When Shirley went up to check on her granddaughter, it was quarter past midnight, and she was more embarrassed about that than she’d ever have admitted.  Dozing off on the sofa was one thing (especially after the steady flow of snowballs the last few days), but for four hours?  Without even a thought for Sandy’s bedtime?  This wasn’t like her.  Not like her at all.  She must be getting old.

Naturally, Bernie and the girls wanted to be off so they could sleep in their own beds, but Shirley had insisted on checking on Sandy before that.  She hadn’t been in the living room when they’d all gradually come to, so it was a safe bet that she’d gone upstairs, and if she wasn’t already in bed then she needed to be.  Shirley knocked at Sandy’s door, and, hearing no objection, opened it.

Sandy was not in bed.  Sandy was standing, fully-clothed (shoes and all), by the window, just turning the handle to shut it properly, and standing next to her was another girl.

Sandy slowly turned round, her eyes wide.  Rabbit in headlights, thought Shirley.  “Um…”  She looked from her grandmother to the other girl.  “Gran, this is Anastasia, from school…”

Now that she’d said the name, Shirley found that she recognised the other girl- the one whose father had ruined the carol concert.  And as to how she’d ended up in Sandy’s bedroom without waking up anybody downstairs, Shirley thought that Sandy’s shutting the window explained that.  Anastasia had decided to play secret agents and shin up the drainpipes instead of trying the front door like a normal person.  Shirley knew that she should really be telling her off for doing something that dangerous, but if things were so bad that the poor girl would rather skulk around the streets on Christmas Day than spend time with her family, then she probably had bigger things to worry about than her friend’s granny.

Shirley made a decision.  “Well?” she asked Sandy, “Aren’t you going to invite her downstairs and get her something to eat?  You’ll have her thinking we don’t know how to treat guests!”

Sandy’s face lit up (as if she’d thought that Shirley was going to turn the girl out into the snow).  Shirley sighed.  “Anastasia.  I can do you a cup of tea or a hot chocolate, and we’ve got plenty of mince pies and leftovers downstairs.  How does that sound?”

“Sounds great, thanks.”  The girl smiled meekly.

The three of them went out together, and Shirley shut the door behind them.  Anastasia could stay the night- no point in her going home this late- and they’d figure something out in the morning.  See if there was anything they could do about the bloody howler monkey back at her house.  No guarantee that there was, but Shirley had dealt with one or two men like him in the past.  There were ways.

Halfway down the stairs, with Anastasia a little way ahead of them, Sandy put her arms round Shirley’s waist and squeezed.  “Thank you!” she whispered.

Shirley patted her head.  “Don’t mention it.  It’s Christmas.”

The End