Richard loved being Father Christmas. It was the highlight of his year to don the red velvet suit with white cotton trim, to squeak around in weighty black boots and take the light-adorned seat in the local mall grotto. Alas this period of work lasted for only two thirds of December before ending rather abruptly on the 24th.
Then again Richard didn’t do it for the money. He had
received a decent retirement package from his years working focus groups at
Ruddlesden Superstore, plenty to live on in his dotage. It was just lovely to
be able to listen to what kids wanted for a change. They certainly had a better
grasp of such things than their parents.
Regardless Christmas Eve soon came around again and he
found himself especially broody. One thing that had always bothered Richard was
how nobody ever followed up on these kids, checked that they got what they
wanted or else were happy with what they received. Perhaps it was his old
business brain working overtime but he saw a definite opportunity here.
So it was that he set up a new grotto in the communal
field round the back of his cottage, just far enough away so that the local
kids didn’t get too suspicious. Richard didn’t officially open for business
till Boxing Day morning.
The first person he saw was Aneesa, the nice girl from
two doors down. He had mentioned to her what he was thinking of doing when they
crossed paths in the park and she was keen to help out. Seeing her jingle
across the grass, adjusting her pointy elf ears was a sight to behold.
“Excellent elf costume, dear,” Richard said. “Hope you
didn’t go to too much trouble?”
Aneesa shook her head. “My brother leant me these ears.
He’s a big Trekkie. As for the costume, I improvised with one of Mum’s old
dresses.”
Richard regarded the rather vibrant red and green swirls
that came to a glittery halt at the hem of a rather short skirt.
Aneesa
shrugged her shoulders. “She wore this stuff in the 60’s.”
Richard
nodded, wondering if his electric pink bell bottoms were somewhere in the back
of his wardrobe. “I’m not sure what to expect today. Could be nobody comes. If
you get bored, feel free to head back home.”
“Thanks
but Dad’s on with making enough Peshwari Naan for the neighbourhood. At such
times, it’s better to be out of the house.”
“Right.”
Richard put on his Santa hat. “Let’s see who turns up then.”
True to prediction, the first
two hours were incredibly quiet. Their only visitor was Mrs Ashcroft from
Hogarth Lane, dressed in her orange Mackintosh while exercising her fox
terriers. Aneesa flinched at the sudden appearance of a furry snout so Richard stepped
outside. As soon as seeing him in his outfit, Mrs Ashcroft chuckled.
“You do know what day it is, don’t you, Richard?” She
spoke slowly though this was mostly a tease.
The fairer terrier, Sandy, scratched at the toe of
Richard’s boot. “Yes, Imelda. Did you not receive the note I posted through
everyone’s letterbox?”
“I did. Our Wesley is a bit too old for this sort of
thing now.”
“Really? He came to Ruddlesden last year.” Richard
squinted as he remembered. “Asked for the full latest Power Ranger set if I’m
not mistaken.”
Mrs Ashcroft’s eyes shined with surprise. “You’ve got a
good memory.”
“I do my best.”
Sandy had now taken to sniffing the behind of her darker
brother, Brody. Richard thought the intensity with which she did this a bit
indecent but Mrs Ashcroft wasn’t at all fazed. She just tucked a stray lock of
white hair back beneath her hood and chuckled again. “So what is this then? Customer
feedback?”
“In a way.”
“Well, I suppose if any Santa can ask the right
questions, it would be you.” She winked. “I’ll remind the Fosters and the
Brickleys. One’s to the left of my bungalow and the other’s to the right. We
often have little back garden gatherings.”
Richard smiled. “Thank you.”
Mrs Ashcroft set out again, pulled by both Sandy and
Brody who apparently wanted to investigate a nearby fencepost. “I’ll look
forward to your eventual presentation at the next town meeting.”
She was a snarky one but Mrs Ashcroft had a kind nature.
Though she obviously didn’t believe in his project, she wouldn’t see Richard
sat out in the cold for nothing. Once she and the dogs had disappeared, he
returned to the grotto. Aneesa was watching from the window.
“Still not a dog person then?” Richard asked.
“I know it’s silly.” she grimaced. “Mum loves dogs but
Dad still doesn’t trust them.”
“Parents give a lot of themselves to their kids. More
than they’ll ever know.”
With a reassuring pat on her shoulder, Richard got his
portable kettle boiling. They both had their tea strong, fingers wrapped around
thick mugs.
Not long after the steam had dissipated, Richard set his
tea down and answered a small but firm knock at the door. Little Tommy Brickley
stood in the doorway, eight years old and scowling. Richard gave his loudest
ho, ho, ho but the belly laugh did nothing to appease the stiff-lipped lad.
“Hello, Tommy. How are you this chilly Boxing Day?”
Tommy ripped off his black bobble hat and stuffed it into
the pocket of his silver puffer jacket. “A Snottyhead.”
Richard adjusted his half-moon spectacles. “Pardon?”
“I asked for a Snottyhead,” Tommy spoke slowly, a rumble
to his voice. “You gave me a Grinspan.”
Richard glanced at Aneesa for help.
“Father Christmas, aren’t Snottyhead and Grinspan from
the same line of action figures? The ones with green goopy hair?”
After a moment Richard nodded. “Yes. I believe Snottyhead
is the goodie and Grinspan is the baddie.”
“No,” Tommy snapped. “Grinspan is Snottyhead’s partner!
Grinspan has a big smile but no bogey hair. He’s smaller too.”
Richard locked eyes with Aneesa but she just shrugged.
With a huff, he knelt down to the boy’s level.
“Oh, I am sorry, Tommy. Unfortunately Snottyhead didn’t
have any toys to spare me this year. However Grinspan was kind enough to pass
on one of his.”
Tommy grunted. “Snottyhead and Grinspan aren’t real.
They’re on TV.”
“Is that what they tell you, eh?” Richard tried a wink
but he had the feeling this wouldn’t quite work. The boy was now shaking with
anger. “I am sorry, my boy. We’ll see what we can do next year, eh?”
“You’re Santa!” Tommy shouted. “You’re supposed to make
the toys yourself!”
With that he stormed back out onto the frosty grass,
crunching all the way home.
“Blimey,” Richard said, sinking back into his grotto
chair.
“Not sure what Elaine was playing at there,” Aneesa
replied. “Snottyhead figures are in all the supermarkets as well as the toy
shops. I even saw one on Christmas Eve.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Dad needed me to pick up some ingredients.”
Richard was downcast for some time after that. Of course
it wasn’t his fault that Tommy’s Mum didn’t buy the right action figure but Tommy
didn’t know that. He honestly thought Santa handled the entire arrangement
himself, as if he were contractually obliged. The more Richard thought about
this scenario, the more bizarre it seemed. Food for thought but certainly not
the kind he had expected, at least not at first.
Fortunately there was another half an hour or so of
quiet. Aneesa got up to stretch her legs out on the field and when she
returned, it was with Mr Foster and his twin daughters Ophelia and Katie in
tow.
Richard did his best to perk up, even pinching his cheeks
to add colour.
The girls went silent when they saw him so Mr Foster
tousled their long black hair to get them to talk. Instead Katie burst into
tears. Her father looked momentarily powerless, glancing at Richard as if he
might be able to fix the mistake.
“Now, now, petal,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
Katie sniffed and wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her
woolly overcoat. She then turned to Ophelia, lifting one white fluffy ear
warmer to whisper.
Once she was done, Ophelia cleared her throat. “You
forgot our puppy, Santa.”
Richard locked eyes with Mr Foster who shook his
close-shaven head.
“I see,” Richard replied. “Well, there’s a funny story
about that. You see, the elves and I were about to make you the cutest puppy
ever but unfortunately we ran out of stuff. We had plenty of lovely soft fur
but couldn’t fetch the right sparkle for the puppy’s eyes.”
“Silly me,” Aneesa added. Richard smiled his thanks for
alleviating the responsibility.
“But puppies aren’t made,” Ophelia said. “We saw one
being born.”
Richard paused. “You did?”
“Yes.”
Richard wasn’t quite sure what to say. He could stick to
his story but then that might complicate the life lessons the girls had already
been taught. Judging from the wide-eyed look on Mr Foster’s face, he had no
idea how much they already knew.
“That must be where we’re going wrong then,” Richard
replied conversationally to Aneesa.
Ophelia gawped at them while Katie set off crying again.
At last Mr Foster took the initiative to lead them both out before any further damage
was done.
Richard reached for a handkerchief and mopped his creased
brow. “My goodness. It’s all go today, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He turned to Aneesa now who was still watching the
Fosters from the window.
“Do you think this was the right idea?”
“Well, Santa does have a lot of explaining to do. All
those kids asking for things their Mum and Dad can’t give them.”
“I never say yes.” Richard straightened up. “It’s always
been my understanding that Santa only ever says ‘I’ll see what I can do’.”
Aneesa wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t he also talk about
them being good?”
“I hope you’re not suggesting I indulge in emotional
blackmail.”
“Not you.” Aneesa chuckled. “Santa. One way or another,
Father Christmas has always been about giving gifts to only good kids. Still it
all comes down to what their Mum and Dad can afford or are willing to do. The
whole philosophy runs the risk of good kids feeling punished for trying their
best but not quite succeeding.”
Richard massaged his temples. “I’ll agree it’s not a
perfect system. All I can say is that I try my best to represent the better
part of Father Christmas. The open ear.”
“And you do. Which begs the question, why check up on
what kids got or didn’t get when the answer is taking such a toll on you?”
Richard needed a moment to think about this. It was
dawning on him that the grotto idea might have been a little selfish. He was
hoping for satisfied customers or customers who recognised the efforts he had
personally gone to. Really years of focus group work should have taught him
that you needed to take the rough with the smooth. There are many reactions to
even the simplest transaction. There is a danger to pretending to be
responsible for a moral decision that really comes down to money.
He fell quiet for a while but then Aneesa didn’t pressure
him for an answer. Instead she gave him some space and set about making them
another cup of tea. As the kettle began to hiss behind him, he raised himself
to his feet and began peeling the Christmas lights off his grotto chair. There
was really no point carrying on with all this. Whatever happened next would
just disappoint him.
Richard didn’t notice that the girl had wandered in till
he turned around. He gasped, clutching his chest. “Deary me! You’re light on
your feet!”
The girl giggled. Something told Richard he was on a good
wicket here so sat back down. The girl looked about eleven or so, tall for her
age and rubbing her pink mittens together. Aneesa appeared behind Richard.
“Hello, Kelly!”
“Ah yes. Kelly, pet. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just want to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” Richard couldn’t disguise the shock in his
voice.
“Yes.” Kelly pulled the toggles on her red trapper hat.
“I got what I wanted.”
Richard smiled carefully. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Unfortunately he could not recall what ‘it’ was precisely. That was one of the
other issues of doing this, he was accepting thanks for other Santa
impersonators.
“Okay,” Kelly replied, turning back towards the door.
“Have a nice day, Father Christmas.”
“Before you go…” Richard began. He was going to ask what
she had got for Christmas. His desperation would have had him come right out
with it. Then again that would have shown that Santa did not know what he had
gifted Kelly with. It would have completely dispelled the girl’s already
fragile belief system. In a year she might very well no longer believe. Did he
really have it in him to ruin that so early?
No. To hell with customer service appraisal or whatever
this was. For now Richard was Father Christmas, one who had apparently
delivered. Better to leave the dream alone.
“Merry Boxing Day, Kelly,” he said.
Kelly giggled again. “Thank you. You too.”
“See you, love,” Aneesa added.
Once the girl had gone, Richard turned to Aneesa. “Well,
that was something, eh?”
Aneesa patted him on the shoulder. “Are we packing up?”
Richard took in a refreshing breath of air. “Yes. We’re
done here.”
True enough, there were no further visitors as they took
down decorations. Though Richard huffed and puffed with the work, he was
quietly relieved. He wasn’t sure about the presentation at the town hall that
Mrs Ashcroft suggested but he was content with the overall results. So long as
one in three little customers left satisfied, he was too.
