The Christmas Party (Advent Story Train)

Welcome to the Advent Calendar Story Train where you can read through 24 stories under this year’s theme, Lost. This is my first year taking part and I’ve really enjoyed writing again after quite a break!

The Christmas Party

Rita had hoped this year would be like the Christmas novels she devoured every December: snow-dusted streets, tussling with a handsome stranger over the last panettone in an overpriced artisan bakery, falling in love ice-skating under the stars. Instead, she seemed to have taken a wrong turn in her own life.

Work had cancelled the Christmas night out, her boyfriend had moved in with the nurse from Trusted Vets taking his air fryer and the only decent knife, and her parents were on a Caribbean cruise. ‘We couldn’t have known you’d be single for Christmas, darling,’ her mother had said. ‘Mind you, I was always suspicious of just how often that cat needed his teeth cleaning.’

So now Rita would be ‘celebrating’ the big day with Snowball (whose teeth were the only decent thing Pete had left behind) and an M&S festive meal for one in front of Love Actually. Perfect Christmases were obviously for other people – the sort who sent cards in early December, baked their own stollen, and never lost their Christmas spirit.

Her phone buzzed: Don’t forget drinks at mine! Bring a bottle! 

Agghh! She’d planned to skip Sally’s Christmas Eve party; Sally from the bookshop where Rita spent too much of her salary. Surely it wasn’t that pathetic to stay home in pyjamas watching Last Christmas for the fifth time? 

Snowball stretched, gave Rita the exact look of exasperation Claudia gave the Faithfuls who still hadn’t found a Traitor after six episodes, then slipped through the cat flap. When even the cat had a better social life than she did, it was time to do something about it.

An hour later, Rita trudged along an unlit lane, hood pulled up against the freezing drizzle, two bottles of Aldi prosecco swinging in a Waitrose carrier bag. Her numb thumbs were scrolling through WhatsApp for Sally’s house number when a bump from behind sent her shrieking and skidding across the path, arms flailing as she fought to save her bag and phone.

‘I’m so sorry! I need windscreen wipers in this weather,’ said a tall, bespectacled man holding a large cake tin. He glanced at the clinking carrier bag, where the bottles were thankfully still intact. ‘Any chance you’re going to Sally’s party? It’s number forty-seven, but I can’t see a thing.’

‘Has to be that one,’ said Rita, pointing at a house blazing with fairy lights. ‘Looks brighter than Rudolph’s nose.’

‘Excellent – it can guide us straight to the drinks table.’

The door was opened by a ruddy-faced man dressed as Santa. Rita rolled her eyes and resolved to stay for no longer than an hour.

‘Ho ho ho! Welcome to our merry gathering! Wine on the table, keys in the bowl.’

Rita blinked at Santa, then pulled down her hood and handed over the carrier bag. ‘I’m Rita. This is…’

 ‘Nick,’ said her doorstep companion, offering the cake tin. ‘Mince pie?’

The overheated living room buzzed with middle-aged couples discussing boilers, school fees, and the annual chaos at the garden centre, while a tinsel-heavy Christmas tree lurched nervously towards a lively log fire. As Nick poured glasses of red wine, Rita thought his dishevelled blond hair, easy smile, and misted-up specs wouldn’t look out of place in one of her yuletide romcoms – maybe not the hero, but certainly the best friend.

‘We should say hello to Sally,’ said Nick, handing her a glass. His fingers brushed hers for a heartbeat and a flush spread across Rita’s cheeks, rivalling the fire’s glow. ‘How do you know her?’

Rita admitted her book habit and Nick laughed. ‘I work with her boyfriend, said I’d pop in on the way back from my mum’s. She donated the mince pies.’

They drifted around the room, chatting easily about ‘Is Die Hard a Christmas film?’ and the sad decline of Quality Street, smiling politely at strangers. Still, there was no sign of Sally.

The lights dimmed and Santa tapped a fork against a wine glass. A hush fell.

‘Okay everyone! You know what time it is!’

A ripple of excitement ran through the room.

‘It’s Naughty Time!’

Rita froze. Nick leaned closer. ‘Naughty…what?’

‘Phones off, folks,’ boomed Santa, ‘and tonight’s safe word is reindeer!’

A woman giggled as she wriggled out of her dress, declaring that Frank always threw the best swingers’ parties in the Cotswolds.

Rita and Nick stared at each other in horror and started edging towards the hallway, only to find Santa blocking the door, his eyes glittering mischievously. If he could still be called Santa wearing nothing but the red hat.

‘Not leaving us already? You don’t want to miss Pass the Baubles,’ he leered.

Nick seized a steaming jug of mulled wine from the buffet and brandished it. ‘Back off, Santa, or your chestnuts will be well and truly roasted.’

Santa hesitated, then whipped off his hat to cover what little dignity he had left.

Laughing hysterically, they ran into the night, skidding down the path with Nick holding tightly onto Rita’s hand. They halted by the gate, where Nick pointed at the small enamel numbers: six and five.

‘Frankly, I’m disappointed. I’d expect this sort of establishment to at least have the decency to be number sixty-nine.’

Still smiling, they made their way down the lane until they arrived at the right house. Inside, Sally’s party was the kind Rita could cope with: bad jumpers, a tragic playlist, and a table collapsing under the weight of cheese.

Sally’s eyes widened at Rita and Nick arriving together and she gave Rita an indiscreet wink as she handed them both a glass of bubbly. ‘I was beginning to think you’d got lost!’  

Rita caught Nick’s eye and started giggling again. He tapped his glass against hers and smiled softly. ‘Here’s to the wrong party with the right person.’

Rita felt a fizz run through her that had nothing to do with any drink. Sometimes, getting a little lost was the best way to find Christmas magic.

Thank you for reading today’s story. The next story will be available to read sometime on the 22nd December, titled “Because The Stars Asked It To“. This link will be active tomorrow when the post goes live.

If you missed yesterday’s you can go and read it here.