Jake was only 8 when it happened. So he'd raced to the top of his road to his nans house to get some answers. His big sister had just dropped a bombshell: "There is no Father Christmas!" she'd jeered, "Only babies believe in Father Christmas!"
Jake's nan wasn't the gushy kind, she never had been, but after telling his mum where he was going, Jake ran straight to her house at the top of their road that day because he knew she would be straight with him. He knew nan always told the truth, and knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her famous mince pies.
Thankfully she was home, and a fresh batch of mince pies had just come out the oven. Between tentative bites and blowing, he told her what his sister had just said.
"No Father Christmas!" she snorted. "That's ridiculous! Don't believe a word of it. That silly rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, go and put your coat back on, and let's go!"
"Go? Where are we going nan?" Jake asked. He hadn't even finished his second mince pie!
Where, turned out to be 'Davidsons' a local family run shop. Davidsons had been in the town for as long as anyone could remember and sold a little bit of just about everything you can think of. They walked through its doors, and Jake beamed at all the Christmas decorations that festooned the little shop and the big tree in the window that had a toy train running round it's base. Jake's nan then handed him £15.
"Take this money," she said, "and go and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned round and walked out of the shop.
He was only eight years old, and always went shopping with his mum, but he'd never shopped for anything all by himself. Suddenly the shop felt very big and the shelves stacked with all kinds of tempting things almost seemed to loom over him. For a few moments Jake just stood there, confused, clutching the money, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. He thought of everybody he knew: his family, his friends, his neighbors, his friends at school, even his teachers.
He was just about thought out, when suddenly one thought struck him. Shane Decker. He was the kid at school with the bad breath, funny clothes and messy hair – 'The smelly kid', and he sat right behind Jake in Mrs. Pollock's class. Shane Decker never wore a coat, even when it was freezing. Jake knew that because Shane never went out for break during the winter. His mum always wrote him a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough; but all the kids knew that Shane Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat.
Jake looked at the money gripped in his hand with growing excitement. He would buy Shane Decker a coat. He settled on a red corduroy one with a furry lining and a hood. It looked really warm, and he knew it would be the coat that he would of chosen for himself. He didn't see a price tag, but £15 ought to buy anything surely! So Jake put the coat and the £15 on the counter and pushed them toward the lady behind it.
Mrs Davidson looked at the coat, looked at the money, and then looked at Jake. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" she asked kindly.
"Yes," Jake shyly replied. "It's ... for Shane Decker. He's in my class, and he doesn't have a coat."
Mrs Davison smiled at Jake and took the money and put it in the till. Jake didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished him a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Jake's nan helped him wrap the coat in Christmas paper with ribbons and bows, and beautiful glittery name tag. "Okay Jakey you've got to write 'To Shane, From Father Christmas' on it” His nan told him that Father Christmas always insisted on secrecy when it came to giving presents.
As they drove over to Shane Decker's house, his nan explained to Jake that he was now and forever officially one of Father Christmas' helpers. She parked down the road from Shane's house, and she and Jake crept noiselessly and hid behind the bushes by his front path.
Suddenly, Jake's nan gave him a nudge. "All right, Father Christmas," she whispered, "get going!"
Jake took a deep breath, dashed for the front door, threw the present down on the step, pounded the doorbell twice and flew back to the safety of the bushes and his nan. Together they waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Shane. He looked down, and was shocked to find the beautifully wrapped present sitting on his door step. He looked around, quickly picked up his present, took it inside and closed the door.
Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments Jake spent shivering, beside my nan, in Shane Decker's bushes. That night, Jake realized that those awful rumours about Father Christmas were just what his nan had said they were: Ridiculous!
Father Christmas is alive and well ... AND WE WERE ALL ON HIS TEAM!
No comments:
Post a Comment