Maurice Chips
AKA Father Christmas
written by: Sharon P Wilson
Maurice Chips was an ordinary man. He lived in an ordinary house with his old dad, Arnold, in Winfeld. He couldn’t remember his mother, who died when he was eight.
That was many years ago, Maurice thought wistfully as the train rattled along the tracks on this cold winter’s day. Light cold rain, tapped the windows, causing them to steam up. Maurice nestled deeper into his seat, noting he had taken the same train for the past thirty-five years!
It was a long time working for the same charity: Give To Kids, but he liked helping kids who were less fortunate in life. And as he didn’t have them himself, he believed processing funding applications for children in need was a fitting job. It was especially true at Christmastime, the season for giving.
As Maurice stepped off the train, he was immediately greeted by a huge Christmas tree that was glittering in the station foyer. Bright lights flashed on and off, much to the delight of a couple of young school children with their mother, off for the holidays. He could sense their mounting excitement and knew they must be going to do their Christmas shopping in central London.
Maurice turned his collar up and bustled through the foyer and out onto the cold pavement. It wasn’t going to be a white Christmas, but it was going to be cold enough, he thought as he pushed open the heavy glass doors to Give To Kids headquarters.
‘There you are,’ his colleague Jan exclaimed, ‘I was beginning to think you had jumped on your reindeer and run off to Lapland or something.’
‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ Maurice replied with a playful chuckle, ‘I’m not that late, am I?’
‘You’re allowed to be late, it’s Christmas week,’ Jan replied, lightheartedly. ‘Speaking of which, you know you and your dad are welcome to join me and Ted if you want. Ted does some mean homemade mince pies. Then there’s the brandy,’ she continued.
‘Thanks for the offer, but we’ll stay at home. Besides, I’m Father Christmas again this year, remember, so I’ll be whacked out. It gets harder every year.’
‘So you are,’ Jan replied, ‘but if you change your mind, you only need to say so. How many shopping malls are you visiting this year?’
‘At least three,’ Maurice replied, acknowledging the hard work but for the happiness it gave the kids.
‘That’s so good of you,’ Jan added reflectively.
And on the week before Christmas, Maurice Chips reached into his wardrobe and pulled out his red suit. As he squeezed into it and fiddled with the buttons, he thought this was probably the last year it would fit. It didn’t help that he was partial to mince pies all year round. He fitted a fluffy white beard onto his ample chin. Then, he pulled on a red hat with a white bobble, grateful it covered up his ever-increasing bald patch. Finally, Maurice pulled on some big black boots.
‘You look a picture,’ Arnold Chips said comically from his armchair, ‘why don’t you ask Father Christmas to bring you a wife or son. I won’t be around forever, and you’re not getting any younger yourself.’
‘Dad, must we go through this every year? I’m not very good with women.’
‘That’s no excuse,’ Arnold Chips went on, ‘there’s nothing to it. If you happen to meet a nice lady, ask for her number. She can only say no!’
As Arnold chortled into his beer, Maurice stomped down the hallway and out to the garden shed. He fiddled with the catch and swung open the door.
‘Come on, Rupert,’ he called to the ragged-looking reindeer, ‘you’ve had all year to sleep, it’s time to dust off your sleigh.’
And so it was that Maurice Chips and his trusty reindeer Rupert came to be at their first event for the season. The mall was very busy with people rushing about, grabbing last-minute Christmas shopping.
Maurice Chips sat just inside his grotto beside a large Christmas tree, its colourful lights blinking all the colours of the rainbow. The sound of Christmas music crooned in the background.
‘Look! It’s Father Christmas!’ shouted one youngster as he approached the grotto.
‘Ho! Ho! Ho! little fella,’ Maurice chuckled, ‘I wonder what I have in my sack for you.’ After a little rummaging, Maurice pulled out a large box wrapped in light blue paper. ‘For you, young man!’
‘Wow! Thanks, Father Christmas,’ he said excitedly, snatching the package.
‘Don’t open it until Christmas morning,’ Maurice instructed. In the meantime, Rupert was getting bored and fed up with people stroking him and tugging his antlers. He simply wanted the whole season to be over and done with so he could get back to his shed. He stamped his feet in annoyance just as a child with blond pigtails came up to him and squealed, ‘Look, mummy, a real reindeer!’
‘Ah, yes, the mother replied, ‘honey, let’s see what Father Christmas has got for you.’
Once again, Maurice rummaged inside his stuffed sack and produced a package wrapped in pink. It was received gleefully before the youngster skipped off, her pigtails bouncing with delight.
By the afternoon, Maurice was running low on gifts and was about to call it a day when a young girl and her mother approached the grotto. His fake beard itched, and Rupert was taking a nap, snoring lightly.
‘Hell,o little lady,’ Maurice greeted as brightly as he could muster, ‘welcome to my grotto.’
The young lady whose long brown hair hung limply from underneath a wholly red hat, smiled weakly.
‘Say something then, honey,’ her mother urged, ‘maybe he has a pressy for you.’
‘As it happens, I have one more present in my sack,’ Maurice interrupted. He produced a large present wrapped perfectly, with a gold ribbon around it. ‘I was saving it for you.’
‘Jeez, thanks Father Christmas!’ The happiness evident in her wide, crooked-toothed smile.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said merrily. Then, Maurice Chips, AKA Father Christmas, turned his gaze to her mother. He smiled demurely before speaking. ‘And what has Santa brought for you this year?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ she replied lowly. ‘Thanks for the present, though, we can’t afford much.’
Maurice nodded, in acknowledgement as he now recalled it wasn’t the first year he had seen the mother and daughter at his grotto. He got the impression it was only the two of them. ‘My name’s Maurice Chips,’ he announced.
‘And I’m Mary Simms, and this is my daughter, Lily,’ she went on.
‘Pleased to meet you both,’ he said cheerily. ‘Tell you what, if you have nothing to do right now, I would love it if you could help me finish deliver a couple of presents to some kids in the village.’
‘Do you fancy that?’ Mary asked Lily. ‘Yeah!’ she replied excitedly.
‘The thing is, Maurice, we came to the mall on foot, so how can we help?’
‘Never fear,’ Maurice exclaimed with a big grin. ‘Rupert!’
Upon hearing his name, Rupert the reindeer opened his eyes slowly and loped up to Maurice.
‘We should all fit in the sleigh, easy peasy!’
Up, up, and away the sleigh rose through the exit and up into the inky night sky. Much to the astonishment of other shoppers, but to the merriment of its passengers. Lily giggled with delight, and even Mary beamed a smile as they glided through the sky, stopping now and again to drop off a present down someone’s chimney. It was fun.
While they flitted across Winfeld, Maurice was chuffed when he learned Mary was indeed single and she would be happy to join him and Dad for Christmas dinner. In fact, she had offered to cook the turkey. That was a result.
Maurice Chips had a spring in his step as he became Father Christmas for the final time before the holidays. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes brighter. When he had given away his final present and hopped back onto his sleigh, he was whistling, ‘Jingle Bells’ all the way home.
For the first time in many, many years, Maurice Chips no longer felt like an ordinary man. He felt special. The central heating crackled, warming the house cosily. The Christmas tree sparkled and was loaded with two extra presents. Whilst Mary placed a large turkey on the table, Maurice had a fleeting memory of his late mother and her Christmas dinners.
As Maurice chewed on a perfectly cooked wedge of turkey, his heart swelled when he saw his dad and Lily pulling a cracker. His contended eyes twinkled when he and Mary exchanged a glance. Santa had finally remembered his own address and given him a priceless present, which was a chance of being a family.
- Maurice Chips AKA Father Christmas - December 18, 2025
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