The Butterfly Effect
At one minute to three on Christmas morning, Mr Brittas was sitting up in bed, hands folded in his lap, patiently gazing with a contented smile at the spot where the ghosts of Christmas Past and Present had appeared. In the four minutes since his alarm had woken him, he had given some further thought to the ghosts' assertions that he was doing something wrong and concluded that the ghosts were simply mistaken.
It was an issue he had encountered often; a failure of those lacking his vision to understand the benefits the realisation of his dream would bring to the world, the improvements to society that would abound. The last ghost had told him that his next visit would be from the ghost of Christmas Future and Mr Brittas was looking forward to it. He knew that once they visited the future and saw for themselves the world he was creating, the ghosts would realise their mistake, apologise for disturbing his sleep, and thank him for the job he was doing.
The clock struck the hour. Mr Brittas jumped out of bed as the cold breeze that signified a ghost's arrival again washed over him. It was accompanied by a pop in the air and Henry appeared at the foot of the bed. Mr Brittas's excitement immediately turned into a slight frown as he took in the greying, middle-aged man wearing a cardigan that looked like something even Colin would think twice about.
"You're the ghost of Christmas Future?" Mr Brittas asked, sounding rather surprised. "I must say, I was expecting someone much younger. A child perhaps, as children are our future, aren't they?"
"You must be Gordon," said Henry, smiling and holding out his hand for Mr Brittas to shake.
Mr Brittas took shook it tentatively, and answered with a drawled out "yes…"
"I'm afraid I am not the ghost of Christmas Future, Gordon, but-"
"What? Well, who are you, then? I was distinctly told that the ghost of Christmas Future would be next. You know it's very inconsiderate to change plans like this. It doesn't show a lot of respect for your customers."
Henry gave an odd smile at the idea he had customers. "Gordon, I am…" He paused, wondering how best to explain who he was. "My name is Henry Parkes. I am a colleague of the ghost of Christmas Future. After discussing your case and your progress so far, we thought that, in your particular circumstances, I may be better able to help you. I am, I suppose, the ghost of alternative Christmases."
"Alternative?" A flicker of distaste crossed Mr Brittas' face and he backed away from Henry slightly. "Well, Henry, I'm not sure I'm your man there. Whilst I'm as open-minded as the next man, there are some things that I cannot condone, especially not after that group squatting on the common tried to burn the centre down with hemp last year -"
Henry laughed. "No, no, Gordon, not that kind of alternative. My realm is that of all the potential Christmases that could have been. Every decision we make splits the universe in two; one path for each outcome. My friends, the ghosts of Christmas, Past, Present, live in this universe and can see the fixed impact of decisions already made, whilst the ghost of Christmas Future can extrapolate forward from what's already happened. I, on the other hand, have access to all the alternative versions of this Christmas that could be existing right now if any decisions already made had been different, right from the decision of a butterfly to fly left or right up to the decision of a world leader to go to war. Do you understand?"
"No."
"Gordon, I am here to show you your impact on those around you by demonstrating how different this Christmas could have been for them if you had changed one small decision."
Henry snapped his fingers and they were standing in the corner of Mr Brittas' office. Mr Brittas was amazed to see himself sitting happily at his desk, writing Christmas cards.
"This is one o'clock yesterday afternoon," said Henry. "I believe your deputy manager is about to ask you a question."
Right on cue, there was a knock on the office door and Gavin entered.
"Mr Brittas, I -" he began, before the Mr Brittas seated at the desk interrupted him.
"Ah, Gavin, just the man! Can you ask the staff to gather in the restroom at four thirty this afternoon, please? I'd like to give my annual speech before they head home. I don't think it should take more than an hour and a half."
"Well, actually, Mr Brittas, that's what I came to ask you about. I - we - I mean - the staff were wondering if you had considered closing the centre early today?"
Just as the past Mr Brittas was about to reply, Henry gave a wave of his hand, and the scene before them froze, with a hopeful Gavin looking at the open-mouthed Mr Brittas.
Henry turned to the present Mr Brittas. "Now, I believe you are about to refuse this young man's request."
"Yes."
"May I ask why?"
"As I am about to explain to Gavin, this centre is a public service. It is stated that we are about until four thirty on Christmas Eve, so we stay open until four thirty on Christmas Eve."
"Did you have any customers yesterday afternoon?"
"No, but as I have already told your colleagues, that's not the point. We could have."
"Have you had any customers on previous Christmas Eves?"
"Well no, but as I keep -"
"So, yesterday evening, you made a decision to keep your staff here knowing that there would be nothing for them to do. After which, you were planning to keep them an extra two hours to listen to your speech."
"Making time and space for them to get to know each other as a team - something that is especially important at this time of year."
"And what time did they get to go home, in the end?"
"Ten thirty." Mr Brittas paused, before adding, "But that was Colin's fault."
"Now, I believe, Gordon, that my colleague, the ghost of Christmas Present, showed you the Christmases your staff are currently experiencing."
"Yes."
"And I think you will agree that they are not having an enjoyable time?"
"Unfortunately, the private lives of my staff are not always the happiest, no. I try to advise them, of course, as well as creating a happy community within the centre to compensate."
"You don't think there's anything you could have done differently that would have made your staff happier?"
"No."
"Well, let's see, shall we?"
Henry gave another wave of his hand and, with a shimmer in the air, time unfroze around them with Gavin once again asking if they could have the afternoon off.
The present Mr Brittas found himself watching as the past Mr Brittas replied, "Yes, Gavin, after having given the matter appropriate consideration, I think we will close early today, in line with head office guidance."
"What?" exclaimed both Gavin and the present Mr Brittas, clearly stunned. They were not the only ones, as the intercom clunked off, followed by Julie and Tim rushing through the door.
The past Mr Brittas beamed at them. "I said, yes, let's close the centre, and go home for Christmas. There are no customers, so why not, eh?"
His staff stared at him.
"Are you feeling alright, Mr Brittas?"
"Perfectly well, Tim," he replied, whilst his present-time counterpart vehemently exclaimed "No!"
"But what about that letter you wrote to the area manager, complaining about the whole idea?" Julie said. "You made me type it out in triplicate - all seven pages of it!"
Mr Brittas nodded furiously in response to Julie's comment, clearly appalled at this version of events. He turned to Henry. "That letter set out, in great detail, the very many reasons why public service duty should never be abandoned, even at Christmas."
"Yes, I believe Mr Jackson shredded it as soon as he received it," said Henry, lightly.
Mr Brittas gave a grunt of annoyance whilst his alter-ego went on, "I've had a change of heart, Julie. Never let it be said that old Gordy here doesn't listen to feedback from his staff."
His staff continued to stare at him, in bewilderment.
It was Tim who recovered first, his desire for an afternoon off overriding his shock. "Well, thank you, Mr Brittas!" he said, with an overly bright smile. "We'll go tell the others!" And he grabbed Gavin's arm to pull him out the room before their boss could change his mind.
Gavin, however, was not to be budged. "Are you sure, Mr Brittas?"
"Quite sure, Gavin."
"So, do you want me to gather the staff for your speech…?"
"Yes, what about my speech?" echoed the present Mr Brittas, oblivious to Tim quietly hissing "don't give him ideas".
"No, no, no, Gavin; I just want you all to get off and enjoy your Christmases. You don't need me boring you when we could all be in the pub!"
Julie gasped. "You, in the pub?!"
"Yes, Julie. I'll even buy you a drink."
Whilst Julie and Tim shared a look of incredulity, Gavin continued to look at his boss with concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, Mr Brittas?" he asked.
The alternative Mr Brittas threw up his hands in exasperation. "Yes, Gavin, I'm fine! I really don't know why this is causing you all so much trouble." He got up and walked over to his office door, flinging it open. "Come on, I'm closing the centre. Let's get down the pub!"
He made a shooing gesture towards the door. His three staff members finally decided to trust what they were hearing, breaking into genuine smiles and a chorus of "Thank you, Mr Brittas!" The group headed out of the office, with Mr Brittas instructing them to gather everyone in reception.
Once the office was empty, Henry closed the door and turned to the present Mr Brittas, who was glaring at him.
"That did not happen! That absolutely did not happen!" he said, furiously.
"No, it did not," replied Henry, calmly. "But it is what could, and perhaps should, have happened, and now, I am going to show you the difference it would have made."
He snapped his fingers and they were transported to a churchyard. It was early evening, and a large number of people were heading into the warm light of the church for the Christmas Eve service.
"You see, Gordon," Henry continued, "every single interaction we have with others sends ripples out into the world. We act one way, the ripples take one direction; we act differently, those ripples take another. Every person we make happy goes to create further happiness; each person we make miserable goes on to create further misery."
"But that's what I'm trying to achieve! I want to bring about a better world from my leisure centre. By encouraging my staff to be better people, to bring world peace, to aspire to my dream, I want them to carry that out into the world to benefit the community, to benefit mankind! It's my dream!"
"I put it to you, Gordon, that the best way to build the community you want is not to force people to behave the way you want, but simply to act kindly, and let that positivity radiate out naturally. I want to show you what would have happened to your staff if you'd made the kinder decision this afternoon. Come with me."
Without giving Mr Brittas chance to reply, Henry joined the crowd heading into the church, leaving him no choice but to follow.
The church was packed. The congregation were milling around chatting and wishing each other Merry Christmas as they took their seats in the pews. Despite the crush, the crowd seemed to part before Henry, allowing him to lead Mr Brittas to the front pew where Edward and Linda were once again talking to the vicar, this time joined by the bishop.
"Well, Miss Perkin, after reading your application, I can certainly see why Father Dean here believes you to be such an excellent candidate for the scholarship," the bishop was saying. "I've read your application essay and, I have to say, I am extremely impressed. Your insights into resurrection are some of the most intellectually advanced I've ever come across; almost as if you have first-hand experience."
"Thank you! Death and near-death experiences are unfortunately something I've had a lot of experience with in my current job. It's what caused me to find religion, really. It was something that helped me make sense of it all."
"Really? What is it that you currently do?"
"Oh, I'm a pool attendant, at the local leisure centre."
The bishop's brow furrowed, until the vicar lightly touched his arm and said, "It's the centre I told you about, Bishop. The one with all the…" he paused, searching for the right word, "… disasters. Our congregation has swelled quite substantially since it opened. There are a great many people seeking spiritual comfort in the area"
Mr Brittas swelled with pride.
Realisation dawned on the bishop's face. "Ah, yes, you mean the place with the manager who…?" Linda, Edward and the vicar all nodded slowly. "Gosh," he said to Linda, "no wonder you are such an expert on the afterlife. Well, with your experience, you are undeniably someone we need in the ecclesiastical world, Miss Perkin. I can confirm that I will be more than happy to formally endorse your application."
"Oh, thank you!" Linda gave a small jump of delight and took the bishop's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "Thank you very much!"
"You are most welcome, and I look forward to following your career. I predict that you will go far."
Above them, the church bells began to ring the hour.
"Ah, I'm afraid that's my cue to get started. Well, it was lovely to finally meet you, Miss Perkin. I hope we get chance to talk again after the service." With a nod to the vicar, the bishop smiled once more at Linda, and made his way to the altar. As soon as his back was turned, Linda gave another squeal of delight and hugged Edward, who had been smiling proudly at her throughout the conversation.
"You see, Gordon, leaving work early meant that Linda-" Henry began, but paused when he realised that Mr Brittas wasn't paying attention. He was once again looking around the packed church instead of listening to Linda's conversation.
"All these people are here because of me?" He turned to Henry with an ecstatic smile. "I'd hoped we'd bring about a religious revival, but I'd always left that side of things to Horatio. I didn't dare to believe I could achieve that as well as bringing about world peace!"
"Gordon, that's not-"
But Mr Brittas wasn't listening. "This is wonderful!" he breathed.
Henry sighed and, without warning Mr Brittas, he clicked his fingers. They were instantly transported from one Christmas crowd to another, this one much rowdier.
They were in the Wheatsheaf. The pub's annual Christmas Eve party was in full swing with Christmas songs blaring out from the pub's battered jukebox, all but drowned out by the off-key singing of the much-less-than-sober patrons. Mr Brittas' beatific smile was instantaneously replaced by a look of displeasure as he registered his new surroundings.
Colin was sitting at the bar, nursing a pint and chatting with the landlord. The stool next to him was empty and he was nervously keeping one eye on the pub door.
"So, it looks like the lock-in is back on," the landlord was telling him. "The Chief Inspector came by this afternoon to say that he hadn't had any more complaints so he didn't think he'd bother following up. Even thought he might be in for a midnight drink if him-indoors lets him."
"Oh, Reg, that's brilliant! Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without your lock-in!" Colin gave another glance towards the door. "I do hope Pauline will be in to enjoy it with us."
"Not seen her yet, Col," Reg replied, "but she definitely said she'd be here. Her and my Mary were discussing frocks earlier. Said she wanted to look special - and asked if you were planning to be in. Mary reckons she's got a soft spot for you."
"Oh!" Colin blushed, smiled a small smile to himself as Reg was called away by a customer, and went back to watching the door.
Next to him, Mr Brittas was affronted. "They're having a lock-in! They're breaking the law on Christmas Eve, and a member of my staff is involved. I don't believe it!" He gave an angry stamp of his foot. "I knew this sort of thing was going on. I phoned the Chief Inspector myself this afternoon -"
"No, you didn't," said Henry mildly.
"Yes, I did - not long before I caught my own staff illicitly drinking in the squash court -"
"After you didn't give them the afternoon off, yes, I know. However, Gordon, in this version of events, you'd joined your staff in the pub instead, and promptly forgot all about it."
"You mean, I stood by knowing that a crime was going to be committed!" Mr Brittas rounded on Henry. "That's not me! Listen, Mr Parkes, I don't know who you are, but you can't convince me that a world where I let the town succumb to crime and debauchery is an improvement!"
Henry shook his head with a small laugh. "A few friends sharing a late night drink in a pub is hardly debauchery, Gordon. It's just people taking the time to bend the rules in order to build their own community. I believe when my colleague showed you Colin's actual Christmas, he was spending the day alone as you'd had the pub closed."
"He had his cat! And the comforting knowledge that he was a law-abiding citizen. Besides, he's still alone now." It was true that there seemed to be some space between Colin and the rest of the customers. "They're avoiding the smell, I imagine."
"Oh, I don't think he's alone, Gordon," said Henry, looking over Mr Brittas's shoulder. He nodded and Mr Brittas turned to see what had caught his attention.
The pub door had just been pushed wide open with such force that it banged loudly into the wall, causing the pub to fall silent and turn to see what was happening. A flurry of snowflakes was blown into the pub that fell away to reveal a tall lady in a sparkly blue evening gown, skyscraper heels and a blonde wig. She was greeted with a chorus of wolf-whistles from around the pub.
Colin broke into a wide smile. "Pauline!"
"Merry Christmas, Col," she replied, her voice deep and seductive as she came to join Colin. Around them, the murmur of conversation started up again.
Colin gestured to the empty stool next to him, "I saved a seat especially for you."
"Thank you." Pauline sat down and called over to the landlord, "A pint, please, Reg."
Colin was staring at Pauline with an entranced look on his face. "I-I like your dress," he said. "Very festive!"
"Well, you've got to make the effort on Christmas, haven't you?"
"And quite the effort you've made," said Mr Brittas, unheard, as he looked Pauline up and down with a look of aversion. Henry gave him a sharp glare.
"'Ere you go, Pauline," said Reg, joining them and placing a pint on the bar, "Hey, has Col told you about the lock-in?"
"Oh, we're on then?"
"Oh, yes."
"Brilliant. Looks like we'll be seeing in Christmas Day in style, eh, Col?" Pauline gave Colin an unsubtle wink. "A chance to party all night, then a big lunch tomorrow, followed by a sleep in front of the TV - sounds like the perfect Christmas to me!"
Colin looked slightly crestfallen. "So, you've got plans for Christmas lunch, then?" he asked, trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant. Reg pulled an "oh dear" expression and hurried away to serve another customer.
"Of course, I do - I'm coming to yours!"
Colin looked thrown for a moment, not quite trusting he'd heard correctly, then broke into a wide grin. "Oh, Pauline! That's wonderful!" And he began happily babbling about turkeys, introducing her to Gordy and Stephanie, and what an excellent time they would have.
Next to them, Henry said to Mr Brittas, "It's lovely when two lonely people find each other, isn't it?"
Mr Brittas didn't reply, but simply grimaced as Pauline downed half her pint in one, before starting to tell Colin all about her favourite Christmas traditions. Colin simply listened as she talked, looking smitten. It was the happiest Mr Brittas had ever seen him.
Henry smiled, "I think we are witnessing the start of something special, Gordon."
Mr Brittas made a strangled noise that Henry took for reluctant agreement.
"And to think he missed out on this due to being stuck in the centre."
Mr Brittas shook his head. "They are planning to break the law. I saved him from that!"
"Sometimes, rules can, and should, be broken for the greater good."
"Not laws!" Mr Brittas fumed as Henry clicked his fingers once again.
They were transported from the warmth of the pub to the driveway of a small country cottage. The heavily falling snow had blanketed its gardens, giving the house a peaceful air. Warm yellow light shone out from the downstairs windows, a Christmas tree just visible. It looked like the perfect Christmas card.
"Well, this is rather nice," Henry said, with delight. "It appears someone among your staff is having a lovely time. Let's go inside and see who it is, shall we?"
Henry ushered Mr Brittas into the house, which was as idyllic inside as out. They were in a narrow oak-panelled hallway. Tasteful Christmas decorations in gold and red lined the walls, and there was a divine smell of cooking and Christmas spices.
"Oh, yes, just lovely!" Henry repeated.
Mr Brittas gave the space a dismissive glance. "A bit too overdone for my taste, but I can see why someone might like it, yes," he concluded.
Opening a door to their left, Henry led Mr Brittas into a very cosy sitting room, decorated in a similar style to the hall. The middle of the room was dominated by a large and immensely soft-looking couch in front of a roaring log-fire. The main lights were off; the room instead illuminated by flickering gold candlelight.
Gavin was standing by the window, adding the last of a box of decorations to the Christmas tree they'd seen from outside. Absorbed in his task, he looked relax and happy. It suited him.
Taking in the room, Henry gave a little gasp. "Oh, it's even better in here. Looks like Colin isn't the only one enjoying some romance" he said.
Mr Brittas raised his eyebrows. "Oh, Gavin is entertaining a young woman, is he?"
"Well-"
"I've always said that Gavin should consider finding a wife if he wants to further his career. Thank goodness he's finally listening to my advice!"
"Well-" Henry repeated, and turned to the door just as it opened and Tim entered, carrying a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and two glasses. On seeing him, Mr Brittas gave an exaggerated gesture of despair. Gavin, meanwhile, turned and gave him an affectionate smile.
"The dinner's on," Tim said. "It'll be an hour but I found this in the cellar to keep us going." He held up the bottle. "Not the best vintage, but it'll do." Placing everything on a small coffee table in front of the couch, he joined Gavin at the tree, wrapping one arm lightly around his boyfriend's waist. "The tree's looking nice."
Mr Brittas tensed at Tim's display of affection. Henry said nothing and continued to let him watch.
"Thank you," Gavin replied, looked pleased. He bent around the tree to stash the now-empty decoration box out-of-sight behind it. In doing so, he moved out of Tim's embrace. Mr Brittas seemed to visibly relax.
Tim didn't seem to mind, instead looking around the room, critically. "Do you think your parents will like it?"
"Mum will; she loves Christmas decorations." Gavin went over to the coffee table, and picked up the bottle of wine to study the label. "Oh, my dad phoned whilst you were in the kitchen," he went on, deliberately focusing on opening the wine rather than look at Tim. "Their plane was a bit delayed so they are staying in London tonight rather than -"
Tim immediately gave him a sharp look. "You said-" he started to protest.
Gavin didn't give him the chance to get going. "But -" he said firmly, talking over Tim, "they are going to drive up in the morning." Gavin started to pour the wine. "And my mum said she was so looking forward to meeting you, so she going to make sure they set off early." He sank down into the couch as he spoke, and held out one of the wine glasses to Tim. "Wine?"
Tim was mollified. He came to join Gavin on the couch, and took the wine, immediately tasting it. "Good wine." Relaxing back into the cushions, he gave Gavin a mischievous look. "So, it's just us this evening then?"
"'Fraid so," Gavin replied lightly, moving closer to Tim on the couch.
"I guess we'll have to find something else to do then."
Gavin slowly placed his glass back down on the table, then did the same with Tim's. "I'm sure we can think of something."
Tim raised an eyebrow but before he could say anything, Gavin leant forward and kissed him, pushing Tim backwards as they slid to lie together on the couch.
"Now, isn't this much better Christmas than on spent arguing in the middle of nowhere?" said Henry.
Mr Brittas did not reply. He was watching Tim and Gavin, open-mouthed with shock.
"Let's leave them to it, shall we?" continued Henry. He clicked his fingers and they were outside again, this time in a cold snowy street of terraced houses.
The shock of the cold after the warmth of the cottage was enough to snap Mr Brittas out of his stupor, if not quite out of his speechlessness.
"What -?" he spluttered.
"It seems that love is playing a a large role in this version of events."
"But - !"
"And I don't think we're done yet." Henry nodded to a smartly dressed young man standing on the other side of the road. He was holding a large bunch of red roses and, judging by the nervous way he keep glancing up and down the street, he was waiting for someone. In the house behind him, a lively party was underway.
Recognising the man, Mr Brittas snorted. "Well, I can't see any opportunity for romance here. Last time I saw this gentleman, he was quite happily cheating on my secretary."
"Not happily, Gordon and not something that's happened, or going to happen, in this timeline."
"But he still -"
Mr Brittas was cut off by a shout of "Alex, you berk!" from the other end of the street. All three of them turned to see Julie, looking amazing and walking slowly towards Alex. Despite her language, she looked pleased to see him.
Alex's nerves seem to grow on seeing her, and he fumbled with the flowers as he searched for something in his pocket. Faces started to appear in the window of the party; Julie and Alex's friends curious to see what was going to happen.
Alex finally found what we was looking for and, as Julie grew close, he bent to get down on one knee, trying to simultaneously hold out the flowers and open the ringbox.
"Oh Alex, you always overdo things," Julie said as she reached him.
Julie's comment caused Alex's anxiety to get the better of him, and he slipped on the icy ground, almost sprawling onto the pavement. He saved only by Julie darting forward to catch him. The roses fell on the floor between them and there was a chorus of laughter from the party.
Alex reddened, gave a hesitant glance at the window, and mumbled "sorry" as he steadied himself.
"Never mind them," Julie said, giving a harsh glare at the window and shooed her friends away. They didn't move. When she turned her attention back to Alex, he was holding out a sparkling diamond ring. Julie gasped. To anyone who knew her well, it was obvious she was moved, but she masked it with a sideways smile. "You're an idiot, Alex."
Alex nodded. "I know. And I'd like to be your idiot, and our son's idiot, if you'll have me. Julie Porter, will you marry me?"
Julie stood up and stepped away from him, making a show of looking him up and down critically, clearly enjoying keeping him in suspense.
"Oh, go on then," she said finally, keeping just enough feigned disinterest in her voice that it took Alex a few moments to realise this was a yes. But as the realisation sank it, he sprung up with delight, lifting Julie off her feet into a hug, unbalancing them both as he skidded on the ice. They fell into a snowdrift at the edge of the garden and kissed deeply. Around them, there was a cheer as their friends rushed out of the house to congratulate them.
On the other side of the street, Mr Brittas was outraged. "She's marrying him?" He turned to Henry with an accusatory glare. "She's marrying a man who cheated on her so easily!"
"He isn't going to cheat on her, now, Gordon. As Julie was able to leave work on time, Alex didn't spend Christmas Eve feeling dejected and lonely, and didn't feel the need to seek solace elsewhere. Instead, they spent the evening together celebrating their engagement with their closest friends. Neither of them give any thought to anybody else."
Mr Brittas wasn't convinced. "So he didn't cheat on her this time! But that he could even consider it in any version of events means that it could still happen next week, next year, any time! I'm not happy about a member of my staff marrying someone of such moral weakness -"
"Your happiness doesn't come into it. It's Julie's decision."
"But people don't always know what they are doing. That's why they need me to-"
"No, they don't. Sometimes, Gordon, the best thing is to let people be free to choose their own lives, to determine their own happiness. For now, they are happy, and that's best any of us can ever hope for."
Alex and Julie reappeared, silhouetted in the window of the house, kissing happily as yet another celebratory cheer went up around them. Mr Brittas' eyes narrowed. Before he could comment further, Henry snapped his fingers and the street around them was replaced with the main room of a grand country mansion.
Men and women in formal evening wear were milling around the large room. Children were playing on a large rug in front of the fire, watched over by a uniformed nanny. Next to the, a three storey tall Christmas tree glimmered in the light from the chandeliers above, hundreds of expensively wrapped presents piled up beneath it. In the centre of the room, an elegantly dressed woman was at a grand piano, playing Rachmaninov to a rapt audience.
Still enraged, Mr Brittas barely took in the change of surroundings.
"How can someone be truly happy when their partner, the person they have chosen to support them through life, to be their soulmate, is capable, even theoretically, of such -"
He stopped in full flow as the crowd around the piano parted and his attention was caught by the lady at the piano.
"Carole!"
The pianist was indeed Carole. Looking more glamorous than Mr Brittas had ever seen her, she was dressed in red velvet, her dark hair piled elegantly on top of her head. A glance of the children playing revealed that Ben and the twins were there too, confirming that it was indeed his receptionist.
Mr Brittas and Henry joined the others at the piano, watching Carole as she played the closing bars of the concerto. She finished with a flourish and the room erupted into a long round of applause, prominently led by the suave greying man in a tailored midnight blue evening suit standing at her shoulder. Mr Brittas glowered at him as he shouted "bravo, bravo!" at the top of his voice, to blushes and protestations of "oh, it's nothing, really" from Carole.
The man in the blue suit gave a subtle hand gesture and the string quartet in the corner began to play, signalling the end of Carole's recital. The crowd around the piano dispersed, leaving Carole and the man to talk privately, watched now only by Henry and Mr Brittas.
"Carole, you are every bit as amazing as he remember," said the man. "You know, I don't believe you when you say haven't played in years."
Carole blushed and looked at him coyly. "Oh no, I've barely played since I married Derrick. The sound of it annoyed him and then, of course, when he left, I had to sell our piano when we lost the house… There was a period when Mr Brittas had a piano in his office and I would sometimes sneak in to play after he'd gone home and Ben was asleep, but his piano was mysteriously destroyed just as he was planning a recital for the staff. After that…" Carole trailed off sadly.
Mr Brittas looked thoroughly scandalised at the knowledge that Carole had broken into his office. He looked even more scandalised when the man sat down on the piano stool with Carole, even though there was barely room from them both.
"I do wish I'd known Derrick had left you in such difficulty, Carole," said the man. "I would have helped you. He never deserved you, you know."
Carole blushed again. "Oh, Matthew," she sighed, gazing deeply into his eyes.
"I was always jealous of Derrick. I don't think I ever got over you choosing him over me. I loved you, Carole."
"I was always very… fond of you too."
"I couldn't believe it when I saw you in that photo at Laura and Michael's place. After all those years of missing you, wondering where you were, what you were up to, and then suddenly you turn up in my friend's photo collection."
"Laura…" Mr Brittas breathed, suddenly alert. "Laura and Michael?" He turned to Henry. "Hang on, is this man a friend of Michael T. Farrell?"
Henry nodded. "Yes, and he's an even older friend of Carole's. He left the country to live in Chicago when she broke his heart fifteen years ago. He threw himself into his work to deal with the heartbreak and is now one of the richest people in the world. When he met Laura, after she and Michael moved back to Chicago, it was the first he'd heard of Carole in years. He realised how much he still loved her, and here he is. Yet another rather beautiful romance for one of your staff, wouldn't you say?"
Mr Brittas could only mutter bitterly, "Michael T. Farrell!"
"I know it's out of the blue, but would you be willing to give our relationship another try?" Matthew asked Carole. "I've thought of no-one else all these years, and now that you are free, I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try and win back your heart. I can't say I have much to offer you - I might be a billionaire with four companies, homes in the London, Chicago, the Maldives, Tokyo - but really I'm still nothing more than the same guy tending his market stall that you knew all those years ago."
"Oh, Matthew, it's all so sudden!"
"There's no hurry to decide, Carole. After all, we've got the rest of our lives to get to know each other. How about, just for now, we dance?"
Matthew made another gesture towards the string quartet and tango music filled the room. Standing, he held out his hand to Carole. She took it, and together they walked to the middle of room, where they began to dance, perfectly in sync, lost in each other.
"Yet another love story that could have been set in motion if you'd decided differently, Gordon," Henry said, as he and Mr Brittas watched them. "In your timeline, when Carole never arrived, Matthew believed she'd rejected him yet again. He left the country on Boxing Day and never returned, nor contacted Carole, ever again. Another moment of joy and happiness missed out on by your decision to keep you staff at work."
Mr Brittas gave a derisive sneer. "If he's a friend of Mr Michael T. Farrell's, I doubt he can be trusted to bring joy and happiness to anyone. By Boxing Day, Carole will be back on reception, broken-hearted and sobbing her heart out, putting off the customers. We'd be the ones who have to deal with the fallout, you mark my words!"
"I happen to know, Gordon, that if allowed to start here and now, this is a relationship that goes the distance and brings untold happiness and prosperity. Freed from the constraints of low-paid work, Carole fulfils her potential and becomes a world-renowned pianist whilst Ben and the twins get to experience life outdoors and the best education money can buy."
"Cuh! And money is what it's all about, is it?" Mr Brittas shook his head in disbelief.
"When it brings an alternative to living in a leisure centre cupboard, it is important, yes."
"So Carole should sell herself to a morally repugnant billionaire to get it?"
"How do you know that's what he is?"
"He's a friend of Farrell's. How can he be anything but?" Mr Brittas exclaimed, losing his temper. "He's a friend of the man who stole Laura from me!" He immediately reddened as he realised what he'd said. "I mean - from us - from Whitbury - from the centre," he hastily added.
"I believe you are rather letting your prejudice show there, Gordon," said Henry, mildly. "In fact, Matthew is rather widely respected for his philanthropic work. With no family of his own, and driven by loneliness, he has used much of his fortune to set up community centres, soup kitchens and scholarship programs across the world. He doesn't court publicity for it, but he is one of the most generous men you'd ever meet. I believe Michael and Laura have recently become one of his biggest donors, too. You should approve, his using his money to bring about exactly what you say is your dream."
Mr Brittas angrily shook his head. "Is the world really improved if the rich simply go around buying things for everyone else? Certainly, he could give someone food for a day, buy them a fancy education, but will that person who was handed what they need have a sense of pride in their achievements? Will they have the confidence that comes from knowing that its their own work and determination that has put food on their family's table? I don't think so, Mr Parkes. All they will be left with is a sense of dependency and the hope that at some point another billionaire will come along to save them again." He gestured to the people in the room around him. "Yes, I'm sure these people believe their charity is improving the world, but how is it providing a sense of community? How is it providing the self-worth that comes from people pulling together in difficult circumstances and finding a way through with their own hard work?"
"What about those for whom hard work is not enough, Gordon? Not everyone is dealt the same hand. For some, that encounter with the generous billionaire, or that extra afternoon off from the benevolent boss, may just be the extra helping hand they need, the push that gets them on the path to greatness. Communities are not built solely through shared adversity and pain, but friendship, kindness, a willingness to share your wealth and good fortune with others."
Henry led Mr Brittas to the children playing in front of the fireplace. "Take Ben, Jessica and Emily. In this version of events, they go on to have glorious futures. Matthew treats Ben as the son and heir he never had and hands Ben the reigns of his charitable foundation when he retires. Ben's key goal in life becomes making sure that every single child gets the opportunity to play outside in the fresh air every day.
"As for the twins, Jessica excels at biology. Following a PhD at Oxford, she goes on to become one of the world's leading vaccinologists. In two decades time, she leads the team that creates a vaccine that ends a global pandemic.
"Emily enters politics, becoming the Prime Minister that sets the country and the world on the path to beating climate change. They go down in history as one of the most successful and popular world leaders. They even win the Nobel Peace Prize."
"And all that only happens if I give Carole the afternoon off, does it?" Mr Brittas snorted and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it.
Henry clicked his fingers and they were back in the restroom of Mr Brittas's original timeline at midnight on Christmas Eve. Carole was once more sitting alone, crying, as her children slept on the floor under the Christmas tree.
"In this reality, however, Carole, Ben and the twins go on to spend much of the next few years alternating between living in the centre, your garage and assorted bedsits. Throughout most of the children's formative school years in fact. They work hard, and do as well as they can, but the lack of space for studying, the unstable nature of their home life, means that they have to work much harder to get to the same place. By the time they reach adulthood, they are already drained. Ben spends most of his life working in the local supermarket, eventually making middle management. Jessica completes her biology degree but spends most of her life in low-paid lab work, and Emily works in a bank."
"And what is wrong with those jobs?" Mr Brittas asked. "They sound like perfectly valid contributions to society to me."
"Yes, but compared to what they could have become, the waste is enormous. Think how many other lives they could have gone on to improve if they'd achieved their full potential."
Mr Brittas was silent, and he gazed thoughtfully at the crying figure of Carole. For a moment, Henry believed that he may truly have got through to him. Then Mr Brittas turned to him with a triumphant look.
"Ah, but how can you be sure that keeping the centre open wouldn't have been the same spark that set one of my customers on the path to greatness?" he asked.
"You didn't have any customers."
"But we could have and if we had, why shouldn't they have had the same opportunities? Why should they be sacrificed in favour of my staff? That's what public service duty is - putting the taxpayer first! That's why it's my dream to-"
"And why does your dream matter more than anyone else's, Gordon? Why should your staff be sacrificed to it?"
Henry gave a wave of his hand, and time around them flowed backwards until they were surrounded by the leisure centre staff, all sitting despondently in the cold, dark restroom whilst they waited for Colin to fix the electrics. Only the past Mr Brittas looked happy, playing merrily with Ben, Jessica and Emily in the corner.
"Yes, Gordon," Henry went on, "it is true that sometimes one person's hope and happiness may have to come at the expense of someone else's. And it is also true that we can never truly know what the impact of our decisions will be, but a good place to start is to attempt to maximise happiness of the people right in front of us, rather than the hypothetical person who may never exist."
Henry gestured to the people sitting around them. "Look at your staff, Gordon Brittas. Really look at them. See how miserable they are here, on Christmas Eve. I know my colleague has shown you what happened next: Linda lost her scholarship; Tim and Gavin lost their romantic family Christmas; Julie, Carole and Colin missed the start of relationships that could have brought them joy for the rest of their lives. Instead, they were unhappy, lonely, sad, and that misery will radiate outwards from this group, seeding more misery into the world."
Henry paused, and turned to look Mr Brittas straight in the eye. "Now, tell me, Gordon, do you still really think that you made the correct decision in keeping your staff here, in this centre, on Christmas Eve."
There was no hesitation in Mr Brittas's response, "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Because it's not just about this one afternoon, is it? Yes, my staff may have had less than optimal Christmases and be unhappy at this precise moment, but there will be other times, where the relationships and characters forged in these difficult times will bring them positivity and happiness which will also ripple outwards. One bad Christmas is not a good enough reason to avoid dreaming bigger!"
Henry shook his head. "Sadly, Gordon, the reason why are doing this tonight is that the misery created, by you, on this one Christmas is not an isolated event. If it was, you could perhaps be forgiven, but we know, from observing what is yet to come, that the negativity emanating from your decisions is building up to critical levels and needs to be averted. If you do not change your ways, and soon, the utopia you so sorely dream of is doomed never to happen."
Henry clicked his fingers one last time, and they arrived back in Mr Brittas' bedroom. The clock read five minutes past three. In the five minutes since they'd left, Helen had managed to steal the duvet back for herself, and was sleeping peacefully, cocooned inside it.
"I am afraid, Gordon, that our time is at an end. It pains me more deeply than can you possibly know to see that neither I nor my colleagues have been able to reach you tonight. I can only hope that, for your sake of your soul and the souls of those those around you, that when you have had chance to reflect on what you have seen this night, that you understand and it prompts a deep change in you. If not…" Henry couldn't finish, and simply shook his head sadly.
A cold breeze started to blow through the room.
"But -"
"I'm sorry, Gordon, but here is where I must leave you. There's nothing I can do now but leave you to reflect."
The breeze grew stronger and, in a flash, Henry was gone, leaving Mr Brittas alone for the final time. He sank down onto the bed, landing heavily on Helen's feet, staring at the point Henry had just vacated with blank confusion.
"But what am I doing wrong?"
"What?" came a muffled reply from the duvet. Bleary with sleep, Helen sat up to look at him.
Mr Brittas turned to her. "I've just been visited by three ghosts, my darling. They told me my dream was destroying the world, but the whole idea seems quite ridiculous to me."
Helen stared at him, nonplussed, for a few seconds, then rolled her eyes and fell back onto the bed. "Oh, do go to sleep, Gordon."