Wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey

"Still no sign of him," said Julie. "I tried calling Mrs Brittas too, but no answer from the house."

It was just before ten o'clock in the morning on the very same Christmas Eve that we began our story, the long-suffering staff of Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre were gathered in the restroom awaiting the arrival of Mr Brittas. He was almost two hours late, but as their boss being delayed by some catastrophe or another was a commonplace occurence, they hadn't immediately been too worried.

Eventually Gavin, reluctantly realising he should probably take charge, had sent Julie off to see if she could find out where he was. She had returned ten minutes later none the wiser.

"I reckon he's not coming in," Julie went on. "You're in charge, Mr Featherly."

"Which'll mean you get to decide whether we have the afternoon off." Tim gave him a devious smile.

Tim's comment caused the rest of the staff to look expectantly at Gavin, who looked faintly panicked. "Well, I think we should try and find him before…" he began.

He was saved by Mrs Brittas appearing at the restroom door.

"Morning Gavin, could I have a word?"she said cheerily. She looked rather festive, with a string of tinsel wrapped around her neck.

"Um, yes, of course, Mrs Brittas, but Mr Brittas isn't here, if you are looking for him. We were just wondering where he is, in fact."

"Yes, that's what I came to tell you. He won't be in today. He's in hospital in an induced coma." She sat down at the table, noticing a large plate of mince pies Carole had made in Ben's play oven "Oh, those look nice. Do you mind if I…?" She took one of the mince pies and immediately took a large bite out of it.

Around her, the staff let out a collective gasp of shock.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs Brittas. What happened?" Gavin asked.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard. It's been all over the local news this morning. He walked out onto a zebra crossing without looking, as usual." She tutted. "Apparently, a lorry of Christmas puddings came out of nowhere. It swerved to avoid him and crashed into the pub at the bottom of Union Road. The container flew open, boxes of puddings flew everywhere, and one of them caught him on the head. Knocked him out cold." She took another bite of the mince pie. "Oh, these are delicious."

"Oh no, poor Mr Brittas!" cried Colin, whilst Carole added, "Is he going to be okay?"

"Oh, yes, they think he'll be fine," said Mrs Brittas, not quite keeping the bitterness out of her voice. "They're going keeping him unconscious for a few days, but I think that's just because they don't want their Christmases completely ruined."

"Reasonable," said Tim with a nod, pointedly ignoring the remonstrative look Gavin gave him.

"Are you okay, Mrs Brittas? Is there anything we can do?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Linda," said Helen, breezily. "Gordon's father is looking after the children…" She hesitated, looking puzzled, "… I think. I'm going to staying on the ward with Gordon."

"That sounds a rather lonely Christmas if you don't mind me saying, Mrs Brittas," said Carole.

Helen shook her head and went on happily, "Oh no, they've all got all sorts of Christmas games and activities going on to cheer up the patients! It all looks rather fun. Much better than the usual with Gordon's father. Plus Gordon's doctor has promised me his personal care. Such a handsome young man…" She smiled to herself with rather a dreamy look on her face. She checked her watch. "In fact, I think he's doing his rounds in a minute - must get back."

She stood and hurried out the door, only pausing to grab a couple more of the mince pies and cry out "Merry Christmas!" as she disappeared into reception.

"Give Mr Brittas our love!" called Colin after her whilst the rest of the staff immediately turned back to look at Gavin.

"See, you're in charge," Julie told him.

"What, oh, yes, right, well then, um…" Gavin stammered.

"Which means you can definitely close the centre," said Tim.

"Well, I'm not sure Mr Brittas would -"

"Sod him - he's unconscious."

"Julie!"

"What? Mrs B said he was going to be fine, didn't she?"

"And if he complains, you can always say that we needed the time off to recover from the shock of hearing about his accident," added Tim.

"Well…"

"I can use the time to go and visit him on behalf of the staff," said Colin. "I'd have time before the party starts at the Wheatsheaf."

"I thought they'd banned you from the hospital as a contagion risk, Colin?" said Julie.

"No, no, it's fine now. They've given me my own personal hazmat suit."

"Ah." Julie turned back to Gavin. "It's not like we're going to have any customers."

"Well, we might if Mr Brittas isn't here," Gavin argued.

"Then we'd better close the centre before anyone finds out!"

The staff crowded around Gavin, each giving their reasons as to why the leisure centre should close for the afternoon.

Finally, pushing them back with his clipboard, Gavin said, "Okay, yes, we can close at lunchtime!"

Watching the staff restroom on one of their TV screens, the ghosts and Henry joined in the cheer that erupted, raising their glasses of champagne in celebration of a job well done.

The neighbouring screens showed the Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre staff enjoying their Christmases in the very near future; Linda celebrating her acceptance to theological college with Edward; Tim and Gavin having a successful Christmas dinner with Gavin's parents; Colin and Pauline dozing happily in front of the TV, Gordy the cat purring happily between them; Carole and Matthew dining in a banqueting hall, surrounded by friends, yet oblivious to everyone but each other.

The turmoil and destruction of the future had not completely disappeared from the more distant screens, but was somehow muted now, controlled. Among them the images were scenes of Jessica and Emily leading the charge in reducing the chaos; improving the world in the way their father had only ever been able to dream about.

"So, not a perfect future, but definitely an improvement," said Henry as he surveyed the wall.

Present laughed. "So after all that hard work, all we actually needed to do was whack him over the head?"

"It seems so!" Henry laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind as a starting point for next year," said Past.

"I'll drink to that," said Future, raising her glass.

"Speaking of toasts, shall we make one final visit?" asked Henry.

The Christmas ghosts nodded, and Henry snapped his fingers, transporting them to Mr Brittas' hospital bedside. Beneath the large bandage that enclosed his head, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

"Will he remember what we've shown him?" asked Present.

Henry looked at Mr Brittas thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Nobody has ever really studied what happens when we rewind time and reset its direction permanently. Away from the magic Christmas weak point between realities, it can be too difficult for the human mind to process what they've experienced so they simply forget. The memories tend to fade by Boxing Day and are nothing more than long-forgotten daydream by New Year's Eve. I suspect, by the time he wakes up, we will exist solely in his subconscious."

"So, if we are in his subconscious, there's still a chance that our message might seep through one day?"

"It's always possible," said Henry.

"Well, good luck Gordon, I hope we do help you after all," Present said, raising her glass to him. "But for now, I wish you Merry Christmas, Mr Brittas, and wish peace and goodwill to those around you."

"Merry Christmas, Mr Brittas," echoed Past, Future and Henry.

This was met by a groan from Mr Brittas, who opened slowly his eyes and peered groggily at the ghosts standing around his bed. In a faltering voice, he said, "I had the strangest dream. You were there, and you, and you…"

THE END