Christmas was just another day as far as Lucy was concerned – and nothing would change her mind!
BY GILLIAN HARVEY
Sounds brilliant,” Lucy said as she indicated to turn right. “It will be,” her sister replied, over the hands-free phone. She was silent for a moment. “Please come.”
“Oh, Anne. You know I would . . . it’s just that I have to work Christmas Day.”
“I know, I know,” her sister said, in a heard-it-all-before voice. “Are there no other doctors in Dorset, is that it?”
“Not as many as you might think,” Lucy smiled. “And besides, I don’t have kids, or a husband. No responsibilities. People expect it.”
“Well, they shouldn’t!” Anne said indignantly. “You’re just as entitled to a break at Christmas as everyone else!”
“Honestly, I don’t mind,” Lucy said.
She’d worked Christmas Day for the past three years, since qualifying as a doctor. People seemed horrified when she told them, but she honestly couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.
She enjoyed her work and didn’t mind pitching in. Christmas was no big deal.
She turned the corner, past the row of shops and towards the close that had been her home for the past three years.
“Suzy’d like to see you,” Anne said.
“I know.” Lucy felt a bit guilty about her niece. “And she will. It’s just . . .”
“You’re not a Christmas person.”
“Sorry,” said Lucy. “I’m just not.”
Each year when the shops started playing Christmas music and TV became swamped with adverts for food and wine and presents, she felt bemused. People talked about the magic of Christmas, but to Lucy the day felt simply ordinary.
It had been different when she was a kid, of course. She still remembered the excitement of childhood Christmases.
Then, after Dad left, everything somehow felt different. Still fun, still exciting. Just not as magical as before.
When she was eleven, Peter came along and their family changed again. It was nice to see Mum happy again. That year, she remembered, she’d started looking forward to something like the family Christmas she used to have.
But just as the fizzing excitement of Christmas had returned, she’d discovered the truth about Santa. And it had all melted away.
Christmas was OK. But not her favourite holiday.
“It’s natural,” she’d told everyone. “Christmas is bound to lose its sparkle as we get older, right?”
And people nodded and agreed and talked about childhood Christmases where everything had seemed timeless and magical and endlessly joyous.
“OK, well, think about it,” Anne said now. “It would mean a lot to Suzy.”
“I�
