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An unexpected gift from a Secret Santa arrived. I had left my gift a few days prior. Wrapped in traditional colours a luscious ruby red tied together with gold ribbon. A tag to Alan from Santa.It was December 20th that I left my gift under the small wilting Christmas tree in the work canteen. Starved of water the pine needles decorate the floor. The mismatched baubles hidden beneath meters of tinsel.I counted down the days checking each poorly wrapped gift. The tags all addressed to other names. As the calendar falls to Christmas Eve still no present appears under the tree for yours truly. I try not to get upset it’s a stupid thing to worry about. A silly thing really. It would probably only be the obligatory Charlie set or some gag git like a blow up doll. Not everyone can take things seriously like myself. I bought Alan a silk tie. Every man should own at least one luxury item. He wears a lot of those hideous cheap joke ties. Christmas Eve brought with it the obligatory office party. It started at 12:30pm. The water cooler has been replaced by some kind of homemade punch. I keep a nervous eye on the tree if it can even be called that at this point. It being nothing more than a few sprigs clinging on for dear life. Carol is crying into her Chardonnay while Julie screams Last Christmas on the karaoke. Delivering death glares at Josh another dig towards their failed office romance.I try not to allow myself to be distracted. As the party drags on and still no present materialises for me. Unable to hide my disappointment any further I lay down my plate of cold sausage rolls and cucumber sandwiches I’d clung to. As I pick up my coat and bag from my coat hook. I feel a lump in the left hand pocket. Running my fingers over it I take out a small shabbily wrapped box. I look carefully at the writing that simply says Laura love Santa. I don’t recognise the writing. It could of course have been written by someone else to throw me off. Finding myself to have come across all shy. I replaced the box in my pocket. Dig in my bag for my car keys and make my way to the staff car park. I get home and think nothing of the mystery gift that remains in my pocket. The next morning as I rush about the house having snoozed my alarm and finding it to be close to 9am the Turkey still sitting patiently in the fridge. My mind flooded with fear at the thought of my hungry guests due to arrive. I take a bottle of wine from the rack and pour a generous serving into a glass. Preparing Christmas dinner isn’t for the faint hearted. With my hand unapologetically stuck half way up the Turkey removing the giblets. My wine glass appearing dangerously empty. I remember my Secret Santa gift. I dry off my hands and go to the hall and take out the grubby package. It not holding the delicate care my own gift wrapping skills offer. I unearth a small box holding a usb drive. My interest heightened I go to my laptop to reveal it’s secrets. Wine glass in hand I look over countless photos of my husband with another woman. I’m sick to my stomach my hand gripping my delicate crystal glass so tight it snaps the stem. Blood curdling angers consumes me as I look over endless photos of my husband with Susan. I collect myself as I return to the kitchen. The guests arrive I lay the table we eat dinner. My husband by my side. As I carve the Turkey.  After dinner I put away the dishes and invite my guests to the drawing room. The children are put to bed as we engage in a few party games. We laugh and joke together. I watch my husband’s eyes continuously fall to Susan and hold my nerve. I make the offer of a cheese board which is greatly received by my guests as I go to prepare it I ask my husband to put on a special Christmas film I prepared.He grumbles a little but goes along with it. As the film begins it’s a series of family photos met with the usual compliments of how happy we all look. I make my way into the drawing room cheese board in hand as a photo of my husband on a desk with Susan comes onto our 50” flat screen TV. A collective gasp fills the room. My husband awkwardly tries to cover the TV with his body unaware of how else to react. I place the cheese board on the table in front of everyone. Take the knife from it’s holder and lunge at Susan. Going straight for her throat pushing down to the handle. My actions leave my audience with expressions of horror. As my husband reaches to the phone to call the police I sit down and ask “Anyone for cheese? Sorry I couldn’t find the chutney will Jam do?”

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Christmas at the office

Theoccasionalpoet17

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Christmas at the office

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Natalie Horrocks

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