For the last week, after getting home from school, giving
Saffron’s mum a hug and doing their homework, Saffron and Natty liked nothing
more than rushing upstairs to stare out of the window. To some, this may have appeared to have been
behaviour bordering on the ridiculous but, there was a terrifically good reason
for their new afternoon routine.
Honestly.
Once they had helped themselves to a mug of hot chocolate
each and couple of biscuits, up they would go and out they would stare. Bruno and Jeremiah would be well and truly
cwtched, and the two girls would simply stare out of the window, and then they
would smile. The smile wasn’t just one
of their ordinary smiles. It wasn’t a
smile of hello to a friend at school, nor was it the smile when you realise you
have your favourite food for tea. It
wasn’t the smile of ten out of ten on a spelling test; nor the smile of contentment
after a particularly great game of tag.
It was a smile that sparkled and twinkled in the fading evening light. It was a smile dusted in snowfall and with a
little bit of “Ho, ho, ho”. Saffron and
Natty stared out of the window and watched the Christmas lights of the village switch
on and shine and dance in each window, on each tree and around each house. The village was alive with twinkling beads of
colourful light. They played in the
shadows and made the village seem a haven for happiness. The patterns choreographed across the roofs
and houses. They blinked and flickered
in curious configurations. The smile
they produced was one full of yuletide joy.
It was a smile for the eyes and the cheeks and the whole of the face. Bruno and Jeremiah were cwtched, and the
girls smiled at the coming of Christmas.
 |
| The lights danced and twinkled in the evening darkness. |
Saffron was changed into her best Santa pyjamas and under
the duvet, Bruno lay in the crook of her arm, and she was reading a book about
a witch and some small men who all lived on a flat round world. It was making her laugh. Natty was enjoying reading the story of the
boy and the big piece of fruit. The
sound of the walking through walls practice was going on, as usual, and all
seemed well in this festive world.
And then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.
The walking through walls practice came to an abrupt
stop. In the silence, Saffron and Natty
put down their books and turned their eyes to the ceiling. Another noise emanated from up there now; it was
a noise that could only be described as a hubbub. The two girls listened intently as voices
raised, and then they heard just one voice: loud and clear.
“Oooooooh! The cheek
of it!” The two girls threw off their
duvets and rushed up the stairs to the eggshell blue door. They heaved it open and found a flustered and
red-faced Stephen Number Ten being calmed and pacified by a number of the
Sixteen Stephens. Andrew was stood to
the side, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Ah, hello Saffron, Natty,” he said, greeting the two
newcomers to the attic.
“What’s going on?”
Asked Natty.
“What’s wrong with Stephen?”
Asked Saffron. Stephen Number
Ten’s breathing was steadily returning to normal and then he caught sight of a
piece of paper Stephen Number Four held in his hands and steam piped out of his
ears, his eyes squeezed shut tight and his cheeks crimsoned once again.
“The absolute cheek of it!”
He yelled.
“What’s on the paper?”
Asked Saffron, suddenly aware that the paper held the answer to Stephen
Number Ten’s ire. Andrew floated over
and retrieved the paper from Stephen Number Four. He showed it to Saffron and Natty.
“Rumour has it you’re pretty hot
with the pie flinging. Well, we reckon
you ain’t got nothing on the North Pole Posse! We’ll teach you a lesson yule never forget! NPP!”
Saffron and Natty couldn’t help but grin, but then a
confusion fell on them. They looked over
at the furious Stephen Number Ten. He
was seething. Stephen Number Four looked
over their shoulders at the note.
“What is a
‘posse’, anyway?” He asked.
“Is it a badly spelled cat?”
Asked Stephen Number Fourteen.
“What would a badly spelled cat be doing at the North
Pole?” Asked Stephen Number Four.
“Getting cold?” Said
Stephen Number Five.
“It’s not a badly spelled cat,” said Stephen Number Twelve,
“The word ‘posse’ is just another name for ‘gang’.” Andrew looked impressed. The Sixteen Stephens took in this new piece
of information, wondering what it could all mean.
Saffron and Natty shared a look of bewilderment, too. Who on earth could have written a note like
that? A curious look of excitement,
realisation and disbelief appeared on Saffron’s face.
“No,” she said.
“What?” Asked Natty.
“No way!” Said
Saffron.
“Oh, yes,” said Andrew.
“Do you mean…?” Asked
Saffron, the sentence falling away before it could be completed.
“I certainly do,” Andrew replied.
“What’s going on?”
Asked Natty.
“The ‘North Pole Posse’,” said Saffron, “Has this got
something to do with Father Christmas?”
“Father Christmas!” Exclaimed Natty
“Father Christmas!” Exclaimed Natty
“Father Christmas!” Exploded Stephen Number Ten, “Every year
he comes down here and every year I beat him and every year he keeps sending me
letters telling me, ‘I ‘ain’t got nothing on the North Pole Posse!’ It drives me mad!” Stephen Number Ten was certainly seething
again.
“Beat him?” Saffron
sounded curious, “Beat him in what?”
“The Annual Christmas Related Food Stuff Food Fight, of
course!” Stephen Number Ten had gone
puce. Saffron and Natty couldn’t help
but giggle. The idea sounded
preposterous.
“Are you telling me that Father Christmas comes here every
year and has a food fight with Stephen Number Ten?” Saffron could not keep the scepticism out of
her voice.
“Yes indeed,” said Andrew, “And not just Father Christmas;
his reindeer and a crack team of food flinging elves come down and face off
against Stephen and the fifteen other Stephens, and me.” Andrew smiled. Saffron gave a little shake of her head, as
if she was trying to shake the idea out of one of her ears. Natty laughed.
“That’s incredible!”
She said.
Stephen Number Ten was eventually calmed down. Saffron and Natty closed the eggshell blue
door and climbed back down the stairs to bed.
They lay in the dark, neither quite able to say out loud what they were
each thinking. The Christmas lights
played across the ceiling, jigging and racing patterns fluttered and twisted
around the room. Both girls smiled big, wide
smiles. Every now and again one of them
would give their head a little shake; a happy sigh would be emitted. The girls each fell asleep to dreams of
sleighbells, mince pies; snow flurries, decorations, reindeers, and of Father
Christmas.
*
The girls could think of nothing else all day, the next day
at school. Rachel bore the brunt of the
constant chattering on the school bus.
The girls simply could not concentrate on anything they had to do at
school. Gladys and Gloria exchanged
knowing looks at lunchtime, as they caught snippets of the girls excited
conversation.
“Oh, yes,” said Gloria, “It’s nearly that time of year.”
“You’re right, “said Gladys, “The Annual Christmas Related
Food Stuffs Food Fight must be just around the corner.”
That afternoon, the staring out of the window had an added
dimension to it. The girls watched the
lights come on, watched the patterns begin to swirl and jive, and sipped on
their hot chocolate. They nudged each
other and laughed. Their eyes would
venture skywards, like they expected to see a sleigh swish past to deliver the
next antagonistic note; or, they would turn ceiling-wards and wait to hear an
outraged shriek from Stephen Number Ten.
Christmas suddenly felt very extra especially different. The hot chocolate went cold in their mugs.
*
The covers were up to their chins and their eyes were
determinedly pointing upwards. The
walking through walls practice was underway but the regular rhythmical bumping
was slightly out of kilter. The girls
waited…and then there it was.
“What!?” The girls
were out of their beds and up the stairs and through the eggshell blue door
before you could blink.
Saffron and Natty could not quite believe their eyes. The attic was covered with a dusting of snow,
there were fairy lights hung hither and yon and candy canes stuck out of the
floor, like bizarre red and white flower stems.
The girls’ mouths dropped open in amazement. Stephen Number Eight’s mouth had dropped open
and had then been filled by a number of the candy canes. His eyes glistened with a glorious sugary
euphoria.
“Wow!” Saffron simply
could not believe her eyes. “Andrew, did
you do this?” Andrew smiled and shook
his head.
Stephen Number Ten was breathing heavily through his nose
and being patted down by Stephen Numbers Three and Sixteen. Stephen Number Eleven was soothing Stephen
Number Ten’s brow. Natty picked up the
new note.
“You think you’re the King of the
Flingers, boy! Yule be made to think again, this year! NPP!”
Saffron picked up a candy cane and began to suck on the
minty deliciousness; Natty followed suit.
Stephen Number Eight’s face became a little frowny at the unforeseen loss
of two sweet treats.
“So, what’s this food fight all about then?” Saffron asked Andrew.
“It started a long, long time ago.” Andrew said, “Father Christmas, St Nicholas
we called him then, appeared with his reindeer, one December day. Stephen’s first reaction was to bombard them with
pies. We never could work out why. St Nicholas loved it. He laughed and laughed. And then he threw a pie back. It took Stephen completely by surprised; he’d
never actually been hit by a pie before.
It sent him into a frenzy that made St Nicholas laugh harder and
harder. The thing was, the laughter was
full of jolliness, full of merriment. He
wasn’t laughing at Stephen, he was
laughing with Stephen and at fun of the situation. It took a while but eventually, Stephen found
it funny too. It was the first time we’d
seen snow sparkle. The following year,
St Nicholas brought pies of his own and there was a food fight like I’d never
seen before. It was the second time Stephen
got hit and the first time he got hit by a mincemeat pie. He was mightily confused by this delicious
new kind of pie; then he was mightily distracted by Stephen who kept trying to
lick Stephen’s face.” Saffron took a
moment to adjust to which Stephen Andrew was talking about. She smiled when the image of Stephen Number
Eight trying to lick Stephen Number Ten’s face whilst he was in the middle of a
food fight appeared behind her eyes.
“The next year, Stephen thought he’d catch St Nicholas cold,”
Andrew continued, “He’d arranged an ambush with the rest of the Stephens…well,
except for Stephen of course, he was simply tying on a napkin and readying his
mouth for eating. St Nicholas was ready
for him, though, and he came in with all his reindeer firing! It caught Stephen completely by surprise. It was the biggest food fight I’d seen. I’d not laughed quite so much in ages.” The two girls smiled at the story. The Sixteen Stephens had all fallen into a
state of reminiscence. This was odd, of
course, because the Sixteen Stephens weren’t especially known for their
memory. In fact, the Sixteen Stephens
were known, in fact, to have no memory at all.
Andrew caught the look on Saffron’s face. “St Nicholas gave them this memory as a gift,
one Yuletide time. It was a present for
them, so they knew to get ready for the food fight every year. I’m not sure if he bargained on the effect it
has had on Stephen.” Stephen Number Ten
fumed and frowned and fretted and formulated plans for the forthcoming Annual
Christmas Related Food Stuffs Food Fight, completely forgetting that he,
actually, found this fun.
As Andrew stopped speaking the lights flickered and the snow
shook and sparkled. There was a whoosh
up above them and mince pies rained down from the ceiling. A distant “Ho, ho, ho!” could be heard and
Saffron and Natty stopped eating their candy canes and rushed to the window. A streak of starlight and a red, white and
green sparkle fell down. The laughter
could be heard echoing across the village.
Saffron and Natty looked at each other in astonishment.
“This is incredible!”
Natty exclaimed.
“I can’t believe my eyes!”
Saffron was equally exclamatory.
Andrew chuckled. It was always
the same.
*
It was a Friday night.
School had broken up for the term and Saffron and Natty had the pleasure
of Rachel staying for a sleepover. The
three girls sat in the window and watched the town light up. Each felt the anticipation of the great day
arriving grow in their stomachs. Saffron
and Natty were also looking forward to that night’s incidents and alarums with
Stephen Number Ten. They couldn’t wait
for Rachel see all she had heard about at school.
Sure enough, once all three girls had brushed their teeth
and tucked themselves under their duvets (or snuggled inside their sleeping
bag, as Rachel had done), the walking through walls practice commenced. Each girl watched expectantly.
“I wouldn’t do your sleeping bag up, if I was you,” said
Saffron.
“No fear,” Rachel replied, “I’m ready and waiting.” They didn’t have to wait long.
“HOW DARE HE!?”
The three girls scampered up to the eggshell blue door, this
time bedecked with a Christmas wreath, all pine cones and frosted needles, and
hurried inside the attic to see an incredulous Stephen Number Ten jumping up
and down on a piece of paper on which, the girls could see, a picture of Father
Christmas with a multitude of custard pies flying all around him but not
hitting him. Saffron cold just make out
the writing, “Just a quick pic to remind you how accurate you are! Yule never learn! NPP!”
Saffron giggled. Stephen Number
Ten fumed. Just then a shower of snow
fell in the attic, sparkling white and drifting slowly to the floor, as if the
attic were a just shaken snow globe.
There again was the laughter, “Ho, ho, ho!” and Rachel rushed to the
window to see the magic trail off into the distance in the night sky. There was a splatter sound. The girls turned around to see Stephen Number
Ten with a mince pie on his head; its gelatinous filling running down his
face. He fumed a little bit harder. A look of inspiration appeared in Saffron’s
eyes. A look of gluttony appeared in
Stephen Number Eight’s.
“You know,” Saffron said to the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew,
“I have an idea that might swing the Annual Christmas Related Food Stuff Food
Fight in your favour.” A piece of pie
filling dripped off Stephen Number Ten’s nose.
“What idea?” He said.
“Well,” said Saffron, “Father Christmas knows about the
fifteen other Stephens, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Stephen Number Ten.
“And he knows about Andrew…”
“He does,” said Stephen Number Ten.
“He does,” said Stephen Number Ten.
“But,” said Saffron, “He doesn’t know about us, does he?”
“Doesn’t he?” Asked
Stephen Number Ten. He looked at
Andrew. He was a little bit confused.
“Well,” said Andrew, “Perhaps, he does not.” There was a murmur of excitement amongst the
ghosts. They had found their secret
weapon. Cunning looks and skulduggerous
thoughts abounded. Natty, though, had a
thoughtful look on her face. There was a
hint of a frown. Something wasn’t quite
right.
“Um,” she said, “I think Father Christmas does know about us.” It was like someone had let all the air out
of a balloon. The Sixteen Stephens
slumped. Andrew smiled.
“What do you mean?”
Asked Saffron.
“Well,” said Natty, “I’ve
written Father Christmas a Christmas letter.
You’ve written Father
Christmas a Christmas letter. Rachel,
have you?” Rachel nodded her head. “You see,” said Natty, “Father Christmas
knows all about us. He has our lists of
presents and he’s been checking to make sure we’ve been good.” The mood fell again. What little air that was left in the
metaphorical balloon ebbed away.
“He might be checking on us to make sure we are good,”
agreed Saffron, “but he doesn’t know that we’re going to help Stephen Number
Ten in the food fight.”
“That’s true,” said Rachel.
“Yes,” Natty agreed.
“Why’d Saffron call me, ‘Stephen Number Ten’?” Asked Stephen
Number Ten.
“So, if we know that we’re going to help in the food fight,”
Saffron went on, “we just have to make sure that Father Christmas doesn’t find
out what we’re planning.”
“How are we going to do that?” Asked Natty, “He has a list. He checks it twice.”
“How are we going to do that?” Asked Natty, “He has a list. He checks it twice.”
“I see,” said Stephen Number Twelve, butting in, “I think I
get the picture. You know that Father Christmas knows you’ve written to him but he doesn’t know you’ve seen what he’s
written to Stephen; so, you know that
he’s going to food fight Stephen in the Annual Christmas Related Food Stuffs
Food Fight, but he doesn’t know that
you know he’s going to food fight with Stephen in the Annual Christmas Related
Food Stuffs Food Fight, so, you’re
going to make sure that Father Christmas doesn’t find out that you know he’s
going to but doesn’t know you’re
going to and, so, if you can ensure
the status quo remains, then hence, you’ll
be able to help in the Annual Christmas Related Food Stuffs Food Fight because
Father Christmas won’t know, you know.
You know?”
“That, incredibly, is absolutely correct,” said Saffron with
a big beaming smile. The Sixteen
Stephens beamed also. Even Stephen
Number Ten, who had a big bit of mince pie gloop dangling off his chin. Andrew smiled too.
The three girls were back tucked up in bed.
“How are we going to make sure Father Christmas doesn’t
twig?” Asked Rachel. There was a pause. It became a thoughtful pause. Natty grinned.
“Got it!” She said,
“We just have to make sure we stay very firmly on the good list.” The other two
nodded. “Father Christmas won’t suspect
a thing if we stay good from here to Christmas Eve!”
*
“Ho, ho, ho!”
*
There were six parents in the village who were quietly
pleased by the behaviour of their children.
Chores were being done without the need of second asking. Bedrooms were tidy. Washing was in the washing basket. Washing up was being done, and wiped up, and put away. The parents, whilst dutifully noting the
dates on the calendar, were delighted by the cheerful and cheery young girls of
their houses. Smiles and pleasant
exchanges were plentiful. Cups of tea
arrived as if by magic. All bikes and
skateboards were put away in garages.
The only thing that stayed the same was bedtime; hiding away with a book
and a cwtch was always something to look forward to. Six parents sighed happy sighs.
*
“Ho, ho, ho!”
*
“Do you think it’s working?”
Asked Rachel.
“I reckon it is,” said Natty. Saffron nodded her head in agreement. “I reckon Father Christmas will well and
truly believe we’re on the good list to stay, by now.”
“Excellent,” said Rachel.
“Now we just need to work on a plan with the Sixteen
Stephens and Andrew.” The girls smiled
and rushed up to the eggshell blue door.
 |
| Plans were drawn up... |
Stephen Number Ten was watching the preparation of a range
of pies, ready for the fight. Stephen
Number Six was piping custard into pastry cases. Stephen Number Twelve was filling piping bags
also with custard. Stephen Number
Fifteen was rolling chocolate logs.
Stephen Number Three was unwrapping a load of Christmas Puds. Stephen Number Eight was…tied-up in the
corner, salivating, and complaining about not being allowed to “help”. The trifles were in the corner, setting. The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew prepared.
*
Christmas Eve. Night
fell and the lights came on all across the village. A frosty feel to the air blanketed the houses
and people hurried to and fro, finishing their final Christmas preparations. The girls crowded at the window and watched. The patterns played on the pavement. A sugar coating of ice began to glisten and
sparkle as the temperature dropped and the expectations rose. Saffron and Natty were delighted their plans
had worked out. Rachel was too. So good had they been, their parents could
not resist the request for the sleepover.
One more sleepover so everyone could wake together on Christmas Day and
see what presents Santa had left under the tree. The knowing winks the girls had shared about
the real reason why they wanted the
sleepover were cute and cautious…just as were the ones the parents shared, to
give them a little extra time to prepare for Christmas Day.
The girls waited for quiet and then they climbed the stairs
to the eggshell blue door and pushed it open.
The attic hummed with determination and quiet confidence. The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew had been
busy. The attic was now beautifully
decorated. A Christmas tree sat in one
corner, covered in fairy lights and tinsel.
Sparkling trimmings and paper chains hung from the ceiling and more
fairy lights convoyed in a series of patterns around the frame of the
window. Each of the Sixteen Stephens
were wearing paper hats. The remnants of
Christmas crackers lay on the floor.
Stephen Number Twelve was examining the content of his cracker. He held in his hand the joke and chuckled to
himself.
“Oh, I say, this is a good one,” he chuckled once again,
“What do you call a deer with no eyes?”
He called to room at large
“Blind?”
“Unlucky?” Came the
various replies.
“A poor deer?”
“Alan?”
“Alan?”
“I’m sure we’ve heard this one before?”
“I give up,” said Stephen Number Twelve, “I really do.” He went back to stacking his pies.
The appointed hour came.
Stephen Number Ten shushed everybody and made sure everyone was in
position. The girls had taken up their
places behind the screen at the back of the attic. The rest of the Sixteen Stephens were
positioned around the room. Andrew stood
by the tree. Everyone waited.
At first, the noise seemed like it wasn’t there. The faintest of jingles cut through the
silence of the attic. The tinkling and
jingling became quietly louder. The
temperature in the attic dropped. A
covering of frost appeared. Saffron
sniggered at the sight of frost appearing on Natty and Rachel’s ears and noses. Inside each girl a peculiar sensation began
to spread from their stomachs all the way to their toes. Warmth and a cinnamon and sugar and niceness
feeling inched its way to each girls’ fingers.
They looked at each other in surprise.
“He knows we’re here,” whispered Natty.
“He can’t,” whispered Rachel.
“He is Father
Christmas,” whispered Saffron.
“Ssssh!” Shushed
Stephen Number Ten.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Stephen Number Fourteen, “I
simply have absolutely no idea what you call a deer with no eyes.”
“Eh?” Said Stephen
Number Twelve.
“Ssssh!” Shushed an
increasingly shushy Stephen Number Ten.
And then there was the first thump up on the roof. Everyone’s eyes looked up.
“They’re here…” said Stephen Number Ten.
The first thump sounded like a hoof-fall. It was swiftly joined by more and then the
sound of something much more substantial coming in to land. The eyes of the attic’s inhabitants stayed
ceilingwise. There was a shuffle of
hooves. And then there was the tread of
boots. And then, there was a laugh.
“Ho, ho, ho!”
Saffron’s cheeks pinkened and her eyes shone. The footsteps made their way the length of
the roof. There was quiet. Then there was the sound of footsteps on the
landing, outside the eggshell blue door.
The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew’s eyes followed the sounds along and
down to the door. The noise outside on
the landing seemed to wake them from a trance.
They shrugged themselves awake and arranged themselves, pies at the
ready. The doorframe glowed a brilliant
white, snow crystals sprayed into the room.
The scent of frosting made the three girls lick their lips…and Stephen
Number Eight struggled against his bonds…he was still tied up in the corner,
otherwise he would have eaten all the ammunition! The door caved in, the Sixteen Stephens and
Andrew flinched; through the fog of snow came the reindeer, firing pies as fast
as their hooves would allow them to.
The Sixteen Stephens and Andrew had recoiled from the blast
of the door and the snow. Soon three or
four of their number were covered in mince pies. Resolutely, the reindeer advanced into the
attic. Custard pies now flew through the
air, finding their mark. Custard clung
to the fur of the reindeer. More pies
pummelled their flanks.
“Look,” said Stephen Number Seven, “It’s that reindeer whose
as bad at walking through walls as us!”
“Eh?” Said Stephen
Number Fifteen, quite confused.
“That one with the red nose.
It’s redder than mine!” Stephen
Number Seven pointed at one of the pie-chucking reindeer.
“Oh yeah,” said Stephen Number Fifteen and returned to his
pie throwing. Stephen Number Eight
strained at his bonds, over in the corner, his tongue reaching out to catch the
crumbs of pastry and the dollops of filling filling the air.
 |
| Here's Santa! |
“Ho. Ho. Ho.”
He went. His belt was wide and
his buckle huge. His boots were fur-lined
and his red hat white trimmed and at a jaunty angle. His cheeks were rosy, his smile broad. His hands…well, they were full of mince
pie. And they threw. He was too quick for Stephen Number Ten. Unctuous goo oozed down the ghost’s
face. There was a pause.
“Bring up the icing bags!”
Stephens Number Four and Five raced forward and squeezed. Arcs of custard carved paths across the
attic. The reindeer were too slow and
were caught in the stream of sugary yellowness.
Father Christmas “Ho, ho, ho’d” again and covered the two ghosts with a
cavalcade of Christmassy confection. It
was then a roar split the room.
Stephen Number Eight found strength that only that amount of
Christmassy confection could inspire. He
broke free of his chair and zoomed around the room hoovering up as much food as
his mouth could carry. His arms moved in a blur, shovelling cakes and biscuits,
chocolate rolls and sticky pudding into his face.
A white powder filled the air. Icing sugar was providing a gentle covering
on every surface. The Sixteen Stephens
had started a volley of trifles and the reindeer were buckling under the
attack. It was then that the elves
appeared, sneakily sliding open the attic window, they came at the ghosts from
behind. Marshmallows and meringues
pinged and splatted and crushed against the ghosts’ rear. They turned to repel the new threat from
behind and as they did Father Christmas brought out a bucket of green and red
jelly and splatted the ghosts from his side.
The Sixteen Stephens were a green, red and white sticky mess. You could barely tell one ghost from the
next. Pairs of eyes looked out through
the goo. One mouth kept opening and
closing and sucking in as much of the sweetness as it could.
“Now, Saffron!”
Shouted Stephen Number Ten.
The screen fell away and the girls flung a volley of
Christmas related food stuffs from the flank of the North Pole Posse. Father Christmas, the reindeer and the elves
were completely taken by surprise. The
custard and the jelly and the chocolate rolls and the pudding and the cream
covered the lot of them. You couldn’t
see any fur. You couldn’t see a pointy
ear. You couldn’t see a swatch of red
material. The attic was a mass of
heaving, wriggling, squirming Christmas Related Foot Stuffs…and custard pie.
“Ok,” said Stephen Number Ten, covered from head to where
his toes would have been, if he had toes, in food, “We’ll call it a draw.” Father Christmas laughed.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Stephen
Number Ten joined in. Soon, the attic
echoed to the sound of laughter.
Andrew and Father Christmas struggled through the gloop
until they were stood next to one another, then they were arm in arm. Saffron, Natty and Rachel took in the
view. Never in their wildest dreams did
they ever think they would be involved in a festive food fight with Father
Christmas and all his helpers. Andrew
and Father Christmas nodded to one another.
They clicked their fingers.
 |
| Andrew and Father Christmas were arm in arm. |
They clicked their fingers for a second time.
Saffron and Bruno, Natty and Jeremiah, Rachel and Sofia, the
Sixteen Stephens and Andrew, Father Christmas and all his helpers were in the
front room and standing around the Christmas Tree. Father Christmas gave a big smile. With a wave of his hand, his sack full of
presents appeared. He took a few from
the number and placed them under the tree.
With a curious twinkle in his eye, he gave a nod to the glass of sherry,
the mince pie and the carrot, by the fireplace. The sherry glass emptied, a bite appeared in
the pie and the carrot gnawed itself in two.
Glistening snow-white footprints appeared from the chimney to the tree
and back. Saffron and the girls stood
close to each other and hugged. There
was definitely magic in the air, this Christmas.
With another snap of his fingers, Father Christmas was back
in his sleigh and riding off into the snowy night; there were miles to go
before he slept. Saffron, Natty and
Rachel all waved goodbyes from the attic window. Behind them the Sixteen Stephens and Andrew
waved too.
“That,” said Stephen Number Ten, “was the finest Annual
Christmas Related Food Stuffs Food Fight we’ve had for a long time.” He nodded his head in agreement with
himself. Stephen Number Eight nodded too
and enjoyed his bulging belly. The rest
of the Stephens were glad the fuming and seething were over for another
year. Smiles and a festive feeling of
joy were shared by all.
“Happy Christmas, Saffron,” said Andrew. Saffron smiled at one of her seventeen most
favourite ghosts.
“A Happy Christmas to you, too,” she said in reply.
“Merry Christmas to everyone!” Said Natty and Rachel.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Said a
booming voice trailing off in the distance.
 |
| MERRY CHRISTMAS! |
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