Page 4 of In Stockings
“Dads,” I prompt.
He throws me a grateful look. “Dads would like a photo.”
Lyra shakes her head, tightening her grip on my hand.
“Don’t you want to tell me what you want for Christmas?”
The little girl’s feet creep forward. She’s clearly torn, wanting Santa to know her wish list but suddenly starstruck. It happens to a surprising amount of kids. I understand; I feel a similar way coming face-to-face with her dads again after all this time.
“Lyra,” Craig says with a hint of frustration in his tone, “we’ve waited a long time. Go tell Santa what you want.”
“Only if TwinkleToes comes with me.”
“I’d love to come,” I say, stepping forward and taking Lyra with me.
We halt in front of the man himself, and he pats his knee. “Want to come sit on my lap?”
Lyra peaks up at me and then nods.
We all wait, but she makes no move to climb up.
“Don’t you want –”
“Twinkle Toes, too,” she insists.
“TwinkleToes, what?” I ask with trepidation, not liking where I think this is headed.
“TwinkleToes has to sit on Santa’s lap too.”
“Lyra!” Samson mutters.
But she peers up at me with those big, pleading eyes – eyes similar to the pair I was in love with throughout school – and I can’t say no.
I glance at Santa, who shrugs. Some of the kids are twice my size.
With mortification, I help Lyra climb onto one of Santa’s knees, and then I balance daintily on the other.
This is possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life. If this is an anxiety dream, it’s turning into a nightmare.
Why couldn’t I have bumped into the Hart Pack at a nightclub or a bar? Even doing my regular job as a nurse in the children’s ward.
The three men smirk at me, clearly repressing the need to laugh. Samson’s shoulders shake, and Craig coughs violently into his hand.
“Smile!” Archie tells us both, lifting his phone to take a picture.
“Cheeesssse!” Lyra shouts, revealing two missing front teeth. She’s obviously gotten over her shyness.
“So,” Santa says, “tell me, what would you like for Christmas?”
“A unicorn,” she snaps without drawing breath.
“A unicorn, eh? What colour?”
“White with a pink mane, a purple tail and rainbow wings.”
“Wings as well? Do we have one of those in the workshop, TwinkleToes?”
“We certainly do, Santa.”
