November 1968
Dear Father Christmas
Has it started to snow in Lapland? Mummy says it is cold up where you live. She also says if I am good I can ask for a special present to be in my stocking. Please can I have a dolls tea set so my friend Patricia and I can play tea parties. My doll’s name is Antonia, she has black hair, Patricia’s doll talks when you pull a string at the back of her head. I hope we get snow for Christmas.
Love from
Lucy
3rd December 1969
Dear Father Christmas
Thank you for my stocking last year. Antonia, Patricia, and her doll, the one that talks, you remember, had tea parties in the garden. I wish Patricia’s doll could say ‘would you like a cup of tea’ instead of ‘would you like an apple’. We don’t have apples at our tea parties. This year please could I have a pram so we can take our dolls for a walk in the park.
Did your reindeer like the carrots I left out for them?
I know you can’t deliver this in my stocking but could you make it so my Daddy is at home on Christmas day. Last year we all went to the hospital. It was quite fun. One of the nurses in a dark blue uniform gave me a colouring book and some pencils. Mummy made me give her a kiss to say thank you, she smelt funny. Happy Christmas.
Love from
Lucy
Dear Reg
I hope you all had a good time with the family at Christmas. There was quite a party on the ward with the nurses and doctors and their families. For our Christmas lunch all us men, well those of us able to get up or be pushed by a pretty nurse were taken down to Herbert Atkins ward for our lunch. I was nearly sat next to that women from the golf club, you know the one I mean. All haughty, not so high and mighty when she’s in her nightie and dressing gown mind. But with a bit of nifty foot work I got myself on the end of the table right handy for any seconds that were going.
There was an old chap in the bed next to me at the beginning of the week. Terrible cough, they had him on oxygen and all sorts. He’d been at Wipers, the Somme and Passiondale, I tried to get him to talk about it, thought he’d have some great stories to tell. But he won’t. Not like us always reminiscing on our war. But it was a different war and that makes all the difference. When we all came back from our lunch his bed was empty, all stripped back. I asked one of the nurses, slip of a thing. Where he was and she just said he’d been moved. But she wouldn’t look me in the eye. Later when the big wig nurse – matron, all in her navy blue with starch collar and frilly cap, came round to ask if we’d enjoyed our lunch I tackled her. She said he slipped away. I said you mean died, why don’t you say so then. She looked me dead in the eye, no pun intended and said we don’t like to upset the other patients do we. And gave me a knowing look and a wink. She popped in yesterday to see if I was alright. Didn’t half put the wind right up ward sister and staff nurse. They say I can go home in early January, I asked if I could be out in time for the New Year but the surgeon was quite firm. So no parties for me. We will have to have our own celebration later in January. Love to your sister Mabel.
George
10th December 1970
Dear Father Christmas
What I would like this year for Christmas is for Daddy not to be working at the hospital please. Last year we spent all of Christmas day there . Daddy did what he calls a ward round, checking his patients. He looks smart in his white coat. Mummy and I saw the smelly nurse in a dark blue dress, the one they call Matron. She gave me another colouring book and some more pencils. She gave a little boy, his daddy puts patients to sleep, some sweeties, he ate them all in one go and then was sick on the carpet. We all went up to the ward, some patients have to have their Christmas lunch in bed. Mummy helped Daddy carve the turkey. One of the nurses, in a green uniform, brought me a sausage to eat, it wasn’t very hot and a bit greasy. I didn’t let Mummy see me licking my fingers. I pulled a cracker with one of the old gentlemen, he looked a bit like Grandpops. An old lady was all grumpy when I offered to pull her cracker and shouted at me. I don’t think that was very polite of her.
This year please could I have a bicycle. And may I not have any nuts – I don’t like nuts. I like chocolate. Thank you. Happy Christmas
Love from
Lucy
8th December 1971
Dear Father Christmas
I know I ask every year but please please please this year could you arrange for my Daddy not to be at the hospital and to have Christmas day at home. Last year he was there all day and so was Mummy and I. The nurse in dark blue dress gave me a join the dots book, the little boy got sweeties, again, he didn’t share, ate them all .
I went with Mummy up to the ward to see some of the patients. Am sure they’d rather be at home than in hospital. Mummy said there was something wrong with the turkey and not to eat it. When we got home Mummy made sandwiches. It snowed and I built a snowman. Happy Christmas
Love from
Lucy
During July, August and September The Casket of Fictional Delights will feature the Flash Fiction Summer Collection. There are seven stories in this summer's collection from Susan Carey, Shirley Golden, Alex Reece Abbott, Rosie Canning, Gina Headden and Louise Mangos
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