Chapter Text
With the lack of a world ending catastrophe to entertain them Louisa, Shirley and River sat in a huddle around the antique space heater with warm cider, definitely not tipsy, sharing their family Christmas traditions as something to do that wasn’t actual work and freezing to death in the horrifically drafty room.
Shirley doesn’t really like her family which came as a surprise to absolutely no one. She fled away from their overly crowded terrace house as soon as she was old enough to go to university and used every excuse in the book to avoid going back. But Christmas was their sacred time. Now she was in London, Shirley didn’t go to church; it wasn’t because of an avoidance or any trauma associated with it or anything, she just didn’t really care. What was the point of going to do something just because you always did even if you didn’t want to. Despite this, the Dander Family Christmas involved getting up early to go to church together as a family and then go on a walk out in the country with bacon sandwiches before stopping off in the pub for a pint mid morning. They usually can’t stand each other but there was no feuding until after the turkey was done. Then it was fair game.
Louisa’s was directly contrasting. She looked forward to Christmas and being able to see her family for an extended period of time. She saw her mum a lot but her little brother was off in Malaysia protecting the turtles or something most of the year and so the week with Christmas and New Year that they spent together was the most she would see of him and hear of his adventures. Who’d have thought she would be the boring sibling, working for MI5. They didn’t do anything special; just decorated their little plastic tree that was older than Louisa, watched Wallace and Gromit and ate way too much food.
River’s was more difficult to explain. “I mean, I don’t really remember Christmases with my mum,” he shrugged. “We were always on the move and so would just go with whatever was happening wherever we ended up.”
“Course you did,” Louisa muttered under her breath. Ever since the faked death situation, Louisa had not been quiet about her opinions on River’s mother. And those not quiet comments were always dripping with distain.
“It meant I got to see Christmas in lots of different cultures but it didn’t like, imbed traditions,” River explained, finding the irrational need to defend his mum’s questionable parenting. River knew how lucky he was to get left with his grandparents and looked after by them but that didn’t stop him loving his mum, she was his mum. “The food was good,” he continued rambling. The food was good; traditional Christmas dinner was great but Arroz Doce and other nibbles had become a part of his regular diet.
“Fine,” Louisa rolled her eyes.
“With the Old Bastard he would often have to work but the village went into Christmas mania,” River chuckled, taking a sip of his drink and letting the warmth ripple through him.
“Oh I bet it was one of those places that had like lights competitions and real reindeer and shit,” Shirley laughed.
“Of course,” River scoffed. “There was little this Christmas grotto that always creeped me out. That had real reindeer,” he explained.
“Creeped you out?” Louisa questioned.
River hadn’t thought about the place in years. His gran would always take him to it in the lead up to Christmas to see the reindeer and to give his list to Santa and get a present. Every time he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“I dunno,” he muttered, brow furrowing. “It was just sus. The place was covered top to tail in gaudy Christmas lights and the people who ran it only seemed to be around for that grotto and there were lots of deliveries, too many for the number of kids. And it didn’t make any money and yet they seemed to throw money at it.”
“Mate … it’s a Christmas grotto, you are thinking way too hard about it.”
“I don’t know,” River sighed, swinging back perilously on his desk chair as he inspected the pockmarked ceiling. “There was just something super weird about it. I felt it at the time but hadn’t thought about it in years,” he murmured.
“I can’t believe you’re actually fucking worried about this. It’s a bleeding santa’s grotto in rural southern England. You can’t get much posher than that lad,” Shirley laughed, throwing the little stress toy at River’s head where it bounced harmlessly.
“Just because it’s posh doesn’t mean it’s not sus,” River pouted. It had been suspicious; yes it had also been so posh but that didn’t discount all the deliveries of presents and kids getting presents from different piles and some getting multiple.
“You’re just bored River,” Louisa rolled her eyes. Also not incorrect, but not the point.
“Fine, fine. I’m just bored. Top up,” he waved his cup in Louisa’s direction.
“Fine but you are explaining why we are drunk to Catherine if she notices.”
That year River didn’t have many Christmas plans and he was glad for it. The only thing that mattered to him was going to go see his grandad on Christmas Day at the home. He had thought about trying to fill the time with other activities but that would only make him feel the emptiness even worse. River hadn’t been lying when he said that Christmas had never been a big thing in the Cartwright household but it was a time for calm and family. River didn’t have family and he almost had too much calm. He was getting pre-emptively bored in his flat on the weekend let alone the week and a bit he would be off work with no one to distract him. It was Louisa who inadvertently gave him the idea.
“Maybe you should get out of the city?” she suggested, patting him on the shoulder with a lot more force than was necessary as she tipsily stumbled.
He should get out of the city and he did have a house in Tunbridge Wells that would be empty over the festive season.
With the decision made, River heads out the weekend before Christmas to air the place out and decorate. He never had bothered to decorate his flat for Christmas; what was the point when he spent the Christmas period over in Tunbridge Wells with his grandad? This year was no different to do with his flat but River was going to be spending the majority of the time in Tunbridge Wells on his own. It would be depressing to be sat there with no tree or lights or wreath. He didn’t want to decorate but he mostly didn’t want to wake up on Christmas morning with another reminder about everything was wrong. With the windows of the house open and the non-perishables bought on the way. River decided to go on a wander around the village to stretch his legs and look at the Christmas lights. That was something that he always did with his grandma. They would go to the lights switch on together and laugh at what reality show has been they had found to turn them on but then the night after they would wrap up warm and in the early darkness look at them in all their glory. This was all Shirley and Louisa’s fault, getting him all soppy and nostalgic. It was probably the glow of nostalgia but the lights weren’t as impressive. River remembered his grandad moaning about it; some asshole on the town council had said that the flashy, brightly coloured cartoon shaped lights were tacky and that Tunbridge Wells was better than that. Now they were all artisanal and gold and dull as fuck; so wandering them didn’t hold the same childish wonder. He was bored, every so often throwing a smile in the direction of a cheery hello from someone who’s name he didn’t remember but they clearly remembered him. It was just like a normal winters night. Until he turned the corner and his corneas were seared, River’s hand shot up to shield his eyes. One of the big houses on the edge of the small green had a converted barn and that converted barn was covered in a cacophony of every gaudy, moving Christmas decoration your heart desired.
When he was telling Shirley and Louisa, River hadn’t been able to put his finger on what was weird about it but even now as he stood down the street from it, the back of his neck was tingling. It was just off, and it wasn’t even the slightly deflated massive grinch that loomed with it’s terrifying drawn on smile or the elf hanging from a rope ladder near the window. One of the seven foot tall snowmen started dancing and singing nearly giving River a heart attack. Inside there would be Christmas craft workshops and present wrapping. The reindeer would be around back through a candy cane arch and tucked in a corner would be the room where kids would go in and meet Santa. What was weird about that? It was all in cash but there wasn’t a high cash turn over so it could be money laundering but not well. It was just odd.
“River Cartwright?”
River jolted upon hearing his name and his head shot round to a figure who was flashing illuminated with all the colours of the rainbow from the grotto. A man in his late sixties was reclined in a wooden garden chair with a light next to him and a crossword book on his lap.
“Mr James?” River squinted, stepping closer.
“Call me Victor young man, you aren’t twelve anymore,” he chuckled, waving River over. Victor James was the owner of this whole property. He had a son that was about ten years older than River and had been otherwise on his own in this massive house for as long as River had lived in Tunbridge Wells. He didn’t even know that Victor knew his name even though that probably wasn’t too surprise seen as though River did land a plane in a field on the outskirts of town recently. “I wasn’t expecting to see you back this year with your grandad, give him my best,” Victor tilted his head.
River nodded awkwardly. “Wanted to get out of the city for a bit. Have you got family round?”
“Oh yes. My boy Wayne comes back from London for December to run the grotto now. He brings his friends with him and they are far more effective at it than I ever was ,” Victor chuckled. River’s shoulders tightened and his eyes were cast over to the flashing monstrosity. That was weird right? Who’s child in their forties took a month off work in the city to come and run a charity grotto with no financial benefit and brought friends to help do it?
“Yeah?” River questioned as his mind was running through everything. It must be the son, he was around and was a mean bastard when he was a teenager. To want to stay so invested twenty years down the line, there must be something else. River carried on his conversation with Victor but just exchanging meaningless platitudes. He needed to get a look around the grotto when no one was in. He would go back after midnight.
Louisa and Shirley had been so determined that River was making something up but he wasn’t. There was something going on and as a member of the British Security Services it was River’s responsibility to investigate. Yes he was also super bored but he couldn’t let crime go just because it was nearly Christmas. The lights were all off but every gust of wind had River jumping when the inflatables moved in a surprisingly human like manner in the corner of his eye. River managed to force the lock open with his rudimentary lock picking skills and slunk inside before anybody on the street was any the wiser. The inside was in a few main sections; through the door there was a little shed pitched in the corner for shopping bags and coats then a massive open space with rows of benches by long tables. There was a kitchen through a closed hatch to the left and a large storage room next to the kitchen. At the far end there were two smaller rooms, one for visiting santa on the left hand side of the far wall and a big sliding door into where the reindeer were kept on the right hand side. River padded softly using his phone torch to light the way as he worked his way through. It looked normal inside, nothing like the monstrosity outside and nothing that should be making River’s nerves ping like they were. He made it to the door to the storage room when he met his first problem and first clue. It was locked. Why would you need to look a door to the place that had some craft supplies and some presents? The presents were given out for free, surely the people stealing them would be the people they were trying to help if anyone. River needed to get in there and see what they would be desperate for people not to find.
Through the door at first, it was just lots of crates of mince pies and mulled cider. Through another door though there were the presents piled up to the height of the ceiling. There were so many for such a small little town particularly considering how many days it had already been open. The layout was like a bright red wrapping paper maze with presents stacked in rows with different ribbons and bows and different sizes. There were no labels or signs to show which presents were which but there were clear indications of some presents being different to others. Some of them had boxes stuck on. They were just the little plastic metallic gold bows but they stood out in their absence on most of the piles. River continued to move slowly through the stacks, careful to take note of everything he was seeing but touch nothing. After what felt like an age moving through this maze, the stacks carried on running in a line down the right hand side of the room but the rest opened up, into a manufacturing line.
“Shit,” River hissed. It was drugs. There were bags and bags of small pills stacked up by a large metal table with flat pack cardboard boxes. River had stumbled upon a county lines operation and it is smart. Give the presents to the kids in you organisation and no one will think twice about a kid walking out of a santa’s grotto with a present. Then the kids take the drugs into the nearby cities hassle free. Wayne knew who River’s grandad was, that must have been why he had always felt on edge here; they had been on edge having him here just in case the Old Bastard noticed something. River’s chest twisted and a let out a sigh. This was going on underneath his grandad’s nose; how did River notice there was something wrong and the defacto first desk of MI5 didn’t? When River was growing up he had believed his grandfather to be all knowing, this was just another flaw that he refused to see.
River takes a deep breath, shakes his head and then gets to work. He needs to document all of this and then get out of here before calling in the tip. He works his way from the drugs all the way through the present maze and back into the kitchen element of the storage room. Then he turns it to record.
“This is Agent River Cartwright, MI5, off duty documenting evidence of drug smuggling, child endangerment and county lines. I have photographs also attached but I am …”
River didn’t get any further before the ground was coming up to meet him rapidly. His phone skittered along the floor as River hit it, the back of his head pounding before he fell unconscious.