CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
in the bleak midwinter

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE, and Effie Connolly should be happy. But she's not.

     Everything around her is trying to boast quite the opposite. The kitchen is laced with the aromas of Christmas lunch, from Brussels sprouts to turkey stuffing. Strings of lights decorate the walls and season's greetings cards from family stand on mantelpieces. The ghosts are all buzzing with the prospect of a big family Christmas at Button House. Some of them stand with mouths watering over the potatoes in beef dripping that Mike intends to prepare; the pictures in the cookbook are enticing enough.

     "Are you ready for this?" Alison calls from the next room.

     "Hell yeah!" Mike calls back.

     "I should warn you, it's very sexy..."

     "Sexy?!" Thomas gasps excitedly. But he is soon disappointed — Alison walks into the room, sporting the most bizarre knitted jumper Effie has ever seen. Apparently this is something people do these days. Hers is a particular monstrosity, emblazoned with white snowflakes and a red-nosed reindeer that has glittering antlers.

     "Honk, crrrink!" Alison makes sound effects as she bops the reindeer nose on her jumper, before wrinkling her nose at Mike's lacklustre jumper. "Aw, Mike, that's not very Christmassy."

     "It's got a reindeer on it," he argues, pointing to the small Rudolph symbol on his jacket.

     "I think you look wonderful, Alison," says Kitty feverishly. "You look like a firework."

     "Oh, thanks," Alison smiles.

     "The ghosts are here, are they? I get it..." Mike nods smugly, then starts speaking up into the air. Why does he think they're floating? "Admiring the master at work, yeah?"

     But unbeknownst to him, the ghosts humble his culinary skills very quickly.

     "He's burnt the custard," says Fanny, "twice."

     "And he's washed all the flavour out of the turnips as well," Mary laments.

     "I'm a kitchen wizard!" Mike cheers obliviously.

     "Yeah, kind of..." Alison mumbles.

     "This Christmas is going to be so perfect, it's going to be like an advert for Christmas. Look at my Christmas master plan." He strides over to a whiteboard in the corner, complete with at least 20 detailed points in chronological order. "It's amazing, right? It's all planned out, so Mum and Dad can relax. You know what they're like — always trying to do everything. Not this time."

     "Excellent planning, Michael," the Captain admires the schedule. "Oh, the things I could have done with a whiteboard..."

     "Gah, humbug!"

     Julian's agitated outcry makes Alison raise an eyebrow at him. "Not a fan of Christmas, Julian?"

     "Hm? Oh, no, I'm just saying there's a jar of humbugs over here," he nods to the jar lid which remains sealed shut. "Also, I'm not a fan of Christmas."

     "Really?"

     "Well, it's just not the same when you're dead. Can't drink booze, can't drink with the fillies at the office Christmas parties. If you can't do that, then what's the point? I'm going to my room... wake me up when it's all over."

     With that, Julian slinks off out of the kitchen, leaving a dampened Christmas spirit behind him. Not that Effie's has changed much from its own sorry state. She remains perched by the window and staring out at the grounds.

     "How about you, Effie? You've been very quiet today," Alison says.

     Effie snaps out of her daze for a moment. "Julian has a point. Well, minus the booze and flirting. Christmas isn't the same as it used to be..." Then she returns to staring out of the window. When she isn't consciously thinking about the past, on a day like today, she can feel is hanging over her.

     "She's right," Pat nods. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I still get a tingle in me dingle on Christmas Eve. But it is hard, with the memories of what you had."

     "I can't recall the last time I heard the King's– Queen's speech," the Captain stumbles over his correction. Effie can't blame him there; it is difficult to wrap around her head around a monarch who she remembers being born.

     Pat goes on, "I miss playing games with my boy and the nephews — Buckaroo, Boggle, Yahtzee, Kerplunk."

     "Why are you talking gibberish?" Fanny asks, bewildered.

     "I miss the mistletoe," Thomas sighs wistfully. "Will these lips e'er be kissed again?"

     "I miss presents," Kitty strains a grin. "We used to open them in the morning and then after lunch, my sister would come into my room and pick the ones that she wanted."

     "What do you miss, Effie? There must be something, eh?" Pat tries to ask her cheerfully.

     "I..." she starts to speak, but the words die on her lips. She quickly turns away and stares out of the window again.

     Although she can't see him, Effie can hear Pat whispering something to Alison: "Effie always gets a bit down this time of year, bless her. Christmas Eve especially. None of us are sure why. But I s'pose we should just give her some space today if she needs—"

     "I can hear you, Pat."

     "Oops... sorry."

     Mercifully, Robin swoops in with one of his complaints about the modern world. "All this fuss, and for what? This whole Christmas thing is just a fad."

     "It's been two thousand years, Robin!" Fanny points out incredulously.

     "Exactly. And in two thousand year more, it'll be something else. The whole thing is just a... what is phrase?"

     Just then, Mike's cooking takes a dramatic turn when a large flame bursts on his frying pan.

     "Oh! Flash in the pan—"

     "— Passing obsession," Robin snaps his fingers. "Trust me, it'll never catch on. Never."

     "Well, hold on," Alison perks up with an idea, "I'm here. We can have the best Christmas. Yes! Ooh, which reminds me, got to add something to the board..." She jogs over to Mike's Christmas master plan and adds another point to the additional twenty eight, which reads: '29. Carol'

Pat gasps. "Carol's coming?!"

Alison goes pale with guilt. "Oh, no Pat. I... no. Not your wife. I meant a Christmas carol." Turning to Mike, she starts to beam with eagerness at the idea. "I'd like to sing one. Maybe around the piano. And your family can join in if they want to."

"Oh, uh, I don't reckon they will," Mike shakes his head, "They'e not really carol-y."

"Well, we can ask."

"They won't want to."

"Ah, yeah, we can ask!"

"Yeah, they won't want to!"

Their passive-aggressive cheeriness is interrupted by a car horn honking outside. "Ah, they're here!" Mike says.

"Great, let's ask them!" Alison keeps pushing.

"They won't want to..."

The back-and-forth continues all the way through the house, which Effie follows by summoning the energy she can. She feels a bubble of curiosity inside at seeing Mike's family for the first time — his mother squeezing him so tightly he can't breathe, his sisters teasing him, his father presenting "sides of beef" for the Christmas lunch (much to his son's annoyance). But unlike usually, Effie cannot bring herself to interact much with it all.

That is, until Mike's sister Angela steps out of the car.

And with her, she holds a car seat, containing a wriggling little baby inside.

Effie's heart, however cold and still it is now, swells so wide she think it might crack her ribs. She, Mary and Kitty stand cooing over the little one, her eyes little dark pools of wonder and innocence. Nancy, they learn her name is. Nancy suddenly makes direct eye contact with Kitty and gurgles happily.

"Oh! It looked at me!" Kitty gasps.

"Oh, yes, yes, babies do sees us sometimes, till they be walkers usually," Mary imparts on them. With another glance at the baby, she nods conclusively. "Oh, this one has the sight... yeah..."

     While Mike is bickering with the rest of his family, Alison shows Angela and the baby upstairs to their room. Effie cannot help but feel a magnetic pull to follow them — even though she knows it's torturing herself, on a day like today. Once a mother, always a mother. They go all the way up to a room which she knows to be Julian's. Oh, how he will love that...

"Thought we'd put you in here," says Alison, letting Angela go in first with her bags.

"Hello," Julian smirks, rolling over in bed, "no one told me I was hosting."

However, his smugness vanishes the minute Alison walks in with a crying Nancy.

"Argh! Baby! Hey, now!" The politician leaps up in horror, avoiding the baby like the plague. He stares at her like she's an alien entity that could infect him.

     "Oh my God, you could get lost in this place..." Angela says, admiring the house in awe.

     "Why's she bringing that in here?"

     "Yeah, Mike actually still does," Alison answers with a laugh, ignoring Julian as best as she can.

     "No, no. Room rules: no babies. No way, Jose! This is a non-baby enclave—"

     She tries speaking over him, "This is the perfect room for the baby because it's the warmest room in the house."

     "I know it's warm!" Julian cries, "I wear no trousers!"

     "Thanks, Aly, you're a star," Angela thanks her, huffing and puffing after pushing the cot into the bedroom.

     "This is a non-baby—"

     "Oh, shut up," Alison snaps with baby Nancy in her arms; then, realising only Angela could hear her, she awkwardly segues. "I mean– oh, shut up, I'm not a star! I'm just doing what anyone else would do. I just really hope you get some rest."

     Angela rubs her eyes tiredly. "We've tried everything to get her to sleep. I'm doing self-soothing now. You just have to leave them to cry for a bit."

     "What?" Effie and Julian retort in unison.

     "You can't be serious!" Julian whines, more likely about the disturbance to his solitude.

     While Effie worries, "But– but that seems so distanced, surely? I'd never let my baby out of my sight..." Before she can say more, her voice wobbles. She has to swallow thickly to push down the lump in her throat.

     Just then, Nancy wriggles and whimpers in her cot next to her. Effie doesn't hear any of what the others are saying, for she is taken in by the inquisitive eyes of the little baby. She never quite felt broody for children during her lifetime, but in her own experience, once you have them it is difficult to stop doting on them. Especially at Christmas, when you want them near...

     It all hits Effie at once. It's too much. She mumbles something about needing to go, before running out of the room and down the corridor, a few doors down to where her own bedroom is. Thankfully, none of Mike's family are sleeping in here tonight. She can have some peace and quiet. She lies back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling

     The rest of the day crawls by, and Effie hardly moves. Mike goes out to chop down a Christmas tree, his family interfere with the meal preparation, and tease him about something called a meme (she doesn't bother listen further). She hears it all muffled through the wood of her door, as well as muted Christmas crooners through the floorboards downstairs. The room grows dark as the sun sets and the moon creeps above the horizon, bringing the stars with it.

     "They're singing 'Deck The Halls'
But it's not like Christmas at all
'Cause I remember when you were here
And all the fun we had last year..."

The downstairs song's lyrics are stuck in her head when Effie hears a knock on the door. It can only be one person, really. Alison slowly opens it and peeks around the doorway. "Hi," she says quietly, "everything okay in here?"

"Yes," Effie nods, still reclined horizontally. "I was just listening to that Michael Bubble song downstairs."

"Bublé."

"Hm?"

"Never mind..." Alison walks in more, shutting the door behind her. She wears a look of gentle concern on her face. "Effie, I was worried about you this afternoon. You rushed off earlier and we haven't seen you since. Is there anything I can help you with? Anything you want to talk about?"

Effie takes a deep breath, considering this. Then she shakes her head. "No, thank you. I just want to sleep. But I'll feel better in the morning, I promise. I always do."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. You heard what Pat said — it's like this every year."

"But does it have to be?" Alison asks. Then, wondering if she has overstepped, she pulls her Christmas jumper further down her torso. "Well, um, I really hope we see you in the morning. You all need to see your presents."

"Ooh," Effie smiles faintly, "I shall look forward to it. Thank you, Alison."

"No worries. Night, then. Sleep well."

"You too..."

The door shuts behind her, and all is quiet for a moment. Then a baby crying sears through the silence and brings it all to the forefront.

This could be a long night for us both, Effie thinks. She blinks away the fogginess beginning to cloud her vision.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

"IT'S CHRISTMASSS!" Robin whoops, all alight with cheer. Then returning to his usual self, he turns to Pat. "Like that?"

     "Yeah, just like that... it was amazing," Pat laughs and straightens up his glasses.

It is the first thing Effie sees when she arrives downstairs on the 25th. She feels in much better spirits today, although not completely herself yet. But now she is determined not to let that stop her from having a great Christmas. Effie missed so much of the preparations yesterday, that she wants to throw herself into today's celebrations if she can.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" she announces upon walking in.

The ghosts that are present all light up at seeing her. "Ah, jolly good! Merry Christmas, Effie," the Captain greets her. "I trust a good night's sleep has left you feeling refreshed?"

"I think so, yes," Effie nods, shooting a wink at Alison; enough to reassure her, since she cannot react openly amongst Mike's family in the same room.

Thomas is next to walk into the room. "Merry Kissmas, everyone– Christmas!" he corrects himself. What's he so excited about?

On the radio, a choir sings Christmas carols, making Alison's eyes light up. "Ooh, carols! I was going to say actually—"

"Oh, I know right," Mike's sister Leila rolls her eyes, "boring!"

After switching the radio station to some Christmassy pop song, Mike's mum, Betty, sighs in relief. "Ah, that's better. Carols are so mournful, aren't they?"

"Yeah..." Alison says, though she can't quite hide her disappointment.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Angela emerges, Nancy balanced on her hip and gurgling happily. Everyone cheers at the sight of her as she grabs a champagne glass for herself.

"Merry Christmas," Betty smiles, "did you sleep?"

"Ha! Who needs sleep? It's Christmas."

As Effie watches the baby fondly, Mary next to her smiles in satisfaction. "Oh, it made it till morning! That's most surprising, is that..."

"Sorry?" Effie asks Mary.

"Yesterday, I did see her mother try to feed the babe her milkies with a fake teat. Right quack, if yous asked me..."

"... You mean a bottle? It's quite normal these days, Mary."

"Right then," Mike's mum announces, "presents!" She picks up a parcel and hands it to her husband, Errol. Robin, Pat and the Captain stand behind him as he unwraps it.

"Oh! Now, what could this be?" the Captain wonders.

"I bet it's socks," Pat guesses.

"I bet it sucks," Robin grunts.

Lo and behold... it is socks. "Ah, well done, Patrick!" the Captain smiles.

Errol holds them up with a neutral smile, turning to his wife. "I love them," he tells her, leaning in for a kiss.

"He not love them," Robin smirks, "he hate them."

Alison walks over to pick up some shopping bags, whispering something to Mike. He nods in understanding, and then she gestures for the ghosts to follow her — time for gifts. They bound with excitement as they follow her to the library, where mistletoe is hung above the doorway. Thomas is waiting there underneath, immediately standing up straight when he sees Alison headed for him.

Ah, Effie thinks, that's why he is all eager.

But Alison and the others bolt right past him, leaving the poet to wait impatiently under the mistletoe for his desired kiss...

"Merry Christmas, guys!" Alison gestured to some of their presents laid out with jazz hands. "I've already done rounds to some of the others. Norman is outside looking at his gift, Linda and Lloyd have theirs in the shed, and I'm gonna head up and see Ralph later when I get the antique decorations from the attic."

"Alison... what is this?" Effie asks, gesturing to a giant box with a microphone attached.

"It's a karaoke machine. It's for all of us, but especially you, Effie. You can sing along to backing tracks with lyrics on the screen, instead of, er... singing over my shower playlist."

Knowing this, Effie smiles brightly. "Oh, I see! Thank you. What an excellent knick-knack..."

Meanwhile, Kitty is in awe of her snow globe. "I love it!" she beams.

"I thought it looked like Button House," says Alison, of the small house inside the globe.

"It does. It's lovely, thank you."

"I know you can't touch it, but basically—"

"Oh. My. God. It's Twister!" Pat squeals, noticing a box standing on one of the chairs. It appears to be some sort of party game, people standing together with tangled limbs. He looks to Alison, who just nods with a triumphant grin. "It's Twister!!" he cheers again. "Oh, it's amazing, Alison, thank you. Oh, you guys are going to love this. It's SO funny! Now lay it out flat, else you're going to break your ankles..."

A few minutes later, the game is set up and Alison leaves them to play. The white mat with different-coloured circles is for them to place their hands or feet on, according to instructions given by Pat. He can't spin the spinner, so he shuts his eyes and twirls his finger in a circle each time to land on a colour.

Effie find the game ludicrous to play in a dress and high-heels, but if Mary and Kitty can make it work, so can she. Not to mention the fun they get out it is deliriously happy. She finds herself in a low squatting position, her hands on two green spots behind her, when she receives her next instructions from the spinner.

"Effie... right foot, red."

"Red?! Good grief..." Effie sighs, as Kitty titters behind her. She realises her new position isn't going to be a pretty one, thanks to her dress. "Alright, gentlemen, avert your gazes," she warns them, before extending her right foot all the way down to a red spot. Her whole right leg is stretched out as she reclines in an odd, cross-legged hovering position.

"Well done, Effie. Now... Mary... left foot, green!"

The women all giggle as Mary moves her foot, all tangled up amongst themselves.

"Captain, do you want to join in?" Pat asks, noticing him watching from the sidelines for a while now.

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't possibly," he shakes his head.

"You know you want to!" Effie eggs him on.

"It's Christmas!" Mary adds.

"No, no, no—"

"Oh, come on, Cap!" Pat encourages him.

"— Okay, alright, I will," the Captain caves in, almost cracking a smile. "Where do we go?"

"Left hand... red."

"Right. Coming in..." he lowers himself onto his knees, loudly going CLICK! upon their bending. With his hand on red, Effie now has an up-close, blurry view of his medals. Lovely, she thinks weakly. "Look at that," the Captain smiles, "supple as the day I died."

"How about you, Thomas?" Pat asks, and Effie can see just past the Captain's armpit as the poet scoff superiorly.

"I'm occupied, thank you," he says.

"No, he doesn't have the physical discipline for Twist-it," the Captain taunts him, "he's afraid he'll lose."

Of course, this goes straight to Thomas's head. "Balderdash! I'd thrash you all at Twist-it, then run a mile!"

"Oh! You will?" Mary teases.

"Fine, fine, I'll prove it!" the poet huffs, yanking down his waistcoat like he means business.

This was a very bad decision on the ghost's part. It ignites an overly competitive, masculine game between the Captain and Thomas, over who can outdo the other on Twister. Soon the girls are kicked out of the game, and Captain has Thomas locked in between his stomach and thigh struggling for air. Alison walks in just as all the chaos is reaching its peak.

"Guys, what's all this racket?" she asks, "You're supposed to be having fun."

"That's what I said!" Pat cries.

"Alison!" Thomas tries to call out, muffled by the Captain's thigh; there is no chance he is getting his mistletoe kiss right now.

"They're taking it too seriously, Alison. They're not even letting the girls play."

"Come off it, Pat!" the Captain barks.

"No, you come off it! It's not bloody on," Pat complains. "I've had enough, Alison. I'm going to the shed to drink a Watney's– I'm not..."

As he storms off, Alison weakly asks them, "Twister's going well, then?"

"What do you think?" Effie asks sarcastically.

"Yes, I've got him on the run!" the Captain chortles, Thomas almost suffocating despite being dead. "It's nearly time for the King's speech!"

"I've just got to get some decorations and deliver Ralph's gift, I'll meet you up there," Alison sighs.

"Roger that. Victory this day!"

The Captain leaps up, finally releasing Thomas from his clutches. The poet gasps for breath, rushing the doorway and calling after Alison. But it's too late. It is just him, and his old friend mistletoe once more. Effie, for one, has had enough. She decides to put Twister behind her for now and wonders if she should find some peace and quiet in her room (and if that is coming from her, then something really is wrong).

Even for Effie, family Christmases can be overwhelming, especially with family that isn't hers. She goes upstairs for some brief respite, but on her way up catches the sound of a baby crying again. Nancy. In fact she can see her — mouth open, wailing, her mother rocking her in her arms desperate for some peace. Angela is taking her up to the cot in Julian's room again.

Effie hears the protests before she gets there: "Oh, you've got to be joking. I just dropped off!"

That's it, she thinks. We'll be having none of his whining.

She has a little more fire in her belly than she did yesterday. And although Angela wouldn't know a thing, Effie has little patience for Julian's complaints today.

"That's it. You're driving us both bloody batty, do you know that?" Julian is snapping at the screaming baby.

     "Oh, you can stop that right now, Julian!" Effie scolds him.

     "But you're hearing this, aren't you? Wailing, all the time! Food doesn't do it, milk doesn't do it. What does the bloody thing want?"

     "Wouldn't you like to know? Julian Fawcett, don't pretend to know anything about motherhood. Try going through ten hours of labour, then see how you like it!"

     "Alright, alright, no need to go off on a rant!" Julian holds his hands up.

     "Are you hungry?" Angela coos to her daughter, who just screams more as she is laid down in the cot — Effie only notices now that Humphrey's head is lying at the foot of the cot. She doesn't dare ask...

     "Oh, she doesn't know what she wants, Angela. She's a moaning Minnie. That's what she is. 'Oh, I done a poo. Oh, I need my nappy changing. Oh, I can't do it myself.' Oh, really? How inconvenient!" The politician stands above the cot, looming above Nancy and waving his arms about during his tirade. "You know, you're acting like a complete baby, do you know that? I mean– well– you are a baby, but that's not the point..."

     He trails off, because a miracle has happened — Nancy has gone quiet. She stares with fascination up at Julian, her little arms outstretched. Julian and Effie exchange an open-mouthed look of surprise.

     "She stopped crying," Effie whispers. "What did you do?"

     "What did I do? Um... okay... what was it? Was it the Parliament Point?" Julian demonstrates to the baby, though not getting much reaction. "No? Um... was it the Newsnight Thumbs?" This time, he sticks his thumbs in the air, and Nancy grins widely and bounces where she is laid.

     How extraordinary.

     Even more so, Julian's voice suddenly switches to a tone Effie has never heard before — something close to warmth, like that of a parent talking to their child. "You like the Newsnight Thumbs, do you little one?" he asks softly, chuckling. "Well, I never—"

     "Shh!" Effie hushes him before he can say more, pointing to Angela who has instantly dropped off to sleep.

     Julian instantly understands, lowering his voice, even if he is a ghost. "No, no. Shh! Let Mummy sleep. She needs her rest. Me and Effie will keep you entertained, won't we?"

     She blinks at him, completely taken aback in his change of demeanour at first. Then she slowly nods, looking back down at Nancy and smiling. Effie lowers herself to kneel down by the cot, reaching out her fingers towards the baby. She reaches for them and tries to grasp Effie's fingertips, only to pass right through them.

     "Here's the thumbs again: 'Hello, my name's Thumby!'" Julian mimes with one, and the other, "'Hello, my name's... er... Bummy!' It's the Thumby and Bummy Show! Let's tell you a story. The story of the politician who cared too much. Once upon a time, little one, there was a man who wasn't afraid to speak his mind, even when the PC brigade came marching in..."

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

"SHE'S a darling little thing, isn't she?" Effie murmurs in awe. With one arm and her chin rested on the cot, the other one dips in to gently caress the air next to Nancy's cheek — and the best part is she knows the baby can see her. She curls her tiny legs into her chest and stares back up at Effie with a gentle curiosity.

     Julian, too, can't tear himself away from her as he sits by the other side of the cot. Neither of them have moved from here in the last forty-five minutes. They have been telling her stories, singing nursery rhymes, making up puppet shows with their hands. All the while, Angela had slept, and has now re-joined the family for a while.

     Spending time with the baby has actually healed Effie more than she expected. Compared to her woes on Christmas Eve, Effie feels filled to the brim with contentment and harmony after being looked at, being depended on by a child again.

     "She's not bad... are you, little one?" Julian's voice creeps up, and Nancy cracks a smile again.

     "They're so sweet at this age," Effie grins. "Still small, but really starting to be full of life. I do wish I'd seen mine grow up."

     "Yes... you're left wondering, aren't you?"

     "Not to mention that they wouldn't remember me."

     "No..."

     Julian trails off, saddened at the thought. Effie cannot believe she is having this earnest a conversation with him. But for reasons unknown, on this topic, he feels rather easy to talk to. She is glad to discover there is something decent inside of the man after all. 

     She gazes down at Nancy again, not only taking her in, but imagining her son's face, Ernest. He was only one year old when she died. It usually feels like a lifetime ago when she was stood over his cot, blowing raspberries on his chest or singing to him. Effie doesn't always think motherhood came naturally to her — but when it came to Ernest, she wanted to be there for him. She had to be.

     It was important to her, especially after... after...

     Effie's breath catches in her throat. Then, in the corner of eye, she feels Julian staring at her. "What?" she asks.

     "It's funny," he smiles. "I never pictured you as a sort of Mother Mary."

     "Speak for yourself!" she scoffs.

     "Touché."

     Effie then takes a pause, shaking off the urge to quip back with more wit. "Well, no one tells you how to be a parent," she says to Julian. "And I don't think you ever quite ready to take that on. But you muddle through it anyway. No matter whether you've been dreaming of three before thirty, or whether it was never quite part of the picture. For me, I was always in the latter party, I was indifferent about having children of my own. With both of mine, it just sort of happened."

     Julian nods, listening more than she's ever seen him do. Then he furrows his brows. "... Hang on, both? I thought you only had one child?"

     You remembered that?! she wants to say at first, shocked that Julian of all people has retained that information. But then she realises that she has half-revealed herself to him anyway. Effie hadn't been planning on saying anything, but in the innocence of this moment, it somehow feels right to come out and say it.

     "Well, Julian... the thing is, there was actually—"

     "Damnation!"

     They both jump. Thomas's voice has boomed, followed by the other ghosts storming into the room.

     "Shh!" Effie and Julian both hold a finger to their lips, gesturing to Nancy in all her serenity. They can't have them disturbing the baby after all their efforts.

     The other ghosts then lower their voices, before proceeding to complain about things that have gone wrong on their Christmas today. From the lack of kisses under the mistletoe, rivalry whilst playing Twister, no decorations on the tree, and more. The Captain, in particular, goes on a rant about how the Queen's speech is televised these days instead of by radio broadcast.

"I could see absolutely everything. It was an intrusion. I mean, what's next? Taking pictures of them on holiday, I should imagine. The world's gone mad," the Captain sniffs.

     "Well, at least you got your Christmas wishes," Thomas sighs.

     "Yes, I don't even know why I bothered asking," adds Fanny, "it was never going to be the same."

     "I actually quite liked my present," says Kitty, "but I suppose it's a shame that I can't really do anything with it."

     "It's all holly-tinted spectacles, Kitty," Pat tells her. "You think it's fun, but it's not. The games always ended up with the boys arguing and me drinking Watney's in the shed... oh, let's face it, family Christmases suck eggs."

     Effie and Julian, who have been absorbed in the little world of baby Nancy all this time, listen to their complaints indifferently. They share a look, before it is Julian who speaks up: "It's supposed to suck eggs, Pat..." His words stop all the other ghosts in their tracks. Like Effie, they probably least expected that sort of sentimentality from him.

     "I had a daughter, you know..." Julian says tenderly; Effie whips her head up to look at him, astonished. That's news to her. "She was only four years-old when I died, yet I managed to miss every single Christmas with her. I missed them all. Missed the crying, the screaming, the sleepless nights. I thought I was so clever, avoiding all of that, but now I realise... it's all part of it."

     The ghosts, Effie included, are overcome with bittersweet memories of their families, while Julian keeps talking.

     "Your family are supposed to drive you bonkers at Christmas. The tree's never straight. The parlour games are never as hilarious as they were last year. Someone always gives you a duff present. You always end up kissing the wrong person under the mistletoe — ha! Been there a few times, I can tell you... but that's the point, isn't it? Christmas isn't supposed to be perfect. That's what makes the whole thing so bloody Christmassy, isn't it? So let's not get too down on the old family Christmas just yet, eh?"

     Julian bows his head, meeting Nancy's sparkling eyes as she grips the railing of the cot, making her way towards him. "Maybe we should just feel grateful that we're having one at all. I never even knew what I was missing. Family, family, family..." The baby's hand reaches out for him and sinks right through his arm. He flinches, gutted that he can't reach out to Nancy too.

     Effie meets Julian's eyes then, giving him a smile. His words resonated with her more than she ever expected them to. What's more, she is proud of him for realising what he missed with his daughter.

     A well-rested Angela walks in, all smiles to see her little girl. "Hello, my baby," she coos as she picks her up. "You've been so good. Thank you, my darling..."

     "You're welcome, darling," Julian responds, as if Angela were his wife. "She's done a poo, I think. And she'll be needing her milkies soon round about now." At this, Mary reaches into her dress and starts un-buttoning it, before Julian yells, "No thank you, Mary!"

     A sound from downstairs all makes them pause. Slow, slightly solemn piano notes from the living room. There is only one person they imagine it could be. All the ghosts walk to the ground floor and follow the sound, all the way to find its source...

     The fireplace is crackling in the corner, and the Christmas tree is lit in twinkling fairy lights. The living room is all but empty of people, except for Alison. She sits alone at the grand piano, playing herself the opening notes to 'In The Bleak Midwinter' — a hymn that Effie knows instantly and sends a chill of memory down her spine. Alison sings the first lyrics in a beautiful, but slightly subdued voice:

     "In the bleak midwinter
     Frosty wind made moan..."

     Walking to stand at her side, Thomas harmonises with her, singing:

     "Earth stood hard as iron
     Water like a stone..."

     Then the rest of the ghosts join in, stood around Alison like a warm embrace. Of course she's not alone. Not while the ghosts are around. Her voice grows stronger with them there, as they all sing together:

     "Snow had fallen
     Snow on snow, snow on snow
     In the bleak midwinter, long ago..."

     Effie stops singing. A soft gasp blocks her throat, tears springing to her eyes. Her mind is elsewhere again, to family — little ones — that she cannot have here with her. The Captain, who is stood next to her, notices and shoots her a look of concern. She just shakes her head at him, as if to say I'm fine. Alison belts out the last line with all her heart:

     "In the bleak midwinter, long ago..."

     She finishes the carol with a flourish, to some light applause from the ghosts, and even Mike's sisters watching nearby. Effie sucks in a sharp breath and blinks away her tears. Then Alison smiles at Thomas — while he has his head turned, she kisses the air by his cheek. He only notices once his head is turned back again, left lingering in the almost-moment.

Afterwards, the ghosts disperse across the living room and soak in the Christmas spirit. While Kitty admires her snow globe (she is even more thrilled to realise it can generate snow with a shake from Alison), Julian is sat in front of the open laptop with Pat next to him, a nervous expression on his face. Effie walks over curiously.

"What's going on here?" she asks.

"We're doing a search on Julian's daughter," Pat says, nodding to the Google search bar, where Julian has very slowly typed 'Rachel Fawcett'. Effie's brows fly up in surprise — she had never even considered to google people from her life that she knew, including her own children. Would it even lead anywhere?

"I'm not sure about this, Pat," Julian rocks back and forth in his chair. "What if my daughter was so traumatised by my death she became something dreadful, like a drug addict or an alternative comedian?"

"It's better to know, mate," Pat replies, "trust me."

"You can do it, Julian," Effie adds reassuringly.

Julian sucks in a deep breath and exhales. He squeezes his eyes shut, lowers his finger onto the Enter button, and only opens one eye when a page of results comes up. Then his eyes widen further with delight at what he sees — countless images of a smartly-dressed woman in her early thirties, shining with determination and ambition in each one. She is pictured on stages giving speeches, and sat around tables discussing issues with colleagues. It's definitely Rachel, alright. Effie can see a resemblance to Julian immediately. But what catches all their attentions is the bold title above the link to her Wikipedia page:

Rachel Fawcett MP.

"Oh!" he gasps, "she became an MP! Look, guys, she followed in her old man's footsteps. Ho-ho, and it looks like she means business!"

Pat inspects the emerald green badge she wears in multiple photos. "What's the Green Party?" he asks.

"Huh?" Julian squints at the screen, noticing the badge too. Then he shrugs. "Oh... ah, well. Nobody's perfect."

"How wonderful, Julian, that she followed in your footsteps! It must be lovely to know," Effie grins.

"Yes, it is... go on, then."

"What?"

"Your turn," Julian sinks his finger onto the backspace button. "Don't you want to know about your little one? Just give me a name."

Effie blinks, stunned. "Vi—" she begins to say, then catches her tongue. That was close. "... Ernest Connolly."

Painstakingly slow, but as fast as he can, Julian manages to type Ernest into the search bar without any trouble. Each letter makes Effie's throat tighten with anticipation. But it is her surname that ends up proving the most trouble. Effie won't pretend to be the winner of the spelling bee, especially if she is tired or stressed. However, she still knows well enough to nit-pick Julian's spelling of Connolly. There is no way she is floundering this chance to google her son.

"No, there are two Ns," she corrects him. "After the O."

"Alright... that better?"

"After the first O, not the second O."

"Fusspot... okay, give me a minute to delete that. Okay... N, N, O, L, Y—"

"There are two Ls!"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Julian throws his arms up in the air. "Give me a break!"

"Forget it, we can try it another day," Effie rolls her eyes; she doesn't have the patience for this on Christmas Day. Instead, she thinks she should propose something fun. She stands up and clears her throat. "Hey, everyone — who fancies a re-match of Twister? Not you, Julian, you aren't, er... dressed for the occasion," she blushes, nodding to his trouser-less bottom half.

"Aha, certainly! We shall see the reigning champion triumph once more," the Captain smirks. "Let's reconvene in five minutes."

Effie starts making her way over to the library already, feeling much more in the mood for games than earlier. But when she gets there, she finds Thomas Thorne already there, leaning in the frame of the doorway. Above him, mistletoe dangles like an unanswered question mark. Alison may have given him a kiss of sorts at the piano, but it wasn't the same as being under the mistletoe for him. Effie catches his eye and tilts her head, shooting him a playful smile.

"Still waiting?" she asks, coming to stand in the doorway with him.

Thomas heaves a typically melodramatic sigh. "Perhaps? But alas, 'tis what it is..."

"Oh, you should've said."

Then, because it's Christmas, Effie leans in and plants a kiss on Thomas's cheek — mistletoe and all — before casually brushing past him. The Thomas Thorne she leaves behind gapes and splutters for the words. He had not been expecting that.

"Oh– goodness! That's... lovely. But I, I meant– I was actually waiting for Alis—"

"Beggars can't be choosers, Thomas!" Effie calls back.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

CHRISTMAS has turned out better than Effie had expected, she must admit. The living room is lit by the glow of the crackling fireplace, all the ghosts sat around it talking and laughing into the night. Mike's family have all gone upstairs to watch a Christmas film — something about a child left at home by his parents, fending off two men breaking into the house... it sounds more like a horror film to Effie. Alison is the last one due to go up, preparing snacks to bring for the family.

     "Today's been lovely," Effie is saying aloud as she walks through the room.

"Yeah? Are you feeling better than earlier?" Alison smiles warmly at her, popcorn in hand.

"I am... and I'm sorry, you know, for being so withdrawn over this Christmas time," she says earnestly. "But this year was different than others. Seeing little baby Nancy, and listening to Julian talk about his daughter, it got to me more than usual."

"That's understandable," Pat nods, "we're all thinking of our family who can't be here, I'm sure."

"Yes, but– I... I couldn't help thinking about my daughter."

Alison furrows her brows gently. "Didn't you have a son? Or I might be remembering that completely wrong, I'm so sorry..."

"Knew it! Knew I was remembering a son," Julian snaps his fingers.

"Both of you are right. I did have a son... but I also had a daughter," Effie starts out slowly. She looks at all their faces in the fireplace glow, all listening attentively. She feels so warm, so embraced, that it feels safer to say this more than ever. "There was something else I didn't tell you about Arthur..."

Deep breath. Effie realises she has never said it out loud to anyone; not her husband, not her best friend Olive, not a single ghost, no one else who didn't know right off the bat. She sees Fanny's expression change, something in it telling her that she has guessed what Effie is about to say already.

"Not long after he died, I found out I was pregnant... I didn't have the means to raise her myself, nor a roof over my head. My parents my mother especially, cut me off. I couldn't show my face in the shop for what people would say. So, I found a Mother and Baby Home nearer the due date, and had my daughter a few days after my birthday. Six weeks later, I gave her away..."

"On Christmas Eve," Alison whispers, realising.

"Yes," Effie confirms, "on Christmas Eve..."

Saying it loud makes it feel like she can breathe easier for the first time in years. Because of course she thinks about Ernest, but her darling girl who she lost... it twists her heart in a way nothing else can compare to. Loving her and leaving her turned her life upside down forever. So, every Christmas Eve, she cannot help re-live the moment she left her behind at that home. The parents were in the next room, but Effie had to leave first. She wasn't to know who her daughter was going to. The goodbyes and I love yous were all too hasty, and then she was outside. What was she supposed to do after that?

It is actually Fanny who speaks up first. "That... must have been very difficult to do," she says. No criticism, no talk of the scandal.

Effie is relieved at her reaction. "It was, yes," she nods. "But I know I couldn't have taken care of her at the time."

All the ghosts seem rather moved. Mary mumbles something about a poor little babe, and Kitty's lip wobbles. Effie exchanges a look with Julian — there is understanding there, now. He knows why they were both able to share in their complicated feelings over baby Nancy earlier.

"You did a good thing, Effie," the Captain says, trying to sound formal, but sentiment creeping in. "I'm sure that little girl grew up with a good head on her shoulders and had a bright future, thanks to you."

"I certainly hope so..." Effie sighs. But it's bittersweet, isn't it? Because perhaps if things had been different, if the world had been kinder, she could have kept her daughter.

"It must be a weight off your chest," Pat says, "because I know you've never mentioned that to any of us."

Effie smiles at them all, shoulders lifting like they were weightless. "It is, because you are all the first people I've felt... safe enough with to tell. I'm just glad it was you, collectively, as a group. Because I almost told Julian No-Trousers Fawcett earlier, and I would have never lived it down if he knew my secret before anyone else did."

All the ghosts have to chuckle at that, even Julian. Effie can't help but feel a fondness for them all, then. She might be missing her family, her children, at Christmas. But she knows full well she also has a family here — one that has been found through no will of her own, and one that Effie wouldn't change for all the bickering and pet peeves.

"Anyone want to join us for the film?" Alison asks. A few of the ghosts agree. Then she looks to Effie. "How about you?"

"I'll join you later," says Effie. "I'm going to stay down here for a few minutes first."

They nod understandingly, letting her have some time alone. But before everyone leaves, Thomas lingers by the doorway, hesitance in his body language. It is like he wants to ask something. He's not looking for another kiss, is he?

"What was the bairn's name? Your daughter?" Thomas asks.

"... Violet," Effie replies.

The poet blinks slowly and smiles. "Beautiful. Just like her mother."

She smiles back at him, most genuinely, and whispers, "Thank you."

     Once he's left, Effie is left alone with the fireplace, the sparkling Christmas tree, the wrapping paper in tatters on the floor, empty champagne glasses stood on coffee tables amidst board games. All of them are remnants of a day well-spent.

     The only thing she has of her own is the memories — that is all that's left now.

     On the radio, a cathedral choir is singing 'In The Bleak Midwinter' again. Effie lets it take her back in time, but this time she is kinder to herself. She remembers the shivering young girl, walking along the streets and feeling numb to her soul. The tears were frozen to her cheeks after saying goodbye to Violet. Then she had heard that singing... something was so inviting, and it led her to the soft light through the stained-glass windows of a church. That girl had walked in to find sanctuary in one of the back pews. Effie wasn't sure she believed in much after this last year, especially after tonight. But she needed some comfort.

An old man had been sat next to her, she remembers. He had noticed her crying and offered his handkerchief. When he asked if she was alright, Effie had told him she wasn't sure.

"Not to worry, love. It'll get better," he had said. "Next year will be different, eh?"

"Yes... next year..." Effie had whispered back.

Sitting here now, one hundred years later, Effie wonders what that girl would do if she knew the things she does now. What if she could tell her that instead of people casting her out and calling her names, today they would be kind and tell her that she had made a difficult sacrifice, and have empathy for her?

In the bleak midwinter, long ago...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

( date: 22nd december, 2024 )

merry christmas and/or happy holidays, to those of you who will be celebrating!!

i've been looking forward to this chapter for SO LONG now. literally YEARS, i've had this chapter planned in my head almost beat-for-beat, and with it came the big reveal about effie's daughter she gave up for adoption — which is partially why you learned her backstory with arthur a couple chapters ago, it was setting this up. giving up violet changes the whole trajectory of effie's life, and in a way informs some of the decisions she makes. it is a grief that she can never quite shake.

but that last scene with effie alone and listening to the choir on the radio... OOF. i actually nearly cried while writing that?? i had a choir version of "in the bleak midwinter" playing at the same time, so i could get in the mood, and i guess it worked a little too well...

so yeah, sorry if it was a bit weepy for a christmas special! i hope to write the other christmas specials when i come to them, and for those, they will probably be a bit more lighthearted and fun. because now effie has support and understanding when she's thinking of violet (and ernest) at christmas time 🥺

(p.s. i need it to be known that for the twister scene, i was testing out which pose effie would be in, and i almost pulled a muscle. the things i do for wattpad...)

i'm going to take a deliberate pause before starting act three, mainly to plan it and also to write for some of my other fics. until whenever i come back to this, thank you so much for reading and commenting and voting on flapper girl — it boggles my mind that i thought no one would read it, and now it has racked up 40K reads! so many of your comments also make me smile or laugh, so thank you for those.

happy new year to you all, i hope it treats you well ❤️

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horrible histories
icon of today:
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[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

( pov: you open the door on christmas eve
and these guys are there singing to you )

have a good day/evening,
— IMOGEN ♡