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A Chalet Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas

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The CBB -> St Scholastika's House

#1: A Chalet Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas Author: Secret Santa, Location: The North Pole

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 12:15 am
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Note: There will be Five Staves.

Stave I: Deira’s Ghost

“Deira is as dead as a doornail,” Grizel thought to herself, as she counted out pennies on her music-shop counter. “It is seven years just today, I believe.”

It was Christmas Eve, and Grizel was working late even though most people had broken from work for the holiday season. She had come home to the Gornetz Platz after her business venture with Deira O’Hagan had ended in Australia with Deira’s death. It turned out that a music-shop had been just what the Platz needed, what with its growing English ex-pat population.

Grizel heard a sharp little cough from the outer room of the shop. Her brow furrowed. Robin had such an annoying cough sometimes! Well, there was no money for extra fuel for the fire, not if they were to turn a profit this year, and that was that. Grizel was sure that Robin was just coughing for attention anyway – she always had been an attention-seeking child.

The doorbell rang. Another interruption! Grizel had just decided not to answer it when she heard the door being opened anyway and Joey Maynard breezily let herself in. “Hello my dear, and Merry Christmas!” she laughed gaily.
Grizel scowled.
Joey’s smile dimmed a little, but she battled bravely on, “Won’t you come to dinner tomorrow with us, darling? It is Christmas, after all, and we plan to have all the trimmings – the kiddies do love it so!”
“Bah! Humbug!”
“Griselda!” gasped Joey.
“Christmas is a fraud, I’ll have you know! Nothing good ever came from Christmas! Now I’ll thank you to leave me alone so I can continue an honest day’s work!”
With this very definite dismissal, Joey walked dolefully out the way she had come, smiling sorrowfully at Robin on her way out.

Grizel had not much more coins counted when the doorbell rang again. Expecting a delivery of music-sheets, she opened it this time, only to find two frightened-looking schoolgirls on her doorstep.
“Please, Miss Cochrane,” one began hesitantly. “We are collecting for the poor peasant children in Innsbruck.” She held out a tin can.
Grizel recognised their uniforms and, she thought, their faces. One was that boyish looking girl, Jack Lambert, and the other must be her friend, the one whose mother was an actress, whatever her name was. They must be here in the holidays because of relatives in the San. Or something. Grizel didn’t really care. The other girl chipped in then.
“Some of them die of just the cold, in the wintertime, you see,” she confided.
Grizel looked at her scornfully. “If they are going to die, then let them do it,” she announced mercilessly. “And decrease the surplus population!” And with that she banged the door shut.

She walked back into her office, only to find the Robin standing there waiting.
“Well? What is it?” she questioned her impatiently.
Robin smiled weakly. She loved Grizel like a sister, but sometimes her manner was difficult to put up with. However.
“I’d like tomorrow off, Grizel,” she started cheerily. “I plan on going to Joey’s for dinner – I don’t know why you don’t go too!”
Grizel knit her eyebrows and sighed. “All right then,” she said grudgingly. “But make sure you come in all the earlier on Boxing Day!” The Robin nodded eagerly and left for home.

Grizel walked home, stopping along the way in a local café to eat some dinner. When she arrived at the house (a house that had been previously owned by Deira, before she died), she let herself in but didn’t turn on the light. “Darkness is cheaper,” she reminded herself, as she approached the door to the one room she hadn’t rented out as office-space. It had a bright brass number 1 on it. As she looked at the number, suddenly Grizel couldn’t believe her eyes. She could see Deira’s face in the reflection! No, wait, that was silly. She scrubbed her eyes and looked again – it was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and quickly opened the door.

She shrugged off her old winter coat (a cast-off of Joey’s) and kindled a little fire (not too big). Tired after her day’s work, she found herself dreamily staring into the flames. Wait a minute! There was Deira’s face again! What was happening?! As Grizel watched, scared and fascinated, Deira’s face emerged from the flames and spoke to her.
“Grizel,” Deira’s voice came hollowly from the fireplace. “I have come to warn you that unless you stop with this your contemptuous and miserly attitude towards others, you will be condemned to walk the earth after death in penitance, as I have been condemned.”
Above Deira’s head hung a large, roughly round shape – it seemed as if it would fall on her at any moment. Grizel squinted and thought it was – yes! It was! It was a snowball with a piece of rock concealed within it. She wondered if it would ever fall, and why it did not melt in the flames.
Deira saw the direction of her eyes and her bodyless head seemed to shrug somehow. “Yes, I have been doomed to carry this around always for penance,” her heavy, hollow voice intoned slowly. “It is... quite heavy,” she added.
Grizel smirked.
Annoyed now, Deira’s ghost spoke again. “Your burden may be considerably worse to carry!” she threatened. “You have had seven years longer than I to acquire such penances!” Then she seemed to relax a little. “Look, Grizel, I am going to try and help you. Three more spirits will appear to you through the course of tonight.” Her voice started to fade, and so did the vision. The last that Grizel heard was a wavering “You have a chance to escape your fate!” before the fire flickered into complete blackness.

Grizel was shaken. She went quickly to the “medicine” cabinet and took a neat mouthful of brandy, and then a deep breath. She had been working too hard. It was a complicated hallucination, that was all. A good night’s sleep would sort everything out. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers close around her.

Last edited by Secret Santa on Sat Dec 15, 2007 11:39 pm; edited 4 times in total

#2: Author: Lottie, Location: Humphrey's Corner

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 12:20 am
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This looks good! I'm eagerly awaiting the other four staves. Thanks, Santa!

#3: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 12:28 am
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Ooh, interesting.

#4: Author: Miss Di, Location: Newcastle, NSW

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 2:00 am
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I too look forward to developments.

#5: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 4:33 am
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This is excellent! Thanks Santa, I'm eager to read the other staves, too.

#6: Author: Fiona Mc, Location: Bendigo, Australia

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 6:47 am
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Thanks. I can't wait for more

#7: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 7:31 am
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Love Robin as Tiny Tim! Laughing

#8: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 7:56 am
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Thanks Santa Very Happy

#9: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 8:51 am
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Thanks, Santa.

#10: Author: brie, Location: Glasgow, aka the land of boredom

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 10:23 am
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Thanks Santa

#11: Author: Secret Santa, Location: The North Pole

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 11:14 am
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Stave II: The First of the Three Spirits

Grizel woke in the night to hear the bells of Our Lady of the Snows ringing in the midnight hour. She sat up in her bed and it took a moment for her to realise that the room was no longer in darkness. There was a tall, slender figure standing before her, was it? Yes, it was a woman, she could see that much. An athletic woman too, it would seem. Her hair was glowing white – this was where the light was emanating from – and it crowned a face that seemed line-free and ageless. Grizel stared at her, frowning. Then it came to her.
“Miss... Miss Wilson?” she whispered. Her old schoolmistress had died some years before this, in a skiing accident.
Miss Wilson gave no sign that she had heard Grizel at all.
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” she said in a voice higher and lighter than Grizel had ever known it to be. It sounded – ethereal – but then Grizel supposed that that was what ghosts should sound like... Then, as had happened so many times in school, Miss Wilson had seen that her attention was wandering from the subject and she repeated what she had said, this time with a rather heavily sarcastic undertone. “I am the Ghost of Christas Past, Grizel Cochrane! Now, follow me...”

Grizel picked up her winter coat and shrugged it quickly on before following where the tall woman led. From behind, Miss Wilson looked almost like a tall, tapered candle. She carried something in her hand – just now, Grizel could not make it out. A cloud of mist appeared, and the two figures walked through it. Miss Wilson threw out one elegant hand, indicating that Grizel should look.
They were in a large, Victorian townhouse in England, around 1925. Grizel could hear the maids and the cook chattering in the kitchen away to the left. She saw a kindly old woman with a sweet grey bun of hair on her head, holding the hand of an excited looking little girl. The little girl had flaming red curls that, although tied back with a neat navy ribbon, were escaping wildly in any place they could. She was flushed, and kept an avid gaze on the front door. Grizel looked towards the door, wondering what would come through it.
“Any minute now, darling,” said the old lady comfortingly. “I’m sure she will be just thrilled with you, sweetheart.”
Horsehooves clattered outside and the butler opened the door promptly. A giggle of laughter floated through first, and the sound of ladylike high heels.
Grizel looked at the young face of her stepmother, and tears came unbidding into her eyes. She looked at Miss Wilson pleadingly, but Miss Wilson merely pointed at the little group in the hall.
The lady came through the door and saw the Young Grizel and she frowned prettily. “John... John – what is this?” she asked sharply.
“Ah yes, Irene,” Grizel’s father, Mr Cochrane, smiled genially. “This is my little girl, Grizel, and my mother, Mrs Cochrane.” The old lady and the little girl approached the new Mrs Cochrane with eager smiles. Irene looked shocked. She looked away from the little party and at her new husband with accusing eyes. “How dare you deceive me like this! I refuse to take on another woman’s brats!”

Grizel was openly crying now but Miss Wilson offered her no comfort. The scene fizzled into a mist again and Grizel plodded slowly after the path Miss Wilson led her down. This time, the scene she beheld was that of a comfortable sitting room, decorated in the Continental style, with high mountain Alps to be seen through the wide sash windows. Miss Wilson threw her arm out again, this time towards a very young woman sitting on the edge of an armchair, gazing curiously at a small black-haired girl.

“Well?” she was saying. “Tell me your news then, Robin!”
“I asked Zoe to let me be the one to tell you myself!” the little girl said excitedly.
“Out with it then!”
“It is but that she has got engaged,” the Robin said importantly. “Zey are to be married! She ‘as an emerald ring, it is tres belle, yes!” she finished, her raven curls bobbing as she nodded her emphasis.

Grizel watched her younger self say a few cruel and unnecessarily rude remarks to the school baby; watched the Robin grow flushed and defend herself confusedly; watched Joey enter the fray and saw again the gleam of the emerald engagement ring. She felt, as if it had been yesterday, the stab of disappointment she had felt when she’d realised that Jack Maynard would never be for her, that their close friendship might never grow to anything beyond that.
She was beyond crying now, but her face was very white and drawn looking. Unwillingly, she followed Miss Wilson through the mist which had just appeared.

It was a hockey pitch, full of girls and dappled with sunlight. Grizel smiled happily as she saw herself as a girl of seventeen, dashing about the pitch with windburned cheeks and a glittering G.P. badge on her blazer lapel. She had thrilled in her position as games prefect, she remembered. She had loved giving her time to training others, to seeing them improve and to shaping the teams that brought so much pride to the School.
“Well, this is wonderful!” she turned to Miss Wilson. “A happy memory at last! Thank you!”
Miss Wilson’s eyes were sombre, however. Once more, she threw her arm outwards, but it was not in the direction of the pitch. Grizel followed its line with her eyes.

A small, stout, unmistakeably French woman was hurrying onto the hockey pitch, calling Grizel by name. The games prefect turned laughingly around to meet her headmistress.
“Yes, Mademoiselle?”
Mlle’s face was serious and sad. “Come with me, ma cherie,” she said. “We have had a letter. It is your grandmother. You are needed at home immediately – she has been calling for you. We have made arrangements and you must leave on the next train to Interlaken... Oh!” For the girl had first stared blankly and then fainted clean away onto the pitch’s surface. The other, younger schoolgirls began to gather around, for their prefect was still, grey and to all appearances, dead. Mlle shooed them away though.
“It is but a little faint, ah yes, she is coming around already.” She let one or two of the stronger girls help her lift Grizel to a standing position, then she escorted the young girl in to the Chalet herself.

A familiar mist began to cloud up before Grizel again, but this time she had had enough.
“No! Miss Wilson! No!” she begged. “No more!” She reached out in the gloom and grabbed for Miss Wilson’s hands, finding instead a roundish metal object that Miss Wilson had been carrying. Grabbing it from her, Grizel saw that it was a candle-snuffer. She pushed it desperately onto Miss Wilson’s bright, white hair and ... suddenly she found herself back in her own bedroom again, heaving with sobs. She threw herself down on the bed, thoroughly depressed. Eventually she tired herself out with crying and she fell asleep. Her last thought on the brink of sleep, however, was that she had never fully extinguished the light of Miss Wilson’s hair – it had gleamed underneath the steel, and through a hole in the centre of the top. Feeling slightly less guilty now, Grizel cuddled into her thin blankets. Perhaps there was hope yet.

#12: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 11:17 am
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Poor Grizel, she didn't have an easy time of it.

Thanks Santa.

#13: Author: MaryR, Location: Cheshire

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 3:58 pm
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Love Miss Wilson as a lighted taper. Laughing

This is extremely interesting, Santa. Jonty's a lucky girl!

#14: Author: Secret Santa, Location: The North Pole

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 5:36 pm
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Stave III: The Second of the Three Spirits

Grizel awoke again at the stroke of one. Still half-asleep she snuggled down again for fifteen minutes. But then a deep cough, from the next room, rosed her fully. Curiously, she got to her feet and padded silently through the doorway. There she stopped, and smiled, because before her was her old beloved friend Herr Braun, though he had been deceased now for many years. He was dressed most unlike himself. She remembered him from her girlhood as mostly wearing traditional Tyrolean dress. Indeed, he could still be wearing that... under the long, rich, lime-green, cream-fur-trimmed cloak he had hung around his shoulders now. His face was still the same however – cheery and good-humoured. His hands were full. One held a torch, the other held an empty scabbard.

“Ah, my Grizel,” he boomed in his deep, accented voice. “But it is gut to see thee once more! No, no,” he added gently, as she went to approach him eagerly for a bear-hug. “Ve have business to attend to tonight. Now, don’t be afraid,” he tucked the scabbard under the crook of his arm and clasped her hand to his, “und come with me.”
Grizel giggled and trustingly squeezed his hand. He looked down on her and he laughed too. When Grizel looked away again, she saw that they were in a new place, a place she recognised. It was Joey Maynard’s salon.

Long low bookshelves tastefully lined the walls of this wide spacious room. The floor was kept scrupulously waxed by Anna, and there were gay rugs thrown here and there about it. A gloriously large St Bernard dog slept and dreamed before a blazing fire. It was the afternoon, and the room was alive with children opening presents and adults clinking glasses of mulled wine. Grizel looked around her doubtfully. She saw Jack bend low to kiss Joey’s brow, and her heartstrings tightened. She looked away quickly. There, in the corner were the triplets, devouring some new Josephine M. Bettany books that they had been given for Christmas. Len rose and walked over to her young sister Felicity, who was practising with her new ballet shoes and threatening to kick Stephen in the eye at any moment. The three Richardsons were there – Grizel coud see Roddy kicking a ball with Charles on the snowladen lawn outside. Rich smells from the kitchen warned that dinner would soon be served.

Suddenly a hush came upon the room. Anna had pushed the salon door open, and was holding it open, as a nurse pushing an invalid carriage came through. Joey rushed immediately to help.
“Hello baba,” she said gently. “How was your nap? Has nurse made you comfy?”
The tiny thin girl in the chair looked up at her mother with huge eyes that had dark shadows beneath them.

“Philly!” cried a boisterous little boy of the same age as the tiny in the chair. He came running up and grabbed one of her clawlike hands in his. “Philly – come see what we have made with the wrapping paper – its a hut! Beneath ve tree!”
Because little Phil’s eyes lit up at the idea, Joey smiled and let her be kidnapped by her twin, Geoff, and brought over to where he had been playing with his brother Felix.

Grizel looked stricken. “I... I didn’t know,” she whispered to a sad-looking Herr Braun. “I haven’t been to visit in so long. I heard that Philippa had contracted polio but I didn’t realise that she had declined so quickly...” Grizel could remember the sweet, confident girl-baby that Phil had been, and now her heart pained her to see the change in the child.
“Herr Braun,” her voice cracked at the thought, but she ploughed on regardless. “Herr Braun... Will Phil die?”
The big man smiled ruefully. “Well, if she is, she had better do it, eh? And decrease the surplus population!”

Distracted by the sound of two loud claps, Grizel looked back towards the party. Jack Maynard had started to speak.
“Let us toast those not here!” he began cheerily. “Let us remember those doctors who are covering for me today in the San.” (The children all cheered noisily and Joey laughed.) “Let us remember Madge and Jem in the Round House, and Dick and Mollie in the Quadrant, and wish them a happy Christmas from afar!” (There were more cheers.)

Then Grizel heard another voice – one that she heard every day at work. Robin had been sitting in the corner, reading stories to Cecil. Now she stood and raised her own glass. “Let us toast Grizel. She isn’t here, and let’s hope she has a happy Christmas anyway,” and she smiled and raised her glass. There was silence.
Then Margot’s voice cut the air, “Oh yes. Let’s toast the Crank!” she began.
Con took her up and raised her lemonade, “To Miss Grumpy!” she shouted. The children started giggling. Roger Richardson clapped his hands and yelled “Grizel the Gruesome!” much to the delight of the twins playing at his feet.

Joey had been frowning and now she strode to the centre of the room. “Children! This is not the way to talk about a beloved brevet-aunt! She is just going through a bad patch – she will come out the other end, but not without our support and our love. So please don’t let me hear you talk like this again.”

Grizel stared. She had never thought of herself as someone who needed defending before. As she watched, Joey struck up a bout of country-dancing, to take the chill out of the atmosphere that just mentioning Grizel’s name had created. Grizel hadn’t danced a morris in years. Looking at the dancing now, she felt her feet twitch, and her lips began to curve up in a grin.

“Can’t we stay a little longer, Herr Braun?” she asked, as she felt his hand pulling her away. He shook his great head and beckoned her away.

Standing before a startled Grizel, he drew back the corners of his great lime-green fur cloak. Huddled behind it were two small children – Grizel recognised them as Pfeiffens. She had forgotten their names though. She knelt now and asked them.
“I am Dishonesty,” chirped the first mite; “I am Spinelessnes,” whispered the second.
“The latter,” said Herr Braun in a deep and serious tone, “may be the most harmful. Guard against it, Grizel.”

Then he vanished.

#15: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 6:09 pm
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The Maynards were having a lovely Christmas - it's a shame we couldn't have stayed longer!

Thanks Santa, I'm really enjoying this.

#16: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 7:08 pm
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Crying or Very sad

at the thought of Miss Wilson dead.

Love this - very clever re-working of the classic.

Thanks Santa.

#17: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 12:46 am
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This is great - very clever. Liked how Miss Wilson and Herr Braun were just as they used to be, despite being ghosts.

#18: Author: Secret Santa, Location: The North Pole

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 9:12 am
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Stave IV: The Last of the Three Spirits

As Herr Braun disappeared, another figure emerged before Grizel. It was a phantom, shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form, and left nothing visible save one outstretched hand... It thrilled Grizel with a vague, uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon her, while she could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black. She could barely breathe.

When Grizel looked in the direction that the bony fingers pointed in, she saw three women, laughing together over coffees that were positively blanketed with cream, in an Interlaken café.
“Oh Frieda!” smiled the first woman. “What do we care if she has passed away. She was never anything but black-humoured trouble to us when we knew her.”
Frieda smiled gently and started to shake her head, but then gave in and sighed. “Well if nothing else, Sophie, it will be a cheap funeral,” she remaked sadly. “She never married and left no family to care for her.”
“That’s right,” contributed at third. “Why, Donal said to me just last night that we weren’t going unless there was lunch provided!” And she pealed into laughter.

Puzzled, Grizel looked at her escort, then shuddered and wished she hadn’t. When she looked back, the scene was different. Sophie, Juliet and Frieda were now part of a short line of people who were lining up to pay their last respects to a corpse lying in a coffin. From the small crowd of people who had come to the funeral, a voice could clearly be heard saying, “Thank goodness that cancels my tab at the music-shop!” Grizel’s eyes slid over the scene, and then she shut them tight.
“Please, please don’t show me any more, Spirit,” she begged. “People shouldn’t be cruel in death – people should be kind...”

She opened her eyes slowly and fearfully to see that the church was the same and the snow outside was the same, but the congregation was much bigger and much sadder, and the coffin much, much smaller. She inhaled sharply and twisted around quickly to see the main pew. There sat Joey Maynard, clothed in mourning black, and weeping on her husband’s shoulder. Jack’s back was very straight, and his nostrils flared as he tried to stay strong for his wife. Little Geoff sat between Len and Stephen, and he gripped each of their hands tightly. Margot hugged Mike on her knee, and Con and Roger sat at either end of the next row, which was filled with the rest of the Maynards. The Russells had come and Madge was on the other side of Joey, while Jem sat with Dick and Mollie in a nearby pew.

Grizel felt for a hanky to wipe away her freefalling tears but could find none. “To think I once had forty of these things!” she burst out angrily, before convulsing again into a fit of crying.

A cold wind blew her and the Spirit out the door and into the neighbouring churchyard. The Spirit relentlessly pointed at one headstone, covered with snow. Grizel hesitated, but she could not resist that spectral arm. She approached the headstone warily, and with the edge of one sleeve tentatively wiped the snow from the engraved letters. She leapt back from the words she saw, shocked to her core.
“Me? Me!” she gasped. She whirled around, but the Spirit was gone, and she was alone.

#19: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 9:24 am
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Poor Grizel. Crying or Very sad

#20: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 1:04 pm
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Poor Grizel. Couldn't they make a few allowances for her?

#21: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 1:52 pm
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This is brilliantly clever, Santa - thank you so much.

#22: Author: jonty, Location: Exeter

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 2:40 pm
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Oh my, I never had a drabble written for me before Smile

. This is so clever, thank you so much, Santa! I do hope it's going to turn out happily for poor Grizel. Crying or Very sad

at Miss Wilson being a ghost. I'm all agog to find out what's going to happen.

#23: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 9:30 pm
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I really like this adaptation, thanks.

#24: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 10:46 pm
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Definitely spine-cruddling. Hope it all turns out well.

#25: Author: Secret Santa, Location: The North Pole

Posted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 11:38 pm
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Stave V: The End of It

After stumbling back to her rooms, through the cold snowy streets of the Platz at three in the morning, Grizel helped herself to another large capful of brandy to steady her nerves. She thought a lot about what had happened that night, from the appearance of Deira, through Miss Wilson, Herr Braun, and finally that ghoulish spirit. Was she to ignore all that they had said? Could she go on being the quick-tempered, impatient, miserable woman that she had become?

Grizel slammed the bottle down on her bedstand, suddenly full of resolve.
“It stops now!” she annouced to the empty room. “Now!” she yelled to the empty stairwell. She looked at her watch and realised with some alarm that three hours has passed since she had returned from that cold and lonely graveyard. It was 6am, the wintry sun was creeping icily above the horizon, and sounds of movement could be heard from the streets of the Platz. A bright smile lit up her face for the first time in years. Full of energy, she rushed back into her flat and dressed hurriedly, brushing through her curls and deciding that there wasn’t time to put them up in her usual strict bun. The effect the floating golden ringlets had around her face was remarkable. Combined with the new smile, she looked a much softer, happier woman.

She rushed downstairs and flung open the main door of the building, immediately tripping over a parcel that had been left there. She picked it up.
“To Miss Cochrane,” she read. “What on earth can this be?” Opening it revealed a lovely pale lemon knitted twin-set, and a note that said ‘Merry Christmas, See You Tomorrow, Robin’.
Grizel pulled it on her and unthinkingly left her coat open so that the neat new twin-set could be seen. “How gorgeously warm this wool is,” she thought cosily. “How jolly of Rob to make it for me. I hardly deserved it.” And she blushed.

“Right,” she rubbed her hands together. “What’s first?”
She strode to the Post Office and banged on the door until a very flustered woman opened it. Grizel issued a few demands in her old, crisp voice, and the woman flurried to attend to her wishes. A telegram was sent and Grizel, happy that arrangements had been made, strode away again.

She walked briskly for about two miles, until she reached a large Chalet set against the mountainside. Knowing that some Staff would still be resident there in the holiday season, along with some girls who were unable to make it home for Christmas, she let herself in a sidegate and tapped lightly on Miss Annersley’s French windows. Almost immediately, a robed figure opened the door and exclaimed in startled tones at her very early morning visitor. Truth be told, Miss Annersley was even more shocked at the change she could see in the face and attitude of her ex-student.
“I’m so terribly sorry to call on you at this hour, Hilda,” began Grizel. “But young Jack and her friend called to the music-shop yesterday, and I’m afraid I let them leave without... this!” She pushed a large cheque into surprised Hilda’s hands. Then, impetuously, she leaned forward and kissed her. Flushed, Grizel stepped out of the doors again.
“I really must go now,” she called as she stepped away. “There isn’t much time! But Merry Christmas! Bye Hilda!”

Laughing heartily, Grizel walked towards the little station that served the Platz, and caught the first train down to Interlaken. The streets were devoid of business but full of people rushing through the snow, laden with fat geese, and sacks of potatoes, and baskets of small presents to go calling with. It was now almost midday and Grizel hurried on up the street to a certain house number. She banged mercilessly on an expensive-looking brass knocker until it was answered by a stern housekeeper. Before the good lady could speak, Grizel rushed in.
“I’m Miss Cochrane.. don’t worry, Sir Johnson is expecting me! Now, where can I find him? Ah...” as that man appeared in his own hallway, looking quite as stern as his housekeeper had.
“Madam, may I remind you that it is Christmas morning!”
“You received my telegram?” asked Grizel. She smiled when he nodded.
“Excellent, then you know why I am here. Now, if we may talk in your study please?”

Whatever Grizel said in that study, whatever story she told, with those newly eager eyes and a direct, honest face, she persuaded Sir Johnson to accompany her back to the Gornetz Platz, this time in his long black car. They pulled in to the drive at Freudesheim just as Anna rang the gong for dinner. Striding up to the front door and gaily ringing the bell, Grizel was greeted with a hall-ful of disbelieving faces as she appeared on the doorstep with the foremost expert on polio in the world – on whose patient waiting-list Philippa had been for the last six months.

Jack strode forward, “Sir Johnson?”
Sir Johnson smiled benignly and took Jack’s hand warmly. “Yes, I think you have your good friend Miss Cochrane to thank for this. She has persuaded me that Philippa was in need of being looked at as soon as possible – in fact, she has brought me here right into your Christmas dinner!” And he looked a little awkward.
Joey rushed forward, her hands clasped together tightly and her eyes like glassy pools of ink. “Oh, please don’t go!” she cried. “We’ve been waiting so long for Philly to see you. Thank you for coming... “ Her voice caught, but she continued. “Thank you for bringing him, Grizel... How did you? What...”
Grizel caught her friend and squeezed her tight until Joey had recovered herself.
“Why don’t you bring Sir Johnson into your study, Jack?” Grizel nodded. “And what about the rest of us responding to Anna’s gong! Don’t worry, we’ll keep the doctors some...” and she winked at the children. Taking charge of Philippa’s invalid chair herself, Grizel pushed it briskly into the salon.
“Thank you for my beautiful twin-set,” she said warmly to Robin, as they sat down to dinner together a while later. Robin dimpled prettily before thanking Grizel for the time off work to attend Joey’s Christmas Day dinner. Grizel blushed with the thought, and then turned to share a joke with little Philippa, who, Sir Johnson had assured Jack, now had a very good chance of recovery.

Joey clinked her spoon to her glass and the hustle and bustle at the dinner table quietened a little.
“I would just like to say, everyone,” she smiled, then broke down into happy tears. Jack was about to stand and complete her Christmas toast, when suddenly Philippa tapped her spoon on the side of her lemonade glass. With bright eyes and a giggle, she lisped happily to the table.

“Mama wants t’ say – Merry Christmas ev’rybody!”

And the whole party, especially Grizel, held their glasses high and cheered Christmas and all the wonderful things that this Christmas had brought.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

#26: Author: Fiona Mc, Location: Bendigo, Australia

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 5:54 am
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Thanks, that was wonderful

#27: Author: Alison H, Location: Manchester

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 9:10 am
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Thank you Santa!

#28: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 1:44 pm
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Thank you, Santa.

#29: Author: jonty, Location: Exeter

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 2:35 pm
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Thank you, Santa, for this wonderful start to Christmas Smile

. I loved the line about the 40 hankies, by the way!

#30: Author: leahbelle, Location: Kilmarnock

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 4:30 pm
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That was a wonderful story. Thanks, santa Very Happy

#31: Author: Tara, Location: Malvern, Worcestershire

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 11:23 pm
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Thank you, Santa, that was great.

#32: Author: Elbee, Location: Surrey

Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2007 9:10 am
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What a wonderful CS version of A Christmas Carol!

Thanks, Santa.

#33: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2007 11:44 am
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That was fabulous Santa - thankyou

#34: Author: Fatima, Location: Sunny Qatar

Posted: Mon Dec 17, 2007 2:47 pm
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Thank you Santa, that was marvellous!

#35: Author: Miss Di, Location: Newcastle, NSW

Posted: Tue Dec 18, 2007 6:15 am
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Spooky, but wonderful. Thanks Santa

#36: Author: Lisa, Location: South Coast of England

Posted: Tue Dec 18, 2007 1:49 pm
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*claps hands in delight* That was so marvellously CHRISTMASSY and very clever! Very Happy

Thank you so much, Santa.

*skips off to make mince pies* Very Happy

#37: Author: Lolly, Location: Back in London

Posted: Fri Dec 21, 2007 3:41 pm
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Secret Santa wrote:

Grizel felt for a hanky to wipe away her freefalling tears but could find none. “To think I once had forty of these things!”

#38: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 11:04 pm
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Thank you Santa.

#39: Author: Róisín, Location: Ireland

Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:44 pm
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Thanks for all the comments everyone - it was written at around 4am one night and just wrote itself really Laughing

The CBB -> St Scholastika's House

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