A Chelsie Christmas
Y – Yule
December 25th, 1926
There were Christmas traditions they'd observed for years; breakfast, church, carols on the walk home, their turkey at lunch and a short rest before the family celebration. All of these would be observed, but there were new traditions Elsie wanted to create – time alone in the morning, breakfast at the cottage not with the other staff, then they would meet them at church. She wanted to leave as soon as the evening meal was over, head home so they could have a few hours together and open their presents.
Silly, really, to work their time together around the family's needs when being with him was the most important thing in her life.
When she came down Christmas morning, smiling and jubilant in her favoured work dress, Charles was fussing in the lounge; she stopped on the stairs and listened to him mumbling as he arranged things. The was what made her smile, to think of how happy he was, how much he'd been through in December and how far he'd come during their marriage.
"Ah, there you are…" he said, standing awkwardly, still in his pyjamas and dressing gown. "So I er… well, I thought we should at least open one present before we leave."
She chuckled when she spotted what he stood in front of, a beautiful green rocking chair, there were presents wrapped in gold paper on top and a bow tied around the back.
"I couldn't wrap this one," he said timidly.
Her hand was over her mouth, "Charlie…" she said softly, a smile on her face.
"So, you can sit by the fire, read, you once said how you'd like to."
"Oh darling," she went to him, drew him into a hug and kissed his cheek. "How beautiful it is."
"Hand painted," he said proudly, "and rescued from Mrs. Greenwood's. Otherwise it would have been firewood."
"What a lovely use for it instead, in our home." She ran her hand over the back of it. "Thank you, such a thoughtful gift. I can grow old sitting here by the fire."
"That's a rather quaint thought," he could picture it – her darning by the fire, a blanket over her shoulders, one over her knees. The golden glow upon her face. "Do you want to open the rest?" He asked softly.
"Let's save it for later," she said, straightening the collar on his dressing gown. "I thought we might have some time alone together then, to open our presents, have some privacy."
"That sounds wonderful," he kissed her forehead. "Better than my idea. I'll go dress."
"Breakfast will be here when you're done."
She turned back to the chair, unaware of him turning and pulling her back against him, kissing the side of her head, "Merry Christmas, my love."
It was rather odd walking on his own on Christmas Day, leaving Elsie back at the Abbey ready for an afternoon of hard work. It was the first in his memory where he hadn't been there to serve and that hit him rather broadly.
He imagined the day was crisper, clearer, brighter, whether that was the truth or not was debateable; part of him realised he was merely projecting the fact it was a special day, another part felt buoyed by the church service and saw God's hand wherever he walked.
The hospital was quiet after lunch, and he signed in, was taken to a private room to change and the presents they'd sent had been bundled into a large sack.
Feeling a bit of a fool he huffed and puffed in front of the mirror, wondering how he got himself into such a foolish position. He tried to do his hat the way Elsie had done it the night before but couldn't get it quite the same.
"Mr. Carson," the matron said, tapping on the door. "Are you ready?"
Pulling himself together he thought of little Tommy and how happy he'd be to see Father Christmas.
"Right then," he opened the door, "let's get this started."
In the boy's ward there was the thrum of chatter, children excited by the day itself, the slightest change to their routine.
"Now…" Charles said, striding into the room, the heel of his heavy black boots stamping the thrum of a steady beat as he walked. "Merry Christmas, boys."
"Santa!" they chorused, the lively ones suddenly standing on their beds.
Charles waved his hand to little Tommy, winking at him specifically, and the youngster grinned with delight. "Merry Christmas, Santa," he said.
He laid the sack down in the middle of the room, "Gifts for all," he said enthusiastically. "Little patience whilst we hand them out. And nurse, I believe Mrs. Claus has sent cake."
The boys cheered as the nurse nodded, "First thing this morning, prompt."
"She always is," he said softly to himself, thinking of Elsie and Mrs. Patmore wrapping up the sweet treat. "Right, who do we have first then," he turned over the label, "Bernard, do we have a Bernard in here?"
"Right here, sir," a little voice said, getting down from his bed and holding out his left hand, his right one encased in plaster.
"Merry Christmas, Bernard," he handed the gift across.
"Thank you, Santa." The boy raced back to his bed, tearing at the paper with his free hand.
After a good ten minutes or so of handing out presents Charles looked up and to his surprise Elsie was standing at the entrance to the room, along with Cora and Isobel.
Elsie's cheeks were flushed, and she pursed her lips as she smiled at him, her wondrous eyes sparkling.
"Lady Grantham, Lady Grey… Mrs. Carson. A good day to you all."
"Oh, don't let us interrupt," Cora said, "carry on Father Christmas."
He did as instructed, though keenly aware now of being watched.
After the presents were distributed, he spent some time wandering around the ward, careful to spend a few moments with each boy.
"I suspect you're exhausted, Santa, after working all night, travelling the world," Elsie said, helping to hand out cake.
"That I am. I'm afraid I will bid you a goodnight."
The boys gave a whine of complaint but cheered again as he collected his things and waved his goodbye. The matron escorted him back to the store cupboard and inside he changed, emerging again in his Sunday suit and returning to the ward.
"Did I miss something exciting?"
"Mr. Carson!" Tommy shouted, "Look what Santa gave me!"
"Santa Claus was here?"
"Yes, isn't that unbelievable? I didn't think he'd find the hospital."
Charles drew a chair up by the bed, "He gets everywhere. I suspect he's ready for a cup of tea."
"How about that for timing," Elsie said, handing him a freshly brewed cup. "Must have read your mind," she squeezed his shoulder
"Didn't expect to see you here, busy as you are."
"I think they can manage, they may have to get used to it anyway."
She gave him a knowing look before returning to serving the boys and clearing away wrapping paper.
"How are you feeling today lad?" Charles asked.
"Better Mr. Carson, but I want to go home."
"Did Doctor Clarkson say when?"
The boy shrugged, "Mother doesn't say, she'll be here later, you might meet her."
"I might."
"I have something for you," Tommy said, opening the drawer by his bed and taking out a red envelope scrawled with 'Mr. Car sun' on the front in black crayon. "I did it all myself," he said eagerly.
On the front of the card was Charles, dressed in his livery, holding, what he assumed was Tommy, above his head on a tray. The word 'Here-row' was written at the bottom which made Charles smile (though he was careful not to correct the spelling) and in the background the lake, though no longer iced over as it appeared to be summer.
"Like a scarecrow," Charles said, his chest rumbling with laughter, "look at my arms."
"They're long and strong," Tommy stretched out his own arm.
"Oh, yours are getting stronger too, stronger every day. Lovely work, Tommy, thank you very much. It will take pride of place on the mantle."
"I'm glad you like it, I did it in Wednesday art class."
"Time well spent, have you had cake yet?"
"Nope."
"I'll go get us both a slice."
Later, when the excitement had died down and most of the staff had gone, Charles read to the boys as they settled in bed. Short Christmas stories, and each time he finished they begged for more.
Lady Grantham and Lady Grey had long since departed and only Elsie remained, though he was unsure how she had managed to wrangle the day off, he would ask questions later, perhaps tomorrow or the day after. In the scheme of things it didn't matter.
She tidied up after the boys, cleared away cake crumbs, and then sat by the window listening as he read.
When visiting hours started they made themselves scarce, saying their goodbyes to Tommy and promising to visit in the next few days.
They had collected the costume from the store cupboard and were making their way down the corridor when Tommy's mother was coming in the opposite direction.
"Mrs. Carson," she said, noting Elsie and then turning her attention to Charles. "You must be Mr. Carson."
"I am indeed."
"Gerry quick," she called behind her, "this is him, this is the man."
A rather haggard looking man, whippet thin just like his son and with a mop of greyish-black hair and startling green eyes, came toward them.
"Is it now?" He broke into a broad grin, a row of crooked teeth on display and he roughly took hold of Charles' hand and shook it, "Need to shake the hand of the man who saved my lad. Thankful, course we are, lucky you were there."
"Well, you know, right place, right time." He slowly edged his hand free.
"Forget the handshake," the mother, Linda, threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "You deserve more than we can ever give."
Charles' eyes were wide in terror as he searched for Elsie; she smirked at his fear.
"I was merely doing what any good citizen would."
"More than that," she said, loosening her hold. "Coming here, showing an interest, not everyone has time for our way of life," she shrugged and Charles inwardly cringed, "many might have been glad to have seen my boy die."
"No," Elsie said, "he's just a boy." She took hold of Charles' arm, "But you're right, he is a good citizen, a very good man."
"Time to walk home," Charles said casually outside of the hospital, "busy day."
"You've been wonderful," she stopped to turn and face him. "You do realise you deserve all this praise, and, if you'd like my opinion…"
"Always."
"You would be an asset to the hospital, they'd be lucky to have you."
"Elsie…" he started, his cheeks warming. He looked up sharply when a vehicle approached and Elsie turned with a smile.
"Right on time," she said softly.
"Mr. and Mrs. Carson, Merry Christmas to you," Mr. Mason said as he emerged from the vehicle. "Have you enjoyed the day?"
"Very much so," Elsie said, "and yourself?"
"Ay, as it's gone, be nice to see our Daisy later, and of course, Mrs. Patmore."
"Oh, of course," Elsie smiled, following him to the back of his truck as he opened the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Mason," she whispered, "this is awfully good of you, kind, to come out on Christmas Day."
"Couldn't refuse such a request."
There was the tiniest nip of noise as Mr. Mason took a large box from the truck and placed it on the floor.
"What's all this? Something for the hospital?" Charles said, standing by bemused.
"Not quite," Elsie's smile was growing broader by the second. "Something for you, a Christmas gift."
He frowned, shaking his head, wondering what on earth Mr. Mason could possibly have to offer him.
"Well, open it," Elsie said excitedly, clapping together her gloved hands. "Go on."
Cautiously, Charles lifted the lid on the box and peered inside. Shivering in the bottom was the tiniest little creature he'd seen. Chocolate brown with bright blue eyes peering up at him.
"Who's this then?" he asked, one hand reaching down to touch the puppy's head.
"I'm rather hoping he will be your new best friend," Elsie said hopefully, "your faithful companion."
He looked up at her, frowning.
"I think I've happened upon it," Charles said, watching as Elsie warmed milk in the kitchen and the puppy lapped at a bowl of water on the floor.
"Happened upon what?"
"A name."
"Go on," she poured the milk into their mugs.
"How about Cocoa?"
"It certainly suits his colouring."
"And is my favourite time of the day."
"Ah, yes…" she carried their mugs across, handing Charles his and sitting in her rocking chair for the first time. "You are, er, happy about this then, about him?"
"Surprised," he said, sipping his drink and then looking from her face to the puppy who was now sat by the kitchen table staring at them.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked. Discussed it."
"No, of course not." He smiled at the puppy, and the dog tilted his head to one side, ears twitching. "I think it will be a wonderful addition to our life. Someone else to share our little home."
"To join our lives in retirement?"
He looked back at her, "If that's what you want. Only if you're sure that's what you want."
The puppy nervously wandered cross, standing between their chairs by the fire and looking up at Charles.
"See, he already loves you."
"I doubt that very much."
"You are quite lovable," she teased, putting her mug aside. "Cocoa," she held her hand down to him. "How do you like that then, is that a good name for you?"
The puppy licked her fingers.
"We might have guessed he'd love you first." He stroked his hand down the dog's back. "He'll need a basket, a nice collar."
She smiled to herself, at him already making plans; having the dog would be good for him, someone to walk every day, shower with attention.
"Shall we eat?" She asked.
"Open your presents," he said, continuing to stroke the puppy as it rubbed up against his trouser leg. "Especially these."
"I'll open these and then we eat, let's space out the present opening… more fun, that way." She leant forward and kissed him, reaching for the neatly wrapped packages.
Inside were two beautifully embroidered red cushions, in the other a blanket.
"These are just beautiful," she said, shaking out the blanket. "Wherever did you find them?"
"Well, Anna helped with the cushions, handmade."
"That's even better."
The puppy suddenly jumped up onto Charles' lap, staring up at him with large, expectant eyes.
"Oh, that's not… I'm not sure this is…" Cocoa yapped, pressing his two front paws against Charles' chest.
"You made a new friend, see."
He sat back as the puppy turned round and sat in his lap, the pair of them watching as Elsie rose and started to prepare their supper in the kitchen.
"Little family," he whispered to himself.