Love and Lies at the Village Christmas Shop Page 13

  ‘Oh, no, I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s a PC thing to say anymore,’ she starts.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because, animals are not here for our amusement. Because, PETA, and…anyway, just a quick word,’ she says, quickly changing her tune.

  Mrs Snowball seems like the kind of prim and proper person who could get upset over just about anything.

  ‘Yes?’

  Mrs Snowball hesitates for a moment.

  ‘Kids, why don’t you get into the car?’ I suggest, unlocking the door.

  Once they’re safely inside I close the door, ready to hear what Mrs Snowball has to say, away from curious little ears.

  ‘So…’

  ‘Just a quick word about Chloe, that’s all,’ she says. ‘She’s been talking a lot recently about, about the things she wants for Christmas.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘She’s talking an awful lot about presents, telling the other children what she’s getting this year from Santa Claus and from her parents.’

  ‘And…’

  ‘There’s an expectant tone to her voice, like she knows what presents are coming her way, and she said something about a Kardashian, and while I’m not all that well versed on current events in the entertainment sector, I know that’s not good – they are not good role models for young women.’

  ‘To that, I’d probably point out that the Kardashian-Jenners are all multimillionaires in their own right, so they must be doing something well, but this isn’t a hill I’m prepared to die on. As for Chloe…I mean, she’s 7 years old, and it’s December – what kid doesn’t have Christmas on their minds?’

  ‘Children in third-world countries,’ she says.

  I do my best to stifle a laugh, at her attempt to channel Bob Geldof. ‘Right, so…’

  ‘I just think perhaps her mum needs to have a word with her, about what Christmas is really about.’

  ‘Mrs Snowball, she’s 7 years old,’ I repeat. ‘She’s excited about presents and I guarantee none of them will be remotely Kardashian.’

  ‘Another thing is that, with her saying she’s getting something from Santa Claus, and other things from Mum and Dad – it’s causing some debate, amongst the children.’

  ‘It’s causing debate amongst the 7-year-olds?’ I laugh. ‘Why?’

  ‘Some children only get gifts from Santa Claus, and with Chloe saying this, it’s making the other children think that their parents don’t buy them gifts which is, of course, completely untrue.’

  I can’t help but roll my eyes.

  ‘If you could ask your sister to have a word – maybe we’ll leave it up to Mum, yes?’ she suggests. ‘And if I don’t see you before, a very Merry Christmas to you.’

  ‘You too,’ I reply through gritted teeth.

  I get into the car and fasten my seatbelt, but I hesitate for a few seconds before I set off.

  ‘Are we in trouble?’ Chloe asks.

  ‘No, of course you’re not,’ I reply. ‘Mrs Snowball was just telling me how well you’re both doing at school. Let’s get you home.’

  When my sister called and asked me if I would pick up the children, she assured me that it would only be a quick favour. She said if I picked them up, she would be at home in time for me to just drop them off at the bottom of the drive, so I could hurry back to work. I wonder whether I need to hurry back, to keep an eye on Gaz, but there’s no way he’d do anything daft again, is there? Not after I told him off for it. I’m sure I’ll be fine to pop in for a few minutes and give Holly a heads-up on what Mrs Snowball is going to talk to her about.

  I park in the driveway and help the kids out of the car.

  ‘Do you want to watch a Christmas movie, Auntie Ivy?’ Chloe asks as we walk up the drive.

  ‘Yeah,’ Harry says excitedly.

  ‘Aww, sorry kids, I’ve got to get back to work,’ I tell them. ‘I’m just popping in for five minutes, just to say hi to your mum. The good news is, you’ll be breaking up for your Christmas holidays soon, and then we’ll have all the time in the world for watching Christmas movies, and we can bake some Christmas biscuits, sing some carols. And I’m so excited for our trip to the Winter Wonderland Festival.’

  ‘Us too,’ Chloe tells me. ‘You’re so much fun at Christmas. Mummy hates it.’

  ‘Mummy is just busy,’ I reassure her.

  Chloe is definitely very perceptive for her age. She’s intelligent, but she isn’t…whatever it is Mrs Snowball is suggesting she is. She’s only 7, for crying out loud. I didn’t think 7-year-olds could be materialistic – or, maybe materialistic is all a 7-year-old can be. I don’t know. There’s a reason people say ‘like a kid at Christmas’ and that is because kids love Christmas, and they love presents, and when they’re that small, they’re not burdened with the guilt that there are other children in other countries who are far less fortunate than them, but that’s not something they need to worry about – because they are kids, because there is plenty of time for them to find out the world stinks when they are older.

  ‘Hello,’ I call out, as we walk through the door. ‘Hol?’

  I hear a loud clatter upstairs.

  ‘Hello?’ I call again.

  Within a few seconds my sister appears on the landing, buttoning her jeans. She seems all flustered.

  ‘Ivy, kids, sorry, I…I didn’t realise the time,’ she says.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I ask.

  ‘No, I mean yes, I’m just…I’m wrapping presents. Could you take the kids out for a walk or something? Just for fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Erm, OK, sure,’ I reply. ‘You sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ she assures me.

  I don’t know what to say, other than that I will. ‘Come on, kids, let’s give your mum a minute, while she finishes wrapping presents.’

  ‘I don’t want to go for a walk,’ Chloe whines. ‘It’s too cold.’

  ‘How about we go to my place? I’ll make us hot chocolates, we can eat some of the festive treats that I’ve made and, if you’re lucky, Santa might be stopping by!’

  ‘No way!’ Chloe replies. ‘Do you know Santa?’

  ‘I do,’ I reply.

  Harry’s cute little eyes widen with surprise.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ I say, ushering them to the car.

  As we make the short trip to the shop, I wonder about how I can ask the kids questions about their mum, without them getting suspicious. Instead of blurting out the first thought that comes into my head, I wait until we’re in the flat, cuddled up on the sofa, with big mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows. I’ve also put out a few of my Christmas chocolates for the kids. I know that this might spoil their tea, but I feel like they deserve it.

  ‘So, how’s your mum been recently?’ I ask.

  ‘Ergh, she’s so weird,’ Chloe informs me. She’s like a little old lady, gossiping with her cup in her hands. It’s absolutely adorable.

  ‘Weird?’ I reply. ‘How is she being weird?’

  ‘She’s always whispering,’ she tells me. ‘And she’s always too busy to play with us.’

  Harry nods.

  That’s kind of odd.

  ‘I need to talk to Santa,’ she informs me.

  ‘Oh really?’ I reply.

  ‘Yeah,’ she says confidently. ‘Because my mum keeps talking to him on the phone, and…and I think she’s gonna tell him I can’t have a lip kit, so I want to check.’

  And that’s really odd.

  ‘Baby girl, you do not want a lip kit, trust me.’ I laugh.

  ‘Why not?’

  I think carefully about what to say next, because if I tell her she’s too young, she’ll only want one even more, and if I tell her they’re not cool, she’ll only think I’m uncool for saying that and I’ll lose my cool auntie influence.

  ‘Because there’s going to be plenty of time for stuff like that when you’re older. I would love a collection of dolls like yours, but I’m too old now.
Sure, I can buy lip kits, but they’re so boring. With your dolls, you can play with them, dress them up, do their hair… Adults don’t get to play with dolls. I only have my own hair to play with now.’

  ‘You can always play with my hair, Auntie Ivy,’ she assures me. ‘Or you could have some babies, and you could do their hair, and I could have some cousins to play with.’

  Wow, one problem at a time, kid.

  I sip my drink thoughtfully, as I try to put the pieces of the puzzle together in my head. Holly is being secretive, she’s lying, we clearly caught her by surprise today and, now that I think about it, it was weird that she was buttoning up her jeans, unless…Suddenly it all makes sense. I think Holly might be having an affair.

  Chapter 17

  ‘I just don’t get it,’ Gaz says, sitting on his stool in the corner, ready for story time, except there are no children here today. Usually, around this time, there would be a crowd of children sitting on the floor, waiting for St Nick to tell them a festive story.

  ‘It is odd,’ I say, glancing around, only noticing a handful of grown-up patrons in the shop. ‘We’re definitely much quieter today.’

  ‘The festival?’ Gaz suggests.

  ‘No, that hasn’t started yet,’ I reply. ‘Hmm…’

  It’s strange, to be quiet suddenly after days of being so busy. The train keeps turning up practically empty, which is even weirder, because everyone loves the train.

  I tap my fingernails on the counter, one after the other.

  ‘It’s just so weird,’ I say again.

  I grab my phone and load up the Marram Bay Facebook group, to see if anything is happening that might slow down business. The Facebook group is the single best source of information in this town. Need a plumber? Facebook. Trying to sell your old sofa? Facebook. Wondering why you can’t drive down Sycamore Lane today? Facebook will tell you all about the group of rogue sheep blocking the way.

  ‘Oh…my…God…’ I say.

  Gaz jumps up from his stool and hurries over. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not going to believe this,’ I say, turning my phone so we can both look, before I read aloud. ‘Wilson’s Garden Centre have a brand-new Santa Claus, thanks to a generous donation from a local businessman. Wilson’s, who recently parted ways with their usual Santa, will be working with the anonymous businessman, to raise money for charity. Thanks to the generous contribution, they’ve got A-list actor, Donald Hale, who recently played Santa Claus in hit movie A Christmas Wish playing the role.’

  Ergh. Gaz might be brilliant at dressing up as Santa but, as far as kids are concerned, Donald Hale is Santa. His belly is real, his beard is real, and it’s all legitimised by the fact they’ve seen him on TV.

  Gaz takes my phone from me to get a closer look.

  ‘They’re only doing bloody reindeer rides,’ he says. ‘Reindeer are better than train rides.’

  ‘Oi,’ Mick, our steam train driver, calls out from behind us. I forgot he’d popped in to use the loo before his next trip.

  ‘Sorry,’ I call after him as he heads back outside. It’s true though: real reindeer and the Santa Claus are way cooler than what we’ve got going on here.

  ‘Do you think Seb did this?’ I ask Gaz once we’re alone again. ‘He did say it was game on…’

  ‘I’ll deck him,’ Gaz says angrily.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ I insist. ‘We’re not hitting him, and we’re not retaliating.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it won’t help us,’ I reply. ‘He’s probably hoping we’ll waste our time and resources hitting back, because if we do, we’ll be distracted; we won’t be focusing on saving the shop. So we won’t retaliate, we’ll focus on working hard – I told you, no underhand tactics.’

  ‘I’m fuming,’ Gaz says. ‘This Santa gig is everything to me – he’s attacking me!’

  ‘He’s just…I don’t know. But we’ll rise above it, right? No underhand tactics?’

  ‘No underhand tactics,’ he replies, sounding disappointed. I get the feeling Gaz would love nothing more than to punch Seb in his smug little face.

  I can see how upset Gaz is so I’d never admit this to him, but Seb has severely wounded us today. If everyone is going to the garden centre to ride the sleigh and see their Hollywood Santa, they’re not going to be coming here, and that’s going to have a big impact on business. Still, I have my eBay money coming in, and our stall at the Winter Wonderland Festival should do well. I don’t think we’re out of the race just yet…we are definitely limping now though.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Do you want to do a good thing today?’ I ask Gaz.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing to do here, is there?’ he replies, glancing around the shop.

  Today has been another quiet day so far, which is probably thanks to Seb’s little stunt.

  ‘My sister just called me. She says the kids have their nativity play this afternoon and it slipped her mind – she can’t make it. She’s asked if I’ll go. I thought we could maybe shut up shop; you could come with me… I’m sure the kids would love it, if you came as Santa Claus. Chloe and Harry keep telling everyone that their auntie knows Santa, and that they got to meet you.’

  ‘Yeah, why not,’ he says. ‘Shame your sister can’t make it. She got work?’

  ‘No, she doesn’t work,’ I tell him.

  ‘Oh, right. Where is she?’

  ‘She just said she’s held up,’ I tell him. ‘She might be out Christmas shopping or something – she probably drove to the city.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Well, yeah, come on then, let’s go.’

  I quickly dash upstairs to smarten myself up a little, because I always feel so plain around the yummy full-time mummies at that school, before Gaz – sorry, Santa – and I hop in the car and head straight over.

  Acorn School is possibly the smallest school I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s a beautiful, old Victorian stone building, with a slate roof and sash windows – it even has its own tower. Back in the day, it used to belong to the richest family in Marram Bay, but now it’s a school, home to just 39 pupils – two of which I am so excited to see today.

  Gaz and I walk through the large wooden doors into the hallway, where I glance around until I clap eyes on the lovely Mrs Snowball. At first, she doesn’t look all that pleased to see me, but then she notices I’ve brought Santa Claus with me, and hurries over.

  ‘Chloe and Harry’s auntie, hello,’ she coos, all sweetness and light. ‘And, St Nicholas, hello.’

  Mrs Snowball curtseys in the presence of Santa, which a) I didn’t know was a part of Christmas etiquette, and, b) I can’t understand why she’s doing it, because all the children are somewhere else, getting ready for the play.

  Gaz takes Mrs Snowball’s hand and kisses it.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he says.

  I feel my eyes widen with surprise. I was not expecting him to do that.

  ‘Oh my, hello,’ Mrs Snowball says. ‘What a lovely surprise.’

  ‘Well, I was coming to see the kids and I thought it would be nice if I brought Santa too,’ I tell her. ‘Holly is stuck in traffic – she apologised. But I’m here to support the kids.’

  ‘How lovely,’ she says.

  ‘How many kids you got?’ Gaz asks her.

  ‘None,’ she replies, with a flirtatious tone. We both stare at her for a second. ‘Oh, you mean in the school?’ Mrs Snowball laughs wildly.

  Gaz laughs too. ‘Yeah. How many in the school?’

  ‘We have 39,’ she tells him. ‘38 present today.’

  ‘Well, I’ll happily stick around after the play, talk to the kids?’

  ‘Oh, marvellous, marvellous,’ she replies. ‘The mums, dads and parental figures of other titles will be pleased. Come with me, let me get you both a space on the front row.’

  Once we’re in our seats, Mrs Snowball disappears to check on the children.

  ‘Bloody hell, she’s acting like you’re George Clooney,’ I say, baffl
ed. ‘You could be anyone under there.’

  ‘I guess Mrs Snowball has a thing for Santa Claus,’ he jokes.

  ‘Each to their own,’ I reply. ‘I prefer tall, dark and handsome to old, fat and wearing bright red.’

  ‘I never knew you were so superficial,’ Gaz replies, in a faux serious tone. ‘Oh, look.’

  Gaz points towards the stage, where the kids are finally making their way into their starting positions. Chloe is – of course – the star of the show, playing Mary, wearing the same costume I wore when I was her age. Holly did tell me that, when they were assigning parts, she didn’t just ask for the lead role, she asked to play Jesus. Apparently Mrs Snowball told her that a doll would be playing the baby, to which Chloe told her that girls can play Jesus as well as boys. She did settle on playing Mary in the end though, when she found out she had far more lines. Harry, the little cutie, is playing a sheep, and he looks absolutely adorable in his outfit. Costume making isn’t exactly Holly’s forte, so I bought him a black onesie and covered it with cotton wool balls – it’s actually turned out way better than I thought it was going to.

  The play starts, and we’re only 15 minutes in when Gaz gives me a nudge.

  ‘What?’ I whisper.

  ‘Is this it?’ he replies.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is this as good as it gets?’

  ‘Gaz, they’re little kids, this isn’t the Royal Shakespeare Company. What were you expecting?’ I reply.

  ‘I dunno, just something more entertaining.’

  ‘There’s not long to go, just suck it up,’ I tell him, noticing him fidgeting with his belt, like a bored child at a wedding.

  ‘Oh, look, it’s Harry’s bit,’ I say, giving him a nudge.

  All of the animals line up at the front of the makeshift stage, but as the piano starts to play and the other animals start their dance routine, Harry doesn’t move. He’s glued to the spot, staring straight ahead, paralysed with stage fright. To be honest, he’s such a shy kid, I’m surprised anyone put him up to this in the first place.

  ‘Harry,’ Mrs Snowball calls out. I look over and from where I’m sitting, I can see her crouched down behind the piano. ‘Harry, dance.’