Santa Maybe

by Scarlett Bailey

‘Hull,’ Amy said quickly.

  ‘Hull?’

  ‘Yes, the year 2000. It was the last time I was really certain that I was in love. I want to go there. And feel what it felt like again. Because I realised tonight that I have absolutely no idea any more.’

  ‘I was hoping for Hawaii and maybe some Elvis, but oh well.’ Santa sighed.

  ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for,’ Marilyn said warmly, hugging Amy.

  ‘You too,’ Amy said taking one last look at her beautiful face. ‘I really, really hope you do too.’

  7. Let’s All Meet Up in the Year 2000

  IT WAS A cold, wet night in Hull, Christmas Eve 2000, and yet the streets were packed with revellers. There were scantily-clad girls careering into each other as they tottered on high heels after one too many Bacardi Breezers and stalwart men in shirts, chests expanded to full capacity, all calling and whistling to each other as they milled around the pubs and clubs of central Hull, tinsel in their hair, mistletoe tucked into their back pockets.

  ‘The Waterfront,’ Amy said, pointing to a converted warehouse that was now, in the year 2000, one of the city’s hottest clubs. ‘That’s where me and Pete split up, and to this day I don’t really know why. I loved him, and he loved me. And I don’t mean in a Gavin way, he really did love me. I could see it in his eyes. But he still finished with me. Maybe if I knew what was so wrong with me, that even when someone likes me they don’t want to be with me, then maybe that would help me find someone to love. What do you think? Do you think that I can fix myself?’

  Santa sighed. ‘You’ve got all this all wrong, Amy,’ he said. ‘You don’t need fixing. You are perfect just as you are, the only thing holding you back is that you don’t believe that.’

  ‘No.’ Amy shook her head. ‘You’re wrong. I messed it up between me and Pete and I don’t know how. In all these years I’ve never worked it out. That’s why I’m here, to find out. Now I’m going to need a black satin mini-skirt, a tight cut-off space invader t-shirt and a pair of knee-length boots.’

  Santa raised an eyebrow, as if the outfit didn’t sound like such a terrible idea, but he shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘This time you stay Elf. You’re already in there, don’t forget, wearing your kinky-sounding little skirt. You can’t turn up as you again. What if you bumped into yourself and created a tear in the fabric of time and space, and the whole universe folded in on itself? That would be a bummer.’

  ‘That could happen?’ Amy asked. ‘If I saw me?

  ‘Might do,’ Santa said, looking a bit vague. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t read that part of the Santa Claus manual the whole way through, all that quantum physics does your head in after a bit, but I’ve seen enough episodes of Star Trek to know that it can’t be good.’

  ‘Santa is a Trekkie?’ Amy stared at him wide-eyed. ‘I think I fancy you a little bit less now.’

  ‘You fancy me?’ Santa asked, looking a little nervous.

  ‘If you haven’t worked that out yet then you’re worse at picking up signals than I am,’ Amy said, feeling bold because, after all, this was only her imagination, and she could be upfront and ballsy in her own head with her own foxy Christmas creation. In the morning it would feel a bit wrong, like when you wake up and realise you’ve had a sex dream about your best friend’s dad or your boss and you can’t look him in the eye for about a month, but for now it didn’t matter. She could say and do what she liked. ‘It’s like Marilyn said, you’re hot, Santa Baby.’

  ‘Well, anyway,’ Santa took a deep breath, ‘while you’re in your elf outfit you are mostly invisible to people, though not completely. If you bump into them, shout at them, pin them up against a wall and kiss them until they faint and they’ll notice you. But if you keep quiet, don’t interact, keep a low profile then you should be fine.’

  Amy looked up at the club, its windows pulsating with coloured lights. She knew exactly which floor, which corner, which table her nineteen-year-old self was sitting at.

  ‘I’m nervous,’ she said anxiously, reaching out and taking Santa’s hand.

  ‘About finally discovering the truth?’

  ‘No, about how fat and old I’m going to look compared to her. I put on a stone after Pete chucked me and I never lost it again. But also about what it’s going to feel like to see Pete again. He was, you know…he was my, you know… first …he was the first man I…’

  Santa pulled her around to look at him before she could finish the sentence. ‘Yes, OK I get the picture.’

  ‘All I’m saying is that he was very special to me,’ Amy said. ‘If I’d never lost him then maybe now I’d be married with a baby, and a…toaster.’

  ‘So do you want to go in there and find out?’ Santa asked, still holding on to her hand. ‘Or we could nip to Acapulco, get some cocktails in, maybe do some skinny dipping?’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be against the rules too?’ Amy raised an eyebrow. ‘Naked swimming when I should be examining the contents of my soul? Besides, we’ve already had one excursion tonight, I’ve got to get up at eight in the morning to drive to my mother’s house for lunch and, as I can’t drink myself to oblivion in order to get through that, I am at least going to need a little bit of sleep. I think we’d better crack on.’

  Santa bit his lip, hesitating.

  ‘You look more nervous than I do. Why?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I’m just not sure you really want to see what happens in there,’ Santa said.

  ‘What do you mean? Why don’t I?’ Amy asked, concerned.

  ‘Things didn’t exactly happen the way you remember them…’ Santa said, uncomfortably. ‘You might not like what you see.’

  ‘Well, how did they happen then?’ Amy asked. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I can’t, the rules. I shouldn’t have told you that, it’s just I don’t want to see you any more hurt. Look, either we go in there and find out the horrible truth or it’s Acapulco and skinny dipping. You can keep your elf hat on…’

  Amy shook her head, stamping her foot with determination.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re going in. I’m a big girl now, whatever it is I can deal with it.’

  ‘OK,’ Santa said. ‘But there’s no way I’m standing in that queue. We’ll nip down a chimney.’

  8. I’m Never Going to Dance Again

  IT WAS HOT inside the club; a labyrinth of small rooms were divided into dance areas and bars, a different sort of music pulsating in each, blending jarringly as Amy and Santa moved from room to room.

  ‘I can bust some moves, you know,’ Santa said, quite loudly in order to make himself heard over the music. ‘In my time I was the school champion break dancer. I mean, it was a school in the Cotswolds, I didn’t have much in the way of competition, but still…’

  Amy stopped, confused. ‘You went to school in the Cotswolds? In the eighties or early nineties…I’m sorry but Santa does not come from Gloucestershire.’

  ‘You’re totally right, I’m completely messing with you,’ Santa said. ‘Psyche!’

  ‘Psyche? Are you eleven?’ Amy shook her head irritably. She was tense enough as it was without Santa going all ridiculous.

  ‘Most men are about eleven, as far as I can tell. That’s when they reach their emotional maturity…’ Santa grinned, but seeing that Amy was genuinely irritated with him, he dropped his voice, bringing his lips close to her ear. ‘I’m not supposed to tell you anything about me, the rules again, but Santa isn’t immortal. Every fifty years or so the last Santa retires, and a new one takes up the position. I’ve only been doing it for a year.’

  Amy drew back and stared at him. ‘You’re telling me I’ve got a rookie Santa?’

  ‘Yes,’ Santa said. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m not kick-ass at it. They make you do all sorts of training as part of the recruitment process. It’s like The Apprentice but with glitter. I beat three other applicants and last Christmas, my first one, was one of the best on record.’

  ‘But, but if you’re new th
en…what about Dean and Marilyn, how did they know you?’

  ‘Well, I’m mortal, sure, but also still totally magic. Time travel is one of the perks of the job, and, well, there’s quite a lot of downtime as Santa, and not much great telly in Lapland, so if I’m a bit bored and the elves are on track with production, I can pop off to anywhere I like in history or the future and have a bit of a break.’ Santa looked suddenly anxious. ‘I really don’t know why I told you all that. It started off with a cack-handed attempt at impressing you and then ended up with me basically spilling the beans on a millennia-old secret. If my bosses find out I’ll be toast. I just…I wanted you to know about me, I suppose.’

  ‘So when you become Santa,’ Amy asked figuring that she might as well go with it, even though her dream was becoming every increasing surreal, ‘is it like becoming a monk? Do you have to give up girls and…sex?’

  She whispered the last word, eyes wide.

  ‘No!’ Santa laughed a little awkwardly. ‘But you know, they’re quite strict about who you bring home. It can only be one girl, she must be your one true love and she has to be the sort of girl who doesn’t mind relocating to Lapland and spending the rest of her life in fur-trimmed velvet. Not that we’re not about equal opps. The last Mrs Santa ran the whole logistical side and did about thirty per cent of deliveries. Apparently she really suited a beard.’

  ‘Really?’ Amy was shocked. ‘Santa, why are you telling me all this? I’m just on the verge of some kind of deep, disturbing revelation and you’re giving me your CV?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Santa said. ‘I shouldn’t, because you are this year’s Christmas Wish, and if I don’t want to lose my job – which I really don’t – then we need to stop talking about me and focus on you.’

  ‘I sort of thought we were…’ Amy said confused. ‘I sort of thought that…’

  ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Santa said firmly. ‘Being Santa is like being a doctor. It’s utterly frowned upon to get it on with your patients. And this year you are my patient. At the end of this process we will have found you someone to love, and when you wake up in the morning all of this won’t seem real to you any more. You will have forgotten me, and…and that’s the way it should be. It won’t matter anyway, because you’ll be happy and loved up and I’ll be in Lapland with one hell of a hangover.’

  ‘OK,’ Amy said. ‘OK. So just to be clear, you aren’t the person, my somebody to love?’

  ‘No!’ he all but shouted. ‘No, whoever it is, it’s not me. And you need to get that thought right out of your head now and get on with this. I’ve got places to be, people to see. I’ve got a truckload of toys to get around the world before sunrise. The trouble with you, Amy Tucker, is that you are all me, me, me. Now where the hell is the year 2000 you? Let’s just get this over with and get out of here.’

  His words stung as sharply as any slap and Amy led Santa through the crowd, pausing briefly as she saw her best friends and housemates pile on to the dance floor when the DJ put Madonna’s ‘Music’ on. This was it, this was the moment. Pete had chucked her during this song.

  Just on the other side of the dance floor was a small enclosed chill-out room. A group of her friends had been occupying it before Madge had filled the floor, but now it was just ‘Amy 2000’ and Pete, sitting side by side, hand in hand. Amy 2000’s head rested on his shoulder.

  Amy had never felt so strange as she slipped unnoticed into the room, what a curious feeling it was to be so close to her own past, to herself, especially with Santa at her side, the two of them standing in the corner.

  ‘Amy,’ Santa whispered in her ear. ‘Before all this kicks off, I just want to say sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You are a great girl, one of the best I’ve ever met, and don’t forget it. And we will find you a great guy to love, one who will love you back, I promise you.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Amy took his hand as she watched her younger self sit forward on her seat, bracing herself.

  ‘Amy,’ Pete said. ‘I’ve been trying to pretend everything’s OK, but I think we both know it’s not.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Amy 2000 said. ‘Everything’s perfect. It’s Christmas, we’ve signed a lease on a place together and today I bought us a bread knife. I’ve never shared cutlery with a boy before, it’s sort of sexy—’

  ‘Amy, Amy,’ Pete interrupted her. ‘Amy, I know.’

  9. I Will Survive!

  ‘WHAT DOES HE know?’ Amy said.

  ‘What do you know?’ Amy 2000 asked, turning to look at Pete.

  ‘I know about you,’ Pete said. ‘I know why you are rushing this so much. And it’s OK, it’s cool. It’s just…I’m not ready to live with you, Amy, it’s too soon.’

  ‘Whoa, there, hang on a minute.’ Amy watched her past self’s hackles instantly rise. ‘Who was it who used the “L” word first? Who was it who said I was the most special girl he’d ever met, that no one made him feel the way I did? It was you, Pete. You even bought me a ring!’

  ‘It was just a ring,’ Pete said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘It was a fiver on the market. I never thought you’d think that…’

  ‘What? That you actually care about me? That anything you said wasn’t bull?’

  ‘Amy, you’re not listening to me.’ Pete glanced across at the dance floor where their friends were still stumbling drunkenly into each other and calling it dancing. ‘This isn’t about how I feel about you, I feel great about you. I really do think I love you…’

  ‘Think?’ Amy 2000 all but screamed. ‘Which is it, Pete, do you love me or not? Because in my book it’s pretty black and white. I’ve bought a bread knife for God’s sake. We’re practically married!’

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ Pete said, losing patience. ‘We’ve been together six months, Amy, six brilliant months, but we’re only nineteen, we’re still students. I’m not ready for a flat, bills in joint names and a bread knife. I know why you have abandonment issues—’

  ‘Don’t you dare use all that psychology student claptrap on me,’ Amy shouted. ‘I told you all that stuff because I thought you cared, not because I thought you’d use it against me. Pete, how could you be so cruel?’

  ‘I’m not using it against you!’ Pete said angrily. ‘If you’d listen, you’d understand. I know why you’re so keen to make things solid. Your dad left home when you were just a little kid, you never saw him again. You’re insecure, you’re bound to want reassurance, stability. All I’m saying is that I can give you that without us having to get a place together…’

  ‘You hate me!’ Amy 2000 stood up, flinging her drink across the room, narrowing avoiding Santa’s head. ‘You hate me and you’re trying to get me to end this relationship because you don’t have the guts to. Well, well done. You’ve won. We’re finished. I’m through with you.’

  ‘Amy…’ Amy watched as her younger self stormed angrily out of the room, leaving Pete sitting with his head in his hands. She followed her, with Santa close behind, to the bar where their friends were waiting.

  ‘Pete’s chucked me,’ Amy 2000 told her then best friend Rosie. ‘He’s just gone and dumped me for no reason at all!’

  ‘No! Bastard! I never liked him…’ And then Amy couldn’t see herself any more, as her younger self was surrounded by militant, angry best friends, drip-feeding her tequilas and sending requests for ‘I Will Survive’ to the DJ.

  ‘Seen enough?’ Santa asked gently. Amy nodded and, to her relief, they were instantly outside by the sleigh, where Rudolph was enjoying the remains of a serving of chips and gravy, polystyrene container and all.

  ‘He didn’t chuck me,’ Amy said, stunned. ‘Which is rather amazing considering I was acting like a spoilt psycho little kid. He was trying to tell me it was moving too fast and I went nuclear on his arse. I…I self destructed. I ruined something that could have been great, because…because deep down inside I didn’t think I deserved to be loved.’

  ‘Well, partly that,’ San
ta said. ‘But mainly because you were very drunk and deep down in your heart you were having misgivings about Pete anyway, you just didn’t know how to back out about moving in with him. You’ve forgotten that part because of the amazing mind-wiping properties of tequila, and because it suits you to remember it that way. Even if you had moved in with Pete it would have been over by June.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Amy asked, still shocked by what a horrific brat she had been.

  ‘Parallel universes,’ Santa said. ‘Every time you make a choice, a left or right turn, a new universe is created. I’d explain it to you, but frankly it does my head in. I got into this job for the presents and fun, not the quantum physics.’

  ‘So could I go and live in another universe?’ Amy asked. ‘In the one where I’m happy?’

  ‘No,’ Santa said. ‘And anyway, you are happy in this universe, in your universe. You just don’t know it yet.’

  ‘So you can see my future, you know for sure that everything will turn out fine in the end?’

  Santa hesitated, looking a little guilty.

  ‘What? Tell me?’

  ‘I don’t know how things turn out,’ he said. ‘Which is odd, because I should do, but that page seems to be missing.’

  ‘So you have no idea if everything is going to be OK then, do you?’ Amy asked angrily, aware that she was sounding just like Amy 2000 had in the club with Pete. ‘Then what’s the point of all this?’

  ‘Amy, listen to me,’ Santa said. ‘We’ve come pretty far, if you think about it. You know now not to waste your love on losers like Gavin and you will never make that mistake again. You know that you are strong enough not to accept a proposal of marriage just because it’s there, not if everything isn’t right. And you know that the boy you thought really loved you and hurt you didn’t hurt you and did love you. And if it helps, after you finished with him he grew a beard and didn’t have another proper girlfriend for four years, because he wasn’t sure he could trust again.’