She could see her dad’s friend Praveer up on the balcony in deep discussion with some of the other Rotarians. And every now and then people disappeared inside the hall only to re-emerge, animated, gesticulating.
Something is definitely up, she thought.
She spotted Todd Robinson, the electrician in charge of all things technical, standing to one side, arms folded, watching the chaos.
He looked ready to go. So this apparently wasn’t a problem with the lights.
“Jack — I wonder what’s happened,” said Sarah.
“Think we’re about to find out,” said Jack.
Sarah saw Cecil Cauldwell step up to the microphone, tap it once, then:
“Ladies and gentlemen!” He cleared his throat, looking unusually uncomfortable. “My, er, deep apologies for the slight delay this evening. We’ve had a little technical hitch — which means, I’m afraid, that the handing out of presents by Santa will no longer be taking place after the lighting ceremony.”
A groan rippled through the crowd — Sarah turned to Jack, who shrugged and shook his head.
All around him, Sarah could see disappointed parents and children, taking in this unexpected news.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Cecil loudly into the microphone, clearly trying to calm the crowd with volume. “Now, um, it’s not all bad news. I’m sure you’ll all be very excited to know that in a slight change to the schedule the Mayor himself will be turning on Cherringham’s amazing Christmas lights. How about that? So ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Mayor!”
No reaction from the crowd.
Mayor versus Santa? No contest.
“Don’t think that’s going to fly,” said Jack.
Sarah watched as the Mayor stepped up to the microphone, tapped it and coughed importantly: “Ahem! Ahem!”
“Oh, God,” said Sarah. “Anything but the Mayor — we’ll be here all night.”
“Not a fan?” said Jack, smiling.
Sarah laughed. “My dad says he should be put down.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Mayor said. “It is with absolutely the most enormous pleasure, that I find myself here this evening, summoned by fate and circumstance to address you, on this very auspicious occasion for the people of Cherringham—”
Before he could go any further, the bells of St. James thankfully began to chime the hour and the crowd instantly went into the countdown.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
Sarah saw the Mayor try to fight the moment, raising his voice, feedback kicking in as he came too close to the microphone: “There are so many people here tonight that I would like to thank, people who have given—”
“Just wish I had my camera,” said Jack. “My daughter would love to see this.”
The crowd’s counting had now drowned out the Mayor — and Sarah could see he’d given up.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
“The joy of small towns everywhere, hmm, Jack?”
“Four! Three! Two!”
“Same the world over,” said Jack smiling. “And yet … here it’s somehow different …”
“One!”
And Sarah watched as up on the balcony the Mayor shrugged and nodded to Todd — who somehow hit a switch — and the Christmas tree lights lit up in a blaze of colour, tiny snow crystals in the air, on the ground, catching the coloured lights.
“Ooohhhh!” went the crowd and everybody cheered and clapped.
Then one by one, from the bottom of the High Street, Sarah saw the strings of coloured lights flash on and the whole display lit up, reindeer, candles, Christmas trees, stars, blazing into light, one after another all the way up and around the village hall and then beyond it to the top of the village.
“Quite the show! Think that’ll make up for the loss of the presents?” said Jack.
“For the moment. But then … I think there’ll be tears and tricky questions before bedtime across the village tonight,” said Sarah. “But I’m sure the presents can be handed out next week at the Christmas concert instead. The big question is — what went wrong?”
“I think I know the answer to that,” said Jack.
“You do?”
“Someone didn’t show.”
“Well, right. Our Santa,” said Sarah, realising what the “technical hitch” really was. “But why?”
“Yep,” said Jack, “that’s the question.”
“Well I don’t think we’ll have to wait long to find the answer,” said Sarah. “Dad’s buying the drinks up at the Angel. He’s on the committee. He’ll know”
“The Angel? Nice. Well, what are we waiting for?” said Jack. “Let’s go solve the mystery.”
And, taking Sarah’s arm, he found a way through the crowd for both of them.
*
Jack pushed open the door of the Angel and squeezed through the crowd towards the bar, Sarah right behind him.
“What are you having?” he said to Sarah, when they finally found their way through to the bar, ready to order.
“Pint of Hooky, please.”
“Good idea,” said Jack. “I’ll have a pint too I think.”
Jack put in his order, looking forward to the local ale, then turned and took in the pub.
Over in the corner he saw Sarah’s father, Michael, at the centre of a small group. And it looked like quite a heated argument was going on.
He gave a small wave to Michael, and saw him grimly nod back.
“Think we’ll hang on here,” said Jack once he’d paid for their beers. “Looks like your dad’s doing some refereeing.”
“Cheers, Jack,” said Sarah, taking a drink. “Hmm — Rotary Club bigwigs. Cherringham’s great and good.”
Jack watched as Michael disentangled himself with an uneasy smile, and came over to join them. He shook Jack’s hand and gave Sarah a hug.
“Enjoy the show?” said Michael.
“Loved the lights,” said Jack.
“But—” said Sarah.
“Where was Santa, hmm?” said Michael.
“Hard not to notice.”
“Well, it’s a good question.”
“You not going to tell us, Michael?” said Jack.
“God. Wish I could,” said Michael. “Truth is — he was there one minute — and next minute — he was gone.”
“Really?” said Jack. “So he was there tonight?”
“Absolutely. Did the rehearsal, checked all the presents, went through the tech run with Todd, the ‘sparks’.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I wasn’t in the hall — I was in the office sorting last-minute paperwork. But Praveer told me he popped down to put his costume on and just … never came back.”
“And they went to look for him?” said Sarah.
“Oh, yes. Sent out the search party — though, from the sound of it, it was a bit chaotic.”
“And not a sign of Santa?”
“No. Not a thing. He clearly got changed into his costume — his street clothes are still hanging up, you see — and then … disappeared.”
Jack put down his pint on the bar.
Amazing.
This really was turning into a mystery.
“Wait a second. You mean — even dressed in a Santa outfit, nobody spotted him at all?”
What a crazy thought.
“Doesn’t appear that way. Least not yet,” said Michael. “That is odd — isn’t it?”
Jack looked at Sarah — who looked back at him with the same concern he was suddenly feeling.
“Who actually is Santa?” said Jack.
Michael laughed. “You mean you don’t believe in him, Jack?”
“Maybe after a couple of these,” said Jack nodding to the pint of Hook Norton ale in his hand.
Michael laughed. “Bill Vokes,” he said, “he’s been our Santa for years. Ever meet him?”
“Don’t think so. And he always turns up?”
“Oh absolutely. Never lets us down. Though — dear old Bill — he can be a
little …”
Jack watched him look around as if to make sure nobody was listening. Then he continued.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I love Bill. Great chap. Funny, life and soul, you know — and so generous. Gives hundreds each year to the charities. Always available, always offering to help. But …”
Jack waited, glanced across to Sarah who, by now, like him knew that sometimes silence was the best way to tease people’s true feelings out of them.
“Bill doesn’t give a damn — what people think of him — doesn’t care for convention, can be a bit of a loose cannon. Know what I mean? On golf trips, for instance, Bill’s always the last to leave the bar. Other times, you look round for him — and he’s just gone. Whoosh — like that! We joke about it — Bill’s done one of his magic tricks again. Very funny.”
“So where does he go — when he does one of his tricks?” said Sarah.
“Who knows?” said Michael. “Wandering eye, perhaps? Though by all accounts he and his lovely wife Emily are absolutely rock solid together.”
“Maybe he just likes to … be on his own?” said Jack. “Times I feel like that — one minute having lots of fun, busy bar, then next minute, realize — time to head home, hit the sack.”
“Hmm, I’ve noticed that Jack,” said Sarah, smiling at him.
“I thought I’d got away with it,” said Jack, laughing.
“Could be that,” said Michael. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t sound like the Bill I know.”
“Quite a drinker, is he?” said Jack.
“Oh, yes,” said Michael. “Though not a drunk, mind. He just … loves a drink, loves a crowd, loves having fun.”
“Maybe tonight he just suddenly couldn’t face being in the limelight?” said Sarah. “Change of heart.”
“Possible, all possible. But I tell you what — that lot—”
And Jack saw him nod towards the group of Rotarians.
“—they’re all for kicking him out. Say he’s gone too far. Shamed the Rotary Club. And I must admit — whatever the reason for his going off — I’ll find it hard to forgive him myself.”
Jack thought about what Michael had said. The tale of the missing Santa had seemed at first like a light-hearted case of a pint too many.
But some instinct was telling him this could be something else.
Something not light-hearted at all.
People just don’t disappear.
He looked at Sarah — and she too was pensive.
“What do you think, Sarah?” he said.
She paused before answering. “I don’t really know, Jack. But something worries me.”
“Me too,” said Jack. Then he turned to Michael.
“Anyone still over at the village hall?” he said.
“Now? Hmm. Todd’s probably still there.”
“He got keys to the whole place?”
“He should have,” said Michael. “Why?”
Jack drained his pint and put the glass down on the counter.
“Well, here’s the thing. I know your Rotary pals are pretty keen to write this off as just another of Bill’s magic disappearances. And a very annoying one at that. But I just don’t buy it.”
“You have ideas, Jack?”
“Well — what if Bill took ill, hmm? Guy could have had a heart attack, stroke — anything.”
“Good Lord,” said Michael. “You’re right. They were all so busy sounding off about him — I don’t think anyone took another view.”
“Wait, so he could be somewhere in the hall, unwell …” said Sarah.
“You head over there right away,” said Michael. “I’ll round up some help. God I feel so stupid not having even considered this.”
“Better safe than sorry, Michael,” said Jack. “Come on, Sarah.”
And he headed to the door of the pub, hoping he was wrong.
Hoping that Santa wasn’t ill, or worse …
3. An Empty Room
Sarah watched Todd Robinson open the lighting panel and flick all the switches to “on”.
“Okay. That’s three floors and the cellars — all lit up,” he said.
He closed the door on the panel, wiped his hands on a rag and turned to them.
“I hope you’re wrong,” he said. “Bill’s a good bloke, and it’ll be our fault if we’ve left him lying somewhere.”
“Dad’s bringing more people over, Todd,” said Sarah. “Maybe we should start in the obvious places. Where was he last seen?”
“Caretaker’s storeroom,” said Todd. “That’s where he changed into his costume.”
“You show us the way?” said Jack.
“Sure,” said Todd.
And Sarah and Jack followed Todd across the main hall towards the staircase that led down to the ground floor.
*
The stairs ended in a hallway that opened to the village hall office and smaller meeting rooms — all spaces Sarah knew well. After a quick look around, Todd led them back to where Sarah knew there were storerooms, and a small kitchen used for local events. The hallway split and, looking right, she could see the kitchen area.
But Todd hurried to the left, where the hallway grew so narrow she guessed it could only lead to some kind of cupboard.
Todd stopped at an open door, and led them into what must be the caretaker’s storeroom.
For a few seconds Sarah and Jack stood there just taking it in.
Like all such places, Sarah imagined, the room was chock-a-block with all kinds of bits and pieces; the tools and equipment that kept the old building running.
Each year there was talk on the parish council about the need for a massive renovation of the whole hall. And each year the cost proved too daunting. This room looked like the proverbial firetrap.
“Tight space,” Jack said, pointing out the obvious, but with his height he probably felt the tight confines even more.
Todd nodded.
“If you ask me, I think it’s amazing this place can function at all. Sam — the caretaker — does his best. But with this cramped space …”
“No basement?” Jack asked.
“Not a full one. More of a crawl space, ancient really. Used to keep costumes and instruments down there, but after the flood about fifteen years ago …”
Sarah remembered that!
A storm like Cherringham had never experienced before. A massive hurricane threatening the mighty trees that — mostly — somehow resisted the fierce winds. The rain was continuous, the river actually breaking its banks and flooding way beyond the meadows.
And even this hall, up the hill in the village, caught in a torrent of water pouring off the high ground …
A mess.
“After that, everything was moved to the top floor. Some stuff was sent out to people’s homes. Just not enough storage.”
Then Sarah saw the line of three clothes hooks. One with Bill’s jeans, another with a flannel shirt, a sweater, and a jacket.
As if he’d planned to be straight back after his big appearance, get dressed — and normal life would resume.
But not tonight.
She walked over to the clothes.
And at her feet, Bill’s shoes.
Right, he’d still be wearing official shiny black Santa boots.
Seeing the clothes dangling, the shoes waiting, it did seem as though Bill Vokes had simply vanished.
She turned to Jack.
“We ought to check the pockets,” she said. She saw Jack nod, then he joined her and they patted down the hanging clothes.
“Wallet, some change,” said Sarah holding out what she’d found. “Set of keys. House keys, from the look of it.”
She turned to Jack.
“Pack of cigarettes,” he said, holding it out.
“Nothing else?” said Sarah. “No phone?”
She watched as he shook his head. Then he opened up the pack carefully.
“Brand new pack. Just one gone.”
Then he sniffed the pack.
“Ha,” said Todd. “Bill must be the last one, I reckon!”
Jack began looking around the room, and Sarah joined him, removing objects from a shelf, some dangling wires (probably old light fittings), then opening a creaky filing cabinet whose contents rattled, sounding like a home to nails, screws, and bolts.
Mops and brooms leaned into one corner, while an industrial vacuum cleaner sat near the door.
Seeing all this, imagining Bill getting ready, the Santa costume, the boots, the big white beard …
She had a question.
“Todd, is this a dead-end back here?”
He looked away as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“Um, I’m not sure, but I think there’s some kind of side door, for deliveries and so on. Out in the hallway.”
She looked at Jack. “Let’s take a look then,” he said.
*
The narrow hallway dog-legged one way, then the other, past a small cramped toilet, until it ended in two doors.
One, when Todd opened it, revealed a cupboard filled with supplies. Not a bit of vacant space there. But the other, with two grimy book-sized windows at the top, was clearly a way out.
And that door — open a crack.
Todd was about to pull it open, but Jack quickly reached out and touched his arm.
“Hang on a second, Todd.”
The electrician turned to Jack, his hand on the doorknob.
And Sarah already knew what Jack was about to point out.
“What?” Todd said.
Jack looked right at her, as if their minds were in sync, taking this in even without understanding what it meant.
“The door’s open.”
“That happens, I suppose,” Todd said. “Breeze. Getting pretty blowy out there.”
Right, thought Sarah. And someone leaves their street clothes and just disappears in a bright red Santa outfit?
That just “happens” too?
Sarah looked at Jack. “You think Bill went out here?”
A nod. “And maybe left the door ajar so he could get back in.”
Sarah looked at the open door, a bit of snow having blown in, melting on the old wooden floor.
“But look — the floor’s pretty dry” she said. “So he didn’t come back in.”
Cherringham--Secret Santa Page 2