Santa Maybe

by Scarlett Bailey

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Scarlett Bailey

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1. Jingle What?

  2. Making a List, Checking it Twice

  3. Mistletoe and Whine

  4. Walking in the Air

  5. Where Music and Passion are Always the Fashion

  6. So Good They Named it Twice

  7. Let’s all Meet Up in the Year 2000

  8. I’m Never Going to Dance Again

  9. I Will Survive!

  10. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

  11. Make the Yuletide Gay

  12. Walking in a Winter Wonderland

  13. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

  14. Hark! the Herald Angels Sing

  15. Away in a Manger

  16. When a Child is Born

  17. Silent Night

  18. All I want for Christmas is You

  19. Summer Lovin’

  20. Mamma Mia!

  21. Blue Christmas

  22. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

  23. A Matter of Life and Death

  24. We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

  Sneak Peek

  Also available from Ebury Press

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Amy Tucker is single. So single in fact she hasn’t had a man in her room for three years and her idea of a good time is buying new kitchenware at Ikea. So when she wakes up on Christmas Eve to find a strange man at the end of her bed, she is more than surprised.

  Least of all, when the beautiful man claims to be Santa and has sexy stubble to rival George Clooney.

  Santa whisks Amy on an exciting and unforgettable journey around the world through time and space. But can he really make Amy’s Christmas dreams come true?

  About the Author

  Scarlett Bailey has loved writing stories since childhood. Before writing her debut novel, The Night Before Christmas, she worked as a waitress, cinema usherette and bookseller.

  Passionate about old movies, Scarlett loves nothing more than spending a wet Sunday afternoon watching her favourite films back-to-back with large quantities of chocolate. Currently she lives in Hertfordshire with her dog and very large collection of beautiful shoes.

  Also by Scarlett Bailey

  The Night Before Christmas

  Married by Christmas

  Santa Maybe

  Scarlett Bailey

  For everyone who still believes

  1. Jingle What?

  SOMETHING SOFTLY CHIMING disturbed Amy from her sleep, causing her to force her tired, and quite honestly, over-made-up eyes open, cursing that extra coat of false lash effect mascara. It was then she spotted him, a man in her bedroom and she knew something was wrong. There hadn’t been a man in her bedroom since 2009.

  ‘What the hell?’ Amy shouted as she sat up, forgetting to be scared for a moment, adrenalin pumping through her veins. A man in a Santa suit stared back at her.

  ‘OK, missy, less of the language, it’s me you’re talking to,’ he said rather indignantly, crossing his arms over his manly chest. ‘I’m Santa, you plank. It’s Christmas Eve remember? Now close your eyes, go back to sleep and we’ll say no more about it.’

  ‘Wa…bu…ya…’ Amy stumbled for several seconds over the intruder’s sheer audacity. ‘You are not Santa. Santa is old and tubby, not thirty-ish and stubbly. And very much most crucially of all, SANTA IS NOT REAL!’

  The man sat down heavily on her dressing table stool, causing the wobbly leg to bow a little and his hood to slip down revealing short silver tousled hair and a chiselled jaw line.

  ‘I blame the Victorians for that negative PR campaign,’ he said, decidedly crestfallen. ‘They never could stomach the idea of a foxy Father Christmas, I mean why would they? The didn’t approve of ankles either.’

  Amy rubbed her eyes hard and blinked several times, but still the man was sitting there on her dressing table stool, watching her with what she thought was mild sadness. And then he grinned, making him look, well rather handsome.

  ‘The panda look suits you,’ he said, a touch flirtatiously. ‘Although you don’t need all that make-up. You know most men prefer girls who wear less, make-up, I mean. Although less clothes works too.’

  ‘Are you care in the community?’ Amy asked, her fingers edging their way along the bed to where her phone was concealed under her pillow, just in case this was the night that Gavin phoned to tell her he couldn’t live without her after all, and he wanted her back. It had been three years, but still Amy held out hope.

  ‘Honestly, where’s the gratitude?’ the man said. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, woman. And here I have your Christmas list.’ From a pocket in his red velvet tunic he produced a crumpled post-it note, causing Amy to gasp and clap her hands over her mouth. ‘Delivered in a nontraditional way via waste basket, but delivered never-the-less, and it reads, “All I want for Christmas is someone to love”.’

  ‘How did you get that?’ Amy managed to ask on a strangled breath. ‘Have you been stalking me?’

  ‘Er, no. An elf brought it to me. We only used to do chimneys, post boxes, that sort of thing. But in the modern age you’ve got to cover all the bases. I’ve even got an app out this year.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘Anyway, I checked against your records and you’re in luck! You’ve been nice, and when I say nice, I mean nice. Are you never naughty, Amy Tucker?’

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last tequila,’ Amy said, running her fingers through her hair.

  ‘Still you’re a grown-up, aged twenty-eight – and three years – according to your records, and there are rules for grown-ups. For me to grant you your very non-specific wish – by the way, you want to watch that, you could end up with a cat – you have to do something for me.’

  ‘Oh OK, here it is, here’s the pervert bit,’ Amy said unhappily.

  For a moment the man looked a little sheepish, and then from goodness only knew where he produced an elf suit. ‘Seems a little inappropriate now. But anyway, your task is to pop this on while I turn my back and hop on my sleigh and help me out tonight. Deal?’

  ‘Why aren’t I dreaming?’ Amy wailed. ‘Aunty Maud was mad. Hey maybe I’m mad?’

  ‘You’d rather be mad that Santa’s little-ish helper?’ the man asked, rolling his eyes. ‘What is the world coming to? Look, if it helps, Amy, you are dreaming. OK? It’s just a really, really vivid dream. Talking of which, have you got gloves, because it can get quite chilly up there over Alaska. Now are you coming or what, because I’ve a bloke in Chipping Norton who’s asked for a bigger…never mind. Are you coming?’

  And for reasons that were entirely a mystery to her, Amy pulled back the duvet and got out of bed.

  ‘Nice penguin PJs,’ Santa said with a little smirk.

  ‘Oh, just give me the elf suit and can it.’

  2. Making a List, Checking it Twice

  ‘IS THIS MY rooftop?’ Amy asked, a little bewildered as she gazed around the panoramic view of the city laid out before her which was glittering in the night as if it had been decorated especially for the occasion. ‘Who would have thought that Peckham could be so lovely?’

  ‘Er, hello?’ Santa asked. ‘I’ve got a sleigh here, several legendary reindeer and you’re admiring Peckham?’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Amy said, turning to see Santa’s sleigh in all its glory. Oddly enough she hadn’t noticed the hulking great vehicle that looked like it was made of red painted wood and gilded with silver until he’d mentioned it. Nor its rather smelly accessories: nine full size reindeer which were actually alive, straining at their festively decorated harnesses, snorting hot air through their nostrils and
impatiently hoofing at the roof, eager to be away. ‘Wow that is quite something…do they fly then?’

  ‘No, I thought we’d nip down the fire escape, take a left at the lights and see how the traffic is on the High Street. Of course they bloody fly!’ Santa said, shaking his head. ‘So anyway, where to, Amy Tucker?’

  ‘What do you mean where to?’ Amy asked. ‘Aren’t you taking me on a magical mystery tour to find my inner self?’

  ‘You know your trouble,’ Santa said, ‘too many self-help books. The deal is that I help you find out how to make your Christmas wish come true. The truth is you already know the answer, you just need to remember it. That’s the one thing I can’t do for you. Irritating, I agree. We could get this whole thing over so much more quickly if I could just tell you what to do, but that’s not the way it works. It’s never the way it works. So where should I take you to find someone to love?’

  ‘Gavin’s house!’ Amy cried, clapping her hands together so that the little jingle bell on her elf hat tinkled in the breeze. ‘Take me to see Gavin, because I know when he sees me he’ll remember that he loves me and we’ll be together forever. Although it might take him a bit longer to remember when he sees me in this outfit.’

  ‘Typical woman, so predictable.’ Santa sighed. ‘The whole world, literally all of it, at your pretty little pixie booted feet and you want me to take you to Clapham to visit Gavin Stark, who, let me tell you, has not been on the ‘Nice’ list since 1998. I was hoping you might think outside the box, that we might do this a little differently this time. But no, we have to go and check out the long-lost love of your life, blah, blah-PMT-chocoholic-biological-clock-make-mine-a-chardonnay-blah. I remember that time I took Lauren Bacall out one Eve, now there’s a lady who knows how to whistle. Why don’t they make dames like that any more?’

  ‘You’re not Santa,’ Amy said, with sudden certainty, taking him off guard for a moment so that even he, with his hair and chin and Roman nose, looked a little rattled. ‘I don’t know who you are or why you’re dressed like a nutter, and this is all very clever and obviously cost a lot of money, but you are not Santa.’

  ‘And how do you come to that conclusion, sweet cakes?’ he asked, giving her that disconcertingly attractive grin, perfectly composed once more.

  ‘Because the real Santa wouldn’t be doing the whole Ghosts of Christmas Past spiel with a single thirty-something girl from Peckham. He’d be delivering gifts to the children of the world, spreading joy and love and understanding and…stuff!’

  ‘And I will be!’ he said, gesturing at himself. ‘I’m magic don’t forget. And besides Rudolph, that’s the one at the front with the terrible cold, he can travel at twice the speed of light. Could teach those muppets at the old Hadron Collider a thing or two, let me tell you.’ Santa clapped the biggest, lead reindeer firmly on his flank, causing his nose to briefly light up a bright cherry red. ‘What you have failed to grasp is that this version of Christmas Eve is just for you, babe, to make your wish come true. Although you do seem intent on wasting a good portion of it on a bloke who is, if you pardon my terminology, a serious numpty.’

  ‘Are you Derren Brown?’ Amy asked, looking around for any sign of hidden cameras. ‘Am I going to be on telly?’

  Santa sighed, looked Amy up and down, shrugged and then, before she could catch her breath, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder like, well, like a sack of presents.

  ‘Less talking and more life-changing epiphanies, if you don’t mind,’ he said, clambering into the sleigh next to her. ‘I haven’t got all night. Well, I have, but there is only so much a man can take.

  ‘Right then, Rudolph, Gavin the numpty’s house it is!’

  And with sudden heart-stopping speed the stars became a blur, the city disappeared and Amy, struggling to sit up, found herself flying, really and truly flying, all the way to Clapham, where Gavin was sure to be waiting and wishing for her. He just didn’t know it yet.

  3. Mistletoe and Whine

  AMY HELD HER breath as she looked around Gavin’s living room.

  ‘It looks exactly the same,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t changed a thing since I was last here.’

  ‘That’ll be because he’s a man,’ Santa said, examining his fingernails as if a little bored. ‘Men don’t feel the need to update their scatter cushions every five seconds. They don’t feel the need for scatter cushions full stop, come to think of it. What are they for anyway?’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a sign?’ Amy said, her eyes shining happily. ‘It’s almost like he’s been trapped in time since the moment I left him…’

  ‘Since he chucked you, you mean,’ Santa muttered.

  ‘Since we decided to take a break,’ Amy said. ‘It must be a sign, look, he’s even still got that photo of us on our skiing holiday in France. It was freezing cold that day, but Gav wanted to do it alfresco. He said he knew exactly how to keep me warm and we… wait a minute, that’s not me.’

  Amy picked up the photo. It was almost identical to the one that had used to stand in the exact same place on Gavin’s mantelpiece. It was the same frame, he was wearing the same ski wear, and it looked like exactly the same location. But the girl he had his arm around was someone else entirely.

  ‘Who is that?’ Amy said unhappily. ‘What is she doing in my picture?’

  ‘That’s Estelle,’ Santa said, squinting at the photo. ‘But I shouldn’t worry, Estelle’s going to be getting the “It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s maybe that I love you too much, and I just need some space to really become the kind of man you deserve” speech in the New Year. Gavin’s already got Lisa Saxton lined up to occupy that frame; they’ve been seeing each other secretly for a couple of weeks now. He’s told Lisa that he doesn’t want to ruin Christmas for Estelle, but the truth is he’s hoping she’ll splash out and buy him a new Xbox. And she has, the silly cow.’

  ‘So Gavin hasn’t been pining for me?’ Amy asked, tears prickling in her eyes. ‘He won’t ever be phoning me to tell me that finally he’s ready to love me and spend the rest of his life with me? Like he very much implied the last time I saw him?’

  ‘No,’ Santa said putting a muscular arm around her and giving her a hug. ‘Gavin won’t be saying any of that, Amy, because Gavin is a dick.’

  ‘You’re Santa!’ Amy gasped. ‘You can’t say “dick”!’

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ Santa said gently, wiping a tear away from her cheek with the ball of his thumb. ‘Look, if you want, you can tiptoe up those stairs right now and see him, lying on his back, spread out like a starfish, poor old Estelle curled up in the same corner that you used to be, shivering because he nicked all the covers. Or you can choose to take the next step on your journey to finding someone to love.’

  ‘It’s just that…well, for all this time I thought it was Gavin,’ Amy said. ‘What if I had gone on thinking it was Gavin for the next three years, five years, ten? I’d have wasted my life on a man who never gave me a second thought.’

  ‘And you’d have ended up a dried-up old cat lady,’ Santa said softly, his face so close to hers that she could almost feel his stubble grazing her cheek.

  ‘That’s not very politically correct,’ Amy whispered, finding herself looking into his platinum eyes and feeling really rather swoonish.

  ‘I’m Santa, I don’t have to be PC,’ Santa said, and just for one second Amy was absolutely certain that he was going to kiss her. And then suddenly he stepped away from her, checking his wrist for a watch that wasn’t there and indulging in some exaggerated coughing.

  ‘Anyway, we really must get on. Where now? You have the whole world to choose from, remember, so if you say Saffron Walden, where the first boy you ever kissed is currently living with two terriers and a builder called Patrick, I’ll be sorely disappointed. Listen to your heart, your heart will tell you where to go.’

  ‘The whole world…’ Amy struggled to think of a location when out of the blue one popped into her head. ‘The Grand Ca
nal, Venice. I want to go to Venice. I didn’t know until now, but I really, really do.’

  ‘Well it’s a little out of order,’ Santa said thoughtfully, ‘but I don’t suppose it matters as long as you remember that in Venice you’ll be visiting your future, and that you’ll have to wait a little while before it actually happens.’

  ‘Before what actually happens?’ Amy asked. ‘What happens to me in Venice? Do I get food poisoning?’

  ‘Why that’s where you receive a proposal of marriage, of course,’ Santa said, perhaps a little wistfully.

  ‘Who?’ Amy all but shouted before remembering that, technically, she was breaking and entering. ‘Who asks me to marry them?’

  ‘Well now,’ Santa said, taking her hand and whizzing her up the chimney in an instant. ‘That would be telling.’

  4. Walking in the Air

  VENICE WAS ALMOST silent as they stood on the Ponte dell’Accademia looking down the Grand Canal towards St Mark’s, its beautiful form emerging majestic and mysterious from the mists that rose from the water, lapping gently beneath their feet.

  ‘And here you are,’ Santa said leaning on the bridge and gazing out over the city. ‘The most romantic city in the world.’

  Amy looked around and shuddered.

  ‘It’s actually a bit creepy,’ she said. ‘I rather expect a very short person in a red coat to come running at me with a knife.’

  ‘Creepy?’ Santa shook his head. ‘I’ve had some of the best Christmases here. Oh that night with Casanova, now that man could drink. Hemingway, yes, he was a drinker, but Casanova could drink him under every available table. And what a team we made when it came to the ladies.’ He chuckled to himself, and Amy thought it really was very attractive the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled.