Christmas Ghost Story competition adult winner: Ghosts of Christmas Past by Sue Eves

December 20th 1974.

I sat in my room drinking from a large bottle of Newcastle Brown. The house I shared with college friends in Hounslow was empty… They had all gone home for Christmas. My train to Norfolk had been cancelled and I had cobbled together coins to enable me to either eat or drink... My student grant exhausted. Tomorrow I would head to Liverpool Street railway station via the Piccadilly Line.

Next morning I took the short walk to the tube station at Hounslow East lugging my red case. The entrance was heaving, people heading home for the holidays or doing some last minute shopping. Everyone so engrossed they stared straight through me, invading my space. I offered some mild complaint but they didn’t pay any attention.

At Liverpool Street I managed to find a seat in the first carriage at the front of the train to Norwich so I would be near the barriers, ready to see my family on arrival. My little sister would be there, my brother off with his mates. I would watch the ‘Ghost Story for Christmas’ with him.

I chose a table seat so I could write Christmas cards to family and old school friends from the Heartsease Estate where I used to live. It was a little challenging as the family who shared said table were not interested in me and commandeered most of it.

None of this was important though, this was my favourite journey at my favourite time of year. I was bursting with excitement… I couldn’t wait to see my parents and siblings. I watched until the blur of outer London housing turned into fields and space.

I found myself off on some reverie… The mince pie and sherry had been left out for Santa and I laid in the darkness as a chill… Yes! I could hear the bells from the reindeer. When I was supposedly asleep my dad would place a bulging pillow case at the end of my bed. In the morning all Santa had left were a few crumbs and the plate gave off a warm glow.

My brother changed the clocks one year so we were all up at five… It was very dark so I have no idea why we fell for it. He was playing with his Thunderbirds and I had my new Cilla Black LP blaring out ‘Anyone Who Had a Heart’. I think our neighbours would have had an early start too!

It always seemed ages before we could see the TV programme from the hospital, watching the kids getting their presents. The opening of our presents was a frantic affair but we paused long enough to witness my mum opening her bath cubes and my dad his Vaseline hair tonic.

During the morning I managed to plough through the whole contents of my selection box, except it was in some sort of mesh stocking, so by lunch time I wasn’t particularly hungry.

This holiday, as usual, I would help my dad on his milk round on Christmas Eve. I loved going out in the dark, it felt as if I were ahead of everyone. Slowly dawn would come and with it a light breeze always fluttered through the cab. Mostly curtains were drawn shut. Eventually lights would come on in the houses and the smell of fried breakfasts would waft from kitchens. Jellies could be seen on window sills, left overnight to set. When I got home my mum would be doing last minute baking and cleaning ready for Christmas day.

My bulging case contained presents for the family but I would probably brave the crowds and get a few tree presents in the city on Christmas Eve before meeting my mum for the afternoon Christmas service in Norwich Cathedral.

As a schoolgirl my mum listened to our choir. We performed at the cathedral so it was a special place for us. I remember we wore navy dresses our mums were asked to make. Most of us had the shortest possible with massive hems we had adapted for ‘the times’. We had difficulty sitting cross-legged with any decorum and daren’t lift up our arms. We were a noisy mess out back until the choir mistress called for quiet. We shut up, lined up and filed out like angels singing ‘Stille Nacht’. My mum said it gave her the shivers.

Habitually I got my coat on after the train had stopped at Ipswich… silly I know, as the train wouldn’t glide into Norwich station for at least 40 minutes, but I felt I was nearly home now. My travelling companions had all disembarked on the way and I was, now, alone in the carriage. I saw the guard coming to check my ticket but he turned around and went back down the train, probably to have a quiet moment before we reached our destination.

I was thinking about my past return journeys. We usually parked the car with my belongings near Thorpe and went to see Norwich City FC before my train. I always really wanted to stay with the family. Washing Sindy clothes with my sister later seemed a nicer plan. I felt guilty though when I felt the excitement as I neared London but I always thought, in my heart, I would be back.

Miles flew by. Fields began to fill in, a mist hung over the ground. Outside the window, details melted into a blur. I felt tired and tried to hang on to early childhood memories of my mum… trains… coal heaps...

The train loitered at Trowse before arriving at Norwich station. Excited travellers hurried off and ran to meet their loved ones but no-one got off the first carriage, no-one emerged with a red case. There wouldn’t have been any-one to meet them in any event.

December 20th 1975.

I sat in my room drinking from a large bottle of Newcastle Brown. The house I shared with college friends in Hounslow was empty...