edward embraced her in a hug as she reached him, keeping his arm around her as she turned to the vicar, apologising profusely.
"Is the bishop still here?" she asked, her eyes wide with hope.
"I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, he needed to leave to catch his flight to Africa to start his missionary work."
Her hopeful expression became strained "Did he get chance to look at my application before he left?"
The vicar grimaced. "Yes, he did, and he was extremely impressed. He was very keen to support your application. However, he felt it wasn't fair to the others he's been asked to support if he endorsed you without meeting you."
Linda's face fell and she let out a sad "oh". Edward's arm tightened around her shoulders.
"He won't be back until sometime after Easter, I'm afraid. I know that's too late for your application this time, but I'm sure we can sort something out for next year."
Linda nodded glumly. "Thank you."
"I am sorry, Linda."
Linda shook her head. "Don't worry, it's not your fault." An uncharacteristic flash of anger crossed her face.
"Truly, it can sometimes be hard to extend Christmas spirit to everyone, can't it?" The vicar sighed. "But we must try."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Well, I'm afraid I must go mingle. Merry Christmas to you both. I hope you can still enjoy the day despite everything."
"I'm sure we will," Linda replied.
"Merry Christmas, vicar," Edward added, as the vicar turned from them to talk to a group behind him.
As soon as his back was turned, Linda crumpled and collapsed against Edward's chest. He embraced her in another tight hug.
Standing next to them, the ghost realised that Mr Brittas was no longer paying attention, but observing the crowd around them.
"This was a very important evening for Linda," the ghost said quietly, bringing his attention back. "She needed the bishop to support her application for a scholarship to a prestigious theological college. As the first woman to ever apply, she needed the bishop's support as a referee. She's been working on her application for six months."
"Linda was planning to leave the centre!" Mr Brittas looked genuinely shocked by this. "I don't believe that; she's one of my most committed members of staff. Always ready to support the dream."
"She has a desire to help people by spreading the word of God, Gordon."
"But she's already helping people through her work at the centre. And there -" Mr Brittas gave another look around the congregation "- she's doing it whilst surrounded by people her own age. She must be the youngest person here by at least thirty years! I really do worry that, away from the centre, Linda doesn't spend enough time around her own generation."
Next to them, Edward whispered something quietly in Linda's ear. Whatever it was caused her to brighten a little and she nodded in response. Hand-in-hand, waving goodbye to the vicar and a few other friends, they headed off down the aisle and out of the church.
"I don't think she minds," the ghost replied as they watched the couple leave.
"But I do."
"I really don't think that matters," the ghost said. She clicked her fingers.
They were transported to Whitbury town centre. It was late; a nearby church was beginning to chime eleven o'clock. Despite the hour, the street was busy. They were standing outside the Wheatsheaf. Drinkers and revellers were spilling out of its doors, wishing each other 'Merry Christmas', singing and cheering loudly, spreading out in different directions as they made their way home in the snow. Happy festivity filled the air.
Mr Brittas screwed up his face with distaste. "Cuh! Is this really a way for people to be spending Christmas Eve?" he said.
"Enjoying themselves?" asked the ghost.
"Making a noisy disturbance late at night in a public thoroughfare where people may be trying to sleep nearby. Especially when they could be home with their families."
"Not everyone has a family, Gordon."
At that moment, Colin emerged, moving against the crowd towards the pub. His progress was aided by many of the patrons moving out of his way to avoid the smell. Despite this, many of them wished him a friendly 'Merry Christmas, Col" as they passed. He reached the door just as the landlord was shooing out the last of his drunken customers.
"You're locking up, Reg?" Colin said, genuinely surprised.
"Evening Col, we wondered where you'd got to."
"Got stuck at work. The usual, you know how it is."
"Ah, yeah, 'course," Reg nodded.
"But I thought I'd made it in time for your traditional Christmas Eve lock-in! What's going on?" Colin asked, peering through the door at the now empty pub.
"Sorry Col, no lock-in this year, I'm afraid. Someone shopped us to the council after the Hallowe'en one and they've threatened to revoke our licence if they receive another complaint. They were very apologetic but apparently the person reporting us has been doing their head in, and they decided to make it our problem instead."
Mr Brittas beamed smugly.
"Oh." Colin's gaze darted back to the leaving crowd. "So, Pauline's gone, then?"
Reg nodded. "Yeah, she left a couple of hours ago. Seemed rather disappointed you'd stood her up and went off with Dave."
"Dave! Binman Dave!?"
"'Fraid so."
"Oh." Colin sagged with disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Col." The landlord reached out a hand to comfort Colin but then, finding nowhere he particularly wanted to touch, withdrew it.
"Hurry up, Reg," called a woman's voice from inside the pub.
Reg smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Col - got to go. The missus calls. We're open again Boxing Day though. Do come in for a drink, eh?"
"Will do, " Colin said glumly. "Well, Merry Christmas, Reg."
"Merry Christmas, Col," and the landlord went back into the pub, locking the door behind him, leaving Colin standing alone . He stayed there unmoving for a moment, looking at the empty pub, sighed heavily, then turned and headed off down the now deserted street. Mr Brittas and the ghost watched him go.
"A member of my staff wanting to be involved in illegal activity!" Mr Brittas tutted. "If this is what he gets up to, I'm glad we keep him on the straight and narrow in the centre all evening!"
"You kept him alone all evening, Gordon. He spent the evening by himself in the boiler room, working hard. The thought of seeing his friends is what got him through."
"No-one needs friends who break the law!"
"Some people need all the friends they can find."
The snow around them was growing heavier, and Colin was almost out of sight now.
"Let's see where he goes, shall we?" said the ghost and set off down the street after him.
After a few seconds pause, and another shake of the head, Mr Brittas followed, continuing his diatribe on the moral laxity of illegal activity as they walked.
Colin led them to small, ramshackle house on the outskirts of Whitbury. The snow had blanketed the garden in a couple of inches of snow; enough to obscure everything except a rather sizeable compost heap.
"Well, that helps explain the smell," Mr Brittas said, looking at it with distaste, as they followed Colin along the path to the front door.
The inside of Colin's house was dark and not much warmer than the outside. Hanging up his coat in the hallway, Colin went into his front room and turned on the light. At first sight, it looked like a normal living room with a small couch and armchair faced a small gas fireplace. As the light bulb warmed up, the increased brightness revealed various tools, workbenches and invented contraptions lining the walls, making it look more like a workroom than a home. As Colin fiddled with the fire, Mr Brittas peered around, taking it all in.
"This is just like his cubbyhole at the centre!"
"Colin has always been at his happiest at the centre," the ghost told him. "He considers it his home more than this house, so is it really a surprise if he turns his home into a replica?"
Mr Brittas scowled, "Not just a replica. I think half of this stuff is actually from the centre. I can see I need to have a word with him about stealing leisure centre property!"
Having lit the fire, Colin had collapsed into the armchair next to them and was staring blankly into the flames.
"Bringing his work home with him makes Colin feel less alone when he's not there, Gordon. Have you ever missed anything here?"
"That's not the point!"
"I rather think it is."
There was the sound of a cat flap from the back of the house. It broke Colin from his reverie and he looked up with delight as a small black and white cat padded into the room. It was thin, painfully so, with most of its fur either missing or matted. Unlike Colin, it appeared to be aware of their presence as it nuzzled against the ghost's leg and swiped lazily at Mr Brittas' foot before jumping up onto Colin's lap.
"Gordy!" Colin said, lifting the small creature up and cradling it gently against his chest.
"Gordy?" echoed Mr Brittas, looking faintly stunned.
"Merry Christmas, Gordy!" Colin said to the cat. "I'm afraid Pauline won't be joining us tomorrow, so more turkey for you, eh? Of course, Stephanie will phone in the afternoon -" He pointed to a picture of a young blonde woman on the mantelpiece. "But I'm afraid it'll just be you and me this year." The cat meowed gently, and nuzzled Colin's cardigan. Colin smiled sadly and, going back to staring into the fire, "Just you and me…"
"He named that cat after me?" Mr Brittas asked, staring at the animal in Colin's arms.
The ghost smiled. There it was. There was always something that got to them, something that made them realise why the ghosts were there, doing this. And it was almost always an animal or a child. "Yes, Gordon, he did. He found the poor thing hiding in his compost heap last week. Some children had terrorised the poor thing. Colin's been nursing him back to health. His small effort to make the world a kinder pl-"
"Yes, yes, but he named that mangy thing after me?" Mr Brittas snapped, looking thoroughly offended.
With a growl of annoyance, the ghost snapped her fingers and they were transported to a country lane in the early hours of Christmas morning. It was still dark and snowing heavily. There were no houses or road lamps in sight; the only sign of life a car in the middle of the road. It had been stationary for a good few minutes, judging by the layer of snow piling up around it.
The passenger door opened and Tim appeared. He slammed the car door shut hard enough to cause a small avalanche of snow from the roof. He stomped around to the back of the car, swiped the snow off the boot and sat down on it heavily, glowering into the gloom of the surrounding fields.
Gavin emerged from the other side of the car, trailing a large map and a flustered expression. "Timmy, I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean -" He was cut off by Tim flashing him a poisonous glare before turning away again.
"Will you at least get back in the car?" Gavin pleaded. "Please? It's freezing out here."
Tim stamped his feet into the snow. "So you can criticise my map reading again! No. I'd rather stay out here, thank you."
"Why don't you drive while I figure out the stupid bloody map then?"
"We wouldn't even need the map if you hadn't lied about knowing the sodding way!"
"I do know the way! I just… I've only ever driven there in daylight. It looks different in the dark."
"If you'd managed to convince Brittas, we wouldn't be here in the dark!"
"Tim…"
"Everything's going to be ruined now! There won't be enough time to get it all done in the morning - there's too much!" Tim glared darkly at Gavin. "I knew I shouldn't have relied on you to get Brittas to do something."
"Hey, it's not my fault!"
"Well, it's not mine!"
Tim continued to rant, pacing in the snow as he did so. Gavin gave up trying to placate him and collapsed back in the driver's seat, where he could study the map in the car's overhead light. The occasional grumpy "yes" and "fine" were the only indication that he was listening to Tim's tirade about burnt food, Gavin's parents, and the impending disaster that their Christmas Day was bound to be.
The ghost turned to Brittas. "Another unhappy Christmas, Gordon. They are supposed to be somewhere warm and cosy now."
Mr Brittas shook his head. "You know, I despair of my staff sometimes. These two, always together, sticking to their bachelor lives despite heading into their 30s."
"They seem happy enough with each other," replied the ghost, just as Tim hit the roof the car in frustration, causing Gavin to jump, then scowl at his boyfriend. "Usually."
"Where they should be is with families, right now."
"Not everyone suits the same life, Gordon. Family can mean different things to different people."
"But how will a leisure centre manager interview board view Gavin, a young man who has no inclination to settle down, no willingness to marry, too reluctant to give up his bachelor life with Tim."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"If he wants to reach his full potential, yes. I feel sad for what he's missing out on. Do you know, I tried setting him up with a very attractive trainee manager on a recent course I took him on, but he showed no interest. Just wanted to get back home to Tim. I despair, I really do." He shook his head again.
The ghost looked at Gavin, currently looking browbeaten as Tim shouted at him. She felt a wave of sympathy for the young man and wondered if, between his boss and his boyfriend, he ever got any peace. She knew that she wasn't supposed to use her powers to interfere in reality directly, but felt a need to achieve something good this evening. With a small waggle of her finger, a small piece of snow flashed in front of Gavin on its way to hit the map in just the right place. His eyes widened.
"Hey, I think I've worked out where we are!" he said, cutting Tim off mid-rant. "We just need to go back to the last T-junction and turn left."
Tim didn't move. "Are you sure? I'd rather stay here until dawn than spend another hour pointlessly driving around."
"Yes, I'm sure," Gavin said tersely. "Get in."
"Fine." Tim trudged back around to passenger side, once again slamming the door as he got back in the car. A large pile of snow fell from the roof, landing on Mr Brittas' slippers.
Mr Brittas sighed. "I can see I'm going to have to send Timothy on another anger management refresher in the new year."
The ghost gave him a sideways glance. "You don't seem as bothered about his lack of a family."
Mr Brittas pursed his lips. "No, well, I don't believe I would be able to help there."
"No?"
"No. For a start, whilst Tim has many excellent qualities, he's clearly unlikely to ever be promotion material. And secondly, I've always rather suspected that Tim's preferences might be in, er, a different direction."
"Really?" The ghost bristled, readying herself to tell him off for his views.
Next to them, the car started to rev.
"Which is perfectly fine, of course." Mr Brittas went on, speaking a little too quickly. "I went on a very informative course in Croydon last year that highlighted the benefit of diversity in the workforce. I did at first worry about what the families who come to the centre would think - we don't want to get a reputation, do we? - but whatever he gets up to, he keeps it away from the centre, so who am I to judge."
The ghost was taken aback. "Oh," she said. "Right."
The car still hadn't moved. An ominous whining was now coming from the engine.
Mr Brittas gave a conspiratorial chuckle. "You know, I've always rather suspected that he has a bit of crush on Gavin. Always struck me as rather a waste, given how much of a ladies man Gavin is."
"Er…" said the ghost as the car started to splutter more noisily.
"I'm not sure whether Gavin has actually noticed," Mr Brittas continued. "But there are little signs that a trained people observer like myself can pick up on. I did try to discuss this with Gavin a few years ago, but he didn't seem to understand what I was saying. Unfortunately, he just doesn't seem to have the ability to pick up those little social cues, no matter how many courses I send him on. I keep telling him -"
Whatever Mr Brittas kept telling Gavin, however, was drowned out as the car's engine finally gave up with a loud bang that echoed across the surrounding fields, accompanied by a large amount of smoke and an almost as loud exclamation of "Fuck!" from within the car.
Mr Brittas tutted, apparently unfazed by the bang. "Yes, Mr Whistler definitely needs that anger management training."
The ghost was bewildered. How can he get the big ideas right, but not see any of the reality in front of him. She was beginning to see why Past had had so much trouble. She watched him as he walked to the front of the car, giving Tim and Gavin an unheard lecture on shoddy car maintenance as they stared despondently at the smoking engine.
If he can't see his impact, how on earth do we get him to change?
With a click of the ghost's fingers, the quiet of the countryside was replaced with the noise of a Christmas party in the living room of a large terrace house. Around them, the house was packed with people drinking, smoking, dancing, singing, flirting, kissing.
Mr Brittas surveyed the chaos with a look of distaste. "This isn't a very traditional way of celebrating Christmas, is it?" he said, flinching as a couple next to him started to kiss enthusiastically under the mistletoe. "These people should be with their families. As I keep saying, Christmas is a time for family."
"For some people, their friends are their family, Gordon," the ghost said calmly.
"Well, surely, we won't find any of my staff at-"
"Hey, Sarah, have you seen Alex?" Julie, oblivious to Mr Brittas' presence, pushed passed him, her loud northern tones cutting through the noise of the crowd. "He promised he'd be here, the bloody -"
"Julie!" replied a young blond woman, clearly pleased to see her. "We were starting to think you weren't coming!"
"Got stuck a work again, didn't I, because of that stupid -" Her final word was drowned out by a drunken cheer from the rugby players in the corner, but Mr Brittas scowled at her nonetheless. "Look, is Alex here?" Julie asked again. "I can't find him."
Sarah looked awkward, but said nothing.
"Oh, he's left, hasn't he? The -"
Sarah shook her head. "No, he didn't leave…"
"Where the hell is he, then?"
"When you didn't show, he was convinced you'd stood him up and, well, you know what he was planning, so he took your no-show as a no. After he finished off a bottle of vodka, I think Caroline took her chance..." Sarah trailed off.
Julie looked furious. "Where. Is. He?"
Sarah pointed upwards.
"Right then." Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby table, Julie took a large swig, then determinedly marched out of the living and up the stairs. The hallway was crowded, but the expression on her face was enough to ensure everyone swiftly moved out of her way as she passed.
"Alex!" she yelled, as she walked along the upstairs corridor, flinging the bedroom doors open. "Alex! Get out here, you arsehole!"
She found him in the last bedroom, under a very naked Caroline. Too busy to notice her, they only registered Julie's presence when the bottle she'd been holding smashed against the wall behind the bed, shattering glass and wine across the room.
Alex paled with fear as his eyes met Julie's across the room. She held his gaze for a few moments, before turning and storming off back down the stairs. Pushing Caroline off him, Alex grabbed his clothes, and scrambled to chase after her, almost falling down the stairs as he tried to pull on his trousers.
The front door slammed as Julie left the house; it slammed again as Alex followed her.
Mr Brittas was still standing at the bedroom door, gaping with horror as Caroline covered herself in a blanket while Sarah wailed about the state of her carpet. The ghost grabbed his arm to get his attention. "Come on."
She dragged him out of the house, into the street, where Julie and Alex were screaming at each other. Lights were coming on in the surrounding houses, as the inhabitants peered through their curtains to see what the disturbance was.
"How could you?" Julie was shouting. "How could you, with that -"
"How could I? You're the one who didn't show up."
"I got trapped in the centre! You could have waited!"
"I waited and waited."
"You know I get stuck in that bloody centre!"
"And you know that you don't need to work there. I told you I would look after you but, no, you chose to be there. You chose your bloody job over me!"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"What am I supposed to think? Julie, I love you, please!"
"You've got a funny way of showing it." She gave a pointed look at his semi-dressed state.
"I thought you'd rejected me!"
Julie gave him a long, hard look. "Well, I am now. Don't ever think about trying to see me or little Gordon again." She turned away and walked steadily away down the street. The only giveaway of her emotions was an almost indiscernable shaking of her shoulders.
"Julie, please!" Alex wailed after her. He tried to follow but the combined effects of alcohol and the cold caught up with him, and he stumbled into a neighbour's hedge, throwing up in a rosebed.
Mr Brittas looked down at him with contempt. "I can't believe what I'm seeing," he said to the the ghost.
"Alex was going to propose to Julie this evening," the ghost told him. "From what I gather, she was going to say yes."
Sarah and a couple of other partygoers had rushed to Alex's aid and were now trying to help him up. He slumped down in their arms and mumbled a sad, almost pathetic, "I love her."
"Seems to me she's had rather a lucky escape," said Mr Brittas, as they watched the young man being bundled into the house. "Might I suggest they should have been at home with that young baby of theirs, instead of here. If only people would spend time with their families…"
"I gather they were trying to create their family."
"I don't see how Julie could create a family with someone who cheats on her so easily."
"He was very upset when Julie didn't show up. Gordon, have you never done anything self-destructive when feeling depressed?"
"No. I have control of my morals, even when life sends its curveballs at us."
"Well, have you ever gotten carried away at a party?"
"Only within the loving confines of my marriage."
"You didn't spend Christmas Eve with your family. Where was your wife this evening, Gordon?" she asked lightly.
"At church," said Mr Brittas, earnestly.
And you really believe that, don't you? The ghost wondered whether disillusioning him would help or hinder her cause.
Mr Brittas smiled at the thought of Helen. "She's a very saintly woman, my wife, you know," he said. "Over the years, we've worked together to build a strong, loving relationship that contributes to the community and the social cohesion of the world around us. She knows that the chaos of life means that, yes, sometimes we are apart for the important moments, but all those years spent nurturing our love means that we are together even so. You certainly wouldn't catch me risking my relationship sleeping with someone else at a party, or bringing children into the world outside of wedlock!"
The ghost raised an eyebrow, then snapped her fingers. They were transported to the darkened reception area of the leisure centre, shortly after Mr Brittas had left earlier that Christmas Eve.
Mr Brittas looked around in confusion. "What are we doing here? I know there's nobody here as I watched them all walk out on me as I was about to give my speech!"
"Not all of them," said the ghost. She pointed to the sliver of yellow light coming from underneath the restroom door.
Mr Brittas shook his head in exasperation. "Now, what have I told my staff about making sure the lights are off before they leave. As well as wasting the world's diminishing resources, it's the taxpayer's money providing that electricity!"
"Gordon -"
"I can see that's another training course I'm going to have to arrange."
"Gordon!" repeated the ghost, louder this time. "Listen."
"But-"
"Listen." she insisted and, to her surprise, he did.
They heard a faint sobbing.
Mr Brittas frowned. "Who's that?"
"Let's see, shall we?" Taking Mr Brittas by the arm, the ghost opened the restroom door and led him inside.
The light was coming from the small Christmas tree that had sat, unloved, in the corner of the restroom since the start of December. It was now decorated with the remains of the Colin's fairy lights and glowing beautifully. Three very small, almost empty-looking Christmas stockings dangled from the lower branches. Two toddlers, Carole's twins, were curled up on a blanket on the floor next to it, sleeping peacefully. Watching over them was Carole herself, sitting on one of the hard restroom chairs. Ben was on her lap, sleeping just as peacefully as his siblings, oblivious to the sobs coming from his mother.
Mr Brittas gazed at Carole with wide-eyed emotion. Finally, thought the ghost. She said nothing, giving a chance for him to take in the full tragedy of the scene.
The silence was broken by one of the Christmas tree lights burning out with a loud pop. It was enough to wake Ben, who peered sleepily up at his mum. She hastily dried her eyes on his blanket and gave him a watery smile.
"Has Santa been yet, Mummy?" the little boy asked.
"No." Carole's voice was high-pitched and strained. "No, I'm afraid he hasn't come yet."
"When he comes, will he take us to the big house with all the toys and children that you told us about?"
Carole choked back another sob. "No, darling, I'm afraid we won't be going to the big house anymore. We'll be having Christmas here after all."
"But Santa will still know where to find us?"
Carole looked over at the very meagre Christmas stockings and began to cry again. "I hope so," she said sadly, "but he'll only come if you're asleep."
She very gently tipped Ben off her lap and lay him down next to the twins. He nudged into Jessica who rolled over in her sleep and hugged him. Ben cuddled her back as he started to drift off again. Carole pulled the blanket tightly around all three of the children and knelt over them, softly stroking each of their heads in turn. Only when she was sure they were all fast asleep again, did she let her tears take over.
The ghost glanced over at Mr Brittas who had continued to watch them with a tearful smile on his face. Maybe there is some hope for him.
"It's wonderful," he murmured.
Maybe not. The ghost glared at him. "What is?" she snapped.
"This!" he gestured towards Carole. "This is the spirit of Christmas! A mother looking after her children; a family spending time together, no matter their hardships."
"They're spending Christmas alone in a deserted leisure centre with no home, no food, no presents, no comfort!"
Mr Brittas raised his arm defensively. "What can I do? Despite Carole's clear talents as a mother, her financial skills are unfortunately extremely lacking. I've tried to help her many times, yet she always ends up here and never tells me."
"Or you never notice. Now you know, what are you going to do?"
"Well, first thing in the morning, I'm going to come and ask her to leave!" The ghost looked appalled, but Mr Brittas went on. "We've got some spare space above our garage; she can stay there until we find her somewhere new. I'm sure Helen won't mind - she quite enjoyed the free babysitting last time Carole was there."
The ghost was surprised by his matter-of-fact resolution to the problem. "Oh," she said flatly. "Good."
"I'm rather proud of Carole, you know," Mr Brittas continued. "Despite her obvious flaws, I think she's the one member of my staff who truly understands family values. If only the rest of my staff followed her example." He turned back to Carole, happily watching her and the children.
The ghost bristled, opened her mouth to respond angrily, then realised she had nothing to say. How on earth could she begin explain to him what he was doing wrong? He wasn't malicious; he seemed to understand the big ideas of caring for others and society; he was loyal and seemed to genuinely want to help his staff. He wasn't an evil man. Evil men she knew how to deal with, but this…
The ghost realised that there was nothing for it, but to accept that she'd failed on this one. With a final half-hearted snap of her fingers, the restroom faded around them and they were back in Mr Brittas' bedroom. The clock read five minutes past two.
Mr Brittas continued to stare at the spot where Carole had been until a large snore from Helen brought his attention back.
"Where next?" he asked the ghost, wearing the same excited puppy expression he'd had when she first appeared.
I've made no difference, she thought. "That's it, Gordon," she said aloud. "I've shown you all I wanted to show you."
The ghost was at a loss of what to do next. At this point, she usually had someone distraught with remorse to pass into the care of Future for a final bit of scaring into goodness. But this man… he was making everyone around him miserable and he didn't seem to realise, didn't seem to be able to attribute any of their unhappiness to himself. How do I elicit remorse from someone who doesn't believe they have anything to be remorseful about?
"Gordon," she began, then paused, gathering her thoughts. "Gordon, do you understand what we are trying to achieve tonight, by showing you these things?"
With absolutely no hesitation, Mr Brittas replied, "No."
Right. "Did you see any pattern in the experiences of your staff this Christmas?"
"No." Another immediate response.
With a frustrated scream, the ghost reached forward and grabbed Mr Brittas by the shoulders, almost lifting him off the ground, so that they were face-to-face. "Gordon Brittas, let me spell this out for you," she said, in a tone that only just managed to conceal her rage. "This afternoon, you, against the express wishes of your management, refused your staff the kindness of letting them go home early, even when there was no work for them to do. That decision, made by you, has resulted in every single one of them having a miserable Christmas. Can you see that?"
Mr Brittas had been momentarily stunned but rallied quickly. "My staff are a diligent team and appreciate doing their duty. Yes, it may have been nice to go home early - I would have liked that myself - but -"
The ghost gave another scream of rage and pushed him away from her. He landed heavily on the end of the bed.
"Now you know how terrible that decision made their Christmases, you still wouldn't have done anything differently?"
"No."
The ghost closed her eyes, needing to get him out of her sight, and took a few deep breaths. When she opened at her again, Mr Brittas was looking at her, his face expressionless.
"Gordon, in an hour's time, my colleague, the ghost of Christmas Future, is going to show you where your actions will lead you, and those around you, if you do not mend your ways now. I have seen what she is going to show you and, when you see, I think you will understand why we are so desperate to prevent it. Before she arrives, I beg you to think about what I've shown, what we've shown you so far, and think about how things could have been different.
Mr Brittas was dumbfounded, "I don't understand -"
"Please, just reflect." The ghost sounded weary now, and she was growing smaller. "Our time together is at an end, Gordon. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to help you. All I can hope is that one day you will understand." She sighed, shook her head, and with one final disconsolate look at Mr Brittas, she clicked her fingers and was gone.
Mr Brittas remained motionless on the bed, his face a picture of confused contemplation as, provoked by the ghost's words, he played over the events of Christmas Eve in his mind. Now and again, he repeated things he'd said during the day, then gave a little shake of his head. Eventually, he said aloud, "Nope, Gordy, can't see it."
With a shrug, he stood up and walked round the bed to get in properly. Beside him, Helen groaned with annoyance as he pulled the duvet off her feet as he climbed in. He smiled at her, whispered "Goodnight, my darling" and snuggled down into the pillows.
A couple of seconds later, he sat up again, switched on the bedside lamp and took his notebook from the bedside table. He wrote, "To do: 1. Ask Carole to live in the garage." Then, he set the alarm for five to three, turned the lamp back off and curled up to sleep until the next ghost arrived.
For five minutes, the room was peaceful. Then, Mr Brittas tutted, sat up and yet again switched on the light. He added "2. And take her the leftover turkey sandwiches" to his to-do list.
Satisfied, he set the notebook back on the table, rolled over and fell fast asleep, pulling the duvet entirely off Helen as he did so.