December 9

Jiggers Journal, Part 9

It was a small cosy room, the sort that the real Santa loves. At least the non-Santa had got that right. In the corner was a fire burning logs of pine, and beside the fire was a comfortable rocking chair. Opposite the rocking chair was a bench where the children could sit and chat. So far all looked as it should look.

There was a small tree with some nice tasteful decorations, and some strands of tinsel and bunting dangled from walls and shelves. It looked a bit untidy, just the way that Santa's real study looks. The lighting was soft, and the floor was covered in letters and cards. They were everywhere. Mrs Claus will be annoyed at him I thought. Then I remembered it was a non-Santa.

I looked at him closely. He looked real enough. He was short and fat, and he had a big bushy beard of snow white. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were merry. He was dressed in the usual red suit with white trimmings. His hat was off and he was scratching the bald patch on top of his head. I looked down at his feet and I was a bit surprised to see that he had one dark blue sock and one black sock. That was funny, because the real Santa often does that, and it drives Mrs Claus bonkers. He just reaches into the drawer and takes out the first two socks he finds, and doesn't even check the colour. When she gives out he just says that it is because she insists on candlelight in the bedroom, and he can't see in the poor light. But the truth is that he doesn't care about socks. He has bigger things to worry about.

The non-Santa looked up and smiled. He had a huge smile.

“Hi Kate,” he said. “You've grown a lot since I saw you last. That must help when you play hockey.”

“It does,” she agreed. “And I'm faster than ever. I'd show you but the room is too small to run around in.”

Then he spotted Leroy, and he frowned.

“You ate my mince pie last year,” he said.

“And the year before,” agreed Leroy. “I'm a dog. If you leave a mince pie on a table of course I am going to eat it. But I left you the glass of milk. And I left a doggy treat.”

“I don't eat doggy treats,” said non-Santa.

“Neither do I,” said Leroy. :But humans seem to think that I love them just because I am a dog. I would prefer a cheese burger.”

“I gave the doggy treat to Rudolph,” said Santa.

“Good call.”

Then non-Santa looked at me.

“Hello Jiggers,” he said.

“Hello whoever you are,” I said. My voice sounded grumpy.

Non-Santa waved a hand towards the bench opposite his rocking chair, and we went over and sat down. Then Leroy jumped off the bench and jumped onto non-Santa's lap. Non-Santa began to stroke him.

“You've very wet and dirty,” he said.

“I've been running through puddles,” said Leroy.

“And dragging Jiggers? He normally looks cleaner and happier than he does today.”

I scowled.

I looked at Kate's parents, who were standing there with vacant smiles on their faces, almost as if they couldn't hear what was being said, or see their family pet chatting to the guy in the red suit. Then I realized that they couldn't see what was going on. They were only seeing a sort of outline of what was going on, and couldn't hear either Leroy or me. There must be some sort of magic in the room.

As I realized this non-Santa looked at me and smiled – and I saw at once that he was the real Santa. Kate was wrong. The man in the garden centre with the real beard wasn't here in the room. Santa himself had come all the way from the North Pole to meet us. I straightened up and tried to look my best, and he winked at me.

“Let's get down to business,” he said. “Kate, what would you like this year.”

She put a hand under her chin and gazed dreamily into the distance as if she was thinking hard. But it fooled none of us. She knew exactly what she wanted.

“A black BMX bike,” she finally said. “And some books. And a red scarf. And a spy kit. And something nice for my best friend Rachel, and mum wants a new handbag, and dad wants a Ferrari. Oh, and a surprise would be nice.”

“I'm sure it would be,” said Santa. “The biggest surprise would be if I could remember everything on such a long list.”

“Then just some books, and something nice for my friend. And a surprise,” said Kate.

“And what about you, Leroy?” asked Santa.

The dog looked up from his lap.

“I'll be happy just to take your mince pies again,” he said.

“I'm sure you would,” said Santa. Then he turned to me.

“What's next, Jiggers?”

I smiled. I knew the answer.

“You check whether she's been naughty or nice,” I answered.

Santa smiled. “And what do you think?”

“I've only known her for a few days, but she has been very nice all that time. She's helped me a lot. But she cheats at cards. So does Leroy. But they both know the other is cheating and that seems to be the game, so maybe that's not so bad,” I concluded. “On balance she's nice. Very nice. But what does the list say?”

Santa frowned.

“That's the problem. I no longer have the list. We don't have any record this year of who's been naughty or nice, because someone stole the list.”