THE IMAGES

SATURDAY - DECEMBER 25th 1976 [CHRISTMAS DAY]

DANBRAY - OXHILL : 8.42 am
For once, for the first time in eight years, it was going to be a delightful ‘White Christmas’. Saturday, the twenty fifth of December 1976, started with a cold and windy morning. Old snow lay used and unclean as the next blanket of whiteness fell over it. The usual eyesores were magically transformed into gentle beauty by the uniquely strange whiteness. Bleary eyed, Sto looked out of his bedroom window, the sight was quite incredible. The insane sterility glared at his eyes blindingly, dazzling him until he blinked his eyes to wetness and then rubbed them clear.
Outside, tiny islands of humanity played in the snow. Sto watched his two young sisters running amongst the sheer whiteness, innocently erecting a misshapen snowman and giggling between the little bursts of conversation that only children properly comprehend. Strangely, this sight filled him with an unusual feeling of warmth, as inexplicable as the equally niggling emptiness he felt within himself compared to the children beyond. Uncomprehending, he dismissed it as insignificant. Sto stretched and wandered off, out his room and down the stairs. None of his family seemed to be adhering to the usual, chaotic patterns of early morning ritual today. Slowly he walked into the living room to see who was there. Surprisingly, he found it to be quite empty. He pulled his ruddy brown dressing gown tighter around himself as though it were a shield to his vulnerability.
The enormous room was a sensory confusion of lights and sounds. The large grey television presented Roy Castle’s grinning face screaming out at no-one, ugly colours conflicting on the screen. Radios and record players sang throughout the house like an angelic chorus at loggerheads with a roadworks crew. Multi coloured paper and tinsel decorations spanned the expanse of walls, cards littered anything flat - banal Christmas tidings adorned on the two dimensional faces. The fireside grinned warmly at the brilliantly lit tree, both of them casting shadows about the room like a splintered lens. It was all too much for his tired eyes to accept. Trying to shut his mind down he walked over to the cacophonously illuminated Christmas shrub, anxious to see what lay there for him.
Sto crouched down, noting that the immense pile of presents had been somewhat diminished by the early risers and more especially the youngsters of the family. He shrugged inwardly and waited to be greeted with the usual woolly socks from Auntie Jean and, laughing aloud, he was not disappointed, merely flicking them to one side dismissively. The long sideburned face felt a broad grin expand as he grabbed the twelve by twelve package addressed to ‘Misery Guts’, noting its weight. Eager fingers unwrapped his brother’s gift to him - the ‘Wings over America’ Triple Live album he had longed for, a delightfully surprising experience, finally reached and fulfilled. Smiling pensively to himself, Sto acknowledged that sometimes his brother, Garry, was alright. There were, of course, the usual pleasantly dispensable minor gifts from the juniors of the family - gifts which they had laboriously plotted over on the long winter nights in front of the burning fires - tiny trinkets whose value was much more sentimental than functionally desirable… but each and every one of them were carefully opened and examined. But there was one more, crucial thing that he simply could not wait a moment longer to assess despite the other host of presents addressed to himself. Hungrily he tore at the minute package from his parents, almost dreading to think of its contents.
The paper was abandoned and laid waste on the deeply carpeted floor as he danced from the room in an elated euphoria. The package’s contents, the keys to his eternally yearned for Morris Minor, burned within his warm grasp as he stood in the outside doorway - overjoyed with his newly repaired and restored vehicle standing impotent, as if just waiting for him, dressed in white.
Rushing out, Sto danced around the pale car, kicking snow up with his bare feet - overjoyed at the flood of thoughts which swept across his mind. He grinned insanely at the thought of finally having his own unlimited transport, getting to school, quick journeys down the Ml, touring the country, all night orgies - he laughed aloud at the brainstorm which had taken such a violent hold on him.
In his ecstasy he remained unaware of the small blonde haired girl walking up to him, giggling quietly. He did however feel the large snowball thump into his neck, and he did feel the soggy wetness of it as it ran down his back, transforming his moment of glory instantly into rage. He turned quickly, but his anger was long gone even before the movement had been completed.
‘What the hell…’ he thought. ‘It is Christmas!’
Sto laughed cheerfully.
“Merry Christmas!” he shouted loudly and with a heart that held no ill will to anyone on this day of universal peace, but he got inside the security of the house before his little sister got the chance to hit him with the second snowball.

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE : 10.14 am
“Hello!”
“Bill?” the woman’s English accent asked.
“Mandy? Hi, how are you?”
“Good thanks, and you? - Oh, sorry… Merry Christmas!”
“Thanks - Festive greetings to you too! What’s happening?”
“Oh, the usual bedlam with getting everything ready before the rest of the family arrive for the feast.”
“Yeah - I know the feeling!”
They paused with an almost awkward silence.
“Just wanted to say ‘hi’ on Christmas day, Bill!”
“I wish… I love my family, but I wish I was spending it with you!”
Mandy paused before replying. “Me, too, Darling!”
“I was thinking that maybe…”
“Bill, let’s not! We are where we are - I just wanted you to know I’ll be thinking about you and to have a lovely Christmas, you deserve the best!”
“Mandy, I love…”
But the phone was already dead in his hand.

KIRKPATRICK : 11.00 am
“Hello, gorgeous - Merry Christmas!”
“How sweet, Mhic… and a Merry Christmas to you too, but would you like to speak to my daughter?”
Mhic rolled his eyes and twisted his face as the phone burned in his hand. “Sorry, Mrs Kaye, I was expecting Michelle to answer - but it is just as applicable to you!”
Michelle’s mother chuckled with the warmth of Christmas. “Splendid save, Mhic - here’s Michelle now. Have a lovely Christmas and we’ll see you later this evening?”
“Absolutely, have a lovely day and Merry Christmas to the rest of the family!”
There was a pause and a moment of whispered voices until Michelle spoke.
“So my Mum’s the gorgeous one in the family now? You’re priceless! Merry Christmas, Mhic, I’ve missed you!”
“Missed you more! How’s it been so far?”
“Well, if I was thirteen again it’d be heaven, but since I’m not… no, it’s been fine actually - what about you? Is your Dad looking forward to being Master of Ceremonies later?”
“You’d think we were getting ready to go to war with the planning and everyone scuttling about - Christ, it’s only food!”
“Oh, don’t be so ‘Bah, Humbug’! People love Christmas, just switch off and let them get on with it… you might have fun!”
“Not so far! Looking forward to seeing you though, I’m beginning to think I might hang onto you for a while!”
“Really, Mhic, and do I have a say in that?”
He paused, searching for a suitable response to extricate himself but decided to opt for mindless, macho posturing. “Not really, me Tarzan - you Jane!”
“You’d be in real trouble later if I didn’t miss you so much, Mr male chauvinist! Will you be able to get here by seven thirty-ish?”
“Yeah, big brother’s going to some bash with the other deadheads from Uni and he’ll drop me off. It’s not going to be some big family thing is it?”
Michelle sighed. “Yes, it’s my family who don’t see the man I love often enough, apparently …and one or two close family guests, all very informal.”
“I don’t suppose Christene turned up?”
“Has the world stopped spinning? Both events are equally likely and neither have taken place yet!”
“So, that’s a no?” he giggled childishly.
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Mr Palmer!” Michelle replied with a cute little laugh that made him wish he was with her right now. “I spoke to her earlier to ask if she was coming but she was a little funny with me on the phone… sort of evasive! She didn’t sound like she usually does on Christmas Day.”
“You mean like the world’s about to end and it’s raining into the bargain?”
“A slight over-exaggeration but, yeah, she didn’t sound as disturbed as I’d normally expect - maybe her Mum’s having a good day and it’s rubbing off on Chris.”
“Very ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’!”
“Oh, I so desperately want to watch that later tonight, when we’re on our own… after everyone else goes across to Edinburgh to stay at Aunt Elizabeth’s for the real family Christmas - Boxing Day soiree!” she half whispered.
“Tell me you aren’t kidding!”
“Sorry, Mhic, did I forget to mention they weren’t going to be here all night? Must have slipped my mind!”
“There is a God and he loves me! Thank you, Lord - I love Christmas!”
“Hmmm, your enthusiasm level seems to have risen quite a bit from the idea of just spending Christmas night with my family. You be nice about them, they’re trusting you to be a gentleman with me!”
“I always say ‘thank you’ afterwards, don’t I?”
“You’re impossible!” she laughed. “Ooops, time for me to go, I think, Loverboy! Love to all the family, Mhic, can’t wait to see you!”
“I love you, Michelle!”
Mhic looked at the clock and started working out how many minutes remained until he was with her and could actually start to enjoy Christmas. Bloody families!

HELLENFORD : 12.30 pm
Dave entered the living room quietly, clutching the large blue carrier bag in his left hand. The family were seated around the table as if marking unseen points of the compass. The room was silent except for the metronomic, striking pulse of the old brown clock which clicked noisily and the dim murmuring of the radio almost mutely dispensing Christmas Carols.
“Merry Christmas.” Dave said without enthusiasm.
The chorus of returns came back with the same impotent energy.
The gaudy Christmas wrappings from opened presents were neatly folded and condensed at the end of the table, awaiting disposal.
Dave didn’t join his family but simply sat down on the sterile settee watching his sisters still fondle their new clothes.
“Is this it then?” he asked sullenly. “Is this the family Christmas?”
Julie glared at him, menacingly.
“Can’t you be pleasant for one day of the year?” she shouted back. “You act like a spoiled child.”
“No! Here are your presents” Dave said, emptying the carrier bag on the expansive seat before rising and leaving the collection of gaudily packaged gifts on the beige settee. For a moment he stood still, a dark figure in black jeans and black jumper, just watching the family he had no choice but to be part of.
Mrs. Macklin felt the tears well up within her, she had hoped that at least today, a day of peace, they could act like a real family… like the family they once were before the tragedy. She tried to relieve the pain by putting her hand to her brow, silently fighting off the strains of depression once again. The Matriarch looked at her family lingeringly, her children, the children that she loved immensely, and sadly thought that perhaps it was now much too late to try and act like a real family. Sighing deeply she looked out of the huge windows without thinking about the whiteness of the town below or the large bleached landscape of the property she merely took for granted - and she wished that she were younger, wished she could just start everything all over again. But what was the use, she mused, was it even worth trying any more? She truly felt as though she were going to break down.
Dave’s eyes scanned round them all once more, then he turned and slowly walked out of the room, in silence.
Mr. Macklin nodded to his wife paternally. “Don’t worry, Sheila, David will come round when he grows up. He’ll have to face the world on his own two feet soon enough… one way or another. Everything will work itself out, don’t worry!”
Sheila looked at him, how strange it was to hear her own name again. His words echoed in her head, deeply reminiscent of words he had used before, words he had once utilised to placate the similar conflicts cursing Susan. The woman felt herself wishing her beautiful first born was still here, amongst them - even wishing she were here to argue and conflict with them all… for at least she would still be alive and that would be better than what had happened. Once again her eyes turned to David, her loving husband, as her daughters silently distracted themselves with the new possessions this Christmas had demanded. Each day he slipped a little further down in her eyes. What, she asked herself, happened to the man I married so long ago? The man I was so proud of, the man who was going to do so much, the man who once gave me a real sense of love and promised a future made of nothing but happiness? This same man who had become the incomprehensible thing that was more an object of despite than a life partner. Withdrawing into herself she stared through him. He was only a pathetic shadow of what he once was, a stranger now, too old or uninterested enough to even give her the physical love she still wanted.
Julie’s dyed blonde, streaked hair cascaded as she shook her head in disgust, “David acts like a child because he is one, what is the matter with him? It might help if he chose better company to keep, that certainly doesn’t help any. I think you’re quite right, Dad, he needs a strong hand - it’s the only way to help.”
Her eyes moved wildly.
Joanna slowly turned towards her, rising from the table and pushing her neat pile of presents aside.
“You are so sad, Julie. You’re old before your time, all you ever do is agree with whatever ‘Daddy’ says. Can you even think for yourself about anything? I don’t blame David one iota for the way he acts, what can he do? No one ever talks to him, you only talk at him - he’s not a child and he doesn’t behave like one, but treating him that way won’t solve anything. Dad, you treat David like a criminal, just because he won’t get down and worship you - he’s your son, don’t you feel even the slightest compassion for him?”
Joanna paused and looked round them all, imploring - but all she saw was a festering half-life, appearing to her like animated corpses that were long dead and no longer on a nodding acquaintance with their souls. It was the first time she truly recognised the facts that even she had tried to resist accepting. The empty eyes merely stared back in silence as she shook her head with a profound discomfort and lingering sadness.
“My God, do none of you have anything to say about this? Is this how we’re going to live, is this what we’re expected to pass onto our children when the time comes? Look around you, think about what’s happened to us - it’s coming from everything in this house, it’s like a cemetery - you just feel like you’re sleepwalkers, waiting to die and your whole life is slipping through your fingers… disappearing, gone! Well, not me, I’m still awake and I’m very much alive. I’m sorry, I love all of you but sometimes I really don’t like you, especially when you can just let all this go on day in and day out – and on a day like this! I won’t be staying, I’m going to spend Christmas somewhere I can still feel a pulse. Have a Merry Christmas!”
Joanna rose and slowly walked away from the inanimate family and out of the room. The door slammed with a frightening intensity behind her despite the gentle closure of it as she removed herself from the stagnant atmosphere.
The other three sat in a shocked, horrified silence, realising that there was nothing constructive to be said - not without acknowledging the reality they were unwilling or unable to change.
Eventually Julie reached for her glass of water and took a sip, feeling as if the sounds of her swallowing were louder than thunder, but her father was quite oblivious, having already returned to consuming the light lunch before him.
Mrs. Macklin’s eyes again became fixed on the window, watching the snow twinkle on the glass then melt and run down as streaks of chilled water. Strangely it seemed to parallel her very own life. The clock ticked on noisily and the radio continued to babble. Nothing changed.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN : 1.22 pm
“Hello and Merry Christmas, who’s calling the very special Yuletide Golden Shot?”
“Harris, do you ever do anything like a normal, average human being?” the voice on the other end of the phone enquired.
“Well, eh, you’ll be aware better than most, I’m sure!” he replied innocently. “So, how’s your Christmas been, Joanna?”
“Imagine your worst nightmare with my family’s face on it and you’ll have a good idea! Just another happy holiday at the Macklin home for the emotionally disturbed. What about you, did your Great Aunt Grizelda finally buy some underwear for your Christmas pressie?”
“Words fail me…”
“If only, Harris, if…”
“I meant sorry to hear about the car wreck of Macklin Christmas. Is Dave okay?”
“Don’t ask - he’s long gone!”
“Where to?”
“No idea, he’d already bailed before I left.”
“So where are you?”
Joanna laughed before she spoke. “Why? Going to invite me to spend some happy hours at the Harris’s?”
“I wouldn’t see you wandering the streets…”
“Don’t panic, Gallahad, I’m going up to Rick’s for Christmas - I called him earlier, on some admittedly dubious advice and, well, surprisingly enough, he was pretty pleased to hear from me. So, I’m on my way up there now and thought I’d stop off at one of these big red communication boxes to say ‘Merry Christmas, Harris!’, so… join the dots.”
“See! Happy Days, Lass!”
They both laughed at the ‘Likely Lads’ catch phrase.
“Actually, Harris, I did also want to thank you for something…”
“Nah, that was my pleasure - I’m always willing to assist the disadvantaged!”
“Highly amusing and so off target that I feel a little sorry for you! No, I wanted to say thanks for the present - I don’t know how you managed to buy such elegant knickers in Hyndland or how you got the little, gift wrapped gem into my bag… but thanks - you even got the size right.”
Harris laughed uproariously at his own genius.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, very good - calm down, Harris, we don’t want you blowing a fuse - after all, your parents might miss you even if no-one else would. But it was pretty slick and, God knows why, you did pick them rather well - I like feeling like an up market hooker and they do actually look quite tasteful, considering how little they hide! So well done, smart arse… and, eh, thank you, Jonn, for everything!”
Harris paused, “Well, that’s kind, thank…”
“Hmmm, yeah, spare me the warm and tender, Harris, I’m in a hurry to see a man who’s apparently pining for me, so I can’t waste precious seconds with you! Have a great Christmas and try spending time with someone you like - do yourself a favour and leave off the self torment for a couple of days. You might like the feeling! Okay, getting a little bored now, so I’m off - have a good one, Harris! Kissy Kissy!”
She hung up.
Harris did that thing with his brows again and smiled wryly as he replaced the receiver.
“Merry Christmas, Bunny Girl!”

EVERYWHERE
Throughout the afternoon the snow fell freely, filling the streets and covering the town in a beautiful white cape - hiding the dirt and ugliness for a fleeting instant. Children played happily in the whiteness, their innocence reigning and blending with the purity of the snow. It was a time of joy, so said all the posters glaring brightly from all the buildings - advertising their expensive luxury products. For one day, at any rate, most people forgot their problems and relaxed. The world ticked ahead with the illusion of tranquillity. Evening fell like a dark, velvet blanket, enveloping everything with its protecting arms - or perhaps simply covering sins.

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE : 6.38 pm
Bill’s house was packed by evening. He couldn’t understand where they all came from or even where everyone went after they came into the house. All the rooms were mobbed with relatives and friends. People sitting, talking, dancing, coming and going. Bill felt good, the close family atmosphere made him feel secure, a significant part of an intangible whole - he felt important and he felt content. The dance had been great, but more especially it had not only achieved their need to score money to kick the band into a going concern but it had put some personal money into their hands. The sense of satisfaction he had derived from his personal sacrifice bolstered and pleased him much more than any trivial purpose he could have used it for. The extra cash they had divvied up from the dance gave him the rare chance to put something worthwhile in his parent’s stocking for a change, supplying a decent feeling in his soul from giving rather than taking.
The room was aglow with light and warmth. The antiquated decorations blended with the festive atmosphere which they generated simply by being there. The Christmas lights gave off a deep communal warmth which they all basked in. Glowing faces, laughing and singing, eyes bright and happy with no-one excluded.
Bill stood by the bright yellow curtains of the window and watched the flakes dance on the ledge, bustled by the wind, mesmerised by the way the tall lights beyond caught the tiny bits of snow in their yellowy thrall. The street below was clean, shiningly brightly. It was almost, as he thought, like something holy or sanctified. It gave the street an unquantifiable ‘something else’ quality, hid the ugliness of urban living and replaced it with an intangible beauty that only winter’s coat could give. He smiled at how the snow rendered things shapeless and disguised everything for a brief time. Bill Rosser nodded as he wiped the condensation from the windows, it was good to be alive.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN : 8.29 pm
Harris answered the large, chiming door’s call, dressed in a black slashed necked, long sleeve T-shirt and his tight black, mock leather Sasperilla jeans, creaking as he stood back from the large glass paned entrance. The front garden behind the black coated figure was a glowing white in the night and its glistening beauty was dwarfed only by the radiant glow of the blonde’s perfectly painted face. The girl waited anxiously, a little uncertain as she looked at the dark figure inside.
Christene held a large bag in her right hand and a bottle of champagne in her left.
“Are you moving in?” he asked staring at the huge carrier bag.
“Pressuring me already, Harris? Merry Christmas!”
“Sorry, Merry Christmas, Christene!” he responded with a wide grin and removed the weighty bag from her hands before standing aside to let her in.
Christene’s beautiful eyes were painted in a host of blending blues that were only outshone by the radiant cobalt colour of her eyes, her lips a vibrant, blood red and her mane of natural blonde hair was piled up high in a sophisticated ‘do that was held in place at the back with what appeared to be a mass of geometrically arranged black chopsticks.
“Wow, you look really gorgeous! I’m glad you decided to come after all.” Harris said almost in awe of her effort.
“Thanks! And, again, thank you for the invitation, Jonn. Are you sure I’m not imposing… I mean, maybe your parents just want a family Christmas?”
“Don’t be silly, it’s always Christmas here! They’ll be delighted to see you, come on in, let me take your coat, Christene!”
The little fairy lights glistened and flickered their shadows as he indicated she should go on into the hall, pausing in the soft light to admire her lovely figure that even her coat couldn’t disguise. Placing the bag down in the wide hall, Harris stood behind her and helped her remove the heavy black coat before he actually gasped aloud.
“Never heard you do that before, Jonn! It’s not too over the top is it?” she asked with a little uncertain apprehension.
Harris stared at her, the perfect face and hair were impressive enough but her dress was literally stunning and flatteringly made her body look even more desirable than ever. The red silk, short sleeved Geisha dress with its little gold and black motifs was beyond elegant, the tiny Mandarin collar rose halfway up her long neck, with tiny gold buttons leading down across her bust to run a subtle black rimmed border down her entire left side to the little open slash that almost revealed the pivot of her hips and mirrored the slash on the right. The hem ran down to only slightly more than a third of the way down her thighs providing the illusion that her long legs had been stretched enormously since he last saw her. Christene stood patiently, if anxiously, in towering dark stilettos that twinkled in the subdued light with a sheen that was only paled by the one from her naked legs.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, it’s over the top isn’t it?” Christene said biting her bottom lip a little.
Harris shook his head and examined her up and down once more before looking into the deep blue of her eyes. “It’s stunningly perfect - you look absolutely beautiful, Christene!”
The girl felt a little tingle go through her, it was the very first time she’d heard something that approached an awed tone from him about anything!
“Suzanne sent it for my Christmas, I think it’s… expensive!”
Harris nodded, “I don’t think it’d be out of place on the racks of Yamamoto.”
Christene looked sheepish for a moment and said quietly. “Actually… it is Yamamoto, so this’ll probably be its only outing until David Essex or Bryan Ferry whisk me off, back to the glamorous life. I’m so glad you like it, thought I needed to make a special effort after being so… utterly horrible to you at the dance - Sorry!”
“Forget it! I’m just glad you came and… well, impressed is really not a large enough definition. Ultra-Wow!”
Even though she knew they should already respectfully be in the living room by now, it was both a relief and a thrill to bask in his admiration for a few moments - he didn’t really tend to do being impressed. It made her giggle that he was still looking at her as he hung the coat up and it took him two tries until he found the peg. Her big, white toothed smile was spread wide on her face as she clutched his arm for stability, folding her legs down in appropriate deportment for modesty’s sake on heels that were perilously high and picking up the champagne for his parents with her other hand. Christene slipped her arms through his and smiled as he breathed in the scent of Chanel No 5 and nodded ahead.
Harris opened the living room door to usher her through, announcing to his parents “Christene’s arrived!”

BEARSDEN : 9.05 pm
The sound of the wheels crushing the snow beneath floated in the night air and drifted back towards the house. The passengers inside waved back to the two figures standing in the chill of Christmas night.
Michelle and Mhic gleefully waved a fond farewell to the two Edinburgh bound vehicles, watching the haloed, red tail lights slowly disappear into the distance before they closed the large front door.
The chill was almost instantly dissipated by the vibrant heat of the large house as the pair gave a little shiver from the temperature change.
“Well, that was less traumatic than I expected.” Mhic sighed, slipping his arms around her affectionately.
Michelle let him feel her glowing body warmth just long enough to induce the urge to kiss her. He leaned forward expectantly before she slipped out of his grasp with a coy smile and a shake of her head.
“Don’t touch, I’m going to get changed into something much less comfortable. You can pour us a decent drink while I’m upstairs. I won’t be long!” she taunted.
Mhic felt his eyebrows raise as he watched her dance away from him and wiggle speedily up the wide carpeted stairs. With a sprightly spring in his step he headed off to the kitchen in search of the alcohol as per his instructions. With a pleasant grin on his face he mused how this was shaping up into a pretty decent Christmas, all in all! Life was good.

DANBRAY - FALLOWHILL : 9.17 pm
The pack of youths stood in the enclosed bus shelter passing bottles of cheap wine to one another. The host of little windows facing the road were obscured by the frozen snow on the outside and the condensation on the inside, save for those vandalised panels where the chill wind and tiny drifts of snow floated in.
McCallum, Sweeney and Fox held onto the almost empty bottle of vodka within themselves, doing the same with the joints made of Black while the others smoked the Rocky. Their conversation was a constant hub-bub of half drunken festive nonsense and vague pipe dreams occasionally interrupted by the chanting of their war cry.
“Hey - Ho, We’ve got the time :
Ding - Dong, To do the Chimes! :
Hey - Ho, We’ll cut your face! :
The Mighty Young Hill are fuckin’ ace!”
This was how they enjoyed their Christmas - getting hammered with your crew for a while, your real family, even if it was in some crappy shelter at the terminus in Fallowhill. It never occurred to them how similar they were to the Chimes teams scattered through Bellstree doing the same. The only real differences between them was the distance.
The tall, well built youth booted the side of the shelter before he jumped round to the road entrance as the angry faces began to move forward expectantly.
“Right, you little fucks, you’re nicked for booze and drugs… which I should be hoovering right now!” the intruder said in a low, threatening tone.
“Dinger!” Fox cried, suppressing his immediate distress and offering the vodka. “Fuck, man - how’re you?”
“Aye, we don’t see many of the Headboys these days - business good?” Sweeney added.
Dinger Bell swallowed a long gulp of the vodka and nodded as it went down his gullet until the bottle was drained. Amongst the Young Hill he was taller and more robustly built, carrying a maturity beyond his three or four years seniority. The man looked slick in his long black leather coat, the dark hair smoothed back and his black eye patch almost matching its tone.
“Doing good, boys!” he smiled taking a toke of the Black joint, throwing the bottle away and almost ignoring Foxy. “Thought I’d drop off a couple of bob for you to enjoy Christmas - just to say thanks from us to you, boys!”
The pack cheered as he handed a fat ball of crushed notes into Foxy’s nervous, outstretched hand, even after the blonde youth winced when Bell forcefully pressed both the money and the clutching fingers. No-one seemed to notice or care that there was something private taking place here, they just relished the fact they could now head up to Ross’s General Store and swag some more booze to keep the chill from their bones.
The dark haired figure whispered into Fox’s ear without letting go at any time while he spoke.
“Your man wasn’t nicked, Foxy, and we’re still waiting. If you’ve fucked this up, you’re going down. Get out and find Jones, wherever he is, right now - we need that key… as in yesterday! And remember this… if you don’t find him and get it, you’ll pay, not him! Get it fuckin’ sorted - holidays don’t last forever, and yours are running right out!”
Foxy’s contorted face nodded without making a sound despite the pain, not even wincing when the vice like grip disappeared and he could barely hold onto the wad of notes.
“That’s it, team. Get yourselves well fucked for Christmas, on us!” Dinger called in a self congratulatory manner making them all whoop their thanks and hammer the shelter.
“Hey, Dinger… gonna tell us what happened with the eye thing, man?” a stoned voice at the far end called out.
McCallum and Sweeney moved out Bell’s way and just looked at each other.
At the far end of the shelter the inquisitive youth was already muttering apologies and trying to move to the street exit as his friends rapidly shifted out the dark figure’s way.
There was no discussion, Bell grabbed the boy and smashed his face into the shelter front, cracking the glass and then actually breaking it as he repeated the blow. The bleeding youth was stunned and already incapable as Bell pulled him back and hammered him off the rear of the grey, graffiti ridden shelter while the Young Hill moved back, knowing that Bell wasn’t the kind of guy anybody could afford to mess with. They stood and merely watched the violence in a horrified silence as one of their own paid the price for asking the wrong question to the one eyed man.
Bell kneed the youth and felled him, only pausing to watch him automatically trying to crawl away through the spit, ash and mucky puddles in the shelter. The sound of the escaping air and ugly moan reverberated around them all hideously as Bell kicked him in the belly to turn him over. Dinger Bell never uttered a word as he continued the assault and even his face was nothing more than a mask reflecting the single dimensional expression of sheer concentration as he raised his foot and hammered the booted heel down on the bleeding youth’s chest to bring the ugly cracking sound of shearing bone.
The rest of the gang looked apalled as the feelgood wave became one of horror - when young Zebedee failed to spring away and could do nothing more than bleed like a stuck pig. This could have been any one of them who made the mistake of asking the question they all privately wanted the answer to.
Bell placed his hands on the windows and began to kick into the groaning body at his feet, booting into the groin, belly and ribs again and again and again - eliciting an ongoing repellent noise and breathlessly unintelligible words that changed in pitch every time another blow was administered. The booting didn’t stop until the boy’s face was finally worked on, blood splattering in spurts and tiny droplets to contaminate the harsh grey of the steel shelter and everyone around him.
Bell looked over to Foxy and stared into his eyes as he raised his foot and pounded down on Zebedee’s face with his heel, soliciting the most sickening, crunching sound.
The gaze held Fox like a vice, almost as if daring him to turn away but he knew that would be fatal - in this rage Bell might just leap over and do him for messing up the Jones thing. Fox swallowed hard, looking back with a bleached face that clearly reflected his inner fear. Bell lifted his heel again, pausing deliberately and looking directly into Fox’s eyes before hammering down a final blow that made a disgusting noise most of the others turned from and unwillingly groaned at in near-silent horror.
The curious youth finally stopped moving completely and no-one said anything - once again remaining as deathly quiet as they had throughout the majority of the savage beating. A burgeoning pool of blood was seeping from Zebedee, hot and sticky, to join the already cooling splatters that were sprayed everywhere about the rear of the shelter.
Bell nodded to Fox and then to the rest of the Young Hill, as he looked back at them, his face was now a distorted mask of raging anger. “That’s what happens when you fuck with the Headboys!”
Fox, still clutching the wad of money, realised he was talking directly to him and he knew he had been given a horrifying message. Get Jones and the key!
The dark figure then turned away without saying a word leaving red stained, half footprints in the still white snow outside the shelter.
Someone thought he muttered ‘Merry Christmas!’

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN : 9.24 pm
Harris’s room was awash in a sea of coloured lights and glittering tinsel that removed the need for harsh, overhead lighting and instantly gave a gratifying sense of warm intimacy. By the window stood his own little Christmas tree decorated with the almost antiquated lights and baubles from his childhood. It was a truly comforting and cosy atmosphere. The large TV was mutely pouring out the last few minutes of Morecambe and Wise’s ‘Christmas Special’ to an uninterested audience. The long cupboards that ran off from either side of the fireplace had already been filled with shiny blue plates of crisps, nuts, fruit and sweets. A little stack of newly received books, magazines and large format photo portfolios lay neatly stacked on the bedside cabinets symmetrically defining the wide, low bed which was devoid of legs.
Christene placed the large bag down beside the sofa, tugging her hem down a shade before she sat down.
“It’s the type of dress that really makes you aware of the need for modesty.” she giggled with a little nod of her head and a calibrating glance of her cobalt blue eyes.
“Can I get you a drink? Tea, coffee, orange, Coke, vodka, gin, bacardi?” he asked, still standing.
“Actually, that champagne has gone to my head a little but I’ll risk a vodka if you’re joining me!”
“Never leave a beautiful woman to drink on her own - according to ‘The Thin Man’!” he smiled, opening a little cabinet by the door.
Christene gazed round his room, it looked so different with the abundant Christmas decorations everywhere. With a smile she took the glass from his hand as he sat down on the big leather chair to her right, directly facing the television.
“You’re so lucky, Jonn! Your parents are lovely, they’re so cool about everything - it must be great!”
“They’re pretty fond of you, actually, and tonight you really did charm them to the point they’ll be trying to marry me off to you now.”
“If only!” she giggled and flashed him a glance. “They’re wonderful, I really like them… you’re very lucky.”
Harris looked a little shy, “I am lucky, privileged really, so I try not to forget it or take it for granted. They’re great and I like my parents not just because they’re my parents - I like them because of who they are… but it is nice to hear someone else say they like them - thanks! And speaking of which - how’s your Mum?”
“Pretty much the same as usual for this time of year, feeling down and mad keen to get to Gina’s when she dropped me off in the taxi. It could have been lots worse… yeah, it was fine! I’m just glad that I was coming to see you tonight.”
Harris smiled and nodded his thanks.
“Would you like to listen to something or watch something?”
Christene gazed at him with a look he couldn’t decipher, a coy smile on her face.
“Well…” she began hesitantly. “I’d like to give you your presents just now but ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ is on BBC2 at nine thirty and… I know this sounds a bit stupid, but… I’d really like to watch it with you, assuming it’s your cup of tea and if that’s not too rude of me.”
Harris pressed the black remote control and flicked the channel over, then raised the volume a little as he smiled back at her. “Are you kidding? It’s an absolute classic and just shows you have great taste. I love that film, it’s so utterly dark.”
Christene beamed a gratified smile to him as if she had been nervous about making the request. “Thanks, but there’s something else I need to do first…!” she said standing up from the comfortable sofa that directly faced the fireplace, straightening her dress and holding her right hand out to raise him from the chair. “I forgot to give you this before I left the dance!”
Christene hesitated before she slinked her arms round his neck and kissed him with a slow, passionate clinch that warmed him from the inside out. His hands went to hold her in response but she just stopped, looking into his eyes with a little shyness. “Merry Christmas, Jonn!”
In perfect timing Capra’s masterpiece began as she took his hand and led him back to the sofa with her, kicking off her tall stiletto shoes before sitting down. Folding her legs to the left on the sofa as if aiming them at the television, she gave him a warm glance as he sat down on her right, unaware he was enjoying the way she felt leaning beside him and holding onto his arm.
It took Harris a little time to immerse himself in Pottersville, his mind seemed jammed on replay and wouldn’t let go of her kiss.

DANBRAY - FALLOWHILL : 9.32 pm
“Right, divvy into four teams, get out there and find Jonesy - if you get hold of him, bring him back to Ross’s and tell Rosy… he’ll deal with it!” Foxy ordered from the front of the shelter. “I need to get hold of this cunt, sharp!”
“What’s this about, man? I thought we were gonna get more booze and get twisted.” Kenny shouted.
Fox glared back, “Did somebody say something fuckin’ stupid like Zebedee did?”
Silence responded.
“Good!” the blonde Mainman continued, looking round the crew. “Rollo says that Jones has been dipping some bird up this way, so you lot get round the Hill and see if he’s about anywhere!”
Rollo and another three looked round one another, deciding if they should ask anything more or just wander off and pursue the pointless task. Rollo nodded to Foxy as if testing the water before he spoke.
“Listen, Foxy, I’ve seen him a couple of times down the high flats way… but he could’ve been going anywhere round there or passing by to the back of the Hill, man! He’s probably tucked up indoors somewhere in Levenvale - It’s Christmas! Why don’t we head out that way tomorrow and blitz him?”
Fox shook his head. “Did you hear what I told you four to do? Why are you still here?”
Rollo shrugged and nodded to the nearest three and they reluctantly trudged off into the blue of the still night.
“Chazzer, you check up Rosy’s way in case the little cunt is dipping a Hill chick and just passing through the High flats on his way up the back of the Hill like Brainiac said - there’s not many other places he can be sniffin’ round this way.” Foxy said to McCallum.
“Sure, Foxy!” he replied, “And we should put the word out to any of the Muppets hangin’ out on the street, those wee kids get everywhere and see fuckin’ everything - that okay?”
Fox nodded. “Good one, Chaz! All of you check with any of the Muppets you see, right? Take three of the boys with you, spread yourselves out and get busy, man!”
McCallum turned and pointed to three of the least wasted Young Hill, nodded and walked off in the opposite direction to Rollo.
Bennie walked up to Foxy and stood by his side, waiting. Foxy glanced at him and shook his head before he responded again.
“Bennie, have you got any ideas? Any good ideas that is?”
Bennie shrugged. “Aye, the wee man sounded as if he’d been spending time with some clever cunt… maybe he’s been hangin’ about with some Oxhill bird and passing the flats like a short cut?”
Fox considered the notion, it was unlikely but there was nothing to lose. “Good idea, Bennie, take Sammy, Yoyo and Toner with you… and don’t end up stoned somewhere, Right?”
“Absolutely, Foxy! Let’s go, you cunts!” Bennie said, feeling good all of a sudden.
Fox shook his head as he looked to Sweeney, both of them watching the most wasted of the Hill team wander off silently.
Sweeney nudged Foxy. “Be a miracle if those retards can find their dicks when they need to piss, man!”
“Nothing to lose, and they might be right, Jones had wised up pretty sharp! It’s just gonna be luck if we can find him! Me, you, and Mo will head into town, see what’s happening, check the boozers and take a walk about - I need to get hold of this cunt, and ask about his bum-chum Furneaux, he might know where he is if they’re not together. Let’s head!”
Sweeney and Mo followed Foxy as they moved off towards the school on their way to the town centre, ignoring the bleeding body moaning back in the shelter.

GLASGOW - SOUTH : 9.37 pm
Sto’s blue Morris Minor car quietly trudged its’ way through the Glasgow snow - his pride and joy’s maiden run and he’s expecting to pick up Emmanuelle only to find she’s been swapped for Amy Turtle. He was grateful that his parents thoughtfully provided a stereo with the fabulous vehicle, ignoring the lyrical irony of ‘Radar Love’ as its sound was filling in the emptiness of the non conversation. There was very little normal chatter passing from one to the other since he had collected her from her Grandmother’s somewhere down from the Southern General Hospital. Hellen sat beside him, arms folded and looking tired.
Far back now, her extended family continued their Christmas revelry. The streets from her Grandmother’s home were almost empty, save for the occasional car appearing and disappearing in and out of junctions. Hellen was dressed in a frighteningly conservative manner with dark trousers and a thick pullover which did nothing for her figure but probably looked quite at home on her Grandmother.
Sto took another deep pull of his cigarette, fingering it nervously. She turned from the window and smiled at him. Sto nodded at nothing in particular, musing how she seemed to be an entirely different human being than from the one he accompanied to the dance, then the long party and finally locked in carnal intimacy with for the long, early morning hours of Christmas Eve.
“So your parents are staying there for the night then? Staying on at your Gran’s, that is?”
“Yes. Yes, they are.” she replied absent mindedly.
“Well, what do you fancy doing then?”
“I don’t mind.” she said without much interest.
Sto felt himself become more vexed at her, this hot and cold lark was getting to be a habit - and one which he was finding he didn’t relish too much.
“How about going back to your place?’ he suggested hopefully.
“What for?”
“Well, I don’t know?” he grinned, “I’m sure we could find something to do!”
“Like what?”
“Oh, Christ! What do you think like?”
“I don’t know, I thought we were going out for the night.”
Sto remained silent for a while before he decided to speak again.
“We don’t really get together very often - not like after the dance. We don’t have a golden opportunity like this every day… y’know, to spend the night in peace by ourselves!”
“For what?” she said as though still unaware of what was going on. “I still don’t know what you…”
“Oh, come on you’re not as stupid as all that! For the same thing as… the same thing we were doing most of the early hours of Christmas Eve.” Sto shouted, feeling his rash come up again.
“So, is that how you think of me - is that it? Jesus!”
“No, of course not, I’m just saying that…”
“Do you know what, you’re just like all the other guys I’ve been with. You don’t need a girlfriend - you just need an ‘on call’ prostitute. Am I just a ‘Fuck-Bag’ for you, as and when? Is this why you go out with me?”
“Well, it’s not exactly ‘True Romance’ so far, is it? The day after Joanna’s we hump all night then you pretty much tell me fuck off, a day or so later you call back to meet at the weekend, where we end up in a sea of used sheaths again. After that, I hear absolutely nothing until you turn up at the dance - all apologies and dressed like a man-eater throwing out the wildest time I can remember and now it’s back to this Ena Sharples shit!”
“Look,” she said, a flush of red anger dominating her, “I wouldn’t give you the pleasure after that tirade - not with you anyway, too much meat and not enough skill. You couldn’t please a doughnut the way you use that thing!” the girl forcibly laughed pointing to his crotch.
“Well - I’d be better off with a fuckin’ polo mint than you - at least it has a decent aftertaste. Where do you want dropped, back to Grannie’s?”
“No, at home - alone!”
“Fine.” Sto said, gunning the car in anger as they jumped the red light and speedily headed to the river in abject silence.
‘Bloody great Christmas this is!’ he thought as the little car plunged into the Clyde Tunnel.

DANBRAY - TOWN CENTRE : 10.17 pm
The youth’s fingers were shaking and he was still out of breath as he opened the door of the red phone box. There was no need to smash the bulb, someone had beaten him to it a long time ago. The stench of stale piss was only slightly more offensive than all the moronic graffiti liberally daubed around him. The cold night air whistled through the multitude of smashed windows. Checking from side to side, he dialled the numbers and crouched down. The sound of ringing echoed though the receiver. For a moment he relaxed with the knowledge that at least it worked, but his relief turned to worry as the ringing continued without response, simply repeating again and again. He closed his eyes and prayed.
“Hello, who’s calling…”
“Vince? Shit!”
Shaking fingers reached up and pushed the two pence into the slot, fumbling.
“Hello?”
The slot was jammed. He stood up and hammered it with his fist… it went in.
“Vince? Vince? It’s me, don’t hang up, man!”
“Jonesy? Where’ve you been, I was calling all day, I tried Liz but she said…”
“Vince, Vince, shut up! I’ve only got two pee, I’m in trouble!”
“Where are you?”
“Town Centre!”
“Jesus, Jonesy, you’re… What’s the number, so I can call you back?”
“It’s… fuck, I can’t make it out, some cunt’s gubbed it! Listen, Vince, these Hill fuckers are after me!”
“I know, you told me the other day, I thought you were going to…”
“No, no, no, no! Right now, that fat fuck Rollo saw me leaving Anita’s before Fox…”
“What did you go to Anita’s for, are you mental?”
“Her Christmas presents, hers and Emily’s - they don’t have anybody else, they’re all alone. I wasn’t leaving her that way on Christmas, especially after what that fucker did to her!”
“Oh, Jonesy! Get up here - they’ll fuck you up. Get a fuckin’ taxi or trot up!”
“I can’t… I gave Anita my money for the baby and I couldn’t walk up the High Street to the taxi rank even if I had some cash - I’d be spotted a mile away and there’s a load of them on my arse!”
“Shit, you should just have given them what they wanted, like he told you to - you were in the clear that way, out from under everything… it was all worked out for you!”
“No way, I want to sell it back to the owner, get enough cash for Anita, Emily and me to get away… you too, Vince. It seemed like a good idea, nick the fucking key, sell it back, drop Fox in it - a fuckin’ winner!”
“Doesn’t sound too fuckin’ winnin’ just now - you were told what to do!”
“I know… but, I needed to do this to get some fat money!”
“Oh, man, what are we gonna do?”
“Stick with my plan, but I need to get out of this - I’m jammed tight!”
“Vince, just get up here, Man!”
“I dunno if I can, they’re everywhere, I can’t risk it… not yet, if they find me they’ll get the key and do me. That means Anita and Emily are fucked… I love them, Vince, that’s not gonna happen, only good fuckin’ thing in my pissy life apart from you and Liz. If anything happens, you know where I keep my shit, don’t you?”
“Jonesy, don’t talk like that, get up here… Wait, tell you what - I’ll get a taxi down or something, get you out!”
“Just listen to me, Vince, take my stash if something happens, all the gear I ripped off from that house is there with the key, and the other bits I lifted… some of that might be worth money but sell the key back for Anita, man… in case I get snagged on the way to your place. I’m gonna hide out for a couple of hours until this cools down - then I’ll get to your joint! It’ll be late so keep an eye out for me, Vince!”
“Shit, what if some of them are over watching - they know we’re tight!”
“If you see any of the cunts mappin’ your place out then leave the front light on and I’ll just hide out till morning!”
“It’s freezing, you’ll fuckin’ die in this cold - get over here now!
“I can’t, man, if they get me, I’m done and Anita’s stuck with that evil bastard on her back for the rest of her life… no, I need to get that money, it’s the only way!”
“Get up here now or I’m coming down, what box are you in, Jonesy?”
The pips began demanding more money.
“Jonesy, where are you?”
“Tell Anita I love…”
The line went dead.

DANBRAY - BELLSTREE : 10.22 pm
He had hardly heard the phone above the babble in the main room but finally he was convinced it was ringing.
“Hello and Merry Christmas to all men!” Bill laughed with a little alcoholic glow delightfully zipping through his system.
“And what about women?” the girl’s voice asked.
There was an uncertain pause before he responded, “I’m for them!”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Should I?” he inquired trying to concentrate in the ongoing merriment.
“Ouch - forgotten so soon, I’m really losing my touch.”
“Tina? Tina! Hi, have you had a nice Christmas?”
“You were this close to being hung up on!” she giggled warmly. “Yeah, I had a lovely time, thanks, and you? Sounds like the Southside party moved to your house.”
“Big family bash - very traditional Christmases here, just a couple of hundred close family and friends. So what are you up to?”
“Recovering from offensive amounts of food and rubbish that will take weeks to disappear from my thighs again!” she laughed.
“I’d like to see that... from a scientific point of view.”
“You never go off the boil do you?”
“Not when the image of you is so clear in my mind, especially after your description there.” he laughed in response.
“Down boy! Was Santa good to you or were you a bad boy this year?”
“I’m always good!”
“Hmmm, does the word ‘octopus’ ring any bells with you? And I don’t mean Christmas ones!”
“Moi?”
“Forget it, you’re a lost cause in the guilt market! Did you get all you wished for?”
“A stack of albums, clothes, money from my lovely but doddering family members uncertain what to buy the boy who has nothing. Pretty great, actually… well, only one thing I wanted and didn’t get…!”
“I dread to ask, but… what was that, Bill?”
There was only the slightest uncertain pause before he responded.
“You! Well, you’re there and I’m here… pining!”
“Okay, just a suggestion, but maybe next year you should ask Santa for some nice gift vouchers you can use on a good psychiatrist.” she giggled with the merest hint of having been flattered.
“Ooooh, that hurt. Wasn’t successfully fending off my amorous advances at the party enough of a victory for you?”
“Good things come to those who wait, haven’t you heard that before?”
“I don’t have the patience to wait until I get to heaven for my rewards!” he chuckled.
“That I can believe! Anyway, before you get any more frisky and I really start to regret phoning… I’m going to Penny’s tomorrow evening and…”
“You wondered if a handsome muscular hunk would go with you?”
Tina laughed with a softness he liked.
“No, actually I wondered if you knew the times of the train to Hillfoot!”
“You are such a harsh, cruel girl.”
“Thanks! So, tell me more about the hunk you mentioned - is he single, is he rich? Answer the second question first!”
“Harsh, very harsh!”
“So, do you want to come along, with me, to Penny’s, tomorrow evening?”
“That’d be great, thanks - what sort of time?”
“She said about seven thirty to eight, is that okay for you?”
“Great, not too sure how to get there from Hillfoot though.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for you at the station - I’ll take you by the hand, so you won’t be in any danger.”
“My hero!”
“Heroine, actually, Wildman! So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Counting the seconds already, Tina!”
“Cool! Well must dash, meeting my boyfriend for a long and richly rewarding tryst, while you play happy families. Ciao, Bill!”
The phone was dead before he responded. Being hung up on was getting to be a habit today… but his grin was painted wide.
In the swings and roundabouts of fate, it really was shaping up to be a wonderful life!

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN : 11.38 pm
‘…no man is a failure who has friends! To George, the richest man in Pottersville!’
Harris passed Christene another tissue to wipe away the little tear she shed.
He, himself, was too cold and insensitive to respond to such emotional manipulation, simply swallowing hard and avoiding speaking until he consumed the wave of tenderness this film always brought out in him.
‘Listen, Daddy, every time a bell rings - an angel gets his wings!”
He felt her clinging tightly to him and he liked it.
The sounds of the bells chimed as the words ‘The End’ came up in finality.
“Sorry, I haven’t watched this since I was a little girl with my Dad - I’ve never been able to watch it since…” she said with a little sob, “…three years is a long time! Damn! Excuse me, just want to clean up my badger eyes!”
With a speedy little move she was off the settee and padding out the door leaving Harris unsure of what was more upsetting to her - the film itself or the memory of it. He stroked his eye with a casual movement before he got up and poured fresh drinks for them both.

BEARSDEN : 11.40 pm
‘Listen, Daddy, every time a bell rings - an angel gets his wings!”
Mhic heard Michelle suppressing little sobs beside him.
‘Women!’ he thought harshly.
The sounds of the bells chimed as the words ‘The End’ came up in finality in the Kaye house too.
“I’m sorry, this is just so sad - I love this!” Michelle sniffed, blindly reaching for a tissue without taking her eyes from the large screen.
Mhic sat stoically, resisting the urge to wipe his own eyes.
‘…and next on BBC2, a Christmas Carol Recital Concert from King’s College, Oxford.’
“I must look a mess now, Mhic - but that was great… the first time I’ve seen it with you - makes it even better! I’ll be back in a second, my make-up’s ruined.”
Michelle rose, little lacy black knickers flashing as she stood up in the short clinging, flimsy pink dress that floated about her thighs. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down on his lap, the tops of her stockings flashing clearly, beneath the short hem.
“You always look great!” he said holding her to himself.
Michelle bit her lip and smiled, batting her eyes to clear the salty mist still hanging there. It took little persuasion to induce her to submit to his kiss.

DANBRAY - NEWTOWN : 11.46 pm
Christene came back into the room looking fresh faced and a little shy.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a drama queen.” she said, hovering uncertainly by the door.
Harris walked over and took her hand.
“I hope this is the last Christmas that you shed a tear on.”
He wrapped his arms around her and she felt safe in a way she hadn’t since… a long time. Christene felt like a fragile doll in his embrace, her skin as silky as the material of her dress. He felt her lips brush his neck as she pulled back with a demure look decorating her face.
“I have a mission I need to fulfil before midnight, Jonn!”
He released her with a little shrug and a flicker of curiosity. Harris walked over to the mantelpiece and handed her a fresh drink, a puzzled look now decorating his face. Christene moved to the large bag, bent her knees to crouch down on her bare feet and removed a large, heavy box measuring about a foot square and a couple of inches deep.
“What’s this?” he asked as she gently placed it in his hands.
“It’s from Suzanne!”
“Suzanne? Why on earth…?”
Christene rolled her eyes and smiled. “Maybe because you saved her from a fate worse than death in Edinburgh… or maybe she just wants you, very badly!”
They giggled together and Harris sat on the leather chair looking at the object.
“I think you’re meant to open it, Jonn.”
His eyes caught hers and for a moment she couldn’t understand his hesitation.
“Oh, go on!” she implored.
Harris nodded and methodically began to remove the shiny red paper.
“Oh, God, I should have known you’re one of these tidy creatures - Christmas gifts are meant to be ripped apart!” Christene sighed.
Harris merely raised an eyebrow and continued until the white box sat on his lap. He gazed down to the hand signed dedication on the right hand corner ‘To Harris with best wishes, Eno’.
“Is someone extracting the urine here?” he asked.
“Don’t think so.”
He shrugged, willing to play along with the joke and opened the box to find a gold card marked ‘To Jonn from Suzanne with love!’ and lying beneath was the back catalogue of Eno’s work, each and every one clearly signed by the man himself.
“Christ!” he intoned in surprise.
Christene smiled, “Is it good?”
“Good? Just a bit. How the hell did she secure this?”
“Apparently her firm does the legal work for the EG group and she got hold of Brian Eno to request this… she said there was also some unreleased stuff in there as well - something he gives to his friends at Christmas!”
Harris was already far away, carefully fingering through the incredible gift. He was lost for words.
Christene was unable to restrain her smile as she handed a second package over.
“This is from Annabelle!”
Harris was still entranced and he had to make an effort to respond.
“Annabelle? I… didn’t save her from anything, so…?”
“I have no idea, but open it and see what’s inside… I’m dying to know too!”
Once again he methodically peeled the shiny gold paper to reveal a heavy book - John Howlett’s ‘James Dean - A Biography’. Harris grinned widely.
There was a little card inside simply saying ‘For a Rebel With Great Big Claws!’ Harris laughed enthusiastically and handed it to the blonde as he leafed through the glossy pages of lush pictures he adored, noting the inscription on the frontispiece - ‘To my hero, luv Annabelle xxx’.
“Okay, sheer impression aside - how could she know this is something I’d adore?” he asked.
Christene shrugged her shoulders, “Don’t look at me, I have no idea… but I assume it’s a good thing?”
“Very. This guy is one of my Gods and the author wrote ‘Crusaders’ which ‘If’ was based on… yeah, I’m kinda impressed and very touched - I don’t understand it, but… it’s really kind.”
She liked the look on his face, he was like a little boy - all excited and delighted. Sometimes he made her think of Peter Pan, there was something quite child-like about him, the way he could become thrilled by things in the manner that most adults just eventually lost the ability to do as the practicalities of life inured them to the beautiful things staring them in the face.
Harris smiled widely, eyes shining back as he looked at her. With reluctance he went over and placed the gifts on the opposite bedside cabinet. He removed a white covered disc with the hand-written words ‘Music for Films’ and placed it on the stereo, pausing to hear the beautiful sounds wash throughout his twinkling multi coloured domain. With only the briefest pause of hesitation, he bent down, retrieving a large blue shape from within the wide bedside cabinet. She watched him move as he returned to her.
“This is for you, Christene - I hope it’s okay despite the fact that, unfortunately, it’s somewhat overshadowed now!”
She took the large, soft package wrapped in a steel blue metallic paper.
“What do you mean?”
“Just open it!” he suggested, grinning. “Christmas is running out.”
Christene gently opened the paper.
“You’re meant to rip gifts open!” he mimicked, watching her and inexplicably finding her kiss replaying once more in his head.
Christene gasped as she disposed of the paper.
“Oh, Jonn - this is too much… I can’t accept this, I really can’t!”
Her beautifully painted nails delicately touched the soft material as she examined the sheer black dress with a plunging neckline and its backless cut held by a series of the thinnest silver chains all the way down. She lifted the short dress and was unable to resist walking to the full size mirror on the door, holding it up against herself as she gazed at the reflection.
He was surprised that she seemed so impressed as she turned her head to him.
“This is the dress I saw in ‘Shiva’, isn’t it? When we went shopping that Saturday - it cost more than I make in an entire month! It’s so beautiful, I pined for this when I went home that night!” she said shakily.
“Well, now you don’t have to pine! It doesn’t compare to a Yamamoto but you’ll make it look beautiful… there’s the black arm length gloves as well - now you can be the blonde Post Modern Audrey Hepburn, just like ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’!”
Christene still stood before the mirror holding it against herself but now she looked sad, upset.
“Harris…”
“What’s the matter - I’m pretty sure it’s your size.” he said unable to tear his eyes from the pert little buttocks pressing against the shining silk. “It can’t compete with Suzanne’s stunning gift but I didn’t think it’d make you sad…”
She turned round and he now saw she was genuinely upset.
“I love Suzanne’s dress…”
“And so you should, it’s the first thing I’ve seen you in that’s as… beautiful as you are. I’m sure she sent it because you deserve good things!”
“I can’t accept this, Jonn, it cost a lot of money - too much money… and I’ve behaved like an utter shit for weeks now. And just to make clear, I love the Yamamoto - it is so beautiful… but I wanted this dress, this specific dress so badly - because I saw it, I picked it and I wanted it, even though I knew I couldn’t afford it. I want to have this so badly, but I can’t take it - you had to go without things to pay for it and I don’t like that… “
Harris tilted his head and stroked his chin. “I’m not going to put a gun to your head, Christene, but I bought it because you clearly wanted it. It’s gorgeous and if I couldn’t afford it, then I couldn’t have snagged it. Keep it, it’ll look crap on me… probably!”
She laughed and then stopped herself as she walked back to him.
“I can’t take it, Jonn… it’d make me feel bad about myself, but thank you so much - so much!”
Harris shook his head, not in irritation but comprehension.
“Shall I give it to someone else, then. How would you feel seeing somebody else wearing a dress that was made for you?”
She placed it gently over the sofa, staring at it for long moments before she sat down, demurely turning her knees to the side once more as she faced him.
“You know I want this… I picked it, in fact I even saved money to be able to buy it! But - I just can’t have you spend this amount of money on me… we’re friends and you’ve been the best friend I could have wished for - even when I’ve behaved like a jealous, spoiled child… you’ve never walked away or said a harsh word to me - not even during that ridiculous scene I put you through when I was leaving the dance. If it had been the other way about, I’d have been so… well, I’d have given up on me long before this. You don’t know what all that has meant to me… even tonight, my first real Christmas… the first time I’ve stopped hurting myself and it’s because of you. Why on earth would you spend this type of money on me? I just don’t get it - it’s not to ‘get into my knickers’, putting it coarsely, because you could have done that any time you wanted! Why?”
Harris raised his eyebrows. “Wish I’d known about the knicker thing before I spent all that money… I had to give up my Caviar and Champagne for a month to pay for that and you just… “
When he looked at her face he saw a deep sadness, saw all the things which had long tormented her begin to float to the surface as if the gift was a catalyst.
“I’m kidding! Listen, Christene, if you’re going to spend your entire life measuring out things purely by how much they cost as opposed to what they mean, then you’re a lot further down the pipe than you think. If so, you’d better take a serious look at what you are, where you are and, maybe, who you are. Possessions and money are no more than that, if you’re rich then you can buy whatever you want, but it doesn’t mean that the price is commensurate with the thought behind it or the intent in giving it. I bought you the dress because you wanted it and I wanted you to have it… that’s all!”
The lazy music of ‘Strange Light’ hauntingly filled in the space as she looked at him with an uncertain confusion.
“I don’t deserve it and I can’t take it from you.” she replied almost coldly, as if she were someone else.
Harris nodded thoughtfully and made a strange little face in response.
“Christene, if you don’t want it, that’s fine… but please don’t expect me to accept anything from you in the future - and I do mean ever! You have a principle that you need to keep, well, that’s just fine by me… so long as it cuts both ways. I’m not angry and this isn’t emotional blackmail - it’s simply that my principles won’t allow me to accept things from someone who cannot take something from me. So, I’m sorry to have offended you.”
“Oh. Jonn, that’s not it - that’s not it at all. I can’t tell you how much I love that dress and what it means that you bought it for me.”
“Well, that’s nice, Christene, thank you. So, would you like a drink or anything?”
She sighed and stroked the dress with the back of her hand as he retrieved her glass, topped it up, and handed it back towards her. Her eyes were sad.
“You’re not going to accept my gift, are you?” she asked.
“No remote possibility, won’t even open it! But thank you for the thought, because it does mean a lot to me that you bothered.”
Christene stroked the dress and then slipped the gloves on, the long black gloves that covered her arms almost to the shoulder.
“Do you always get your way, Harris?”
“No - sadly not. I just try to, for the important things!”
“You win… thank you! Thank you very, very much. It is so beautiful, even more so because I wanted it and you obviously listened to me. I love it, no-one’s made me feel they cared about me the way you have. I wasn’t trying to be a pain, it’s just hard to… take something, even when you want it badly. Maybe I do need to think about what’s happened to me because I really wasn’t… it sounded as if I was ungrateful, didn’t it?”
Harris shook his head as he watched her sitting, delicately removing the gloves, almost uncomfortably, on the sofa.
“No, it just sounded as if you need to follow the things you believe in. But sometimes we have to re-evaluate the rules once in a while… or they end up being more important than the person themselves.”
She looked over to him thoughtfully. “You’re telling me to let go of all the crap, aren’t you?”
Harris uttered a little gasping laugh. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way!”
This time she raised her eyebrow and smiled, saying nothing but searching into his eyes while she thought about it. “It’s hard, Jonn, really hard to do when you’re drowning!”
They were silent for what seemed like a long time until she glanced at the clock.
Harris followed her eyes. “What? Do you turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?”
Christene laughed and shook her head. “No, but since it’s almost midnight… Will you open my gift?”
Christene removed the last packages from the bag throwing a round tube to him.
“It’s ‘Smarties’, I know you secretly like them and they sort of go with your present. I know it’s not much, it certainly didn’t cost anything remotely like my beautiful dress cost, but I hope you like it!”
She handed the package to him and he mentally regretted that his gift had been such a thorn to her.
Harris flashed the briefest of smiles and nodded his thanks.
The package was about twelve inches by nine and wrapped in silver foil, a foil he delicately unpeeled with intrigued concentration.
“It’s really not much, Jonn, but I tried to find something everyone else wouldn’t think of.” she said almost apologetically.
For a moment he wished they had both simply not bothered with the whole Christmas gift scenario because this wasn’t any easier for him than it had been for her. He paused and considered suggesting they both just dump everything in the bin and end up watching whatever crap was droning away on the television. But he decided against adding more fuel to the fire and simply continued the unwrapping, clueless as to what it could possibly be.
With the foil removed he gasped and looked at her with a profound surprise.
“Jesus!” he said as he began to leaf through the contents of her present, reverentially stroking the five old American DC comics, each one protected by a little plastic bag.
“Doom Patrol 88, Challengers 48, Anthro 1, Batlash 1, Doom Patrol 103? This is just…”
Harris’s voice tailed off and she saw he was now visibly upset.
“Did I get it wrong? Have you got those already?” Christene asked with concern.
Harris simply shook his head and caressed the little comics that somehow held so much value to him - she could see he was suddenly very emotional and it was a bizarre sight. He said nothing, nothing at all, merely leaned back into the chair and bit his top lip.
“Jonn?”
“How could you know - even the guys wouldn’t have sussed this, nobody would have! How could you possibly know?”
Christene smiled tensely and leaned over to him.
“I hope it’s okay, but, ages ago you left your little index book lying out on the mantelpiece, I assumed there was nothing too personal in it. I looked at the gaps and these were the ones marked as ‘lost’! I went through ‘Exchange and Mart’ and found people selling comics and tracked these down. I wasn’t prying but I really wanted to get you something you loved and I know from your big ‘Doom Patrol’ poster that you like all these things, that they were something you cared about!”
Harris shook his head and touched the mass of beauty in his hands before turning to her with a strange smile.
“I love these - I cannot thank you enough for them, but even more so that you… you knew something that matters to me. Nobody knows me. Thank you, thank you so much, Christene. I’ll really treasure these until the day I die!”
She smiled a broad smile, happy to have given him something which he clearly cared for but was still astounded by his response, she had never seen him become so emotional ever before. Harris was a fascinatingly strange guy.
He stood up, gently placing the treasure on the shelf beside him, walked over and leaned forward to her face, kissing her in a lingering embrace that she found herself responding to just as he pulled away with a shy smile.
“Thank you for my beautiful present, thank you, Christene!”
Christene watched him step back as she felt her lips burning with a tingle of pleasure, realising he wasn’t going to kiss her again, suddenly aware of what his Christmas present had really meant. She stood up and touched his arm.
“Wait, Jonn…” her voice trailed off as they stood looking at one another in silence, until she let her hand slip down his arm to hold his in her own.
Harris’s eyes burned with a momentary dark fire, reflecting the supernova of tiny coloured lights behind her as she stared into them while the last minute of Christmas ticked out. There was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as he gently slipped his other arm round her waist and just stared into her eyes for a couple of seconds.
“…I should have done this a long time ago!” he breathed.
Releasing her hand he slipped both his arms round her warm body, tenderly holding her against his own and then kissed her, gently, passionately and lingeringly.
Christene felt her arms slip behind him, stroking his back and pressing him against herself as she held him tightly as long as she could.
When he stopped and pulled his head back a little to look at her, Christene took a deep breath.
“More!” she said as his smile told her all she had wanted to know.
Harris was delighted to comply as they embraced each other and kissed again.
Now it had finally become the perfect Christmas - for them both!

BEARSDEN : 12.23 - BOXING DAY
Michelle’s bedroom was a large, white walled room and immaculately tidy. Around her bed was a long string of fairy lights casting pretty coloured shadows on them both. Mhic carried a half full bottle of champagne in his left hand while the other was wound round Michelle’s waist. On the far side of the room was the stereo system and a little cupboard below, filled with albums.
She broke away from him and placed the glasses on the table by the window.
“What do you want to hear, Led Zeppelin or something romantic?” she giggled.
Mhic laughed aloud, “The devil and the deep blue sea… you choose, Miche!”
The girl giggled and looked back at him, “Carpenters?”
“Please - No!”
“Okay, Hall & Oates it is then!”
Mhic smiled at the lesser of all evils as he topped up their glasses.
Michelle leaned back against the wall as she watched him, her little pink dress with the tiny, string straps floated lightly around her from the bust down. Her dark stockings stood out seductively as she watched Mhic.
“Right, Mr Palmer, let’s see you… “
Mhic sipped his drink and offered the other to her outstretched hand, smiling at her painted beauty.
He said nothing as he placed his drink back on the table and began to remove the loosened dark tie and unbuttoned the deep blue shirt, neatly placing it over the chair.
“Nice!” she said looking at his pale skin and slim physique, resisting going over to kiss his chest.
Mhic peeled his socks off and tossed them onto his abandoned shoes before he unbuttoned his dark trousers and let them slide to the floor, stepping out and hanging them neatly. Standing in dark underwear he began to walk towards her.
Michelle shook her head. “Everything!” she giggled.
Mhic smirked and slipped out of the last garment before he stood naked across from her, only wearing the gold neck chain she had given him for Christmas.
Michelle walked towards him, then moved round him in a large
circle, noticing his gorgeous bottom. Waiting until she stood a few feet in front of him again, she then nodded. “Very nice!”
With a little smile she unzipped the side of her dress and it fell from her body to the blue carpeted floor leaving her in nothing more than black lacy pants and dark stockings.
“Now that’s nice!” Mhic said trying not to stare at the fabulous full breasts, the dark areola and the tiny hard nipples.
“Time to unwrap your last present!” she giggled.
“Always saving the best till last, eh?”
“Maybe…” she said as he knelt and slowly dragged the flimsy, expensive lace underwear to her ankles. “Stockings or not?”
“With!” he smiled.
“Take me to bed, Mhic… and thanks for a lovely Christmas and all my gifts, I love my new perfume and especially my ‘Carpenters’ album - even if you’ll never listen to it with me. It’s really been great!”
“Christmas isn’t over yet…” he said lifting her and walking to the bed.
“Oooh, don’t hold back!”
Mhic placed her on the bed and began kissing her belly, eyes flashing up to watch her as he parted her thighs and began to nuzzle the soft dark hair, making her sigh. His own organ was already a swollen mass of anticipation as he began to flicker his tongue in delicate strokes into her sex.
Michelle sighed and felt her muscles tensing in pleasure as he began to tease her swollen clitoris, moaning as he continued.
The sounds of ‘She’s Gone’ drifted through the room and Mhic’s light headed response had to be suppressed as he began to really enjoy his last present.
Her insides were oozing before the track finished as she felt herself slipping into a soft, heavenly orgasm. Michelle’s voice was so different as she moaned and threw her head to the side, groaning loudly and with secure abandon… biting her lip as she finally came in a little scattering of fluttering pleasure.
Mhic raised his head and discretely drew his left hand across his mouth, wiping his lover’s excess fluids from his face. She was so beautiful, naked and content.
Michelle finally looked at him and smiled as she nodded her head.
“Happy?” Mhic asked.
“More than I ever thought I could be. I adore you, Mhic - you make everything in my life matter. You’ll never leave me, will you?”
Mhic lay beside her and stroked her sheer dark hair then drew the back of his hand down her cheek.
“Not in this lifetime, not ever!”
“Good, because I couldn’t bear it. I’m going on the pill as soon as I can get to the Family Planning… is that okay with you?”
“So fine.” he smiled.
“Good, I don’t want to risk a potential pregnancy like we did the other week. Christene took me to get the ‘Morning After’ pill or I’d still be paranoid - so you don’t have to worry about any little Mhics on the horizon in the near future… but I’d like that one day, when I have a baby… to have your child. But for now I just want us to be safe and happy, Mhic/”
“I know it was stupid of me, I was just carried away.”
“I think I was the one doing the carrying away!”
“Well, you were pretty… cool that night.”
Michelle teased his erection, gazing lingeringly.
“Well, guess I’ll have to try harder tonight! Maybe be really cool?”
Mhic gasped as she began to intricately caress him with an uncanny expertise, it almost made him wonder where this was all coming from - but that was really something to worry about some other day, for now they were simply enjoying the best Christmas either of them had to date.
His moans filled the air as the snow began falling once more outside, but they cared little for anything except for one another and their own pleasures.

DANBRAY - TOWN CENTRE : 01.43 am - BOXING DAY
The drifting snow had paused in its assault temporarily, allowing the antecedents of its genus a temporary domination. The streets of Danbray were still predominantly white, save for the places where cars and people had long ago traversed and despoiled the purity of the white, blanket coverage. The cold night air was cracking the dampness to an icy sheen and making the undisturbed snowscape into an even crisper cover of hardened, twinkling icing. Even in the harsh and unforgiving temperature that wrapped the town, there was still a picturesque beauty to the snow.
The small figure bolted down the dim Carrick Lane running off the far end of Danbray town centre and led, like a short cut, to the Danbray Road - the gateway to the world beyond. He was dressed in bleached jeans and a dark bomber jacket which was tightly wrapped around him. Suddenly he flattened himself against the wall, the youthful eyes peered from under close cropped hair, cutting into the darkness. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the sounds of the running feet coming towards him with a crunching sound as snow condensed beneath with the impact of each pace. Clouds of floating breath hung in front of him as he panted to recapture his wind.
He couldn’t believe they had hung around for so long, he was sure that hiding on the roof of the shops for over two hours in the freezing cold would have been more than enough to ensure his safety - but even then he had suspected they were still hanging round the Town Centre like a bad smell, so he gave it another hour… almost until his limbs were nearly completely numb. Sadly, he was wrong.
If he’d turned right instead of left he might have been halfway to Vince’s place by now. That fucker, Sweeney, just clocked him coming round the corner and that was it. Where were the Blues when you needed them? Desperately he looked about for anything in the near distance along the Lane that might have had an alarm, but there was nothing in sight, no windows that a rock would set off like a screaming banshee… just another load of abandoned buildings left over from collapsed businesses that had long ceased to matter to anyone. His lungs were still on fire but he had to move, get down the Lane onto the Danbray Road and from there just take his pick of the potential destinations to run and hide.
Like a madman he ran on down the Carrick Lane, snow squelching beneath his feet. The blanket of white was untouched and it was the last thing he noticed before he hurried round the gentle curve and suddenly reached the unexpected end of the Lane - his heart sinking as he found, to his horror, that it was now all blocked up and gated, only mechanical diggers, opened pipes, steel rods, stacks of heavy metal supporting frame and small digging machinery running far into the open ground on the other side where once there had been road. Frantic eyes flickered about, desperately seeking some option, some potential avenue he could take to forestall his capture. Adhering to the wall where it met the chain link fence he looked up. He briefly wondered if he could risk the barbed wire around the gated fence but it was quite new and jutting out too far above him. His stomach collapsed as he heard his pursuers slowing and then just walk towards him.
A wine bottle sang through the air and smashed off the wall of the empty building beside him, drains of wine sprinkling his jacket. The small, lithe figure bent down and picked the broken ended piece up as the only weapon of defence available to him. Inexorably the three dark figures crunched their way towards him in slow, measured steps, sure of their prey.
“Jonesy’s gonna die.” a voice shouted.
“Come on out here, Sonny Jim! You’re all done!” said another, smugly.
Jones felt himself tense up. This was it. There was no more backing off that he could do - it was time to stand and fight, whether he wanted to or not. His small bony fist tightened around the broken bottle. As the first of them came within reach he swore that if he got out of this, there would be no more break-ins and no more clever cons - just sell the key, get the hell out of this shithole with Anita and then finally get smart. An eternity of silence ensued as a heavy built figure moved ahead in the dimness.
Jones struck first. A faint glimmer of reflected light caught the broken bottle end as it dug into the nearest unidentified figure, missing the face but sinking deep into the shoulder and bringing an ugly scream of agony. A second shadow quickly moved in and swung an ill timed blow, Jones ducked and kicked out, felling the second hostile.
It was hard to tell who was more amazed - him or them. Within the space of a heartbeat, Jones darted around them, heading back for the light source, the main road end of the Lane - and possible freedom. Lazily the blonde stretched at Jones, flashing in a silver arc. Jonesy shifted away but still felt it hit his face and run along his cheek. There was a shocking cold numbness unlike that of the night, then something hot and wet was dripping from him, making ugly plopping sounds as if dribbled onto his jacket. He hammered on without thinking of the pain or the cold numbness his body was succumbing to. His heart pounded as he ran for the main road. One of them followed close on his heels, so close as to hear the sounds of his laboured breathing.
A flash of panic exploded from Jones, but he just ran all the harder - there were no more of them up ahead. Freedom was just before him, at least the freedom of escaping the dead end Lane. With legs that pumped like pistons and powered only by sheer willpower, he ran like Sebastian Coe, leaving the others behind in his frantic wake. Suddenly Jones slid in the beautiful white snow, slipping on something hidden beneath the surface, skidding and tumbling hard - and he knew that was it, he was finished.
Instantly, stomping feet paralysed him. Ribs, kidneys, balls, head, all fell victim to the cruel rain of blows from the pursuer and then another joined in as he curled up to protect himself - but deep down, there was no doubt in his mind that his time was up.
The two of them lifted Jones and dragged him back to the isolation at the bottom of the Lane again, past the crouched figure holding onto its shoulder as blood was dribbling freely onto the whiteness, looking up with an anger that demanded revenge.
The captive was injured and stunned but tried to hold onto his sensibilities. Initially, Jones was only dimly aware of what was going on as he let his mind close off from what was happening to his body. Someone held him from behind as another punched into him, showing how brave and hard they could be, like the Young Hill Heroes they truly were. Finally, long agonising moments later, after venting their energy on him, the pair took firm hold of him and the blonde youth stepped round to face him.
“Key!” it said with outstretched hand.
“I didn’t get it!” Jones wheezed.
The sound of nervous laughter responded and then a pause before beginning again.
“Word is you’ve been sniffing round the ‘Hill! You been doing somebody up our way? Silly, silly boy - you fucked yourself!”
“I wouldn’t piss on a Fallowhill bird if she was on fire - I’d sooner fuck you, ya queer bastard, Fox!”
Fox hit him with as hard a blow as he could, turning Jonesy’s head sideways and spilling blood from the bleeding razor cut in a splattering arc. The young thief was dazed and the pain in his face now began to ache as he felt Sweeney’s hands going through his pockets while Fox grinned like a leering skull.
“Where’s the fuckin’ key?” Foxy demanded.
“Maybe I swallowed it!”
“Give me it, Jones! Where the fuck is it?”
“You can have it tomorrow, so long as you’re prepared to rummage through my shite - but you’re used to that, you fudge packing cunt!
Fox kneed him in the groin and Jones sprayed vomit in a sudden fountain of hot yellow spew all over Fox’s custom made trousers.
“Fuck’s sake, Foxy, that’s mingin’!” Sweeney moaned standing back from the puke zone.
The blonde youth’s eyes were blazing as he stood in shock for a moment before letting his temper take control - just like he always did, with it controlling him rather than he controlling it. He promptly moved in to Jones, ready to cause some serious damage but he didn’t expect the next movement at all. Jones aggressively hammered his head forward with a blistering savagery he wished he could repeat for another hundred times to make up for what this piece of inhuman shite had done to Anita. The effect was stunning as Jones’ forehead collided with the scum’s face in a powerful blow which splattered Fox’s nose with a resounding crunch that raised a loud and unexpected scream. Sweeney was stunned for a moment, initially failing to believe what his eyes told him. The dark haired youth moved forward to assist the staggering Mainman who now fell backwards onto the snow where the oozing nasal blood began to sprinkle out over the pure, crisp whiteness. Sweeney quickly moved to Fox, ignoring the anger powered Jones, kneeling to try and assist his comrade.
Even in this vulnerable state, Jones knew that now was the only time he had a remote chance, with a silent prayer he shoved back hard against the figure still holding him from behind, the image of Anita burning in his mind. As the captor hit the wall with a billowing thud, there quickly followed a scream of pain as his bleeding shoulder took the impact - Jones broke free and just ran.
Fox’s nasal whine filled the night air, “Fugg! Get him, fuggin’ get him, Vick!”
Sweeney moved from Fox like lightning, jumping up like a runner from the block and instantly slithering to a staggered fall that echoed throughout the lane.
The bleeding, impaired Jones ran as fast and as best he could, using every iota of strength left in his body and not even looking back. The main road was up ahead, streetlights and freedom. He risked a glance back, Sweeney was coming and Fox was staggering to his feet whilst the third one was juddering ahead slowly between the two. Silent prayers resonated through Jonesy’s head unlike any since he was a child. His heart was pumping, his body aching, blood flowing from the facial slash as he raced on and on to the road. Behind him he could hear the speedy thumping of Sweeney’s feet becoming louder. The road was just ahead, nearing with every stride, getting closer to where maybe, just maybe, he could get attention in his helpless desperation. The road was so close to him as he kept running, but the sounds behind him were getting louder - or was that the violent thumping of his own beating heart? He felt the streetlights hit him like sunshine and he risked a glance behind once more. The pursuer was less than ten yards from him as Jonesy ran on, finding strength in his terror and determination, praying silently again and glancing back, wildly pounding on into the road.
The driver of the bottle green Austin Allegro had already collided with the running body before he could even hit the brakes. The ugly sound of harsh metal folding and the chromium bumper condensing, blended seamlessly with the unique audio information that only comes with collapsing bone, ripping flesh and exploding organs as the horrified driver watched the accident victim fold and collapse forward with the inertia of a falling boulder to dent the bonnet with a deep impact before bouncing away and flying ahead like a rag doll. The car, now braking with locked, skidding wheels, simply slithered about - out of control. Panic reflected in the helpless driver’s eyes as he watched, in fragmented glimpses, the floating figure move ahead towards the wall and then he saw it was the same wall the car itself was inexorably sliding to.
There was an almighty crash of rending metal, breaking glass and shuddering brickwork before the ugly stillness.
The man in the driving seat didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know if he had hit the side window or had hammered into the steering wheel, didn’t know why his arm was immobilised, didn’t know if he had briefly become unconscious or whether these last few seconds were just ugly, eternal moments of darkness. There was now severe pain in his neck, in his back and all down his side with something wet and uncomfortable dripping down his face. He tried to feel for damage, but didn’t know why, tried to remember what had happened and how he ended up here, wherever he was… and then unfortunately remembered the running body he had unwillingly ploughed into.
In panic he looked around, his heart racing uncontrollably in fear and horror, but it was only as he looked to his left, to the passenger side that he found the answer. Jones’s head was peeking in the broken window, lolling like a collapsed puppet’s with the left arm folded back around the neck as if his left hand was scratching his right shoulder. The blood was oozing out from a multitude of openings that were once Jones’s face as it peered into the car, running and dripping onto the Allegro’s crushed passenger section which was now compressed so close the driver could easily just reach over to touch the head. The dead eyes stared accusingly at the driver and the man began screaming!

BEARSDEN : 02.13 am - BOXING DAY
With the expensive record player on repeat, the John Martyn album just played the same side again and again. The bedroom was dim and the mass of Christmas lights cast hundreds of divergent shadows throughout the room, hanging over framed pictures, stretching from one side of the room to the other in repeated rows. It looked beautiful and added to the strange, echoplexed sounds of ‘Solid Air’… but the occupants of the bed were unaware of its sonic influence. It was warm and cosy in the large bed and the enormous windows revealed occasional drifts of falling snow against the rich darkness of the night. This was the only room where there was any sound, even downstairs in the opulent living room, the figure stretched out on the sofa was embracing the silence of the candle lit room and the silence within his own disappointed soul.
He wasn’t sure when he began to awaken, sounds had drifted in and out of his conscious mind a few times before but on each occasion he fell back into a velvety blackness that was unlike anything he had known previously. The dark eyes opened slowly, mentally being forced to stay open, questioning the environment around him. His mouth was dry and unwilling to allow tongue to separate from palate. The radiant lights revealed a glass of something on the cabinet close to the bedside… in this light it was impossible to tell what colour it really was, but it looked wet. An uncertain hand stretched out, suddenly noticing the air heavy with smoke, perfume and some other amalgamated scents that were just impossible to identify. Still thirsty, the hand reached out and felt the glass shifting to topple as clutching fingers completely failed to estimate its location as if observing everything through a distorting lens. His heart raced in an unnatural panic as he hastily recalculated and stopped its fall, finally gripping it securely. The thirst was raging and he took a hefty sip of what appeared to be dark liquid that had a familiar odour… or was it the room. The liquid eased the dryness in his mouth but burned his throat and made him splutter quietly - Black Heart Rum, he didn’t drink Rum.
The glass was abandoned and he noticed his limbs felt uncomfortable, not so much stiff but as if he had been exerting energy, like a runner might and awakening next day to the tingling discomfort of drained muscle tissue. The music was lush and atmospheric, music he knew well but not usually sounding like this acoustically. Trembling fingers raked through the mop of dark hair and he shifted up the bed a little becoming aware of his nudity.
Where was he? The inquisitive creature stared about him at the host of coloured lights. It was a large, expensive bedroom and it certainly wasn’t his. At least, he didn’t think it was.
How did he get here? The events of the day were retraced but they were mere flashes of information, glimpses of something or other but there was nothing cohesive about any of it. But he was fairly sure he was indeed here - wherever that was. He wasn’t dreaming, he didn’t think so anyway, he could still feel the burning taste in his throat and dreams didn’t tend to be so… real!
What time was it? He looked off to his left but didn’t see a clock, there was something on the far wall but somehow he just couldn’t manage to focus that far.
Who am I? He laughed aloud at that… ‘Who am I?’ It was so ridiculous to ask - wasn’t it? He felt his mind echoing the question without the answer.
The figure beside him stirred and he jumped in shock, feeling his heart race again. The naked body stretched its legs and he felt a soft thigh moving to slide against his own as he began to focus in on the body with indeterminate hair scattered everywhere. Somehow he felt information seeping into his mind again.
“Pam? Pam, are you awake?”
There was no response save for a soft, sultry moan he was familiar with. With a sense of relaxation he slipped down the bed again, letting his hand gently caress the smooth thigh as he unconsciously slid it upwards to a crux of intense body heat and untidy pubic hair. It suddenly provided some security, but where the hell were they and how did they get there and how did they end up together when she was going to Edinburgh for Christmas dinner with her uncle or something. Something ugly began to glimmer from the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite remember as it quickly flashed away. His eyes began to half close again as his fingers stroked the sticky wetness of her opened sex as she lay with parted thighs.
“Mmmm, Pam… where are we? What time is it?”
“David?” she replied uncertainly.
“Mmmm, where are we? You’re so wet, Pam… were we?”
The girl moved with a yearning moan and he felt her hand immediately go to his stiffening organ as he reluctantly gave a sigh of pleasure as the fingers began an unusual manner of gratification, pressing into the wetness of his penis and a single finger pushed deep into the foreskin and slid round the hard glans in a sweep of arousal that made him moan aloud.
“Jesus!” Dave sighed, “You’re full of surprises, these days, Pam!”
The finger stopped and harshly removed itself with a spike of discomfort to Dave.
“Did you just call me Pam, David?”
The alarm bells went off like archive footage of the VE day celebrations and with a racing heart he turned his entire body to…
“My name is Ruth, remember? R - U - T - H ! I thought you’d got all that out your system hours ago!”
The pretty girl turned to him and looked over as she swept her long, auburn hair away from her face, revealing a relaxed smile that was every bit as appealing as her irresistible, naked bust.
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Dave almost shouted as he involuntarily jumped back in shock.
Ruth giggled, he really was an entertaining partner, handsome, witty, very physical and now quirkily amusing - he hadn’t revealed that side of himself earlier. With a mischievous little grin she moved over and stretched her thigh across him, laughing louder as he pretended to try and move away. She felt herself surrendering to the giggles as she sat astride him in her nudity, absolutely unable to help herself as the drugs in her system forced her hysterical laughter jag. He suddenly reminded her of Stan Laurel and she imagined mounting him - it was so ridiculous, she could almost hear it in the tone of his voice and she just fell on him laughing and laughing and laughing… completely unable to let herself mount him again.
Dave’s face was a scream, even as he lifted her aside and tossed her back to the other side of the bed - and all Ruth could do was wriggle about, helpless with laughter.
With a frantic leap he dived out the bed and fell on the floor, but she just laughed all the more enthusiastically.
“Stoppit, stoppit, stoppit, stoppit, Dave, this is killing me!”
Dave struggled to his feet, his face painted a mask of horror!
“Bwaaahahahahahahahahah, just, hahahahhahhaa stop stop stop!” Ruth rolled about helplessly, completely unable to halt her laughter - even as he stood there, naked and fully erected with that stupid look!
“Stan…hahhhhbwahhahhaaaah, Staahahahhahhhah - Stan hahhha Laurellahahahahah - Stopitstopstopstooohhahhahhahh!”
Dave was truly horrified, not because of her behaviour but because he knew who she was - Stevie’s girlfriend, or was before the dance and party apparently, or maybe she still was or was she? But she wasn’t his girlfriend, she wasn’t Pam!
“Ruth, Ruth! Ruth… stop it!” Dave exclaimed sternly, pointing at her.
But she couldn’t, now he was like Will Hay in those stupid school master films. Why hadn’t she realised how utterly hilarious he was before? He always seemed the sullen one of Harris’s people - and he wasn’t, no no no no no, not a bit!
Dave’s embarrassment, forced him to sit down, crouch, kneel at the side of the bed, leaning forward to her.
“Ruth? Ruth? What’s going on?”
“Ask a policeman! Bwaaaahhhahaha, I’m still wasted, shit! Merry Christmas, Dirty Dave… haah hahha hah ha haa, oh, God - why weren’t you as funny earlier?”
Dave shook his head, gazed down at his nudity and unwilling erection before he stared into her eyes harshly. “I’m not trying to be funny!”
“Come back to bed, I want to mount you again, I love that position, works for me… Dave! Dave? David?”
Slowly he watched her, watched the jag begin to pass as she wriggled away, face down across the bed, revealing herself in intimate detail as she reached out for the glass of whisky on the cabinet on her side of the bed. Dave wanted to look away but he couldn’t, just couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of her opened legs and deliciously rounded bottom spread wide as she guzzled the liquid until the drink was completely consumed. She raised her rump before turning round on all fours with her full breasts shifting in a captivating motion.
Ruth exhaled an enormous sigh and flopped down on the bed looking up.
“Sorry, it’s just all the shit running through me - I really got the giggles there. What’s up? Come back to bed, I’m not finished yet… I never came so many times in this bed… I’m glad you don’t mind me being on top, David, because…”
“It’s Dave, not David, Dave! And I have no fucking idea where I am or what I’m doing here!”
Ruth giggled and bit her lip to stop herself slipping back into her hilarious madness again.
“Stop it, I’ve had enough laughing, I’m sore - ‘Dave’! Just come back to bed!”
“Where are we, Ruth?”
“Emm, let me see… in the bedroom!”
“How did I end up in your bedroom?”
Ruth looked puzzled, “You are so totally wasted, I told you not to smoke that crap… you’re not ready to… you shouldn’t do drugs, drugs you can’t handle! I won’t touch that stuff but you just went at it and… it didn’t stop you when we went to bed, did it? You almost dragged me up here… well, not dragged me - but you ran up ahead of me!”
Dave raked his hair with his hands and felt very uncomfortable about his nudity. His eyes drifted far away, trying to remember - remember anything really. He got on his bike, phoned Jonn, no, someone else. Fuck, he didn’t know who, but he went wherever it was and they started celebrating, no - not quite celebrating, it was something… he didn’t know what, but it wasn’t celebrating. Somehow he ended up at Ruth’s but from the noise they made her parents weren’t home - were they?”
“When are your parents coming back?” Dave asked agitatedly.
Ruth looked back uncomprehendingly, slowly beginning to find the humour become somewhat stilted as her laughter jag was now no more than a pleasant memory.
“My parents? Back from where? They haven’t gone anywhere, they’ll be sawing the logs as we speak!”
“In the fucking house?” he hissed.
“No, Dave, sleeping in the garden and waking up like icicles - yes, in the house!”
“Jesus, won’t they freak if they catch us!”
Ruth was beginning to sense something was deeply amiss here.
“Caught us? Like, ‘caught us’ - caught us? …you banging away at me like a demented miner and me sitting on that twin piston jackhammer? No, I’m sure they’d be just thrilled and phone round the rest of the family to ask them all to pop over and watch their daughter getting shagged like a common Prossie! They’d go ‘Radio’, I’m confident of that and my father would undoubtedly want to kill you... so yes, ‘freak’ might be too, how can I put this? …too trivial a term! Are you thinking of telling them, Dave?”
“Fuck no!” he groaned, standing up and looking for his clothes. “I have to go! Shit, where are my clothes?”
The girl looked from side to side and tilted her head in complete puzzlement.
“You cannot possibly drive that bike in the state you’re in. You’re still loaded and you also hammered a helluvan amount of booze - there’s no way I’m going to let you get on that bloody machine for hours yet!”
“I have to go.”
“No, you don’t - you don’t have anywhere to run to… or so you said anyway!”
“Shit!” Dave exclaimed, quite unaware she was watching his naked wandering with more than a little concentration. “What if your parents come in?”
“What? Here? Why would they come in here… they’re miles away!”
Dave stopped in his tracks, relaxing from the immediate horror.
“Jesus, that’s something. So we’re not at your house?”
Ruth sat up and folded her legs, worrying now.
“Dave, come and sit down, I promise not to force you into more sex if that’ll calm you down. You have to get a grip of yourself, I’m beginning to think you’re not feeling okay and that’s making me just a little freaked out… so please sit down. Dave? Please, just relax, it’s fine, it’s only the chemicals. You’re really not used to any kind of drugs are you?”
Dave paused, finding his black jumper and felt himself about to pull it on when he suddenly realised how utterly ridiculous he’d look with his genitals, in fact everything naked from the waist down under his black jumper. He threw it aside and his shoulders fell as he slunk back to the bed and flopped down on the side, covering himself with the sheet and slipping up the bed to look at her. Then he had to avoid looking at her nakedness.
Ruth made a strange little expression as she flickered her eyebrows up and down before tilting her head with a little exasperation. She reached back and grasped down to the side of the bed, grabbing the flimsy white dress and tugging it over her head.
“You can look now, my whore’s body’s covered again!” she said pulling the dress around her, dragging the tight elasticated bust section below her breasts and letting the flowing garment fall to cover the rest of her. “You don’t know where we are? Really?”
Dave silently nodded.
“So that’s why you asked about my parents? Because you thought this was my house and we were in my bedroom having sex, a lot of sex actually, and they might find us?”
It sounded stupid when she put it that way but that was the truth of the matter. He nodded sheepishly again.
Ruth made a little laugh. “Well, I can see why you went crazy. We’re not at my house, you don’t have to worry, nobody’s parents are home, well… they’re almost never home as far as I can tell, even at the best of times. We’re at Stevie’s!”
Dave’s face went white. “Stevie’s?” he repeated incredulously.
“Stevie’s!” Ruth reassured him, “So stop worrying!”
“And Stevie would be where?”
“Downstairs, of course, so loaded he won’t be back in the land of the living until Boxing Day lunchtime is nothing more than a distant memory!”
Dave dropped his head into his hands, how the hell had he got into all this mess?
“Jesus, Ruth, Stevie’s my friend. Christ… and I’m up here in the sack with his girlfriend, doing… doing…?”
Ruth shrugged and pulled her dress a little to discretely tug the bust down a shade.
“Doing pretty well, actually, Dave!”
“Oh - My - God!” the other gasped as a series of images flashed, lingered briefly and then dissipated as he tried his best to block it out, but blocking out all the crap was how he’d ended up here in the first place! “Look, Ruth, I’m so sorry about this. If I’ve… well, if I… with you, and I! Shit! I dragged you up here? Christ… I didn’t…?”
Dave just couldn’t bring himself to say it but she did.
“Force yourself on me?”
With reluctance, he nodded.
Ruth laughed, “No, hardly. I’m beginning to think that it’s clearly the other way about!”
“No, Ruth, I’m sorry - I just can’t get my head round this. I didn’t mean to make you feel… feel like a…” he trailed off because every time he opened his mouth to explain or try and comprehend what had taken place, it simply made it worse.
“Like a slut?” she inquired icily. “No, I feel pretty great right now, thanks!”
“No, not that, you’re not, I’m sure you’re not. I just can’t believe I could do something so utterly rotten as to sleep with my friend’s girlfri…” he stopped and hardly dared look over. Somehow he had managed to go from making the girl feel like a slut to now clarifying it to be a rotten, two timing slut.
Her face was a mask of mortification and she climbed off the bed in utter silence, walking over to the wall and flipping a small hidden cabinet open. Ruth pulled out two cans of Coke and brought them back, sitting down on the bed again and offering him one.
“Drink it, Dave, it’ll bring your blood sugar up again and maybe that’ll help you stop splattering my ego for a while, huh?”
Dave tugged the ring pull and placed it on the cabinet as he thirstily swallowed, downing over half the contents before pausing. Ruth sipped at her own gently.
They looked at each other in silence for some time as the music played on.
“I don’t know what to say, Ruth, except I’m sorry. Sorry if I took advantage, sorry if I offended you and sorry… hah, sorry I can’t remember much except a pretty vile sense of guilt!”
Ruth smiled a little and stroked his arm, this time he didn’t go nuclear.
“Dave, I had a nice time - I like you and felt a little sorry for you when you told me all that stuff about your family and Pamela and even the way you just feel so lost sometimes. It’s not very often a guy can admit stuff like that and I was impressed with your honesty. You just seemed to need something to make an ugly day a little less ugly - just to forget all the troubles, so when we kissed it didn’t seem like much to lose sleep over. And the rest… History. You don’t think Stevie really cares what we’ve been doing up here, do you? I caught him with his hands in Judy’s pants before we went upstairs, so my guilt levels are pretty low to be honest. It’ll take a real hard nosed bitch to put Stevie in his place and I really don’t care enough to play that role for him - I’m not going to end up as a substitute mother for any man!”
Dave dropped his head onto his free hand as micro flashes of the day splattered back like a Jackson Pollok painting made of fragmented memories. He groaned inwardly.
“I’m Stevie’s girlfriend but he doesn’t own me and I’ve been with other people while we’ve been together - he’s no saint and we get along the way we do because we get along, and that’s it! Stevie likes pretty things, that’s what I’m here for as far as he’s concerned... and when the next one comes along, I’ll just be another memory. So don’t get all guilt ridden - he was the one who got you loaded and I did say it wasn’t an answer to your problems any more than it’s an answer to his. Drugs are a serious business and when you use them for anything more than fun then you’re on your way to hell - they don’t solve anything whether you’re buying them from some low life or being fobbed off with tranquillisers from your doctor. Whatever you’re running away from is still there when the drugs have run out and then you’re a lot less able to deal with fixing it, just ask my mother! You got seriously loaded and let it go at that - just learn from your mistakes.”
Dave still felt like crap - he’d betrayed Stevie, he’d betrayed Pam and probably hadn’t done Ruth any favours. He merely nodded in response.
Ruth stood up, inadvertently flashing her nudity at him briefly as the billowing dress only slowly drifted down to finally cover the very pleasant body he’d apparently spent himself in. Ruth noticed his eyes watching her this time and she simply smiled to herself, men really were much of a much when it came to things like that.
“Right, let’s get your clothes together and fix this uncomfortable situation for all concerned.” she ordered as she gathered the scattered clothing.
“Fix it - how?”
“Just start getting dressed firstly, then we’re going downstairs to bring Stevie up here to recuperate - obviously I’ll undress him - and when he wakes up he’ll think he’s had another wild night in bed with me… well, I’ll genuinely be able say to him that Christmas night was the most pleasure I’ve ever had in his bed!” Ruth coldly stated with a wry grin.
Dave’s head hung low as he dressed again, his nudity now being the least of his worries. He hardly dared ask if she was serious because he got the impression that she was.
“Are you okay with all that?” she asked as he tugged his jumper on.
He was about to suggest that it was so duplicitous that he didn’t feel comfortable with it, but the other choice was to follow his instincts and tell Stevie that he’d got loaded and had sex with his girlfriend… and that somehow that didn’t sound very credible either, especially as he could genuinely remember very little of it. All the guilt and none of the glee.
Ruth snapped her fingers until he clicked back, struggling into his shoes and felt he was fully dressed again - checking once more that his underwear was indeed beneath his trousers.
“Well, actually, Ruth…”
She interrupted, “It was rhetorical - it’s what we’re going to do! I’ll be the one to give Stevie the bullet when it suits me, there are no other options being presented here!”
Dave raised his eyebrows and very reluctantly nodded.
Ruth stood in front of him, tall and pretty with the scent of her ‘Tabu’ drifting off her dress.
“When he’s safely tucked up in bed you should get another couple of hours sleep on the sofa - do not drive until five am at least, okay?”
Dave just nodded like a victim of shellshock - which he was, in a way.
He didn’t even see it coming as she gave him a little peck on the lips with a pleasant smile.
“Thanks for a great time, Dave, it’s nice to sleep with someone who knows what he’s doing for a change. Pity it won’t happen again… in a way. Oh, one last thing - dump that demented bitch before she twists your head beyond repair… find someone who appreciates who you are, not what they want you to be! Right, let’s get to work!”
Dave watched her sashay out the door, the pretty rounded buttocks locking his gaze like a fleshy metronome and he followed her with a heavy heart, but he did follow.
Whatever he had done to blot all this shit out, it was a one off - never again. Never!
He rolled his eyes and heard a voice in his head say, ‘Here’s another fine mess…!’
This had certainly been a truly unique Christmas for him, one that was categorically never to be forgotten, no matter how ironic that term was!
It was a frighteningly hideous thought, but maybe he’d have been better off just staying home for Christmas.

ELSEWHERE : 02.34 BOXING DAY
The stocky man stood high on the snow flecked rocks, watching the waves smash against the cliff walls relentlessly. Each time they struck there seemed to be a renewed vigour to the attack. His podgy face was a portrait of sadness. The striped tie which thrashed about so wildly in the wind was discarded in a smooth, swift motion. Sea breezes blew the tailored suit with awkward regularity, exposing a blue shirt which strained and revealed a chubby belly cultivated through a lifetime’s drinking and avoidance of exercise. Thin eyes stared down, estimating the height of the cliff-top to the sea below. Tears rolled down the cheeks in a staggered flow over unshaven jowls to fall haphazardly on his clothes. His mind ran through scenes from his life as if through a timeslip kaleidoscope. The tears fell more freely now, as clear as the last traces of the Gordon’s gin which dripped out slowly from the broken green bottle.
At fifty five, Thomas Harvey had envisioned himself being moderately wealthy and in a good position within some prestigious Accountancy firm. It was funny how life could work out, twisting the things you tried to do for the right reason and just making them go wrong.
There wasn’t even anyone in his life that he could turn to. He mused how the one time love of his life had become the slut of a wife - slovenly looks and pathetic affairs, all undertaken behind his back. Of course there was never any real proof - but he knew. Even his children, the two children he assumed were brought from the seeds of his body, couldn’t care less - full of hypocrisy and empty promises. It was just take, take, take with them all. He stood at the cliff edge, braving the cutting wind and the spits of cold, driving snow that taunted him. It was a wasted life, he believed, full of failure, disappointment and depraved stupidity. How far he had come from the aggressive young man he once had been. Oh, how he was going to set the world on fire - that was a joke. Slowly descending into petty affairs and mundane interests - it all crept up on him before he could do anything about it.
Then there was the random chance meeting, the offer of making good money for just a little risk… then a little more and then a little more, until they owned him body and soul. Anything he did was only on their say so, as it suited them, signing off on tax, granting and funding applications, becoming almost prominent in the local community as if completely unstained and tainted by the filthy business he was up to his neck in.
Now he was lost, there were no great options - take the money and run, run and hide, tell the truth and maybe die! He was in trouble and he’d seen these people dealing with other offenders before - he didn’t want to experience that, not for all the tea in China. And so here he was, alone again!
No key, no Swiss Passbook and worst of all his private book - the thing he had maintained and rigorously documented everything that had happened for almost ten years as an insurance policy, was gone… and he had no idea where, taken by whom or why. But if it was his employers, as he deeply suspected - for who else could know about his complicity - then he didn’t want to risk attending work or answering the door or even walking round the next corner where they could be lurking.
Now, he had only one real choice - the one that had brought him here, the one last thing he could do to escape from ever falling into their clutches, the thing he could do to evade the ongoing quagmire of his home life… the thing he could do to allow himself to shuffle off this mortal coil with some sense of dignity and justice. He was here on the cliff edge of nowhere, and if he was here to end the pain, then he was truly lost!
He steeled himself, preparing to finally do something positive - his only Christmas present, from him and to him… Freedom!
Somehow, maybe it was the booze, he found the courage and leapt into space, feeling for minuscule instants the thrill of free fall - occurring at exactly the same time that he wished to go back. The rocks rushed towards him as though on the attack. Harvey’s spluttering heart had long given up its work before the body exploded on the stones below like a huge, over-ripe tomato. The tracks of blood being cleansed away by the same water which swiftly claimed his body and yet, these same waves were unable to wipe the legacy of his actions and documentations so easily - the echoes of those waves would reverberate long after his name was forgotten.
Thomas Harvey was destined to become another four line wonder in the regional evening paper - as he had been from birth.

DANBRAY : 3.12 am BOXING DAY
In empty streets where another Christmas had already faded, there was indeed near silence in the still of the night. A rich, bluey-blackness dominated the once brilliant white of now used snow. The sky smiled clearly in random patches, flickering stars occasionally shining silver - looking down on earth. Rays of moonlight periodically illuminated the dim streets, twinkling as the cloudy lumps of snow fell within the shafts of its influence.
Snow fell oblivious to all that happened. The snow fell indifferently on all travellers, whether or not they were good or bad, rich or poor, white or black, man or monster, young or old… it didn’t matter, for nature held no prejudices. It fell equally. It fell evenly. But it fell constantly.
For some it represented a symbol of seasonal beauty, to others it brought happiness - just from being warm in bed while outside the chilly elements railed… and for some it brought death and tragedy.
Outside the homes where people were snugly ensconced, the snow continued to fall - as always.
For some the day was a beginning, for others the norm and for some - the end, impartially.