The Boxing Day Grotto (a.k.a. Santa Receives Feedback)

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 24^th.

            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.