by
It had been at least thirty years since Jim Saunders had last worn the outfit. Well, it wasn’t exactly the same outfit, obviously, because he’d mislaid the original years ago. But this one was a faithful replica, and as he thought about how he would look in it, a slow smile spread across his features. He stared at himself in the mirror, and remembered.
The last time, two girls had been involved. They had been so trusting, innocent really. And he had experienced not one shred of remorse afterwards. In fact he had bragged about it to his brother, George.
“They had no idea what I was going to do,” he told him. “If I do say so myself, I fooled them completely.”
“Come on now,” said George, draining his second bottle of beer. “You’re not telling me that they didn’t even suspect?”
“Swear to God, not a clue,” Jim said.
“Thing is you won’t be able to keep fooling them,” George continued, reaching for another handful of peanuts.
“Sure I will.” Hesitation was apparent in Jim’s voice.
And of course, George had been right. The next time Jim had tried to hoodwink the girls, the older one, Annette, sophisticated beyond her years, looked him straight in the eye as he lifted her onto his lap.
“You’re not really Santa, are you?” she asked, with an accusatory stare. “You’re my daddy.”
Thirty years later, Jim was ready to try again. Actually, it was his wife Jean who had encouraged him. He had been feeling grouchy, as he always did with the approach of Christmas. The tree they had ordered was too big for the stand they had used for years. The only string of Christmas lights that was working was the one he hated, the multicolored one that blinked on and off all the time. He hadn’t been able to find any icicles to hang on the tree.
“I’ve had it with this tree. Christmas shouldn’t be so complicated. I don’t know why I bother,” Jim groused as he carried the box of ornaments into the living room from the attic. Jean gave him a shrewd glance.
“You know,” she remarked, “I think one of the reasons you don’t really enjoy Christmas is that you keep hoping it will be the same as it used to be when the girls were little.”
“Nonsense,” he snapped, and headed into the kitchen for something to drink.
Returning into the living room, where Jean was now hanging ornaments on the tree, he handed her a glass of Cabernet and sank heavily into the leather recliner by the fire. He balanced his glass on the arm of the chair.
“It’s always some psychological thing with you, Jean,” he said. “I enjoy Christmas, of course I do. By the way, that silver ornament needs to go higher up. It looks wrong there.”
Jean persevered.
“Well, this Christmas should really be fun – We have the girls coming over. So Annette and Nick will be coming with the children. And Heather with her fiancé.”
Jim tried to enthuse.
“Sure, it’ll be great. I’m looking forward to it, honestly.”
Jean let the subject drop.
A few days later, walking down the High Street, Jean’s eye was caught by a brightly coloured window display in one of the local stores. Santa Suits – one size fits all, she read. Heading into the shop, she took a box from the stack near the door. The contents promised to include a jacket, trousers, belt, hat, beard and even some kind of fake boots that would fit over the wearer’s own shoes. She opened the box and took out the scarlet pants, lifting them up to see how much room there would be in the waist. After considering the pants for a few moments, Jean decided she would take a chance that they’d fit. After all, if Jim didn’t like the suit, she could always bring it back for a refund.
Early on Christmas morning, Jim crept off to the kitchen to make Jean a cup of cocoa, while she pretended she was still asleep. He had been bringing her a cup of cocoa in bed every Christmas Day for years. While he was banging about in the kitchen, she took out the suit and laid it on the bed. When he came back into the room, he stared at it, speechless. Putting down the cup of cocoa, he sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over the jacket. Then he picked up the Santa hat and tried it on.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” he chuckled, giving Jean a distinctly un-Santa-like kiss.
Annette and her husband Nick arrived around three o’clock, towing Natalie, aged three, and the baby.
“Grandpa,” Natalie shouted the minute she was inside the house, “Pick me up! Make me swing around!”
Jim laughed and bent down to help Natalie take off her coat.
“Okay, here we go,” He swung Natalie around, then gave her a hug before returning her to the floor.
“Hey, Grandpa, what are we going to do now?” Jim shot Jean an enquiring look as Natalie hugged him around the knees. Jean indicated the tree surrounded by presents, with a sideways nod of her head.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Jim extricated himself. “Let’s look over here, shall we?”
Hand in hand, they walked over to the tree.
Shortly after, Heather and her fiancé arrived. Jean served hors d’oeuvres and drinks, while Jim and Natalie handed round gifts from under the tree. Soon Natalie was happily playing with a new doll.
Jim drew Jean aside.
“I think now’s the time,” he said. “I’m going to get changed in the downstairs bathroom, so don’t let anyone come in. By the way, do you have a cushion I could use for padding?”
“Are you sure you’ll need…” she paused. “Here you are, darling.” She grabbed the smallest cushion she could see. “Sure you can manage?”
“Piece of cake. See you at the front door in about five minutes.”
Jean returned to the living room, and passed round a tray of canapés. Every so often, she would look towards the front door, but no-one appeared. Smiling brightly at her daughters, she excused herself and hurried towards the bathroom.
A series of muffled curses greeted her as she neared the door. She knocked on it. Sudden silence, then Jim hissed:
“Jean, is that you?”
“Yes. What’s the hold-up?”
“Goddamn suit! I don’t know why they design them like this. They used to be much better. This is some foreign rubbish, I bet.” Jim sounded a bit breathless.
“Shh, they’ll hear you,” Jean was speaking in a stage whisper. “Do you want a hand?”
“Come in for God’s sake. Look at this. I can’t put these stupid boot things on.”
Jean opened the door, took one look at Jim and stifled a laugh. He was trying in vain to bend over.
“I think perhaps you’re meant to put them on before you put the cushion under your jacket,” she offered. “Why don’t you sit on the toilet lid and I’ll help you with them.”
The curly white beard which covered the lower two thirds of Jim’s face was thankfully stifling some of his further comments. Glaring at her balefully, he did as he was told, while Jean sorted out his footwear.
“There, I think that should do it,” she said, straightening up. “Sure you can cope now?”
Jim stood up and looked at himself in the mirror over the washbasin. He tugged at the beard, which had slipped around under one ear. Finally, more or less satisfied with his appearance, he gave Jean a ticklish kiss on the cheek.
“This used to be so much easier, didn’t it?” he grumbled, as he sneaked out of the back door.
In the living room, the grandchildren were getting fractious as the afternoon wore on. As she walked back in, Jean winked at Annette whose apprehensive look was quickly replaced by a smile of relief.
A bold knocking came at the door.
“I wonder who could be calling on us today?” said Jean. She looked at Heather. “You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?”
Heather shook her head, and pulled her camera out of her handbag.
“Hey, Natalie, did you invite someone over without telling us?”
“No, Grandma, really.” Natalie was looking a bit anxious.
“We’d better see who it is then. Come on.” Jean walked over to the front door, followed by Natalie and Annette, who was holding her hand.
As the door opened, a large red object with a top covered in white curls suddenly burst into life.
“Ho, Ho, Ho,” it roared. “It’s me. Santa Claus,” Santa added helpfully.
Natalie stared at him, delighted and then appalled. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and ducked behind her mother’s skirt. Annette bent down, laughing.
“Don’t be scared, sweetie. It’s only Santa Claus. Do come in, Santa,” she added.
Santa Claus was over the threshold and dropping a sack on the floor before Natalie could quite believe it.
“What’s your name, little girl?” he asked.
“I’m Natalie.” She looked for confirmation to her mother.
“Delighted to meet you. I think I was at your house last night, wasn’t I?”
“Oh yes! You brought me a My Pony set and lots of other stuff.” Now Natalie was beginning to enjoy herself. “But why are you here?”
“Come and sit down with me and I‘ll tell you.” Santa sat in Grandpa’s favorite chair, and pulled Natalie onto his lap. “The reindeer and I were on our way home to the North Pole, and Rudolph stared to complain that he was hungry. So I was wondering whether you might by any chance have a carrot or two I could give him?”
Natalie looked hopefully at Jean.
“Do we Grandma?”
“I’m sure I can find some.” So much for the roasted carrots she had been planning to serve with the turkey.
Jean returned a few minutes later, to see Santa reaching into his sack.
“Since you are being so kind as to give me some carrots for Rudolph, maybe I can find a little something in here for you, young lady.”
He pulled out a package and handed it to Natalie.
“And here’s something for your little brother, too.” Natalie wasn’t interested. She was busy tearing off the wrapping, to reveal a pink tutu with matching tights.
“A ballet dress,” she breathed, clutching it to her chest. “Thank you, Santa.”
“Well,” said Santa, sounding regretful, “This has been very nice, but I’m afraid I must get going. Mrs. Claus will be wondering where I am.”
He stood up.
“May I have a hug, young Natalie?” he asked, scooping her up.
Natalie obliged, wrinkling her nose a bit as she landed among the white curls of Santa’s beard.
Santa put her down, and turned to wave, before the door closed behind him.
“I wonder where Rudolph and the other reindeer are?” asked Natalie.
“Oh, I expect they’re out there in the woods, looking for something else to eat,” said Jean.
“Can I see?”
“Of course. Stand up here on this chair. I’ll hold you.”
Natalie frowned in concentration as she peered through the glass. It was twilight now, and there were shadows among the trees.
“I think….I think I see them, Grandmama.” Natalie pointed into the sky.
“I do believe you’re right, darling,” said Jean, kissing the top of her granddaughter’s head.
“Grandpa, can you see them?” Jim, looking flushed with exertion, was striding back into the room.
“See what, sweetheart?”
“Santa’s sleigh and the reindeer.”
“Darn. You don’t mean to say I missed them? Just my luck. Come here and tell me all about it.”
“Well, Rudolph was feeling hungry…”
THE END
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