Firefighter's Christmas Baby. Annie Claydon

right and you might get to drive the sleigh.’

      * * *

      Green suited Ben. No doubt red would have done too, but Callie had to admit that he made a very handsome elf. No doubt he’d be the one who got presents wrapped twice as fast, without even breaking a sweat.

      After the bustle of the fire station and the cheery goodbyes of the crew she’d suddenly felt very alone. She’d had to remind herself that returning to her cold, dark flat was exactly the way she wanted it. No one to welcome her home meant that there was no one to pull the carpet out from under her feet.

      She pulled on a down gilet for warmth and put on her coat and gloves, attaching her camera to a lanyard around her neck, ready for use. Tonight was about photos and not Christmas cheer, she told herself stubbornly.

      The quickest and easiest way to get to the centre of London was by the Underground. They left their cars at the fire station and twenty minutes later they were in the heart of the city.

      The fire engine was parked on the edge of a small square, flanked by bars and shops, and there were still plenty of people on the street. As they walked towards it through the crowds, Callie could see that one side of the vehicle had been decorated to turn it into Santa’s sleigh. There were carol singers and people were crowding around a warmly clad man in a Santa costume, who was helping children up into the driving seat.

      Ben greeted the men already there and introduced Callie. Their names were lost in the music and chatter, but there were smiles and suddenly it didn’t much matter who she was or why she was here. She was just one of the team.

      A bundle of leaflets was pressed into Ben’s hands and he set to work, wishing everyone a happy Christmas, in between singing along with the carols in a deep baritone. He placed leaflets in everyone’s hands with a smiling exhortation to read them on the way home.

      Callie picked up a leaflet that had fluttered to the ground. On one side were wishes for a safe and happy Christmas from the London Fire Brigade. On the other side was some basic fire safety advice that was easy to read and follow.

      ‘So all this has an ulterior motive?’ She saw Ben looking at her and she smiled.

      ‘You could call it that. Although I reckon that having a house fire is one of the unhappier things that can happen to anyone, so it’s really just a practical extension of us telling everyone to have a happy Christmas...’

      He turned for a moment as a woman tapped his arm, responding to her question. ‘Yes, that’s the British Standards safety sign. Always make sure your tree lights carry it.’

      ‘Okay. I’ll check mine when I get home.’

      ‘Great.’ Ben gifted her with the kind of smile that would persuade the angels themselves to switch off their heavenly lights if they weren’t up to safety standards and wished her a happy Christmas.

      ‘Can I take some of those?’ Callie pointed to the leaflets in his hand.

      ‘Yes, of course. Don’t you want to take some photographs?’

      That was what she was there for but her camera was zipped under her coat and taking it out seemed like taking a step back from the circle of warmth and light around the fire engine. Realistically it was impossible to reduce the children’s delight as they were lifted up into the driving seat to just one frame, so instead she took the opportunity to just feel the joy.

      ‘Later maybe. I’ve got an interest in this, too.’ As a paramedic, Callie didn’t fight fires but she’d seen some of the of the injuries they caused.

      He handed half his stack of leaflets to Callie. Ben didn’t say a word but his grin spoke volumes. No more fighting each other. The season of peace and joy seemed to be working its magic.