Santa Claws

by Gabriela Harding

  Honey stared at him. A dark suspicion was growing inside her. At a loss for a plan, she had been hoping he would change his mind about Christmas. She’d secretly wished he’d use the time during their curfew to reflect on his behaviour, too. But now she could tell that she had hoped in vain. Guilt was written all over his face. She just knew. It was that sense Mum kept talking about, something boys didn’t have: the sixth sense. Something like smell and sight and hearing. It helped you see the truth even if it wasn’t obvious. You sometimes knew the words that would come out of someone’s mouth. Kind of magic, it was. But it was a curse, too. Like now. Like when you don’t want to know what’s going to come out of someone’s mouth, but you do anyway.

  Before she could answer, her stomach rumbled. Dad took that as a yes.

  “We’ll go as soon as you’re ready.”

  She listened to his steps dying away on the stairs.

  It was the 23rd of December and they still didn’t have a tree. The streets, where that first, soft snow had turned to slush, swarmed with people carrying shopping bags, big smiles stretched across their faces. The sky was clear and the frost bitter. It was much colder than anyone expected, colder than a typical English winter. Standing at the bus stop, Honey blew into her hands to warm them up.

  “You’re not wearing your gloves,” Dad remarked, looking at her chapped fingers. “And it’s freezing!”

  Honey shrugged. “I only have those from last year. You know, the brown ones. They’re too small now.”

  Teddy wasn’t wearing his gloves, either.

  “And you?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Teddy slipped his hands in his pockets and hung his head. “I don’t know. I think I left them somewhere.”

  Dad stared long into the distance. Suddenly, tears glistened in his eyes. Was getting the children new gloves going to diminish his guilt? Will it make any difference, now?

  “Dad, why are you crying?” Honey queried.

  He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m not crying, it’s just…the wind, it’s so sharp, it brings tears to my eyes. I’ll get you both new gloves today. Make sure you try them on first, see if they fit. Or else, you have to stop growing.”

  He winked at Honey and, before she could stop herself, she winked back.

  An hour later, they took their seats in the dining area of the Swan and Duckling. The children wore new, fluffy gloves. Their faces beamed. Honey held a couple of books under her arm and Teddy had a large box of chocolates tied with a red ribbon next to him. Dad was in a generous mood.

  They ordered fish and chips. Dad had a glass of wine and the youngsters shared a jug of fresh apple juice. He waited until the desserts – chocolate cake for Teddy, pancakes for him and Honey– were served and finished, to reveal the true reason for the outing.

  “Honey, Teddy, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” he began. “This may come as a surprise, and it may shock you, which is why I kept it to myself for so long.”

  “You killed Mum with the black umbrella,” Honey said. Dad’s unflinching, stern face stared back at her. “No, wait…Mum flew away like Mary Poppins…your umbrella carried her to the kingdom of men who treat their wives well…or shall I say, girlfriends?”

  Teddy said nothing.

  “That was a joke,” Honey snapped.

  “I didn’t say anything,” said Dad.

  “You were going to. You were thinking it. Where is it, by the way?”

  “Where is what?” he answered as casually as he could.

  “Oh, you know what. The umbrella. Your favourite? It was always in the hall. Always. And now it’s gone.”

  “Oh, that…You talk as if it’s some kind of weapon.” He sipped his wine, avoiding Honey’s eye.

  “And is it?” She narrowed her eyes. “You know where Mum is, don’t you?”

  Dad sighed. “Honey, your mother is…”

  “In heaven?” Teddy said.

  “This was supposed to be a fun day,” Dad groaned. “I brought you here to tell you that Miss White and I are in love.” He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead with a mustard-stained napkin. “Do you remember the times when I sent you to bed early and asked you not to disturb me because I had a headache? Well, I am sorry to say, that was a lie. I did it so I could sneak out of the house as soon as you were asleep. Miss White waited for me outside, and we drove off together. We went to parks. We went to restaurants. We went to dances. We went everywhere…”

  Honey’s mouth hung open.

  “Dances?” was all she could manage to say.

  “I mean, dance salons. Places where they teach you how to dance. You know, samba, cha-cha…”

  “In the middle of the night?!”

  An image of Dad dancing with the spidery arms of Anaconda wrapped around him flashed in her mind. She felt sick.

  “Did you climb out of your bedroom window on a rope of sheets?”

  Dad smiled. “No, son. I went right out the front door. I’m an adult, remember?”

  Teddy blinked.

  “He means, he’s earned the right to break the rules,” his sister muttered. “There’s nothing we can do about it. We can’t send him to his room without supper.” Then, louder: “That’s neglect, Dad!”

  Teddy choked on a chocolate he was sneaking into his mouth from under the table.

  “How was your dessert?” A waitress cleared their plates with a smile that seemed to be glued to her face.

  “Good, thank you. Children, would you like anything else? Ice cream? Blackberry crumble? Another drink? Hot chocolate? Pepsi? Aha, here it is, that delicious triple-whammy knickerbocker glory sprinkled with Jelly Tots and Smarties and served with five Flakes stuck on top and a side bowl of wafers and chocolate sprinkles, we can get one each,” Dad blurted out, the top of his head barely visible above the black covers of the menu.

  The children hesitated. Was there going to be bad news for every pleasure they experienced today?

  “On second thoughts, we’re all stuffed,” said Dad, explaining the children’s silence to the waiting waitress. “I’ll have a glass of water, please. And the bill.”

  “Certainly, sir.” She turned on her heel and disappeared behind the bar.

  “There’s more,” Honey murmured. She didn’t know if she was talking to Teddy or herself.

  “There’s more,” said Dad, smiling as the waitress handed him a glass of water on the rocks. “I’ve never been on holiday over Christmas, and I thought I’d like to. So I booked a hotel in a small resort on the Isle of Wight for five days.”

  “The Isle of Wight?” Teddy scratched his fringe with a chocolate-smeared finger. Honey buried her face in her hands. Was there something - anything- she could do to spoil his mood? Maybe if she stopped him talking about it, she could stop him going ahead with it, too.

  “The Isle of Wight,” said Dad, “is an island. A beautiful island, and it’s also where I’m spending Christmas this year. Normally, you children would be welcome to join me. Now, however, I have a very special reason why I’d like you to stay at home. You’re going to act as Cupidos. You’re to keep your fingers very crossed and pray very hard that Anaconda – Miss White – will accept becoming my wife. That’s right. I’m going to do things right this time. If all goes well, it won’t be long until your new brothers and sisters will be running around the house.”

  “Do things right?” Honey wished her voice didn’t tremble so hard. “Really? How about Mum? Why didn’t you do things right for her?”

  “I would have. If she hadn’t…Listen, Honey, we have to move on with our lives.”

  “So you’re going to marry Cobra, then? Just like that?”

  “Honey, please don’t make a scene. Honey…”

  Dad looked around in embarrassment.

&n
bsp; Honey banged her fist on the table and sprang to her feet. “I’m leaving,” she announced, picking up her coat. “I hate you and don’t have to sit here listening to your lies. You’re always lying. You’re a bad father, a bad teacher and you wouldn’t make a good husband, either. You can’t cook and you’re messy. And…”

  “If you don’t sit down this instant, I’ll make sure you are grounded for a month. No Christmas presents, no TV and no sweets. Is that clear?”

  Honey sat back down. Tears stung her eyes. The waitress came over with a dark leather book which she placed discreetly on the table.

  “I’ve asked Grandma Florence to stay over while I’m away, and she’s looking forward to seeing you,” said Dad, paying the bill. “Be patient with her. Show her where everything is around the house, and make sure she stays away from the drinks cabinet. I would lock it but I lost the key. You two could be her shadows.”

  Yeah, right. Look after weird Grandma while she pretends to be looking after you. What an honour, really. Cupidos, shadows, hagsitters, what else?

  “Mum might have a spare key in the cellar…” Teddy trailed off.

  It seemed like a thousand years ago, Honey thought, hearing the buzz of Mum’s improvised locksmith studio from the cellar. She made spare keys – polished them again and again, until they were perfect.

  “Dad,” she said through her teeth, “Grandma doesn’t speak English! How can she look after us if she doesn’t understand what we’re saying?!”

  “Honey, you know that’s an exaggeration. Grandma’s English is almost as good as mine. Everything will be ok.”

  “You were at a boarding school in England from the age of ten,” Honey reminded him.

  “Your mother’s English was not perfect either,” retorted Dad, “and you got on with her.” He sighed.

  Honey opened her mouth to reply when something amazing drew her attention to the window. On the glass shone a golden semicircle of words, GNILKCUD DNA NAWS, which was Swan and Duckling in reverse. But that’s not what Honey stared at. Her eyes were drawn by the dancing snowflakes, star-shaped, nut-sized snowflakes falling from the sky. People walking dogs or black piglets, children holding cages with parakeets and cat carriers, pizza delivery men on motorbikes, waiters standing in doorways, police women on short-tailed, groomed horses, stretched their hands to the ice crystals that settled in their palms like tame birds. The snow was rapidly dressing the ugly pavements in an elegant sparkling coat. The trees were beginning to look like gentlemen of another era, wearing white wigs on top of their heads. Diners stood up and went over to the windows, watching the spectacle through the vapours of mulled wine. Someone opened the door and a smell of winter crept into the cinnamon-flavoured air.

  Teddy licked his lips. He had managed to finish the box of chocolates. He belched guiltily as he pushed the glittery wrappings under the sofa with his new boots.

  5. Good-Bye, Dad

  To their surprise, they found Grandma Florence at home. She’d let herself in with the key hidden under the doormat and was snoozing in the rocking chair, in front of the TV. A thick blanket was draped around her legs and she was holding a cup of steaming coffee with gloved hands. Next to her, still half-wrapped in a flowery shawl, and plugged into the nearest socket, was her famous coffee machine, a gadget she never left behind at her mansion in Côte d’Azur. It was a lucky charm. She couldn’t wear it around her neck or her wrist, but she carried it around nonetheless.

  “Bonjour, mes enfants!” she twittered, leaping to her feet. A fancy satin band kept her plum-coloured curls in place and she had, as always, smudged red lipstick onto her withered lips.

  “Well, hello there, Flo! How lovely to see you!” said Dad, putting down the bundled-up Christmas tree and the decorations they’d bought. The tree lay on the floor like a captured animal, tightly tied with string, looking like it was striving to untie the knots around it and wriggle free. “I thought you were coming tomorrow!”

  “Oh, you know me, Gregory! I’m a fast driver. I can’t help it.”

  “Yes, and one of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.” Dad kissed her cheek.

  “Your father sends his love. He would have loved to come but the garden iz in a state, what with thoze boisterous winter cucumbers…ah, anyways! Oh lá lá, the house looks…dirty!” Grandma said in one breath, looking up to one corner of the room, where a great cobweb with an assortment of insects in it hung just above the curtain. Honey smiled. The whole house was full of cobwebs, but she didn’t mind them so much. They looked cool. Gothic.

  “I’m sorry to keep you two apart at Christmas,” said Dad a little guiltily.

  “Ah non! Flaubert and moi, we don’t care much about Christmas! You know us! Christmas-Mishmas! Come here, mes enfants!” Grandma Florence pulled the children into her arms. Squeezed in a tight embrace, Grandma’s hands clamped on their ears, they both grimaced at the violent whiff of lavender drifting from her underarms. Why do old people always smell of lavender? Honey wondered, struggling to untangle herself from the suffocating hug.

  Her voice, too, was loud and horrible. What did it remind her of? A lawnmower, maybe? Yes, that was it.

  “I’ve missed you, mes enfants!”

  True to her annoying tradition, she planted a wet kiss on each one of their eyes. Grandma’s lips tugged so hard at her closed eyelid that Honey thought the old woman was going to suck her eyeball out. “Ow! Ouch!” she moaned.

  Grandma bared her yellow teeth in a wolfish smile. Her body tensed, and she let go of Honey so suddenly that the girl lost her balance and went tumbling into a wall.

  “Woo!” Grandma exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. “If you will excuse me for a minute, I’ll just…”

  “Pop to the loo?” Teddy whispered, making Honey giggle.

  “Pop to the loo!” With a whiff of bad breath and naphthalene, she was gone.

  Dad crossed his arms on his chest.

  “Now, Teddy, a medical condition is not something to make fun of. Grandma suffers from recurrent cystitis from an accident she had when she was young. You know that.”

  “A nationality isn’t something to laugh at, either, and Grandma always made fun of Mum because she wasn’t from here.” Honey winced at the word wasn’t. It sounded so…definite.

  “Young lady, I’m warning you, you are going to be nice to my mother or…”

  “Or what?” snapped Honey. “Put me on your knee and spank me? I’ll call the NSPCC.”

  “The what?” asked Teddy.

  “Social Services, you dork.”

  “Now…”

  The phone rang. Dad picked it up.

  “No, we don’t take cake orders anymore, yes, the business has closed down, no, it wasn’t because of illegal workers…”

  “I’m back,” Grandma’s voice chirruped just as Dad slammed down the phone.

  Grandma Florence was extremely agile for a woman her age. She seemed to be sliding on the waxed wooden floor, hurrying to unlock the trunk she’d brought with her – a monstrous object that Honey thought was more suited for a nineteenth century spinster than a modern grandmother. Well, Grandma looked ancient, and she looked silly, too, as she rummaged through the mess of stockings, underpants and scarves spilling out of her trunk.

  “There. For you, and for you,” she chirped, handing them a couple of parcels. Her mouth curled into a smile.

  For once the children were not curious about the gifts they held in their hands. Honey forced herself to smile, wondering what sort of useless object to expect this time.

  A book on chess strategies?

  A second hand DVD for under fives?

  Expired chocolates?

  Unscented soap?

  Surely, it couldn’t be skipping ropes and marbles three years in a row…could it?

  “Open your gifts, chil
dren.” Dad sat down beside them.

  Honey untied the string and ripped the wrapping paper with a sour expression on her face. Even the paper was bland, brown and coarse, the sort of paper the butcher would use to wrap a chunk of blood-soaked meat before handing it to you. Giving her brother a meaningful look, she picked up the object inside. It was a book. A mouldy, battered book.

  “Gee, Grandma…thanks.”

  “Do you love it?” Grandma asked, snatching the book from her hands and flicking through it. A dead moth fell from the yellowed pages. The only thing Honey loved about it was the smell of old. It was as if the book smelled of all the people who read it.

  “I love it. I already know I do, because I read this when I was eight.” She shot a sheepish glance at Dad, who was watching her with narrowed eyes.

  “Vraiment? Really? The Wizard of Oz? The long version, oui?”

  “Yep.” She coughed a little uncomfortably. “You gave this to me before.”

  Grandma blushed.

  “Ah, oui? Mais perhaps non this special edition. I picked up this at…”

  “Teddy, why don’t you open your present now? And then you kids can go upstairs to sort out the new things I got you, while Flo and I play a game of chess – there’s a new strategy I want to try…”

  “Not now, dear,” sighed Grandma. “I am awfully fatigue…tired. And my bladder’s been playing up. In fact, I just need to pop to the…If you excuse me…”

  Grandma Florence tiptoed to the bathroom, and as soon as she closed the door she began speaking to herself.

  “Why is she always mumbling when she’s on the loo?” Teddy asked.

  “Maybe she’s telling her bladder off,” Honey laughed. Dad had gone to the kitchen to make a cuppa. They could hear the hiss of the kettle and the tinkling of a teaspoon. “For making her pop to the loo so often. Has Mum ever told you what you first said to her? You pointed at her in the middle of a Christmas party and said: Grandma wee wee! How funny! Everyone just died laughing!”