Father Christmas and Me Read online

  ‘Okay, Blitzen, be careful. I’ve got to knock on this door and get Captain Soot back.’

  So I went to the door and crouched a little because it was obviously a small door. I could hear noises inside and a voice saying, ‘It’s all right, Maarta. Mummy’s here. Mummy’s here.’ And then I heard Captain Soot do a big miaow.

  I knocked on the door three times.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  Then . . .

  The door opened and a girl pixie stuck her head out to stare up at me. She had big wide-apart eyes and clear skin and ears pointier than even the pointiest elf ears.

  I recognised her instantly.

  ‘Hello. It’s the Truth Pixie, isn’t it?’

  The Truth Pixie nodded. ‘Of course it is.

  Why do you ask a question that isn’t a question? You know who I am. You’ve met me twice. You’re a human. You come from the human world. I was the first pixie you ever met. So don’t put a question mark there. Just say, “Hello, Truth Pixie.” Like that. Understand?’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good. Now, have a good day.’

  She shut the door in my face.

  I knocked again.

  Waited again.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  She opened the door and looked extremely disappointed to see that it was still me.

  ‘What is it this time? I thought we were done.’

  ‘No. I hadn’t even asked the thing I wanted to ask.’

  ‘What was the thing you wanted to ask?’

  ‘I wanted to ask if I could have my cat back.’

  ‘Cat? What’s a cat?’

  ‘That,’ I said, pointing to Captain Soot, who was lying contentedly on a yellow rug by the tiny fireplace, ‘is a cat. My cat.’

  ‘Oh, I thought it was a horse. I have heard about horses. Father Christmas once told me about horses. Four-legged handsome things without antlers, and I thought, ah, here is a four-legged handsome thing without antlers. It must be a horse. And for one minute I felt so happy, being a horse owner. Although, to be truthful, well I am always truthful I am a Truth Pixie after all, Maarta is not so happy.’

  ‘Maarta?’ I asked. ‘Is that your—’

  I was going to say ‘daughter’ but already the Truth Pixie was nodding her head with great enthusiasm and saying, ‘Mouse. Yes, she is my mouse. She was out roaming in the forest as she always does and then suddenly I heard her squeaking at the door and I opened it – the door, not the mouse – and in came not only Maarta but the horse as well.’

  ‘Cat.’

  ‘Cat. Exactly. And Maarta was so excited I had to put her up on her shelf.’

  The Truth Pixie opened the door wider for me to see, and there she was, a little brown mouse nibbling on a piece of cheese on the shelf above the fireplace safely out of Captain Soot’s reach.

  ‘Listen, Truth Pixie, my cat really shouldn’t be near your mouse. You see, unlike horses, cats like eating mice. And Captain Soot was obviously chasing after Maarta and that—’

  ‘You are ugly,’ said the Truth Pixie.

  ‘What? That’s rude.’

  ‘I am sorry. I can’t help it. I am the Truth Pixie. The truth is what I do. But it is nothing personal.’

  ‘Well, it feels personal.’

  ‘Why? I have now seen three humans and they are all hideous. Father Christmas and Mary and you. Out of those three I would probably say you are the least ugly. But that still makes you incredibly hideous to look at. It is your ears. They are so round. And your eyes. Human eyes are just too close together. They are ridiculous. And look how tall you are. What is the point of that? I seriously don’t know, but it seems that all humans are required to take up far more space than they actually need. But don’t get me wrong, as humans go you are not that disgusting.’

  ‘Thanks . . . I think.’

  ‘I mean, that Mary! Wow. I have never seen anything like her. She is so big and lumpy and hideous! And even though she has been drimwicked she can’t do any magic at all. That’s what I’ve heard.’

  ‘Hey!’ I said. ‘Don’t say that! Mary is one of the loveliest people in the whole world.’

  The Truth Pixie looked sad, and stared down at a little purple flower beside her feet. ‘Yes, she does seem very lovely, despite the way she looks.’

  ‘Why does that make you sad?’

  The Truth Pixie rolled her eyes and then put her hand over her mouth, as if desperately trying to stop the words coming out of her own mouth. ‘Because she married the man of my dreams! Now, please, no more quest—’

  ‘The man of your dreams?’ I remembered her saying at the wedding, I wish Father Christmas would stay on his own. ‘Father Christmas is the man of your dreams?’

  ‘Aaagh!’ wailed the Truth Pixie. ‘Why? Why? Why do you ask questions like this? I am the Truth Pixie! I can do nothing but tell the truth and yet you keep asking the kind of questions that you really need to lie about. But I can’t! I have to tell you the truth. I have to. It’s my nature. I have to tell you that, yes, I am in love with Father Christmas and, yes, the day he married that lovely lumpy human woman was the saddest day of my life and, yes, every night I hug my pillow and pretend it is his big fat soft belly and, yes, on Christmas Eve I stayed awake worrying in case something terrible happened to him.’ The pixie panted, as if the truth was a long run that had exhausted her.

  I just stood there, a little stunned. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I just . . . I’m sorry.’

  ‘I know. You are judging me. You are thinking it is wrong for a tiny little pixie like me to love a big ugly human like Father Christmas. But the truth is I am two hundred and eighty-four years old, which I know is quite young but it is not as young as him. And anyway, pixies often fall in love with other species. One of the Flying Story Pixies fell in love with a troll and she went to live with him. Well, inside his ear. But she died. She got trapped in there. Because of the ear wax. You see, that’s the thing with trolls. They produce a lot of ear wax. Ah, poor old Flitter. But, yes, I must admit someone as, well, intelligent and charming as myself falling in love with a hairy ho-ho-ho-ing elf-loving human does seem a bit ridiculous, but what can you do? Love is love is love.’

  I tried to take all this in. And then I remembered I was not here to talk about pixie love. I was here to get my cat. I had to get back to Elfhelm and show Kip his sleigh.

  Then the Truth Pixie saw it – the broken sleigh – and Blitzen, as he made his way carefully through the trees.

  ‘That’s one of Father Christmas’s reindeer, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What happened to the sleigh?’

  I told the Truth Pixie what happened to the sleigh and she invited me inside, to sit down and have some cake and get my cat.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t. I’ll get in trouble for being late.’

  ‘I think you’ll be in trouble anyway.’

  ‘How much trouble do you think I’ll be in? Tell me the truth.’

  I knew she could do no other.

  ‘A lot of trouble. The thing with elves is that although they act all jolly and fun and sing lots of Christmas songs, even if it is June, they are actually quite strict creatures. The reason they work so hard for Father Christmas in his workshop is because, on the inside, beneath their funny hats and jolly clothes, elves like order. They like discipline. They like following rules. They like everything to run smoothly. And when things go wrong – when someone makes a mistake – they tend to be very, very, very, very, very cross.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Five verys. Just like Kip.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Listen, thank you very much for the offer of cake. It’s really very kind of you. But I had better be going. Can I – erm – have my cat now, please?’

  The Truth Pixie picked up Captain Soot and came back to hand him over. Captain Soot was quite heavy for the pixie to carry and her face was bright red from the effort.

 
; ‘Are you sure it isn’t a horse?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

  I leant forward to take Captain Soot from her. He was purring contentedly, clearly over the shock of what had happened earlier.

  ‘There. There you go. You have him. From what you have told me, he sounds like he is cursed.’

  ‘He’s just a cat.’

  ‘Well, goodbye. And please, please don’t say anything to Father Christmas about, you know, me loving him or the pillow or anything like that.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘Promises are for liars. If you tell the truth all the time, you don’t need promises.’

  I smiled. ‘Well, humans need promises. And I promise I won’t say anything.’

  And now Blitzen was right next to me, his snout near my shoulder as he looked down at the little pixie.

  ‘This is Blitzen.’

  The Truth Pixie scowled. ‘I know who he is. He’s Father Christmas’s favourite reindeer. His special one. Maybe if I was big and smelly and had sticks coming out of my head he’d think I was special.’

  ‘You are special,’ I said. ‘You’re the Truth Pixie.’

  She shook her head and looked down at her shoes. ‘Yes. Exactly. I am the Truth Pixie. And who likes the truth? No one, that’s who. You met the Lie Pixie, didn’t you, on the worst day of my life?’

  ‘The worst day of your life? Oh yes, the wedding.’

  ‘Yes, well, he’s my old boyfriend. He lives a little further south. Everyone likes him. He tells them exactly what they want to hear. He would tell you that humans are wonderful, and that having round ears is just as good as having pointed ears. He would tell you that when you got to Elfhelm you wouldn’t be in any trouble at all and even if you were it would soon blow over and everything would be fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, remembering how he had said he liked my ears. ‘He’s just being nice.’

  ‘Yes. Exactly. But he isn’t nice. You can’t always know the truth about someone from what they say.’

  I could see the sky through the criss-crossing branches of the forest. It was glowing a faint shade of pink. Sunset. It was about to get dark.

  ‘I really had better go.’

  ‘Yes, you really had.’

  ‘How far away is Elfhelm now?’ I asked.

  ‘Just keep going straight down the hill until you see the tower of the Toy Workshop. Downhill walking is faster than uphill walking so you will probably be there in ten thousand minutes.’

  ‘Ten thousand minutes? That’s a long time.’

  ‘That’s pixie minutes. Pixie minutes are a lot shorter than other minutes. Ten thousand pixie minutes is actually quite short. It’s the time it takes to bake a cake.’

  ‘Right. Brilliant. Thank you, Truth Pixie.’ And then, maybe because it was getting dark and more worries were starting to fill my brain, I asked the Truth Pixie something else. ‘Do you know anything about the hole in the ground?’

  ‘The hole?’

  ‘Yes. There’s a hole. Over there.’ I pointed. ‘That way.’

  The Truth Pixie nodded. ‘Oh yes, I have seen it.’

  ‘Well, what do you think it is? Is it trolls? Rabbits? The Easter Bunny? Could it even be pixies?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I thought you were the Truth Pixie.’

  ‘Yes. The Truth Pixie. Not the Knowledge Pixie. I don’t know everything. I just tell the truth about the things I do know and have to admit when I don’t know. But I do know that big holes in the middle of forests are generally not good things.’

  ‘So what will Father Christmas say when I tell him?’

  ‘Well, it will be a worry. And worries are the opposite of hope. And they steal it.’

  ‘And if there’s no hope,’ I said, thinking aloud, ‘there will be no Christmas. And Christmas is very nearly here.’

  ‘Yes,’ sighed the Truth Pixie, ‘that is the truth.’

  And so, as I left her, following the Truth Pixie’s directions, and I began to see the colourful buildings of Elfhelm slowly emerge in the distance through the trees, I promised myself I would say nothing about the hole, or any of the other troubles I had found in the forest. The sleigh was going to be worry enough.

  Cloudberry Pie

  here was delicious steaming hot cloudberry pie. Father Christmas had baked it from Mary’s recipe while she had been trying to put up the Christmas decorations with her mind, through the art of drimwickery, and failing miserably. Baubles were falling off the lop-sided Christmas tree, and paper snowflakes and chains were strewn all over the room.

  We were all around the table, and in the middle of that table was the pie, ready to be eaten, but even that wasn’t making things any better.

  Father Christmas didn’t tell me off. Not exactly. All he did when he heard the news was sigh and shake his head and look disappointed. In a way that was worse. Having Father Christmas look disappointed – and knowing you were the one person who had made him look disappointed – was a terrible feeling.

  Mary sliced his pie and gave me a portion.

  ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ she said. ‘Worse things happen at sea. At least you’re alive. That’s the main thing, isn’t it, Nikolas?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Absolutely.’

  But he was still frowning. I wondered if there were any words I could say to make things better.

  ‘Kip was very, very, very, very, very upset,’ he said. ‘He said he has never seen a sleigh in a worse state. The Barometer of Hope is irreparable. And his business is already struggling. He’s worried he might have to close the school, and that people will be scared to fly his sleighs any more. Poor Kip.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘It wasn’t really my fault,’ I said. ‘I mean I didn’t know that Captain Soot had followed me there. I didn’t see him till the last minute. And then it was too late.’

  ‘But you could have told Kip the cat was there, couldn’t you?’

  ‘But then Kip would have said I shouldn’t go in the sleigh.’

  ‘Well, in fairness, he would probably have been right.’

  Guilt rose inside me, like a flood.

  ‘I will help Kip to mend the sleigh,’ I said.

  Father Christmas shook his head. ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. Kip is a very strange elf. I love him dearly but he is strange. He has peculiar ways. Unlike most elves he has never been very social. He doesn’t like parties or anything like that. I once offered him a job in the Toy Workshop but he turned it down. He is the only elf – apart from Father Vodol, of course – who has ever turned me down. But really he is a very fragile elf. Because of what happened to him as a boy . . . Oh, Amelia, it is complicated. I know you didn’t mean to do anything wrong but I also think we should try to make everything all right, don’t you?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes. So what shall we do?’

  Father Christmas scratched his beard. ‘Well, the sleigh was very expensive. It was a Blizzard 360.’

  ‘I know. Kip told me. A thousand chocolate coins.’

  ‘Well, we’ll pay it back.’

  ‘How?’ wondered Mary. ‘They hardly pay us anything. You hardly pay us anything!’

  ‘We’ll have the money. Don’t worry about that! In fact, let’s go to the Bank of Chocolate right now and get the money!’

  The Bank of Chocolate

  inhaled the smell of sweet sugary cocoa-y chocolate as Father Christmas pointed to the back of the bank where elf bank clerks were carrying huge bags of gold coins.

  ‘You know what those coins are made of, don’t you? Chocolate. All elf money is made of chocolate. The most delicious chocolate in the world.’

  ‘I still find it so ridiculous!’ Mary laughed.

  And then Father Christmas went to a bank clerk, who was sitting behind a desk, with a name badge on that said ‘SOVEREIGN’.

  ‘Hello, Sovereign,’ said Father Christmas.

  ‘Hello, Father C
hristmas!’ said Sovereign. She was smiling very excitedly. ‘It’s so lovely to see you! And these are the humans who live with you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, this is Mary and Amelia.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Mary and I together.

  Sovereign was giggling. ‘Wow. Humans are so tall. They’re nearly as tall as you, Father Christmas.’

  ‘Well, technically I am a human. A drimwicked human but still a human. Now, Sovereign, I really need to get some money out of my bank account.’

  ‘Of course, Father Christmas. How much money do you need?’

  Father Christmas cleared his throat. ‘Ummm, one thousand gold coins, please.’

  Sovereign nearly fell off her chair. ‘One thousand gold coins?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Sovereign pulled out a book from under her desk. The book had writing on the front cover that said ‘HOW MUCH MONEY EVERYONE HAS’.

  ‘Oh,’ said Sovereign. ‘Oh. Oh.’

  ‘Oh what?’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Oh dear what?’

  ‘Oh dear, you haven’t got enough money.’

  ‘How much money do I have in my account?’

  ‘You have eight hundred and thirty-seven coins. Which is strange, as you had twenty-three thousand, seven hundred and twenty-nine coins in your account last November.’

  Father Christmas sighed, and looked a bit embarrassed. ‘I . . . I . . . I ate most of them.’

  Sovereign frowned and shook her head in disapproval. ‘You shouldn’t eat your money, Father Christmas.’

  ‘But it is so delicious. And it was November. And I was getting stressed, with Christmas coming up. Why do you have to make it so delicious? This new chocolate you make it with is incredible.’

  ‘Yes. It is Coco’s new formula. We introduced it last autumn.’

  ‘It makes no sense. If you don’t want people to eat money, you shouldn’t make it so tasty.’

  Sovereign sighed. ‘This is Elfhelm. Nothing makes sense. For instance, it doesn’t make sense that you are the Leader of the Elf Council and are in charge of the whole Toy Workshop and you only pay yourself fifty coins a month.’