Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes and I don't own A Christmas Carol!

Thank you so much to everyone who took the time over Christmas to read, alert, fave and review Stave IV. Sorry about the short delay, I haven't had much time for writing over the Christmas weekend and have only just finished this final Stave. In some mitigation, it's the longest chapter I've ever written!

As the PM system is somewhat erratic this week, I hope I manage to post this at a time when those of you with alerts, will receive them. Apologies if I don't.

As always, any reviews and feedback would be most gratefully received.

NB: I've made a small amendment, after Katie Duggan's Niece reminded me that I had inadvertantly left out an important sentence.

A happy, healthy, wealthy, Ashy 2010 to all my readers!

Still screaming, he hit the ground with a thump.

"Guv? Are you all right?"

The voice was familiar. He opened his eyes and sat up.

"Viv? What the bloody 'ell are you doing 'ere?"

Viv was bending over him, consternation in his face. "I'm just going off my shift, Sir. I heard you calling out, and came in to see what was wrong. You must have fallen off your chair. You were asleep when I last looked in, an hour ago."

Gene looked around him as Viv helped him to stand. My office. I've been sent back. "Viv - I know this is going to sound a bloody stupid question, but what day is it?"

Viv looked at him rather oddly. "Today, sir? Why, Christmas Day."

Gene closed his eyes for a moment. "They've done it. They've sent me back in time to 'ave another chance. It should 'ave been three nights, an' they did it in one. Mac, Sam, Nelson, even bloody Summers - they all did it." A huge smile spread across his face, and it felt as though it would never go away. He didn't want it to.

"Sir?" Gene opened his eyes to see Viv looking at him, more oddly than ever.

"Never you mind, Viv. You just trot off an' have a merry Christmas. Got relatives coming, 'aven't you? You'll need time to get the 'ouse ready for 'em."

Viv frowned. "That's right, Sir, but how did you know?" He had mentioned it to some of his colleagues, but he knew that the Guv hadn't been paying any attention to the Christmas gossip.

"Nothing stays secret in this place for very long." Gene winked and tapped the side of his nose. "Off you go, Viv, an' a merry Christmas to you an' your wife an' kiddies an' all your visitors. A merry Christmas to everyone!"

"Er - yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Viv backed out of the office, looking nervous. Gene sat at his desk and tried to get his thoughts in order.

I've been given another chance, but what do I have to do to make sure I change the future Summers showed me?

"Bloody 'ell! Chris!" He glanced at his watch. It was just gone 7.30. Got to stop him coming in. He picked up the phone and dialled Chris's number. After a short wait, Shaz answered.

"Morning, Shaz. It's the Guv. Merry Christmas."

"Oh." Shaz's voice was cold enough to sink the Titanic. "Good morning, Sir."

"I 'ope I didn't wake you up?"

"No, Sir, I had to get up to feed Tammy, and I've got Christmas dinner to cook."

"Good. Well, you can tell Chris, I've changed my mind. I don't want 'im to come in today."

"Sir?"

"Yeah, that's right, Shaz. He can 'ave the day off to spend Christmas with you an' Tammy, an' 'e can stay off till after the New Year. Don't want to see 'im around 'ere till January 3rd. That's an order. I want the three of you to 'ave a merry Christmas."

"Oh." Shaz sounded quited dazed with fatigue and shock. "Er - thank you, Sir." A howl rent the air. "Sorry, Sir, I've got to go and see to Tammy."

"You do that, Shaz, you do that, an' remember to tell Chris."

"I will, Sir. Goodbye." She hung up, and Gene put his phone down. That's number one done. Number two - Shit, it's Christmas Day. Everywhere'll be shut. Or will it? Maybe not.

Bolly. Bolly'll know.

Without stopping to think whether it would be sensible to disturb her at this hour, he grabbed his coat, raced out of the station, and tore across the road to Luigi's.

Alex was eating a solitary breakfast, looking around her flat with mournful eyes. She had decorated it, and done her best to make it look bright and Christmassy, but she knew that there was no feeling of Christmas in her heart. It was always at this time of the year that she missed Molly most, and now she didn't even have Gene's friendship to console her.

If only I hadn't pushed him away last Christmas, maybe this Christmas would have been different.

Get a grip, Drake. No point in wasting any time or thought on him.

But with all the men I have to choose from in this time, why do I have to keep wishing for better things from a man who's putting all his energy into being Grade A Plus Bastard of the Year?

Her reverie was shattered by a fusillade of knocking at her door.

"If that's you, Scrooge Hunt, you can piss off!" she shouted. "I'm not due at work for more than an hour!"

"I know you aren't, Bols," he called from outside the door. "Please, let me in. Need to ask you something. It's important."

Alex was tempted to tell him to go and eat holly for breakfast, but she knew that if she didn't let him in, he was quite capable of standing outside and shouting for the next half hour, and she had the neighbours to consider. Besides, he had called her Bols. He hadn't done that in over a year, since that terrible day in the hospital. It's always been Drake or Inspector since then.

She flung the door open. "It had better be important for you to be disturbing me this early on Christmas Day, you bastard. Have you any idea of the time?"

He feasted his eyes upon her, still wearing her dressing gown and pyjamas, no makeup, her hair all mussed, her face flushed with good, honest rage. He thought that she had never looked so beautiful.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Bols. Need your help. Something you might be able to tell me, an' I don't know who else to ask."

His hair was tousled and he hadn't shaved. His suit looked as though he had slept in it. But his smile lit up the room, and his eyes were bright and clear, as they had not been since before Operation Rose. His face seemed lighter somehow, suffused with hope and happiness, but she could sense his trepidation. His uncertainty.

The Manc Lion, uncertain? Smiling? What the hell's got into him?

She stepped aside. "Well, you'd better come in." He walked in, and she shut the door. "So, what's so important that you've got to ask me at this hour of Christmas morning?"

"Do you know if any toy shops are open today?"

She could not have been more astonished if he had said that he was joining Alcoholics Anonymous. "What?"

Gene had the grace to look embarrassed. "Need to know if any toy shops are open today."

"Why the hell do you need to know that?"

"You were right with what you said yesterday, Bols. It's a time for new beginnings. I know I've treated Chris badly this past year, an' I want to make up for it. I've given 'im the day off. I've given 'im the whole week off. Want 'im an' Shaz an' the kid to 'ave a merry Christmas. Want to get something for the kid to show 'em I'm sorry. But I don't know where to get anything today."

"Have you been drinking?" said Alex suspiciously.

"No. Sober as a judge. Not even a judge on circuit. Help me, Bols."

It was that plea which finally convinced her that he was in earnest, even though she was beginning to doubt her own sanity. Gene, asking me, asking anyone, to help him? He looked so desperately eager and vulnerable that she had to believe him.

"Let me get this straight. You - the Manc Lion, the Gene Genie, the armed bastard, the twentieth century Scrooge - you want to buy toys for a six-week-old child?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah."

She considered. "Well..." This is 1984. In 2008 there might just be the odd place open, even if it's only a tobacconist or convenience shop with a few toys, but in this time... "I'm afraid you're very unlikely to find anything open today." Gene's shoulders sagged with disappointment, and she took pity on him. "Wait here a moment, and I'll see what I can do for you. Help yourself to coffee, if it isn't too stewed."

She disappeared into the bedroom and emerged a few seconds later, holding in her arms a large teddy bear with an amiable expression, wrapped in a cellophane bag tied with a ribbon bow. "Will this do?"

"Er..." Gene jibbed visibly, and she could almost hear his thought processes. What'll it do to my reputation, if I turn up with this? But he pulled himself together masterfully and assumed a pleased expression. "Thanks, Bols, that's great. But what'll you give 'er, if I've got this?"

"That's all right. I've bought her a doll, a rattle and a mobile for her cot, and I've knitted her some mittens, so I can easily spare the bear to you if you'd like him."

Gene shuddered inwardly at the thought of giving Tammy any of the other items Alex had mentioned. He looked at the bear again. Suddenly it didn't seem so bad. "'He'll do fine. Thanks. So long as you're sure."

"Absolutely. He's all yours." She dumped the teddy in Gene's arms. Manc Lion and Daddy Bear exchanged glances. Definitely not too bad.

"So what are you giving Chris and Shaz?" Alex's voice broke across his thoughts. He shifted uneasily.

"Er - "

"Haven't quite got this Santa lark yet, have you?" Alex laughed gently. "You can hardly give Tammy a present without giving them something, too."

"Shit."

Alex thought for a moment. "I've got a very good bottle of wine which Luigi gave me before he left. You could give that to Chris. And for Shaz - " She vanished into the bedroom again, and he heard her rummaging in a dressing table drawer. A few seconds later she returned with a pretty scarf. "I bought this months ago, but I've never worn it. It doesn't go with anything I have. Would you like it for Shaz?"

Gene felt a bit dazed by the speed of events. "Ta, Bols, that'd be great. But won't you let me pay you for 'em?"

"Absolutely not," Alex said firmly. "It's worth it to see you showing a bit of Christmas spirit."

"At least let me give you dinner tonight?" he said hopefully.

He's got a nerve, after the last thirteen months, the left hand side of Alex's brain told her sternly. You've wanted this to happen for even longer, the right hand side answered. God knows why he's making such an effort suddenly, but you should do all you can to encourage it. Make the most of it while it lasts. Then reality descended.

"Oh, Gene, I'm sorry, but I've already promised to have dinner with Chris and Shaz, after work."

He hid his disappointment as well as he could. At least it's not that tosser Keats. Thanks to Nelson, he knew that Evan White would be fully occupied with little Alex today."I'll drive you over there. I can deliver our furry friend 'ere at the same time, an' the wine an' the scarf. You can ring me when you're ready to leave, an' I'll come an' collect you. If you're still 'ungry then, maybe I could take you somewhere. Perhaps for a drink."

"Thank you, Gene. I'll accept on one condition."

"What's that?" Suddenly he was wary.

"That you tell me what's got into you today."

Now for the tricky bit. Because it was the most important thing to say, and he dreaded getting it wrong, he had been trying to dodge it. He put the bear down, swallowed hard, and looked at the floor, just he had done the first time he had asked her out to dinner.

"I - I know I've been a bastard to you this past year, Bols. To everyone, but to you an' Chris specially. This is me saying sorry to you, to 'im, to everyone, but most of all to you, because I 'urt you most. Sorry for this year, an' - an' for before that. It's all been my fault. You were right with what you said yesterday. It's a time for new beginnings. Want to say sorry an' start again. Will you let me, Bols?"

Alex's face softened. "You tried to say sorry a year ago and I wouldn't let you. I was a total bitch then. It's my fault too. Let's scrub the last year and start over." She held out her hand to him. He looked at it for a moment, unable to believe that she could accept him again, and then grasped it firmly. She tried not to tremble at his touch.

"Thanks, Bols. Thanks." She had not thought that he could blush so much.

She smiled. "See you in the office in about an hour, then."

"Yeah." He released the hand and glanced at the bear and scarf on the coffee table. "Could you - er - "

She understood. "Shall I take care of them for now? I bet you haven't got any wrapping paper, so I'll wrap the bottle and the scarf for you. I'll have to come back here to change before going to Chris and Shaz, and you can collect them then."

"Yeah. Ta. That'll be great. I'll, er, I'll get over to the office an' give you a chance to get ready. See you soon, Bolly."

He backed out of the flat and raced down the stairs. Watching out of the window, Alex could have sworn that she saw him dancing across the road. Shaking her head in bewilderment, she went to get dressed.

Gene thought that he might never speak steadily again. Nelson was right. I apologised again, and this time she's accepted. Vistas of the future arose before his dazzled eyes, but he firmly pushed them away. He still had a lot to do yet to get today right.

Thanking his stars that he always kept a razor and a spare suit and shirt in his cupboard, he changed, shaved, and then headed for the records room. Chris hid the box of Christmas decorations there, after I said I'd burn the lot if I saw them again. He soon located the box, carried it up to the office, and inspected the contents. Sadly, there were no paper chains, but there were several long foil swags, a huge amount of tinsel, a small Christmas tree complete with decorations, and even a tiny crib set. He helped himself to a roll of sellotape and a packet of Blutack from the stationery cupboard, and set to work. Forty-five minutes later the office was transformed. He looked around it, well pleased with himself, and glanced at his watch. The rest of the team would be arriving any moment - he could hardly expect anyone to turn up a minute before they had to, on this day of all days. Anything else I have to do before then? Ah, yes... The canteen was closed for the day, but he helped himself to the spare key from Viv's desk, raided the larder for every mince pie they possesed, left £10 on the counter in payment with a short note of explanation, and proudly bore a loaded tray back to CID. On the off chance, he checked in the kitchen, but as he expected, Nelson had not left the punch bowl behind. He still could not make out how much of what he had experienced was real, and how much a dream. He heaved a sigh, went to his desk, and got out a treasured bottle of single malt. Bloody hell, this Christmas lark involves you in some self-sacrifice. But it'll be worth it if I can get today right.

A few moments later, Poirot and Terry walked through the swing doors. The sight that met their eyes nearly robbed them of speech. The office was covered in Christmas decorations and in the centre of the room stood the Guv, a huge smile plastered across his face, holding out glasses of whisky to them both.

"Merry Christmas, lads! Come in an' 'ave a drink an' a mince pie!"

-oO0Oo-

It continued like that all day. The skeleton staff who had drawn the short straw to be on duty on Christmas Day didn't know what to make of it. He overheard Poirot muttering on the phone, "I'm telling you, Ray, we came in and found he'd decorated the office and was offering us mince pies and whisky - yes, his single malt - and he won't stop smiling! Bloody unnerving…" Poirot started guiltily and shrank away when he saw that the Guv was listening, but Gene just laughed and strolled into his office. He knew that it would take time for them to get used to the change in him. Only Alex watched him with glowing, approving eyes. He had set up the little crib on her desk. He hoped that she would like that.

Halfway through the morning, uniform hauled in a blagger dressed as Santa Claus who had foolishly thought that if he robbed a locked-up shop in the City, there would be nobody around today to catch him or to penetrate his cunning disguise. Gene took one look at the hapless miscreant's attire, ripped off the false beard, and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Bernie North! Been wanting a word wi' you, my little Scouse tosser. You dare to pollute the glorious name of Christmas? D'you realise kiddies could 'ave seen you dressed like that? Could 'ave given 'em nightmares an' ruined their trust in Santa forever, seein' 'im breakin' into a jewellers - "

He hauled Bernie into Interview Room 1 by the scruff of his fur-trimmed scarlet coat, and CID exchanged relieved glances. The Guv might have changed in ways they would never understand, but beneath he was still just the same.

-oO0Oo-

The rest of the day was quiet, and Gene chivvied everyone home an hour early, at 4.00. Passing Alex's desk as she shrugged into her jacket, he murmured, "How long d'you need before I come an' collect you, Bols?"

"Give me ten minutes." He nodded, and she slipped out of the door. Her ten minutes to get changed will be more like twenty.

Just a sec - when Nelson showed me what would happen today, she left work with Chris an hour after this, and she didn't stop to change.

She says everything is significant. I've already broken the pattern. If we arrive there at a different time, and I make sure she isn't left alone after that, maybe I can save her from seeing her daughter's ghost. Stop that spoiling her Christmas.

When he was alone in the office, he put on his coat, unlocked his desk, took a small item from the top drawer, and stowed it into his inside breast pocket. Then he got out his remaining bottle of single malt and left it on the desk with a single glass.

"Just in case you want to come back for more tonight, Mac," he said softly. "Thanks, mate."

-oO0Oo-

A few minutes later, he was knocking at Alex's front door. She answered it, wearing the black ensemble which he remembered well from their date, the night before the Price bomb. His heart constricted at the memory. She looked unbearably gorgeous.

"Um, all ready to go, then, Bols?"

"Nearly. Come in."

She ushered him through to the living room. The coffee table was laden with gift wrapped parcels. She vanished into the bedroom and returned almost immediately, having added a necklace and earrings to her attire.

"Just before we go, Bols - " He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a long, thin, blue velvet box, which he placed in her hands. "Merry Christmas. Sorry I didn't 'ave any wrapping paper in my office, 'cept old arrest forms."

"Don't worry about that, Gene. It's the thought that counts." She opened it. Nestling inside was a chain bracelet festooned with a multitude of charms, all beautifully worked in pure silver. She gave a little cry of delight as she examined each one and appreciated its significance. A policeman's helmet, truncheon, whistle, and handcuffs. A gun, exactly like the one Gene carried. A tiny car, enamelled bright red, whose wheels turned around when she ran her finger beneath it. A lion, one paw upraised. A bottle, with BOLLINGER incised in miniscule letters across the label. An Aladdin's lamp puzzled her until, excited as a schoolboy, he showed her how to press a minute spring which released the lid to reveal a Genie nestling inside.

"What's this?" She pointed to a round charm shaped like a cake.

He grinned. "Fruitcake."

"Ah, I see. And this?" Her fingernail brushed a gleaming silver heart in the centre of the chain.

He looked at the floor. "Er, I thought that one looked good in the middle there, an' - an' - "

"Yes?" she said interestedly.

"Well - you remember what you did, in the records room, the day you joined the team - "

She smiled. "Of course I do." She slipped her hand beneath his coat and jacket, laying her palm against his chest as she had done that day, feeling again the warm, strong life pounding beneath her hand, feeling, this time, how his heart quickened its beating at her touch. For a moment they were both mesmerised, then, reluctantly, she drew her hand away. "Thank you so much, Gene, it's beautiful. But how - ?"

She let the unspoken question hang in the air. How did you have this for me, when you hate Christmas and we've been fighting for a year?

"Remember John Fraser, the silversmith in Leather Lane? His shop was blagged, but we got most of 'is stock back for 'im when we arrested Benny Moon. Saved 'is business. I went to 'im an' told 'im what I wanted, an' 'e made it up for me. Had to make some of 'em specially," he added, pointing to the gun, car and bottle. He looked at the ground again. "Meant to give it to you last Christmas. I got it in October last year, before - before all the mess. It's been in my desk ever since. Didn't know if I'd ever 'ave a chance to give it to you, but it looked to me like today's the right time."

She smiled warmly. "It is. Thank you so much. I can't say how much I appreciate it. Not just because it's lovely, but because I know how much care and thought has gone into it."

He blushed and shuffled his feet. "Think nothing of it, Bols."

"I think a great deal of it, believe me." She took the bracelet from its box. "Will you help me put it on?"

Her voice was loaded with meaning, and he understood how her words were an echo of his plea for help that morning. It took an effort of will to keep his hands from shaking as he fiddled with the clasp, and the touch of his fingers against her wrist was a torture for them both, but at last it was fastened, and he pulled away as though he had been burnt. She twirled her wrist appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Should we getting along to Chris an' Shaz now?"

"In a minute." She picked up a gift wrapped box, about eight inches cubed, from beneath the coffee table. "Merry Christmas, Gene. Careful, it's heavy."

"No need to worry about that, I'm a big, strong boy, you know - bloody 'ell, you're right!"

The box was unexpectedly weighty for its size, and he lowered it onto a spare corner of the coffee table to open it. He removed the paper to reveal a corrugated cardboard box, which when he opened it appeared to be full of crumpled newspapers. He felt carefully among them and drew out a bronze figurine of a lion, standing on a rock, with a luxuriant tree towering behind him. The artist had captured all the majesty, nobility and courage of the solitary beast. The whole composition was no more than four inches high.

My matchless Lion. He looked at the small, perfect thing in his hands, then up at her, aware that he was grinning helplessly. "King of the Jungle. Thanks, Bolly, he's great. Couldn't think of anything so - so right. But 'ow - ?"

It was the echo of her own question. "I found him in Camden Passage. The backstamp says he's Austrian. Victorian, I should think, but the shop lady wouldn't commit to a date. He's a bookend, believe it or not. Lord knows where the other one is, if it still exists. I got him last year, before - " It was her turn to look at the ground. "Before. I kept telling myself that I should take him back to the shop, but I couldn't abandon him, couldn't abandon - " She could not go on for a moment, but he nodded his understanding. There was more than one lion whom she could not abandon. "Looked so lonely." She did not say which lion she meant.

"Stands to reason," he said carefully. "Meant to be one of a pair." The air hummed with ambiguity. For a moment both were silent, then Alex broke the spell.

"We've got all these presents to take in the car. He'd be safer here. Would you like to leave him here until after we get back from Chris and Shaz?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Bols. He's great." Gene's heart leapt at the knowledge that he would have an excuse to come back to the flat. "Right, let's fire up the Quattro."

-oO0Oo-

Gene nearly turned tail and fled when they reached Chris's front door, but Alex stopped him.

"Come on, you Cowardly Lion, you." She rang the doorbell. "I know sorry is the hardest thing to say. It's taken both of us over a year to say it. But you owe it to him."

"I know." Gene muttered, skulking several paces from the door. Chris opened it, and saw only what he had expected to see - Alex standing there with her arms full of parcels.

"Boss! Merry Christmas! Come in, Shaz is waiting for you."

"Merry Christmas, Chris. Before I come in, there's someone here who wants to say something very important."

Gene slunk into view, holding the teddy bear out in front of him like a protective shield. Alex had seen that expression on his face before, when he was holding baby Eileen after they had helped Alva while she was giving birth. Chris's face fell.

"Guv! You - you did tell Shaz I could 'ave the day off - "

Amid his coruscating embarrassment, Gene managed a smile. "'Course I did, Chris, 'course I did. Won't keep you long. Just wanted to stop by to wish you an' Shaz an' Tammy a merry Christmas an' to tell you I'm sorry for this past year. You'd been an arsehole, but I shouldn't 'ave kept on punishing you for so long."

"Guv?" If Chris's jaw had dropped any further, it would have left a groove in the lino. Shaz had come out into the hallway, with Tammy in her arms, and her face bore a similar expression of total supefaction.

"Yeah, want to say sorry, an' I want to say, you've done bloody well this past year. Even though I 'aven't given you any encouragement at all. Bloody well." He clapped Chris on the shoulder, and Alex was surprised that the friendly gesture didn't knock the bewildered boy into a crumpled heap. "Now this 'ere's for Tammy - " he thrust the bear into Chris's arms, with an air of being glad to be rid of it, "this is for you - " he produced the wrapped bottle of wine from his pocket and pushed it into Chris's hand, "an' - 'ello, Shaz, merry Christmas, this is for you." Shaz shifted Tammy to her hip and stepped forward to take her parcel, still bereft of speech. "An' Chris, I've already told Shaz, I don't want you back on duty till January 3rd, but when you come back I want you to 'ave completed these." He produced a wad of folded papers from his breast pocket with a flourish. "Application forms for promotion to Detective Sergeant. Given you two in case you make a mess of the first one." As Chris's arms were full, Gene tucked the forms neatly between the bear and the bottle.

"Er - thanks, Guv, I really don't know what to say - "

"Merry Christmas'll do fine, son. You deserve it. What you didn't deserve is the crap I've been shovelling at you. Time for us all to turn over a new leaf. Now, er, I've promised Drake I'll give 'er a lift 'ome, so I'll cut along now, an' I'll be back to collect 'er when she's ready to leave."

He had already half turned to go, but Shaz stepped forward. It was her finest hour. "Sir. Wouldn't you like to stay for dinner?"

None of those present had to be a psychologist to recognise how Gene's body language betrayed how very much he wanted to accept. "Thanks, Shaz, that's kind, but you won't want me 'ere, an' you've only been cooking for three."

"That's all right, Sir, we've got a huge turkey, and I can do more vegetables."

Gene's face relaxed into a huge grin. "Then I'd love to. Thanks, Shaz."

They all trooped into the flat. It looked exactly as it did when Gene had visited it with Nelson. I've never been here in my life. If I was just dreaming, how could I have known how it looks?

He heard Alex talking to Shaz. "You look exhausted, and you've got extra to do now Gene's here. How will you manage?"

Shaz stifled a yawn. "Too late to start any more potatoes, what's in the oven'll have to do, but I've got nearly an hour till the turkey's ready. I didn't expect you yet."

"I know, Gene let us all leave an hour early."

Shaz's voice dropped to an undertone. "Ma'am, what's happened to him?"

"I don't know," Alex muttered back, "but I'm encouraging it while it lasts. Look," she added, raising her voice a notch, "why don't you put your feet up for a bit and leave us to deal with the food?"

Bingo. Keep her busy in the kitchen. Then she might not see the ghost.

"Yeah, why not? Skelton. Kitchen. Now."

The Guv, his tie and jacket removed, his shirt sleeves rolled up, tunelessly whistling God rest you merry gentlemen as he peeled sprouts, was not a sight that either Chris or Alex had ever expected to see. Under Alex's direction, they formed themselves into a production line, washing and preparing the vegetables, checking on the turkey, putting the sausages and bacon into the oven, boiling the sprouts, mixing the bread sauce and gravy, and laying the table. Chris nipped out at one point to check on Shaz and reported that she was fast asleep on the sofa.

"Best place for her," said Alex briskly. "Turn up the heat under the sprouts, Chris."

Gene tried to make sure that someone was with her all the time. He had an instinct that, unless she were alone, she would not be able to see the ghost. The one time he could not accompany her was when she went to the bathroom, and she came back looking perfectly cheerful, so he surmised that nothing untoward had happened.

It'll happen some time, and I won't be able to stop it. She'll look up and see an apparition that'll break her heart all over again. But not today. Let her have her Christmas.

When dinner was ready, Alex poured the wine, Gene manhandled the turkey out of the oven and set it to rest, and Chris woke Shaz up, inadvertantly woke Tammy up, spent the next five minutes reducing her howls to an endurable level, and eventually brought his exhausted wife to the table.

"Sir, Ma'am, you've been wonderful. Thank you so much for all your help. I don't know how I'd have managed without all of you to help me."

"Been our pleasure," said Gene heartily.

"Don't worry, Shaz, it will get easier," Alex added. "I speak from experience. The first six months are the hardest."

Chris's face fell. "Bloody 'ell, an' we've only 'ad six weeks yet!" He winced as Alex kicked him under the table.

The meal looked exactly as Gene had seen it when he had been there with Nelson, and everything was delicious. The bottle of wine which he had given to Chris, proved to be very good indeed. When they drank to absent friends, he joined Chris in his toast to Sam, and added a couple more names under his breath, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Afterwards, replete, they repaired to the sitting room and exchanged gifts. As well as her raft of presents for Tammy, Alex gave Chris some LPs and Shaz, a set of bath oils and a token for a day at a spa - "for you to pamper yourself when Tammy's old enough to be left with someone for a few hours." As a joint present, she gave them a large photo album, with instructions to fill it with pictures of Tammy as she grew up. They gave her a framed print of a painting by Renoir, because Shaz had once heard Alex saying how much she liked it, and a pretty inlaid box which Chris had found in Borough Market.

Chris and Shaz felt awkward because they had nothing to give Gene, but he waved their apologies aside. "Don't worry about me, I'm the gatecrasher. Get my kicks seeing 'ow 'appy everyone else is." Inevitably Tammy woke up again, without breaking the sound barrier for once, and much to his discomfiture Gene was induced to hold her in his arms and have his nose pulled by her unbelievably tiny, perfect fingers. His reluctant sense of wonder was something which Alex would treasure. Nonetheless he was overwhelmingly relieved when Shaz took Tammy back before she could piss, puke, or start yelling again.

Chris was resplendent with pride. "She doesn't cry when you're around, Guv. Shows she knows who's boss."

"In my experience," Alex murmured to Shaz, "women, whatever their age, know they are the boss. Right, Shaz?"

"Roger that, Ma'am. Roger that."

-oO0Oo-

Alex and Gene tactfully left fairly early, to give Chris and Shaz some time on their own once Tammy had been put to bed.

"No, Gene," Alex said firmly as they walked back to the Quattro.

He stopped, bewildered. "No what? I 'aven't asked you anything yet."

"No, I will not go out to dinner with you tonight. After all that turkey, I don't want even to think about food until tomorrow's breakfast, and that will probably be a dry water cracker."

"Oh." Gene's shoulders sagged with disappointment.

"On the other hand," Alex said thoughtfully, "you've still got to come back to my flat to collect your lion. Luigi gave me another bottle of very good wine and a very fine bottle of single malt. We could spend the evening polishing them off, setting the world to rights. Just like old times."

"Single malt?"

"Uh-huh."

He unlocked the Quattro. "Let's get it out of its cell and interview it."

Epilogue

It was just gone 11.30pm on Christmas night, and Nelson had just managed to lock up the Railway Arms. Heaving a sigh of relief, he picked up a loaded tray and carried over the the table where Gene and Sam had sat so often in times past. Three men were sitting there.

"That's your single malt, Mr Mackintosh; Sam, your large Scotch; the red wine for you, Mr Summers, and the pint's for me. Merry Christmas, gentlemen." He put the tray aside and sat down with them.

"Thank you, Nelson." Mac raised his glass. "Gentlemen, I give you the successful conclusion of Operation Christmas Carol." They clinked glasses and drank. "Thank you to all of you for your assistance."

Nelson saluted smartly. "Always a pleasure to help the police, Sir."

Mac sipped his Scotch and stretched out his long legs in comfort. "Nice place you have here, Nelson. Very cosy."

Nelson bridled. "Thank you, Sir. Sorry none of you will have very long to enjoy it. I couldn't turn the punters out early tonight. For some of them, a jar here is the only Christmas they get. But you know they wouldn't be able to see you, and I'd never have got away with serving a tray of drinks to an empty table while they were still here."

"Quite understandable, Nelson," said Mac reassuringly.

"I'm afraid it means you'll have to drink up quickly, though. I know you all have to leave at midnight."

"Unfortunately." Sam stared unhappily into the depths of his glass.

"What do you mean, unfortunately?" said Summers sharply, ignoring the warning glances from the other two. "You're going back to Heaven. More than can be said for some of us," he added bitterly.

"I know. But even Heaven can seem like a punishment when it separates you from those you love."

"But you were always a good man. Why are you being punished?" said Mac curiously.

"I committed suicide," said Sam bleakly.

"In 2006."

"That's right."

"But you did that to save the lives of your friends in 1973. Wasn't that taken into account?"

"I learned after I died in 1980, that I'd been booked to die in 2013, shot by a bank robber while protecting a member of the public. I'd stolen seven years from my life in the future. Just think, how many crimes I'd have prevented, how many criminals I'd have put away, how many lives I'd have saved, in seven years. The man I should have rescued in 2013, will be killed because I won't be there. My mother died of cancer shortly after my suicide. She'd been undergoing treatment since shortly after my accident, but she never told me because she didn't want me to worry about her and jeopardise my recovery. She waited by my bedside for months while I was in that coma. So patient and unselfish, and what sort of gratitude did I show her? I ran out on her - straight over the side of a building. My death destroyed her. She couldn't understand why I'd killed myself when I'd only just come back to life and had everything to live for. She gave up fighting. So my punishment was, that the only time I could spend with Annie and the others was the seven years that I'd stolen from my other life. The crowning irony is, that if I'd been patient, and waited until my time came in 2013, I'd still have gone back to them in the tunnel at exactly the same time, but I had no way of knowing that. I guessed wrong. It'll be long years before I see my sweet Annie again."

"Yes." Summers sounded chastened. "Sometimes we aren't allowed to know what we need to know, to act for the best. Look at me. I wanted to set things right, but I ended up creating more wrongs."

"Come, gentlemen, no more of that. It's Christmas," said Nelson determinedly, refilling all the glasses.

"Thank you, Nelson." Mac drank. "So, how is our - ah - patient doing today?"

Nelson picked up the remote and pointed at the TV above the bar. The screen jumped into life.

"Told you those brackets would hold," Sam said impishly.

The screen showed Gene and Alex sitting on the sofa in her flat, drinking whisky, laughing and talking, completely at ease with one another. The charm bracelet gleamed on her wrist and the little bronze lion, on the coffee table in front of them, looked well pleased with himself.

"Is that all?" said Mac disappointedly.

"They've got the past thirteen months to work through," said Sam gently. "They can't repair everything at once. Give them time."

"So, what about next Christmas?" said Mac hopefully.

"My department." Summers held out his hand for the remote.

"Click of the switch, vision of the future." Nelson handed it to him, and he pressed a button. The screen changed to show Chris sitting on his sofa, bouncing a thirteen-month-old Tammy on his lap and singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" to her, off key. Shaz sat beside them, watching and laughing.

"So Tiny Tammy did NOT die," said Mac with great satisfaction.

"Oh, no," said Summers. "Running her parents ragged, as you see. Foresight is a wonderful thing. Next March Hunt will interest himself in the case of a young woman suspected of killing her baby. He will get Drake and Skelton to research the possibility that it could have been a cot death. Drake, with her knowledge of future developments in research into the prevention of cot death, will be able to pass on the latest information to Skelton, who in turn will pass it on to his wife. As a result she will start setting Tammy to sleep on her back instead of her front. They'll never know it, but that will save the child's life. They'll also get that poor woman cleared."

"Excellent. What else?"

Summers pressed another button, and the screen changed again to show the living room in Gene's house. A huge Christmas tree was covered in fairy lights and delicate, old fashioned glass baubles, and the room was festooned with paper chains made from old magazines. The bronze lion stood on the sideboard. Gene and Alex sat on the sofa, wrapped tightly in one anothers' arms, her head resting on his chest, as they gazed into the firelight. Both were casually dressed, she in a pale grey tracksuit top and leggings, he in a navy rugby shirt and jeans. The charm bracelet glittered on her wrist and a slender silver chain, with a small blue topaz pendant the colour of his eyes, shimmered about her neck. None of the watchers had ever seen Gene look so completely at peace.

"She looks very much at home," Mac commented.

"That's because she is at home," said Summers triumphantly.

"Ah."

Alex stirred. "Penny for them."

"Eh?" said Gene absently.

"Just wondered what you were thinking about, so deeply."

"Just thinking 'ow different this Christmas would 'ave been, if I 'adn't changed my mind last Christmas."

She disengaged herself and sat up, looking straight at him. "Why did you change? You never would tell me. On Christmas Eve you were a right bloody Scrooge, and on Christmas Day you were full of the joys of the season. You'd become the man I love once again. What happened, Gene?"

He opened his mouth to answer, and changed his mind. "Got you another Christmas present."

"Oh?"

He reached into his pocket and produced a small gift wrapped parcel, no more than an inch and a half cubed. Even as she was tearing the wrapping paper off, he was fruitlessly reaching out to take it back. "Stupid idea, you won't want it, forget it…"

Beneath the paper was a small dark blue velvet box. She opened it, and inside was an enchantingly beautiful diamond ring. The stones sparkled in the light from the fire and the tree, but they seemed like paste beside the sparkle of her eyes.

"Er, well, now you've found it, er, will you - "

"Yes, Gene! Yes, yes, YES!" She tore the ring from the box and placed it upon her finger.

Gene was nonplussed. "Er - you mean you like it? That you'll - ?"

"YES!" She threw the box aside, grabbed the astonished Gene in a passionate kiss, and pushed him back on the sofa before he could resist, straddling him and growling like a lioness.

"Didn't stand a chance," said Mac with satisfaction. He and Summers leaned forward eagerly to watch, but Sam reached across the table, twitched the remote from Summers' hand, hit the Off button, and tossed the remote to Nelson, who pocketed it. Mac and Summers looked disappointed, but Sam laughed.

"Let them have some privacy." He raised his glass. "Gentlemen, I give you Christmas Yet To Come!"

They clinked their glasses, and as they drank, the first chime of midnight sounded. All the lights in the pub went out. Nelson had been expecting that. In the darkness, he heard three glasses besides his own being set down. At the last stroke, the lights came on again, and he was alone. Four empty glasses stood on the table in front of him.

"A merry Christmas, gentlemen," he said softly. "God bless us, every one."

THE END

A merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my readers - and (almost quoting Dickens), as Nelson observed,

GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE!