It was the first of Christmases for young Rachel and her even younger brother, though for all the wrong reasons. Their first not spent in the little terrace by the railway that had been home, their first without the warmth of a parent.
Their mother had passes with pneumonia two years previously when Rachel was but ten and Sam eight, leaving the girl to quickly develop a mature head and become the nest maker. Father worked hard to ensure their lot a comfortable one, until the accident four months ago which took him from them and the only life they knew.
It seems an odd thing to say at this stage, but they did have blessings to count in that their father worked on the railway where he sadly met his Waterloo, so to speak. This qualified them for the Webb Orphanage, an establishment set up during 1912 from a generous legacy left by Francis Webb for the welfare of the Crewe railway workers and their families. At least they were spared the horrors of the workhouse or being separated except for the segregation of dormitories.
In fact the orphanage was a good, warm place. They were clothed, well fed and schooled by staff who showed genuine kindness for their charges. Even the local picture house granted the orphans free admission to the flickers on Saturday afternoons. But there was just one fly in the ointment and he came by the name of Tommy.
Though not quite turned fourteen, being older and bigger than the other children convinced Tommy this qualified him to throw his weight around. His bullying was more verbal than physical, usually mocking the others, making fun of their weaknesses and taking pleasure in undermining them.
Of course, he was good as gold in front of the staff, pretending to be the protective big brother to the smaller charges. In reality it was Rachel who was the defensive one, often standing up between the bullying boy and those he picked on. Life had equipped her with that skill at least.
The morning of Christmas Eve had been spent decorating the dorms and the main hall, followed by a feast of toasted crumpets by the crackling fire under the upstairs gallery, while the house matron entertained them with festive tales.
‘Now,’ she concluded, ‘Father Christmas will be coming after lights out, and if you have been good he will leave you a present under the tree.’ She pointed at the decorated fir tree put up at the other end of the hall.
An excited Sam cried out ‘Will he know me and Rachel are here?’ Sat at the edge of the huddled group, Tommy pulled a sneering face as Matron replied ‘Yes, as long as you don’t peek. You must be fast asleep when he comes.’
Rachel put a loving arm around her brother, delighted to see him so happy after the miseries they had endured. She, of course, was past believing, but Sam’s joy was a Christmas present enough. Then Tommy had to stick his oar in.
‘And we know what happens to kids who aren’t good, don’t we Matron?’
She looked at him quizzically. ‘And what is that, Thomas?’
‘The Krampus comes for them, and takes them away, and does wicked things with them.’
The children looked horrified, Rachel angrily dismayed and Matron gave an indulgent smile.
‘Don’t tease like that, I’m surprised at you,’ she scolded. No when else was surprised, mind.
Turning back to the assembled orphans, she added ‘Take no notice, our Thomas is of an age for not believing.’ Looking back at him, she added ‘And he won’t get anything if he is not careful.’
It was after supper that Tommy made a beeline for Rachel and Sam as they prepared to retire to their respective dorms, and made his address directly at the young boy.
‘There’s no such thing as Father Christmas, you know, so don’t get any hopes up of him coming.’
Rachel was about to respond angrily when Sam decided to stand up to the bully himself, asserting ‘Yes there is, and yes he will!
‘Come on,’ he retorted and looked at Rachel. ‘Your sister doesn’t believe it, I can tell. So isn’t it time you told him?’
She came back with a different tact. ‘If there are presents under the tree tomorrow, who else would have put them there?’
‘One of the staff, it’s obvious. They’re all charity stuff.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ she muttered into Sam’s ear, determined his happy illusion should not be shattered.
‘Right mother hen, you are,’ Tommy mocked and shuffled himself off to the senior dorm.
Rachel took her brother by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. ‘Now don’t let him upset you, he is a bad ‘un.’
‘I know,’ Sam assured. ‘I know Father Christmas will come tonight, he won’t let us down.’
She smiled down on him. ‘And what would you like Father Christmas to bring you?’
‘Dad back, of course.’
It was in the dark small hours of Christmas morning when Rachel was awakened by her brother, stood by the side of her bed in his dressing gown. Rubbing her eyes, she whispered ‘What are you doing here? you’re not supposed to come into the girl’s dorm.’
‘He’s here!’ Sam said excitedly.
‘Who?’
‘Father Christmas, he’s in the great hall. Just saw him going to the tree with his sack.’
‘Oh, you’ve been dreaming.’
‘No, I wasn’t in bed. I went to peep through the door to the gallery and he came in. Come and see if you don’t believe me.’
Reluctantly, his sister quietly got up and put on her gown, Sam then taking her by the hand as they snuck out the dorm and leading her up the stairs to the gallery door which had been left ajar. Indicating she should look through the gap, Rachel carefully pushed the door further open and looked down in surprise.
Sure enough she could see the back of a red cloaked and hooded figure pulling out one parcel after another from his sack, adding to a large pile already surrounding the tree. The question that occurred to her was how could he have produced them all from that one sack?
‘What are you two doing?’ They both turned to find the sharp whisper came from Tommy who stood before them.
‘I’ll report you both. You know wandering around after lights out is punishable.’
‘Quiet!’ Sam piped up. ‘Father Christmas is here, he’ll hear you.’
‘Oh, that fairy story won’t spare you,’ the boy responded before noticing the look on Rachel’s face was more than that of immediate concern.
‘Take a look for yourself,’ she said indicating to the partially open door.
They both stepped aside as Tommy did as suggested, putting his head around the door for a few seconds and turning back with his customary reptilian smile.
‘That’ll be Mr. Blakely dressed up in case if any of you were peeping.’ He was referring to the caretaker.
‘Bet it isn’t!’ said Sam in a raised whisper.
‘All right, you two stop here and watch.’
Tommy headed down the stairs and they guessed his intention. Concealing themselves behind the partially open door with heads peering around it, they watched as Tommy approached the figure from behind and then spoke.
‘That you then, Mr. Blakely?’
The figure stopped, remaining still for a moment and then turned. The face within the hood was that of a benign looking rotund man with a fuzzy white beard which looked silently down on Tommy.
‘Oh, maybe it’s you then, Matron?’ the boy chuckled.
Even from where they stood, Rachel and Sam could see the man’s eyes turning black and malevolent, his beard sharpening and expression fierce. Tommy instinctively turned and began running, but the figure reached out an arm which rapidly lengthened like a telescope, a claw like hand grabbing the boy by his neck.
Tommy screamed as the arm retracted, dragging him back to the waiting open mouth of the sack. He was tumbled in headfirst, the sack seemingly swallowing him like a huge gullet, his kicking feet being the last of him to disappear. The figure then twisted the sack shut and threw it over his shoulder.
Rachel and Sam froze as the figure began making its way in the direction of a now cold fireplace, the sack alive with kicking and struggling as if containing unwanted kittens. But before disappearing from view, the figure stopped and looked up in the direction of the two children, Rachel quickly putting her hand over Sam’s mouth and praying the gallery area was took dark for them to be detected from down there.
Whether satisfied or not, the figure lowered its head again and made its way out by whatever means brought it there.
Once the pair got a hold of themselves, a quick minded Rachel briefed her brother to keep quiet for now. They awakened the night matron with a knock on her door and Rachel claimed Sam had come to her shaken after a bad dream. They were allowed to spend the remainder of the night in the sickroom.
The festivities of the day were marred by the news Tommy had disappeared from his bed, maybe absconded for whatever reason. Marred for the staff, that is, for as far as the other orphans were concerned his absence was the best Christmas present of all.
Rachel and Sam kept up a semblance of cheerfulness and it was only during the preparations for Christmas dinner she managed to get him alone having had time to think the situation through.
‘We should tell them,’ her brother pleaded.
‘No! That’s the very thing we should never do!’
‘You think they won’t believe us, is that it?’
‘Yes, and something else. Sam, whoever that was I think he knew we were watching.’
‘Then why didn’t he put us in his sack?’
She shrugged ‘Maybe he knows we won’t tell. So if we do, he may come back.’
Sam’s eyes rolled down. He knew she was right. ‘And even if we did, there’s nothing they can do I suppose.’
‘No, and nothing we can do. So we must swear never to speak of this again, not even to each another. It was just a bad dream, you understand?’
The boy nodded his head. ‘All right, but just one thing. What do you think he’s done with Tommy?’
‘Perhaps turned him into one of his little helpers,’ she said with wishful thinking.
Writing Without Tears 