CHRISTMAS TIME by Steve Wilson

"Christmas Time, Mistletoe and Wine…". With an angry flick of his wrist, Arnold Ledger turned the radio off. "I’m sick of hearing these damned Christmas songs day after day, it’s still three weeks off and I’ve had enough of it already."

His wife, Sue, and the children Louise and Rachel in the backseat of the family Audi, said nothing – they knew better than to contradict their father when he was having one of his rants. He didn’t like Christmas, he didn’t like the numbers of cars on the roads, or the numbers of people in the shops. Truth was, it was hard to find something he did like. The three females in the car cast a quick glance at each other. Without saying a word, the message was clearly conveyed – it was going to be a miserable Christmas time again.

Sue couldn’t, in fact, think of a time when Christmas had been fun – at least not since she had met Arnold, twenty-five years ago as a fifteen-year old. She’d hoped that once the children were born, fifteen and thirteen years ago respectively, things might change, but she’d soon found that to be a false hope. At least, she thought, while he’s ranting about Christmas, he lets up on everything else. Behind that thought was the knowledge that once the New Year came in, and until he could turn his attentions to Valentine’s Day, Sue knew that she and the girls would once again become the subject of his bullying – both verbal and physical. She sighed deeply – life wasn’t supposed to be like this. In fact, it was hardly worth living, and if it hadn’t been for the girls, she might have considered ending it. She sighed again, her misery almost overwhelming her.

"What you sighing about woman? It’s your bloody fault that we’re stuck in this traffic. I don’t know why you want to buy presents for that family of yours. Bunch of wasters, the lot of ‘em. I blame that Dickens fella for all this rubbish – you’re not telling me that Scrooge would have done a complete about turn just because he had a bad dream one night? But people are stupid, they believe it and so they think that Christmas is magical. Bollocks – it’s just an excuse to make people spend what they haven’t got."

He carried on mumbling under his breath, but Sue wasn’t listening. If only, she thought, if only something would shut him up. I can’t put up with this much longer.

No sooner had she had the thought than he turned to her again. "And where do they think the money comes from, these no-good layabout relatives of yours? I graft all year to earn my money, and I don’t do it just so you can squander it on that lot."

Sue had to clench her jaws closed to stop herself replying. Graft all year – he spent most of the year on the sick with his supposed bad back, and the money he ‘earnt’ usually found its way into the till of one or other of the local hostelries (although as he’d been barred from most of them for fighting, at the rate he was going he wouldn’t find anywhere he could buy a drink by next Christmas). He only came with her on this shopping trip so he could exert his control over her spending. Even the girls couldn’t look forwards to anything special on the big day - he was of the belief that children nowadays were spoilt, and as he’d got by with a colouring book, apple and orange without it affecting him, they would do the same.

The traffic was moving again now, and Arnold put his foot down to overtake a line of cars that wasn’t travelling fast enough for him. He was about to launch another tirade at his wife when the steering wheel suddenly spun in his hands, and the car sped on in a direction other than the one he intended. His last view was of the lorry speeding towards him in the other lane, then there was an explosion of noise and blackness.

* * * * *

Sue opened her eyes and wondered what the bright lights were. She was lying down, but couldn’t remember why. Then it all came back to her – the terror as she saw the lorry approaching, the screeching of tyres, rending of metal and breaking of glass. She vaguely recalled her forwards motion being stopped by the passenger-side airbag, and then, in a panic, she thought of Louise and Rachel. "My children," she cried, "my children."

"It’s alright Mrs Ledger, they’re fine – just a few cuts and bruises, nothing more. Now just rest." Sue turned her head to see a white-uniformed nurse smiling down at her, but she had a look of sadness in her eyes. Sue knew from that look that Arnold was dead – she remembered seeing the steering column impaling itself in his chest as the vehicles impacted, and wondered why the airbag on his side hadn’t inflated to save him. But she also felt a huge sense of relief – her children were well and her life was her own again. She closed her eyes and drifted back into sleep.

* * * * *

She woke again and it was dark. Louise and Rachel were sat by the bed, looking fine apart from each having a plaster over their eyebrows. "Hi mum, how are you feeling?" asked Louise.

"The doctors say you’ll be home for Christmas – there’s nothing broken, the airbag prevented any serious damage," said Rachel. "Dad’s dead, though," she added, quietly.

Sue closed her eyes again. She should feel sad, but she didn’t – what a terrible woman she must be. She could hear the sound of Christmas songs in the background, and felt an element of surprise that nobody was turning it off. She smiled as she thought that Christmas might be a pleasant one for once.

Louise and Rachel looked at each other, no words needing to be said. It had been an enormous gamble, loosening the steering wheel and disabling the driver’s side airbag, but it had been worthwhile. Even if they’d been killed, at least the abuse would have ceased. Both girls smiled, as in the background the music played. "Christmas Time, Mistletoe and Wine, Children Singing Christian Rhyme…".