[in Cayo Confites, Cuba, Bryony slowly places pieces of the bike’s wrapping in the campfire] Grandsanta : Poor Evie. Sun'll be up soon. It's Christmas! Arthur : Christmas is for kids. You grow out of it. Bryony : What, in the last 6 minutes? Arthur : [scoffs] I know what you all say about me, you know. [as an elf] "He belongs in the South Pole." [as Santa] "Dear Arthur, what a puzzle." [in his normal voice] Well, you were right. All that fuss over one kid, I was being ridiculous. [lies down] This is nice. It's good to get away from it all, you know? All the Christmas fuss. Grandsanta : [gets up and sits next to Arthur] I'm sorry I messed things up, lad. You see, the night I last took Evie out, when there was all that...fuss, your father came to me. I'll never forget it. Couldn't look me in the eye. "Dad", he says. "Steve thinks it’s best you don't fly again. We're scrapping the sleigh." Me own son...who used to sit where you sat looking up at me. [Arthur looks away] I just wanted them to remember who I used to be. I was a bit like you , lad. Keen as cranberry. So was your dad. You get old, that's all. Everything...changes. Arthur : Does it? [gets up quickly and grabs Gwen's letter] How can I ever write another letter saying that Santa cares? [throws the letter down, then takes off his last slipper and throws it into the sea] Good night, Dad. Sleep well.

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