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Authors: Patricia Scanlan
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she was about Santa’s impending arrival. He had asked for a rescue helicopter and a
surprise and Paula could hear him anxiously asking their mother, ‘Do you think he’ll remember it’s me that asked for the helicopter an’ not Joseph or Thomas?’
‘Stop worrying, John,’ Paula heard her mother say. ‘You’ve sent so many letters up that chimney he couldn’t possibly make a mistake.’ They had all had their
baths and the youngest ones were getting their hair washed in a big basin in front of the fire in the kitchen. It would be her turn soon. Paula hated getting her hair washed. It always got tangled
and she would screech when her mother brushed the tangles out for her.
‘Are you excited?’ Auntie Helen asked as they gazed out at the lighthouse in the middle of the sea. The wide golden beam lit up the steel-grey waters and darkening sky every sixty
seconds. Surely if Paula kept looking at it she might see Santa and his sleigh. She gave a little shiver of anticipation.
‘I wish it was Christmas Eve every night. I really hope I get my nurse’s set. I wonder what surprise will I get?’ Paula felt a wave of impatience. She wished she could just
shut her eyes and open them and it would be Christmas morning.
‘I bet your surprise will be lovely,’ her aunt assured her, ‘and wait until you see what I have for you under the tree.’
‘Tell me! Tell me! Pleeezze, Auntie Helen, Please please please.’ Paula felt like bursting with exhilaration.
‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,’ Auntie Helen laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll ask Maura if I can wash your hair while she’s drying John’s.’ They walked
hand in hand into the snug aroma-filled kitchen. On the big table opposite the fire lay the huge turkey all plucked and cleaned and ready to be stuffed. Beside it lay a big platter of chopped
onions, herbs and parsley, mashed potatoes and sausage meat. A big bowl of breadcrumbs waited to be mixed into the stuffing.
They had all sat around the big table earlier rubbing chunks of bread together and crumbling them into the smallest crumbs. Only Louise, the eldest, was allowed to use the grater. It was her job
to grate the crusts when the rest of them had finished crumbling. Paula longed with all her might to be allowed to use the grater. It was an important job. It wasn’t fair that Louise was the
only one allowed to do it.
When her older sister’s back was turned, she stretched out and grabbed the grater and started grating her own crusts, much to Rebecca’s chagrin. Rebecca too felt that she should be
allowed to use it.
‘Mammy, Paula’s using the grater.’ Rebecca snatched the offending article from her younger sister, causing Paula to graze her thumb. Blood stained the soft white pile of crumbs
in front of her. Paula yelled blue murder.
‘Look what she did, Mammy! Look what she did! Santa Claus won’t come to you, Miss Rebecca Matthews.’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Maura exploded, wiping Paula’s thumb and giving Rebecca a clip on the arm at the same time. ‘Santa won’t be coming to anyone in this
house. If you all don’t behave yourselves, I’m going to send the lot of you to bed and give the turkey to the poor.’
‘We didn’t do anything,’ Joseph exclaimed indignantly.
‘We’re on our best behaviour, not like them two,’ John said sanctimoniously.
‘That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word out of anyone,’ Maura warned and peace reigned for another while although there were a few protests during the hair
washes. But that was nothing new.
When her hair had been washed and brushed it looked even more shiny and golden and Paula sat with her aunt’s hand-mirror and brushed it over and over again. She looked a bit like the fairy
princess in the lovely book of the
Sleeping Beauty
which Auntie Helen had given her for her last birthday.
Then her daddy arrived home with the Christmas tree. Paula stared in awe at the huge deep green pine that he was
surprise and Paula could hear him anxiously asking their mother, ‘Do you think he’ll remember it’s me that asked for the helicopter an’ not Joseph or Thomas?’
‘Stop worrying, John,’ Paula heard her mother say. ‘You’ve sent so many letters up that chimney he couldn’t possibly make a mistake.’ They had all had their
baths and the youngest ones were getting their hair washed in a big basin in front of the fire in the kitchen. It would be her turn soon. Paula hated getting her hair washed. It always got tangled
and she would screech when her mother brushed the tangles out for her.
‘Are you excited?’ Auntie Helen asked as they gazed out at the lighthouse in the middle of the sea. The wide golden beam lit up the steel-grey waters and darkening sky every sixty
seconds. Surely if Paula kept looking at it she might see Santa and his sleigh. She gave a little shiver of anticipation.
‘I wish it was Christmas Eve every night. I really hope I get my nurse’s set. I wonder what surprise will I get?’ Paula felt a wave of impatience. She wished she could just
shut her eyes and open them and it would be Christmas morning.
‘I bet your surprise will be lovely,’ her aunt assured her, ‘and wait until you see what I have for you under the tree.’
‘Tell me! Tell me! Pleeezze, Auntie Helen, Please please please.’ Paula felt like bursting with exhilaration.
‘Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,’ Auntie Helen laughed. ‘Come on, I’ll ask Maura if I can wash your hair while she’s drying John’s.’ They walked
hand in hand into the snug aroma-filled kitchen. On the big table opposite the fire lay the huge turkey all plucked and cleaned and ready to be stuffed. Beside it lay a big platter of chopped
onions, herbs and parsley, mashed potatoes and sausage meat. A big bowl of breadcrumbs waited to be mixed into the stuffing.
They had all sat around the big table earlier rubbing chunks of bread together and crumbling them into the smallest crumbs. Only Louise, the eldest, was allowed to use the grater. It was her job
to grate the crusts when the rest of them had finished crumbling. Paula longed with all her might to be allowed to use the grater. It was an important job. It wasn’t fair that Louise was the
only one allowed to do it.
When her older sister’s back was turned, she stretched out and grabbed the grater and started grating her own crusts, much to Rebecca’s chagrin. Rebecca too felt that she should be
allowed to use it.
‘Mammy, Paula’s using the grater.’ Rebecca snatched the offending article from her younger sister, causing Paula to graze her thumb. Blood stained the soft white pile of crumbs
in front of her. Paula yelled blue murder.
‘Look what she did, Mammy! Look what she did! Santa Claus won’t come to you, Miss Rebecca Matthews.’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Maura exploded, wiping Paula’s thumb and giving Rebecca a clip on the arm at the same time. ‘Santa won’t be coming to anyone in this
house. If you all don’t behave yourselves, I’m going to send the lot of you to bed and give the turkey to the poor.’
‘We didn’t do anything,’ Joseph exclaimed indignantly.
‘We’re on our best behaviour, not like them two,’ John said sanctimoniously.
‘That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word out of anyone,’ Maura warned and peace reigned for another while although there were a few protests during the hair
washes. But that was nothing new.
When her hair had been washed and brushed it looked even more shiny and golden and Paula sat with her aunt’s hand-mirror and brushed it over and over again. She looked a bit like the fairy
princess in the lovely book of the
Sleeping Beauty
which Auntie Helen had given her for her last birthday.
Then her daddy arrived home with the Christmas tree. Paula stared in awe at the huge deep green pine that he was
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