"Can we have some more of that hot drink I tried last night?" Noel was asking as Holly let them into her house. "It was really tasty."

Holly sighed. "Maybe not right now. As you said yourself, we have work to do." Although more mulled wine was indeed a tempting prospect. "If we can get this weird remote to work, that is." She plonked herself down on the sofa, studying it intently. It really did look like a Firestick, but at the bottom, rather than the Netflix, Prime, Amazon, and Disney shortcuts, the buttons were labelled Friends, Family, Love, and Christmas.

Hmm . . . interesting.

She picked up the control for the TV and switched it on, then apprehensively pushed the on button for the Holly Sprigg-stick, as Santa had called it. She wasn't really expecting anything to happen, but really, she should have been prepared for anything at this stage. After all, it's not every day you make a man out of snow who mysteriously comes to life, right? Yet, Holly still remained slightly cynical. She possibly still believed she was dreaming.

Nothing happened straight away, so impatiently, she pressed another button. And the first thing that appeared on the screen was Holly herself. Dressed as an elf and dancing around the office canteen.

Good god . . . It was footage from the Christmas pantomime that Ben had mentioned earlier. She'd already viewed this on YouTube, as nearly every one of her colleagues had forwarded it to her in glee when it had almost gone viral. How mortifying.

Was Santa trying to blackmail her? That would make no sense, given the clip was already most definitely in the public domain. Oh, and she was almost completely broke, so she'd be the worst blackmail target ever.

"What on earth are you doing?" Noel started laughing, as onscreen Elf Holly self-consciously started reciting a silly little monologue.

"Humiliating myself, apparently," Holly groaned. "I have no idea what channel this is, but I hate it. How do I unsubscribe?"

Noel took the remote from her and examined it himself. He pressed a button, and the screen in front of them defaulted to some sort of home screen. "Looks like we're on the Christmas channel here," he said. Holly could see there were various screengrabs of her on the screen, different years highlighted beneath. There was one for this year, where she was wearing the horrendously gaudy Christmas jumper and holding her mulled wine prize; the one from last year said "recently watched" and featured, of course, elf Holly . . . and she could also recognise what was obviously the karaoke performance from two years ago that Ben had mentioned earlier.

Recapturing the remote, she scrolled back and could see memories from previous years, too, going all the way back to her childhood. Moments from Christmas, where she'd almost, even briefly, felt happy.

"Maybe we do need some mulled wine after all," she murmured.

"Yasss." Noel fist-bumped thin air as Holly made her way to the kitchen.

When she returned, Noel was watching Karaoke Holly onscreen. "You're a good singer," he told her as she handed him a functional white IKEA mug - no festive crockery could be found in this house. 

Holly nodded in thanks - she knew she was talented - but her attention was captured by something else on screen. The camera had panned out over the audience - seriously, who had been filming this stuff? - and it suddenly zoomed in on none other than Ben.

Her work enemy was watching her intently, a reluctant smile curling his lips and his blue eyes admiring. He hadn't looked at her like that for such a long time - she'd almost forgotten that he had looked at her like that once upon a time.

"Is there something going on between you and that guy?" Noel asked suspiciously. Was he jealous?

"We have a love-hate relationship. Emphasis on the hate. Wait, no." Holly shook her head. "Just complete hate. No love whatsoever."

"There's a fine line," Noel smirked, blowing on his wine to cool it down. He paused the clip while it was still on Ben and glanced over at her. "You can't see it, can you?" He sounded incredulous somehow. He looked between frozen Ben on the screen and Holly in the living room, a frown on his face. "You really are too close to the project," he muttered.

"So where do you think all these clips came from?" Holly decided a change of subject was in order. Talking about Ben made her feel antsy and uncomfortable, and she already had enough of those emotions in stock at this time of year - so much so she could give them out as stocking fillers to everyone she knew and still have plenty left in supply for herself.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Noel shrugged. "But my guess is probably Santa since he gave us this . . . Sprigg-stick in the first place. Maybe he has some sort of CCTV up in Lapland. Perhaps this is what he uses to determine who has been naughty and who has been nice."

"Firstly, that's creepy as fuck." Holly shuddered at the thought. "And secondly . . . Santa isn't real."

"I'm amazed you can still say that with such certainty, considering everything that has happened in the past 24 hours," Noel said softly. But Holly still couldn't accept that any of this was actually happening. She took the remote back and scrolled into the Friends section of the screen, half-heartedly hoping it would just be re-runs of the sitcom and "I'll Be There For You" would start blaring out. But, once again, she could see what looked like little screen captures of her life, featuring her with groups of mates from over the years.

"Aw, look at toddler Holly!" Noel said. "You were so cute then! What happened to you?" He defended himself hastily as she tried to hit him with a cushion. "I'm just kidding! Let's watch that one though."

Almost unwillingly, she selected that clip, and they observed as Holly and several other little girls waited in line at a grotto. Her much younger face was lit up in excitement, and present Holly swallowed hard as she realised how similar she had once been to her nephew Simon. She and her friends were talking about what was on their list, and she was seemingly the most vocal out of all of them about how happy she was to meet Santa. And she was bopping about to "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday" . . . Surely not?

Now this could definitely be blackmail material.

"It's your turn, Holly!" One of her little friends exclaimed. "Go and speak to Santa."

She watched as her mini-me toddled up towards the red-suited man sitting in the centre of the grotto. "Hi Santa!" She clearly hadn't been taught about indoor voices yet at that stage.

And, as Santa's face came into view, her heart froze. Because this was no ordinary, random Santa.

It was, without a doubt, exactly the same Santa who had handed her this remote control to her life more than twenty years later.

And he hadn't changed one little bit.