The Jacqueline Wilson Christmas Cracker Read online

  I tried to imagine my dad in a uniform.

  Then I heard Dad asking Mum to take his old work trousers to the cleaners for him.

  ‘This little kid spilled his can of coke all over me!’ said Dad, laughing ruefully.

  So Dad worked amongst children.

  ‘Perhaps he works in a McDonalds?’ Angel suggested.

  ‘He said he doesn’t work in any kind of restaurant,’ I said.

  ‘Do you think he could be a lollipop man?’ Sarah asked. ‘You know, taking little kids across the road. They have to wear a white coat as a uniform.’

  Ah! I thought I’d guessed right now. But when I casually said, ‘How was the traffic today, Dad?’ he just looked at me and laughed.

  ‘No traffic! Now give it a rest, little Miss Sherlock!’

  ‘But why won’t you tell me, Dad?’

  ‘I don’t want to, isn’t that reason enough? Now quit pestering me or your chances of getting that iPad mini for Christmas are nil,’ said Dad.

  I shut up mega fast immediately! It was lovely that we had a bit more money now. Mum started buying a few things for Christmas when we went shopping on Saturday. She bought a box of posh chocolates and a Yule log and wine for her and Dad and fizzy lemonade for Dexter and me.

  ‘Hurray!’ we said, because we hadn’t had special chocolates or fancy cake or nice drinks for ages.

  ‘Can we do some Christmas present shopping too, Mum?’ I asked. ‘I need to buy something for Angel and Sarah. And you and Dad and Dexter.’

  ‘All right then. So long as you don’t take all day,’ said Mum.

  ‘Can we go to Mitchells’ Christmas Bazaar?’ I said.

  Mitchells was the big department store in the shopping centre. It always had a huge selection of cheapo stuff for children without much pocket money doing their Christmas shopping – i.e. me! Mum always loves going to Mitchells too, so I was surprised when she pulled a face.

  ‘I think you might find just as good things in the Arcade or the Pound Shop,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Mum! Go on! Let’s go to Mitchells.’ I gave Dexter’s arm a little tug. ‘You want to go and see the dancing teddies at Mitchells, don’t you, Dexter?’

  This was dead crafty. Dexter simply adores the animatronic teddy bears in the Mitchells’ entrance hall. He is always transfixed with delight and dances about too, singing all their silly songs.

  ‘Yeah, I love the teddies! Let’s go and see them now,’ he said, clapping his hands.

  Like I said, Dexter is so sweet that no one can ever resist him, not even Mum.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, sighing.

  We spent ages watching the teddies. Dexter danced and sang. Don’t laugh, but I danced and sang a little bit too. I used to like those teddies just as much as Dexter when I was little.

  Then we got to go to the Christmas Bazaar in the basement and I rushed round all the counters choosing my presents. I made Mum and Dexter wait outside because I didn’t want them to see what I was buying. I bought a pink glass bangle for Angel and a blue glass bangle for Sarah. I very badly wanted a glass bangle for myself, pink or blue or any other colour, but I didn’t have any money left after I’d bought a tiny yellow teddy for Dexter, some rosy soap for Mum and a pen for Dad. I minded a bit, but it couldn’t be helped.

  ‘All sorted?’ said Mum, smiling at my carrier bag of presents. ‘Let’s go home then, before the shops close. We don’t want to spend ages waiting at the bus stop.’

  Just then there was a loud announcement on the store’s intercom.

  ‘Last chance today to see Father Christmas in his grotto! Make your way now to the second floor!’

  ‘Father Christmas!’ Dexter squealed. ‘Oh, let’s go and see Father Christmas!’

  ‘No, darling, we have to get home,’ said Mum.

  ‘But we need to meet Father Christmas to ask him to come and see us!’ Dexter insisted. ‘You said he wouldn’t come to us this year, Mum. We have to see him now!’

  ‘Oh Dexter, don’t make a fuss! Don’t worry about Father Christmas. I think he probably will be able to come to see us this year after all,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh, please please please can we go and see him, just to make sure?’ said Dexter.

  ‘No we can’t, so stop making a silly fuss, Dexter,’ said Mum.

  Dexter stood where he was, his little face agonized. Big fat tears started dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

  ‘Oh dear, stop crying. All right, we’ll pay Father Christmas a very quick visit,’ said Mum.

  We hurried up to the second floor and joined the queue to pay to go into the grotto.

  ‘It’s mostly for little kids, Dexter’s age or even younger. You don’t really want to go too, do you, Livvy?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes!’ I said, knowing that you always got a present when you went to see Father Christmas in Mitchells. Maybe he’d give me a glass bangle!

  ‘I could find a nice lady in the café over there to keep an eye on you while I pop in with Dexter,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll buy you a strawberry milkshake.’

  I loved strawberry milkshakes. I’d drunk gallons of them back in the days when we had lots of money. But I thought I’d like a glass bangle even more. And I didn’t want to be left out.

  ‘Why can Dexter go to see Father Christmas and not me?’ I said. I wasn’t as good at crying as Dexter, but I made my eyes go all watery. ‘Do you like Dexter better than me?’

  ‘Oh, stop it. I love you both the same, you know that. All right, all right, you can see Father Christmas too, if you really must,’ said Mum.

  She sounded very anxious. Perhaps she didn’t have enough money left for two tickets? We waited in the queue for ages. I began to wonder if I’d made the right decision. I could have been sitting in comfort with a strawberry milkshake rather than shuffling endlessly through Father Christmas’s boring grotto, with little whiny kids all around me.

  Dexter wasn’t whiny. He was deliriously happy, singing ‘We’re going to see Father Christmas soon soon soon,’ again and again. And again. It started to get almost as annoying as the other kids’ whining. But then at long last we shuffled round a corner and there was a strange lady dressed in a red and green costume.

  ‘Hello, I’m Father Christmas’s special little elf friend,’ she said. ‘And who have we here?’

  ‘I’m Dexter and this is Livvy,’ said Dexter. ‘Is Father Christmas really here? Mummy said he might not be able to come this year.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mum, looking embarrassed.

  ‘Father Christmas is right here and he wants to meet you now,’ said the elf, and she took us both by the hand and led us round the next corner, Mum following.

  There was Father Christmas just as promised, wearing his familiar red outfit and big boots, his white beard hanging down his chest. He looked very surprised to see us. I felt a bit shy and silly but Dexter went leaping forward.

  ‘Hello, Father Christmas! I’m Dexter and I’m so so so glad you’re here! Will you come and leave us a present on Christmas Eve, even if it’s just a little one? I promise I’ve been a good boy. Well, I’ve been quite good, haven’t I, Livvy?’

  ‘Dexter’s been very very good,’ I said truthfully. I took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t always been very good myself, because I so want an iPad mini and I’ve nagged about it, but if you could possibly spare me one I’ll be ever so grateful.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises,’ said Father Christmas.

  He spoke in a funny deep voice, as if he was pretending to be older than he really was. His face didn’t look old at all, in spite of his long white beard. He had a lovely smiley face, a bit like my dad.

  Then I looked a little closer. I stared and stared, my mouth open. It was my dad! Oh my goodness, Dad was Father Christmas! This was his new mysterious job!

  ‘I know who you are!’ I blurted out.

  Mum’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. ‘Father Christmas’ shook his head at me,
nodding at Dexter. I suddenly understood. Dexter was little enough to believe wholeheartedly in Father Christmas. Mum and Dad had kept quiet because they didn’t want to spoil it for him.

  ‘I know who you are too!’ Dexter cried.

  Oh no, had he guessed after all?

  ‘You’re Father Christmas, that’s who you are,’ said Dexter, laughing.

  ‘Ho ho ho, that’s absolutely right, little boy,’ said ‘Father Christmas’, obviously greatly relieved. ‘Now, what might you like for Christmas?’

  ‘I’ll have just a little present, I don’t mind what, but can you bring an iPad mini for Livvy, because she wants one ever so much? And she might let me play games on it too,’ Dexter said earnestly.

  ‘Oh Dexter!’ I said, feeling absolutely overwhelmed. I wanted to scoop him up and hug him.

  ‘Father Christmas’ looked quite moist-eyed too.

  ‘You’re a grand little chap,’ he said. ‘I’ll do my best. Meanwhile I’ve got a little present just for today for both of you.’ He delved in his sack and brought out a big blue parcel for Dexter and a pink one for me. The pink one was small and flat. Just the right size for a glass bangle!

  ‘Thank you, Father Christmas!’ I said enthusiastically.

  ‘Thank you, Father Christmas,’ Dexter echoed.

  Another Christmas elf led us outside.

  ‘I love Father Christmas,’ Dexter declared, ripping the paper off his present. ‘Oh wow, look, a toy truck! I can take all my animals for a ride in it.’

  Dexter fancies himself as a mini farmer and tends a small plastic herd of three cows, one sheep and a chicken, keeping them in small pens in a shoe box.

  I opened my pink present carefully. I so so so hoped it would be a glass bangle. It wasn’t. It was a little doll in dungarees.

  ‘I’m way too old for dolls,’ I said disgustedly. ‘I would have thought Father Christmas might have realized this.’

  Mum frowned.

  ‘I’m not sure Father Christmas always chooses the presents in his sack,’ she said, flashing me a warning look.

  ‘I think it’s a lovely dolly,’ said Dexter. ‘If you don’t want her, Livvy, I’ll have her as my farmer wife. She’ll be very helpful milking the cows when I’m busy.’

  So Dexter ended up with two presents and still had a full belief in Father Christmas. Whereas I now realized what I’d started to suspect. Father Christmas wasn’t real at all. He was just someone’s dad dressed up in a silly costume.

  I couldn’t wait to get to school the next day to tell Sarah and Angel.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ said Mum. ‘They might be very happy still believing in Father Christmas. You don’t want to spoil it for them.’

  ‘Oh per-lease, Mum! Look, I haven’t believed properly for ages,’ I said, fibbing a little bit.

  But when Dad came home he also said I mustn’t tell anyone.

  ‘Thank you for not spilling the beans to Dexter, Livvy. You mustn’t dream of telling anyone else either. Promise?’

  ‘All right,’ I sighed, though I thought Angel and Sarah and I would have a right old giggle if I told them about Dad’s new job.

  I couldn’t help bringing up the topic of Father Christmas at school the next day.

  ‘Guess what, my mum took me to see Father Christmas at Mitchells along with Dexter and all the little kids,’ I said.

  I waited for them to roll their eyes or sneer, but they simply looked interested.

  ‘I haven’t been to see Father Christmas yet,’ said Angel. ‘Did you tell him you’d like a mini iPad?’

  ‘I told Father Christmas last year I wanted a giant teddy almost as big as me – and it was there waiting for me when I woke up on Christmas morning,’ said Sarah.

  Goodness, it looked as if my friends were still true believers, just like Dexter! There was a little bit of me that wanted to tease them and tell them the truth – but I knew that would be unkind. So I kept quiet, even though it was a bit of a struggle.

  I gave them their Christmas presents from me on the last day of term. They both loved their bangles. Angel gave me a Jenna Williams paperback and Sarah gave me a stationery set. It was very kind of both of them but I would have much sooner had a glass bangle.

  Dad was working hard all day every day until late on Christmas Eve. He came home looking exhausted but happy.

  ‘I actually got given a bonus for covering for one of the other chaps,’ said Dad.

  He was muttering this quietly to Mum while I helped Dexter concoct paper Christmas presents for his farm animals.

  ‘So did you manage to get the you-know-whats?’ Mum whispered.

  I was so excited that I couldn’t help peering over at them. They saw and immediately changed the subject.

  Dad started saying that he’d really enjoyed this new job, and once Christmas was over he was going to be much more adventurous in his job-seeking, and prepared to try his hand at anything.

  I was very happy for Dad – but I longed to know if he’d really managed to buy me an iPad mini from his Father Christmas wages.

  I had to wait for Christmas morning to find out. There was a very promising small square parcel waiting at the end of the bed with a label that read ‘With love from “Father” Christmas.’

  It was my very own longed-for iPad mini! I was so so so happy! I went running into Dexter’s room and he was crowing excitedly too.

  ‘Look what Father Christmas has brought me!’ he exclaimed, showing me a proper toy farmhouse. ‘Oh, my animals are going moo and baa and cluck because they’re so happy! And look what I got in my Santa stocking too – more animals for my farm, a donkey and a turkey and three little piglets!’

  ‘Oh, my stocking! I didn’t check it,’ I said running back to my own bedroom.

  I’d tipped my stocking onto my bedroom carpet by accident. There were the usual sweets and chocolate and little orange – and five carefully wrapped presents, all the same size. I tore the paper off excitedly. I found one two three four five glass bangles, pink, purple, red, blue and green! I slipped them all on my arm and they clinked and jingled together wondrously.

  I hadn’t breathed a word to Mum or Dad about longing for a glass bangle. Now I had five! I think there is a real magic Father Christmas after all!

  HO HO HO!

  Try these Christmas jokes out on your class or your family!

  What do you get if you cross Father Christmas with a duck?

  A Christmas quacker!

  What do Father Christmas’s little helpers learn at school?

  The elf-abet!

  What do snowmen wear on their heads?

  Ice-caps!

  What do angry mice send each other at Christmas?

  Cross mouse cards!

  What happened to the girl who ate Christmas decorations?

  She got tinselitis!

  Why are Christmas trees so bad at sewing?

  They always drop their needles!

  What’s red and white, red and white, red and white?

  Father Christmas rolling down a hill!

  I CAN’T WAIT to see her! She’s been gone for so long. We’ve never even spent a day apart before, and yet now we’ve been separated for three whole months! It’s been such rubbish without her.

  I’m talking about my twin sister, Garnet. We’re identical. Well, we don’t really look identical now, because I’ve given myself a radical new haircut.

  I was sick of those stupid plaits. No one ever used to be able to tell us apart, which was a huge bonus when it came to confusing and exasperating people at school. That’s my speciality, confusing and exasperating. I can do it easy-peasy without even thinking.

  I’m the naughty twin, Ruby. I’m also the eldest and the fastest and the noisiest and the bossiest. I used to think I was the cleverest, but when Garnet and I sat this stupid exam to get into a girls’ boarding school, Marnock Heights, we both got a shock. Garnet passed the exam and I didn’t. Of course, I didn’t really try too hard. And I didn’t actually want to go to b
oarding school anyway. It sounds horribly boring and strict and stuffy. Yes, I’m sure I’d absolutely hate it if I went there.

  Garnet says she actually likes it. This is amazing, because my sister is so shy and scared she generally can’t do anything without me. I was sure she’d cry floods of tears and come rushing back home in a week or two. But she’s stuck it out and all her postcards and emails say she’s having a great time. This is too weird. I’m sure she’s just trying to stop me worrying about her. She must be so lonely without me.

  I go home tomorrow! I absolutely can’t wait! It’s been such ages since I’ve seen Ruby. Of course we write all the time. Well, I write. Ruby doesn’t always bother to email me back straight away. I had to ask her to stop sending postcards because everyone reads them and sometimes she says very rude things. She even does rude drawings. They’re funny, of course, but they’re not at all the sort of stuff you’d want the teachers to see. I showed my best friend Lucy one of Ruby’s jokey cards. I thought she’d roar with laughter but she just looked a bit puzzled.

  ‘It’s a bit infantile, isn’t it?’ she said.

  Infantile is one of the worst things you can say about anyone at Marnock Heights. All the girls in the older classes are always saying it about us.

  I got upset and went off by myself and cried a bit. I know it’s extremely infantile, but I’m a terrible cry-baby. Lucy came to find me and put her arm around me and said she was very sorry and didn’t mean to upset me.

  ‘I didn’t say you were infantile, Garnet. I’d never say that, even if you were, because you’re my best ever friend. I just said it about your sister,’ she said.

  ‘I know – but we’re twins, you see, and if you say something bad about Ruby it’s like you’re saying it about me too,’ I said. ‘You don’t understand because you haven’t got a sister, let alone a twin.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Lucy. ‘But if you don’t mind me saying, from the emails I’ve seen she sounds a very bossy twin. She’s always telling you you’re stupid or hopeless or pathetic.’