by J. J. Green
Carrie Hatchett’s Christmas
Carrie Hatchett, Space Adventurer
J.J. Green
This story uses British spellings
Cover Design: Illuminated Images & Dark Moon Graphics
Carrie Hatchett’s Christmas is a supplementary novelette in the Carrie Hatchett, Space Adventurer series.
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ALSO BY J.J. GREEN
MISSION IMPROBABLE
CARRIE HATCHETT, SPACE ADVENTURER #1
GENERATION
SHADOWS OF THE VOID #1
DEATH SWITCH
THERE COMES A TIME
A SCIENCE FICTION COLLECTION
DAWN FALCON
A FANTASY COLLECTION
Table of Contents
Chapter One – Santa’s Grotto
Chapter Two – A Surprise Visitor
Chapter Three – Elf Invasion
Chapter Four – Oh Yes It Is
Chapter Five – Hidden Secrets
Chapter Six – Elf Encounter
Chapter Seven - Farewell
Chapter Eight – Christmas Feast
Chapter One – Santa’s Grotto
Ms. Emily Wainwright stood holding the hand of a little girl in a queue that snaked from the entrance of Selfridges and down Oxford Street, London. Snow had begun to fall, the first that season, and though it was only four in the afternoon, the street lights began to wink on, supplementing the rainbow hues of Christmas lights, bright in the approaching late afternoon dusk. The child shivered a little. Emily looked down and smiled and held her hand tighter.
The little girl wasn’t her daughter. Ms. Wainwright worked in a children’s home, and the child lived at the home, the most recent of a long string of residences she had lived in since she was born. In Emily’s experience, the girl’s history was familiar. Babies, especially foundling babies such as the girl had been, were usually easy to place with loving adoptive parents, providing they fitted within the spectrum of what society considered normal. Sadly, the little girl’s appearance didn’t fall in that category, and no one returned to see her after their first visit.
Emily Wainwright had a big heart, but for some reason she’d never found anyone to share it with, and she’d formed an attachment to the child that she knew was unprofessional. Little Beth Lam wouldn’t have been a burden to her. Named after Lambeth, the London borough in which she’d been found as a newborn, she was a pleasure to be around, and though no doctor had been able to diagnose the cause of her physical oddities, all had concluded that she was otherwise normal in every way. Except that for the last few months Beth had failed to gain any weight, and each day grew paler and more tired.
“Will I see Santa soon?” asked the child, turning her peculiar eyes up at her guardian.
“Yes, Beth,” replied Emily, “not much longer now. We’re near the doors, and when we get inside we’ll be warmer.”
“I’m so excited,” said Beth, jumping on the tips of her toes.
The temperature was falling as fast as the snow, now that the winter sun had set, but, as was typical for the child, she didn’t complain. Emily’s own hands were numb, and with her small frame, the little girl must have been chilled. She wore the cheap secondhand clothes all the looked-after children wore. The hood of her thin parka was pulled down over her head to keep her warm as well as hide her deformities from the gaze of curious Christmas shoppers.
A group of carollers were singing to the accompaniment of handbells to entertain the waiting customers. People towards the front of the queue began to move through Selfridges’ wide doorway and into the department store. Those waiting ahead of the woman and child closed the gap and the pair followed, until at last they were inside and basking in the cranked-up heat of oil-fed furnaces.
Beth gasped aloud, causing the family waiting in front to turn around. A boy stared at her, saying, “Urghh...what’s wrong with that girl, Mummy?” His mother tugged on his hand, turning him to face forward. “Don’t be rude,” she hissed.
A shadow of pain flickered over Beth’s face, but the little girl had grown used to taunts and comments, and she had learned to ignore them. “It’s beautiful,” she said, referring to Santa’s Grotto, which occupied a full third of Selfridge’s ground floor.
Indeed it was beautiful. Even Emily, who had been coming to Santa’s Grotto at Selfridges for as long as she could remember, was impressed. Her mother had brought her every Christmas when she was growing up, until she was really much too big. Later, she had brought nephews, nieces and now looked-after children who often had no parents to bring them. But in all those Christmases she had never seen a display more magical.
Rocky walls stretched from floor to ceiling, their realistic crags dusted with snow that looked freshly fallen, sparkling faintly in the shop’s blazing overhead lights. A path wove from Selfridges’ front door to the secretive entrance to the grotto, bordered by holly, mistletoe, ivy and pine that scented the air with a resinous odour. Animal figures appeared to gambol through the green growth: foxes, hares, weasels in their winter coats; and birds perched in the branches: snowy owls, red-breasted robins, and speckled thrushes. All seemed to have frozen to stillness only a second earlier. Blue-white snow encrusted the path and forest scene, and Emily and Beth crunched it with their footsteps as they followed the diminishing queue slowly disappearing through the grotto entrance.
“Will I sit on Santa’s lap?” asked Beth.
“Of course you will.”
“And can I ask for a present? Whatever I want?”
Emily’s heart ached. She knew too well what gift most of the looked-after children asked Santa for: something even he wasn’t able to provide.
“You can ask for whatever you want,” replied Emily, “but Santa might not be able to give it to you.”
“Not even if I’ve been very good?”
“Not even if you’ve been very, very good, Beth.” Emily turned her head to one side and ran a finger under an eye before turning back to the girl wearing a bright smile. “But he’ll give you a present, and would you like a mince pie to eat on the way home?”
“Oh, yes please,” exclaimed the child.
Another set of people entered the grotto, and the queue shuffled forward several steps. Emily and Beth were among the trees now. They were hung with gorgeous baubles, shining in iridescent hues. Beth pulled on Emily’s hand as she leaned close to gaze at her reflection in a shiny surface.
A cry came from with the grotto. It was a deep voice, a man’s voice, shouting in alarm. The hum of conversation in the queue abruptly stopped, and the people looked around as if to check that others had heard the same thing. Another cry, louder, sounded, followed by the shouts of more voices. Looks of puzzlement in the queue turned to alarm, and some members edged away from the grotto entrance.
“Ms. Wainwright,” said Beth, looking up at her guardian for reassurance. “What was that?”
But Emily had no reassurance to give. “Perhaps we’d better come back tomo—”
A bang shook the grotto, vibrating the floor beneath Emily and Beth’s feet. The queue melted and people began to run for the doors. The rest of Selfridges’ customers also began rapidly leaving. Emily scooped Beth up into her arms and tried to fight her way through
the stampede, struggling to keep her feet.
“Please,” she gasped as a large man pushed roughly past, almost causing her to drop the child. Woman and girl were carried through Selfridges’ doors and into the street, where Emily had no choice but to follow in the direction of the crowd as she was swept along. At a Tube entrance, however, she took her chance to escape. She stepped to one side out of the flow of the throng into the lee of the Underground entry wall.
Setting Beth on her feet, Emily peered out from their place of safety and back towards Selfridges. She’d heard nothing but the noise of the crowd since the bang. Shoppers continued to flood from the department store’s doors, but no smoke or fire was to be seen, and no one seemed injured. Sirens wailed up Oxford Street, and in the distance the lights of emergency service vehicles flashed.
Wary of stepping out into the mad rush with a small child, Emily waited a few more moments, watching the crowd and hoping for a gap in the foot traffic, and this was how she got such a good view of the cause of the disturbance, though she didn’t know it at the time.
The first thing she saw of them were the points of their green felt hats, low down among the shoulders of the escaping shoppers. A sparkling scarlet feather waved to the side of each green point as the elves approached. The frontrunner confirmed Emily’s suspicion that the hats belonged to Santa’s elves. He—it appeared to be a he, though Emily found it hard to be sure, as the elves looked quite androgynous—he was wearing a bright green tunic that matched his hat, bright green leggings, a silver belt and pointed silver boots. The rest of the elves appeared behind their leader, dodging and weaving through Selfridge’s advancing customers like long-distance runners making their way to the front of a race.
Emily had only a few seconds’ close-up view of the faces of Santa’s short, plump helpers as they passed by, but what she saw made her gasp.
Chapter Two – A Surprise Visitor
Carrie Hatchett was in her kitchen, smoothing the top of a freshly made cake. The sound of thumping came from somewhere in the region of her feet. Her dog, Rogue’s, tail was repeatedly hitting the floor as he looked up at her hopefully, drooling.
“Sorry, you’ve got to wait until Christmas.” Carrie scanned the recipe instructions. It was the first time she’d made a dogfood cake and she didn’t want to get anything wrong. She’d followed the instructions exactly right up to the last sentence on the page, Mold the mixture into a shape of your choice. She’d made a large bone.
Carrie wiped a hand on her apron and flicked over the page, but the new page showed a new recipe, a wild bird food mixture. What was she supposed to do with her finished masterpiece? Put it in the oven? Leave it to set in the fridge? She looked from Rogue to the cake and back to the dog. He ate anything she put in front of him and whatever else he managed to get his sloppy jaws around, whether it was cooked, uncooked, or three days old and smelly. She put the cake in the fridge.
Carrie paused a moment at the opened fridge door and took stock of the rest of the goodies chilling inside.
It was Christmas Eve, and her festive preparations were nearly complete. It was going to be a quiet Christmas this year. Her family had gone abroad, and she had been unable to join them. Being the owner of a call centre meant precious little free time, especially during the festive season when the phones were ringing off their hooks with inquiries about presents. Luckily her best friend, Dave, was also at a loose end, and he was going to join her for Christmas dinner. So far, she had Brussels sprouts, carrots, broccoli, potatoes, nut roast, stuffing, a cheese platter and crackers, crisps, olives, fruit, brandy snaps, gingerbread, shortbread, plum pudding, a Yule log, mince pies and double cream. She wondered if that would be enough.
Her cat, Toodles’ present was already made, though she’d had to wrap it in two plastic bags and lock it in a cupboard to prevent the scent of catnip from driving the animal wild.
Yes, it would be a nice, quiet Christmas for the four of them. Carrie had even managed to explain the importance of the Christmas holidays to her alien employers for her second job, which was with the Transgalactic Council. She’d been promised three days free of assignments in her role as Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer. Travelling across the galaxy and meeting aliens was fun, but everyone needed a break now and then.
Carrie closed the fridge door, stood upright and cocked an ear. Dave had popped over to lend a hand with the preparations, but he’d gone to the bathroom and had been away a suspiciously long time. Her friend was a lovely man who was also a Liaison Officer, but he happened to have kleptomaniac tendencies. She was never quite at ease when she didn’t have her eyes on him.
Rogue gave a loud bark, causing Carrie to jump. He looked at her expectantly.
“I’ve told you, you can’t have any cake until Christmas.”
Rogue gave another bark, ran to the kitchen door, lollopped back to Carrie, and looked up, wagging his tail.
“What is it?”
Her dog gently took her sleeve in his mouth and tugged her towards the door.
“Carrie, someone’s calling on your translator,” Dave shouted down.
“Oh, that’s what you could hear,” said Carrie to her dog. “Clever boy.” She climbed her stairs. “Why are they contacting me now?” she asked Dave, who was waiting on the upstairs landing. “We’re supposed to be getting some time off.”
Her friend shrugged. “Better answer it. It sounds like someone you’d like to hear from.”
“You were gone a long time,” Carrie said over her shoulder as she went into her bedroom. She caught Dave’s glare while she fished her translator out of her Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer toolkit.
The voice she heard was familiar. “Liaison Officer Hatchett, please—”
“Gavin?” Carrie asked. Surely it couldn’t be...?
“Yes, Carrie, it is I.”
“Gavin,” exclaimed Carrie, “this is brilliant. Have they given you your old job back? Are you my manager again?”
“No, no,” replied Gavin, “I have not returned to my former employment as a Transgalactic Council Manager. This is a one-off assignment and somewhat of an emergency. The Council contacted me because I am their only expert in Slevih. It is an obscure language, and I learned it on a whim, never expecting to have an opportunity to use it. It is fascinating. The language has thirty-two tenses, one of which is based on the orientation of the speaker and listeners, and another that conjugates according to whether the speaker or speakers have ever observed the action described.”
“Gavin, what are you talking about?”
“Oh, haha, I do apologise. I became a little engrossed in my subject matter. Perhaps it would be better if I came there and explained in person?”
Dave was standing in the doorway. As Gavin’s offer his eyebrows rose and he waved his arms as he backed away.
“Come here? To my house? Are you allowed to come to Earth?” asked Carrie.
“Not ordinarily, but the Transgalactic Council have allowed an exception. In this case it is unavoidable. I will open a gateway and be there in a moment.”
“Say no,” called Dave from the landing. “Say he can’t come. He won’t fit in your bedroom anyway. And he’s got jaws. Massive jaws.”
“Don’t be silly,” Carrie said as a green mist formed in midair and began to swirl into a spiral. “It’s Christmas, and Gavin’s our friend. What better time is there for him to come over? And you know he’s lovely. I can’t believe you’re still scared of him.”
“Scared? Who said I was scared?” asked Dave. “Anyway, I’m going downstairs. I’m feeling a bit...hungry. Have you got any biscuits?”
The swirling green mist widened until it reached floor to ceiling, and a large, spindly, insectoid leg appeared through it.
“No, I haven’t got any biscuits,” said Carrie as Dave descended and disappeared. “You ate the last lot I had, and I haven’t had a chance to buy any more.” She stepped back to make room for her f
ormer manager as he arrived. “Hello, Gavin.”
The massive alien’s one hundred compound eyes turned to Carrie, and his razor-sharp inner jaws protruded, dripping saliva that steamed and hissed as it hit Carrie’s carpet. She would have to give the carpet another clean tomorrow, but it was no trouble when it meant seeing the creature who had first introduced her to exciting galactic adventures.
“Hello, Carrie, my dear.”
The alien’s large frame squeezed Carrie into a corner. “It’s lovely to see you again, Gavin, but what are you doing here?”
“As I was explaining, I have been brought in because the Council has no one else who can speak Slevih. It is so rare the translators have not been programmed with the language.”
“And why...?”
“Oh yes, of course, you have not yet been informed. For the first time in millenia, Slevs have been sighted. They are an ancient, evil race, and they appear to be invading Earth.”
“What?” exclaimed Carrie. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”
“Do you not think you might require a little more information?”
Carrie flushed a little. “Shall we go downstairs?”
Chapter Three – Elf Invasion
“I’ll make us some tea,” said Dave, leaving for the kitchen as Gavin followed Carrie downstairs and into the living room.
“I don’t want any tea,” said Carrie. “Come here. You need to hear this. We’ve got a job to do, and Gavin’s come to help us.”
Dave stood with his back to the living room wall and his arms folded while the alien hulked in the centre of the room, blocking the sunlight from the windows and casting everything into shadow. Carrie turned on the light. Gavin’s bronze carapace gleamed.