Father Christmas and Me

by Matt Haig

  Every elf and human and pixie and rabbit in the room waited in total silence.

  The Easter Bunny glanced down at this pendant.

  And then I remembered what it contained. The little chocolate egg his mother had given him.

  And I had an idea.

  ‘You don’t have to hide away any longer,’ I said. ‘The whole world could know about you, the way they know about Father Christmas. The whole world could know the true message of the rabbits from the Land of Hills and Holes. The message of your parents. Of your mother. About how fragile life is, but how it is to be enjoyed. The message of the chocolate egg.’

  The Easter Bunny gazed at me. When he wasn’t trying to kill someone, his face was surprisingly kind.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

  ‘You’re not the only one!’ said Mary.

  ‘You could give chocolate eggs to the world the way Father Christmas gives presents,’ I explained. ‘And no outsider would be a threat to you or the rabbits. They would see your goodness. And we could help you. You could borrow Father Christmas’s sleigh and reindeer at first . . . You could work together at Christmas. Children could wake up to presents in their stockings, and eggs wherever you would want to hide them.’

  ‘Could he now?’ asked Father Christmas, looking a little miffed. But then he remembered the seriousness of the situation. ‘I mean, yes. Absolutely. Of course he could.’

  And then the Easter Bunny got it. His eyes glistened. ‘The message of the chocolate egg.’

  ‘Don’t fall for it!’ said Father Vodol, somewhere between fear and fury. ‘As if they mean it!’

  ‘They mean it,’ said the Truth Pixie.

  But the Easter Bunny was now shaking his head. ‘No.’

  My heart sank.

  And every rabbit soldier looked ready to attack. 382 even had her net out

  ‘It can’t be at Christmas,’ said the Easter Bunny. ‘It’s Christmas tomorrow. I’d need more time. It needs its own day.’

  And then I had the most perfectly obvious idea. ‘Easter? The time of year rabbits head out into the outside world. That’s why you’re called the Easter Bunny, right?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ And that was the first time I’d seen the Easter Bunny smile. ‘Easter! That would be perfect.’

  I smiled too, and so did Father Christmas and Mary, and Father Topo, and the Truth Pixie, and Noosh and Little Mim and Humdrum and Pippin and Mother Miro and Sovereign and Bonbon and Mother Breer and Mother Jingle. And soon all the elves were smiling, even Columbus (although his was a very confused smile, as he kept thinking of all the history books that would need correcting). Even the rabbit soldiers were smiling.

  382 put her net away. The only person who wasn’t smiling was Father Vodol.

  But then Father Christmas stopped smiling. And the reason he had stopped smiling was because he had just seen the clock on the wall. The clock said ‘Most People’s Bedtimes’.

  ‘Right, elves, to the workshop! We’ve got a lot of toys to put in the infinity sack!’

  And so Father Vodol was left alone, his face redder than the setting sun outside, as everyone – rabbits included – hurried off to the Toy Workshop to make Christmas happen.

  An hour later Father Christmas was standing in the middle of the workshop, with his infinity sack open and a queue of elves and rabbits that stretched all the way back to Reindeer Field. As Rabbit 382 dropped a towering pile of toys into the sack, Father Christmas asked me to check on the sleigh, which was parked in front of his house, and to get the reindeer ready. So I did and all the reindeer made things easy for me, even Comet, who could be tricky with harnesses.

  I looked at Blitzen. ‘Now, whatever happens tonight, no diving through the air, okay?’

  He made a truffling noise. Then I checked on the Barometer of Hope, which said ‘Exceptionally Hopeful’.

  I jumped into the sleigh and took the reins, and watched the queue of elves and rabbits get smaller and smaller until it eventually disappeared. And then Father Christmas arrived with his sack on his back. I handed him the reins and began to climb out of the sleigh.

  ‘No, Amelia. You stay right there. I’ll need a co-rider.’

  ‘But you know what happened last time I was in a sleigh.’

  ‘Yes, but Captain Soot isn’t here now. Mary’s looking after him. Look.’

  And he waved at Mary, who was holding Captain Soot tightly. She was standing in the field with Noosh and Humdrum and Little Mim and Father Topo.

  A crowd of elves were gathering around us now, ready for the take-off. Kip was among them. I started to panic. ‘But what about someone else? What about Kip? He’s the best sleigh rider in Elfhelm.’

  Kip, overhearing, smiled at me and shook his head. ‘I think it should be you. I know I was wrong about you. And I’m sorry.’

  I sat back down.

  ‘In fact,’ said Father Christmas, ‘you should be first.’

  ‘What?’

  He handed me the reins. ‘Go on. Show them what you can do.’

  ‘But . . .’

  In the crowd I saw Twinkle, smiling and giving me the thumbs up. Snowflake was there too. And then I saw Father Vodol, hovering around like a dark cloud.

  ‘You can do it, Amelia!’ Mary shouted.

  I looked at the Barometer of Hope and closed my eyes and believed very hard that everything was going to be all right.

  ‘Come on, Blitzen!’ I shouted. ‘Come on, Vixen! Donner! Prancer! Dasher! Dancer! Cupid! Comet! Let’s fly!’

  And a moment later the crowd parted and we were speeding across the snowy field towards the frozen lake and then up, up, up into the air, and we were on our way, around the world.

  Just two happy humans who didn’t really belong anywhere.

  Father Christmas.

  And me.

  A Final Smile

  will always remember that Christmas Eve more than any other.

  Father Christmas let me drive the sleigh the whole time, and all the reindeer – even Blitzen – behaved themselves. Though that was also the Christmas that a lot of human children and parents noticed footprints on carpets. At first – according to the letters Pippin caught all through the next year – they thought they were muddy footprints, but, leaning closer, they realised that they smelt rather nice. Rather chocolatey.

  The next day, it was quite a strange sight seeing the rabbits and elves all feasting together as the Sleigh Belles sang ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Hero In The Red Coat’ and, of course, their classic ‘Reindeer Over The Mountain’. It was a truly joyous time. And it remained joyous, all through the year.

  The rabbits went down into their warren until Easter, because it was warmer down there, but elves often went down there too, and the first Saturday of every month became Colour Worm Disco Day, where the Sleigh Belles would play alongside a rabbit band called the Burrow Brothers and another very loud group called Ears of Doom, with our old prison guard on drums, and everyone had a great time. Even after Easter, the rabbits stayed underground a lot of the time.

  You might want to know about the chocolate too. Well, the chocolate was returned to the bank and everyone got their money back, but the Bank of Chocolate began to make three times as much chocolate as usual. Most of it was then given to the rabbits who worked in their artists’ studios – formerly Father Vodol’s secret newspaper factory – inside the warren designing beautiful eggs of all sizes.

  Father Vodol wasn’t locked up, because Father Christmas didn’t believe in locking anyone up. He was kept under close watch in his house on Very Quiet Street, and was forced to close the Daily Truth, which no one wanted to read anyway, and instead he was put to work as Chief Christmas Wrapper. He had to sit in a special room in the workshop wrapping every single present. It was a particularly annoying job for Father Vodol as he kept on getting sticky tape stuck in his beard.

  Mary kept working as route planner for Father Christmas and, later, took over the Figgy Pudding café and called it Mother Christma
s’s Magic Pie Place. It soon became the most popular café in town. She stayed very much in love with Father Christmas, and he with her. And their cheeks seemed to grow rosier with happiness every day.

  Hope was back in the air. The Northern Lights shone bright. And the letters to Father Christmas always made it to the top of the mountain.

  As for me, well, things got better. A lot better.

  Elves didn’t whisper about me any more. I was no longer the outsider. Elfhelm was a place that welcomed humans and rabbits alike. And school was better too. Mother Jingle and all the other teachers seemed to have more respect for me. Columbus even set me a special assignment – to write a new history of Elfhelm, correcting all the mistakes about rabbits. Twinkle and Snowflake became great friends, and didn’t even laugh at me during spickle dancing classes any more.

  By writing for the Daily Snow I managed, eventually, to pay for the repairs to the Blizzard 360. Kip and I even became friends, of sorts, and compared stories of our experiences of being kidnapped. I won the Junior Sleigh Rider of the Year competition, and wore my badge with pride.

  After my article about Father Vodol and the Easter Bunny boosted sales of the newspaper to record levels, I was made Chief Rabbit Correspondent, and my interview with the Easter Bunny was declared the ‘most heartbreaking read of the year’ by everyone who read it.

  And life went on like this for years. Well, more or less. Christmases came and went. Father Christmas stayed busy at the Toy Workshop and Mary stayed busy at the café and I stayed busy at school and at the Daily Snow, but it was a happy kind of busy. An elf kind of busy.

  Years later, on a Christmas Day, I left Elfhelm after one last sleigh ride and returned to London to set up an orphanage, the Magical Home for Girls and Boys. The reason I decided to leave wasn’t because I was unhappy. Quite the opposite. I have never been as happy anywhere as I was amid the magic of elves and Father Christmas.

  I still remembered the time before – a time when I was lonely and miserable, an orphan at the workhouse – and I knew there were other people just like me in the world of humans, feeling the same. And so I decided to be like Father Christmas. I decided to try to make people happy, give them clean beds, and good meals based on Mary’s best recipes, and teach them how to read and write.

  I often told the orphans the story of my childhood. After their afternoon cake I would sit by the fire on a winter’s day and tell them about the time I’d spent in Elfhelm. I would talk about elves and pixies and trolls. I would talk about Father Christmas and Mother Christmas and the Easter Bunny. I would tell them that their letters to Father Christmas flew all the way to Very Big Mountain and were caught by a brilliant acrobatic elf called Pippin, who was amazing at leaping and catching.

  I still tell them these stories, even now, as an old woman Even in this world of new inventions like motorcars and flying machines called aeroplanes.

  And, although I never go back to Elfhelm these days, I still feel the magic of those days. Even though I was never drimwicked, I still keep that magic alive by trying to make people happy. By seeing the goodness in people. And letting that goodness shine back.

  As Father Christmas once said, ‘Smiling is the best kind of magic in the world.’

  And I am smiling now, this Christmas Day, as I sit here finishing this tale. His letter is right here beside me. The one he left for me, in the fireplace.

  It said just a few words: ‘Thank You, Amelia.’

  That was all it said. And all it needed to say. Because words are a magic too, and they can contain everything.

  The bit after the book where you thank people

  It is quite hard, writing a book. Quite enjoyable too. But you need a lot of help, as a writer, before a book becomes a book. This is especially true of Father Christmas and Me, and the two books before it in the trilogy – A Boy Called Christmas and The Girl Who Saved Christmas.

  In particular, I must thank:

  You. The reader. I thought you read it very well. Not too fast, not too slow. Well done you.

  Chris Mould. The illustrator. For putting amazing pictures everywhere. Books with nice pictures are the best books.

  Francis Bickmore. My brilliant editor. For telling me which bits were worse than other bits, so I could make them better.

  Clare Conville. My agent. For being wise and lovely.

  Everyone at Canongate, who has worked so hard on these books. Including Rafi Romaya, Megan Reid, Rona Williamson, Jenny Fry, Claire Maxwell, Alice Shortland, Neal Price, Jane Pike, Andrea Joyce, Caroline Clarke, Christopher Gale and, not forgetting, Jamie Byng.

  Andrea Semple. My best friend. Who read this book first, when all the mistakes were still in it. And who gets rid of the mistakes. And makes this and every book far better than it would be.

  Oh, and thanks to Father Christmas. Obviously.

  Mostly though, I need to thank the two most amazing children in the entire world. Pearl Haig and Lucas Haig. They are the reason I write these books. They add magic to my life on a daily basis. This is my attempt to add some of it back.

  Thank you all.

  Merry Christmas!