Santa Who?
Womans Weekly Fiction Special|January 2020
The thought of a serious crime being committed in their little town was ludicrous!
Angela Auger
Santa Who?

Do I have to go out right away, Sarge?’ I grumbled. ‘It’s snowing and I’m gasping for a cup of tea.’

I’d just got in and was standing in the middle of the station, water dripping off me and steadily forming a puddle on the lino.

‘I’m afraid so, Bill,’ he said. ‘There’s no-one else. And make it snappy. She sounded quite upset on the phone.’

He poured himself a cup of strong, hot tea, then turned to me. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. Off you go. I’m sure the tea will still be here when you get back.’

I slammed the office door and headed out into the cold. It was snowing heavily and I was already feeling the chill.

I slid along the main road on my bike, head down, barely able to see. What a miserable way to spend Christmas Eve. Actually, I didn’t really have cause to complain. It was the first Christmas Eve I’d been on duty for three years, and at least I’d have Christmas Day off to spend with my wife and kids.

Thanks to the weather, it took me longer than usual to get there. The snow was coming down in bigger flakes and I was sliding all over the place. Needless to say, by the time I arrived at the Watson house, the squabble was well and truly over. They had, it seemed, made it up, I wished them a Merry Christmas and prepared to return to the station for a cuppa.

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Denne historien er fra January 2020-utgaven av Womans Weekly Fiction Special.

Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.

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