CHAPTER 7
As I’m finishing my chocolate milk and watching the CCTV screen of a woman who’s dropped a coin and is running to catch up with it as it rolls away, one of Dad’s co-workers comes in.
“Santa’s arriving at the north east door,” he says to Dad. “Neil’s gone to make sure he gets the keys.”
They have a Santa every year at the mall. He sets up his grotto underneath the Christmas tree in the centre of the mall. It’s a big open space, in the summer it’s filled with tables for people to sit and eat from the café nearby or the ice cream vendor who has a stand there all summer. In autumn the ice cream stall turns into a little fairground stall, selling hot nuts and candyfloss and toffee apples, and in the winter it’s replaced by a huge Christmas tree and Santa’s grotto. Santa always arrives on the first of December and leaves by the twenty-fifth. The Christmas tree has been there for a couple of weeks already. It’s decorated but not lit yet. It won’t be lit until the Light Up on Friday night, but it’s real and the smell of pine needles fills the air when you walk past it, and every time I see it, I get more excited for Christmas and for getting my family back together. If anything can help me, it’s the magic of Christmas.
Yes, I do know that the man in the Santa suit isn’t really Santa. And yes, I do know that Santa is nothing more than a fairytale. But A) Pippa still believes in Santa, so I’m not allowed to let her know that he isn’t real or that I don’t believe in him, and B) it’s all a bit of fun, isn’t it? Santa is all about the magic of Christmas, and I do believe that Christmas is a truly magical time, and just because you know something isn’t real doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it and appreciate it for the Christmas cheer it spreads, does it?
Our mall Santa is a grandpa dressed in a red suit who sits in a mobile shed decorated with tinsel and asks children what they want for Christmas and takes a picture with a smile and a ‘Ho Ho Ho’, and both the children and the parents go away smiling. There’s no harm in it. Pippa loves coming to visit him. Because Dad works here, Pippa always gets her pictures with Santa for free. We must have a hundred pictures of her sitting on a Santa’s lap over the years. The Santa isn’t always the same person every year. They used to have a man who worked here every year without fail. Dad says he was a real part of the mall family, but he retired when I was four-years-old, and since then they’ve struggled to replace him. It’s a different Santa every year now. I don’t know why it’s so hard to find a Santa. Dad says they have to fit in, and if they don’t then it just doesn’t work. Personally there’s never been a Santa I haven’t liked. They’re always jolly old men, and obviously they have to be friendly and good with kids so they’re all okay in my book. It’s pretty much in the job description that they have to be round and jolly. No point in having a standoffish Santa.
When I was little and still believed in Santa, I always asked Dad if the guy in the mall was really him because there was a Santa in every mall around the country and how were we to know which was the real one. Dad used to tell me that it wasn’t really Santa Claus, but it was one of his elves come to spread Christmas cheer on his behalf. Even though I’m old enough to know better now, I still find it nice to believe that anyone who helps to spread joy and cheer at Christmas time is one of Santa’s elves.
Dad spins in his chair and leans up to plop his hat onto my head. “Go and have a wander around,” he says. “Tell me if you spot anything untoward.”
I wander out casually, secretly glad to be out of the confined space for a minute to breathe. The onslaught of happy memories is too much for a moment, and I can’t believe that the little girl asking her dad about Santa Claus and laughing with Mum as we watched the Christmas lights twinkle has become me. Spending time with my dad while he’s trying to work because I don’t see enough of him anymore and I’m not allowed home because Mum’s new boyfriend might be there. How did things ever get this bad?
All the more reason for me to find a way to fix it, and fast.
There’s still half an hour before Dad’s shift ends, so I don’t walk too fast. I don’t really have anything to do, so I just walk past all the shops and admire their Christmas display windows full of toys and gifts. I realise that I haven’t even considered what I want for Christmas this year. I want my family back together. Toys and presents don’t seem important if Dad isn’t there on Christmas morning to watch us open them. Oh god, and what if Seth is? What if Seth is there on Christmas morning, watching Pippa and I tear our gifts open like Dad always does? Again I’m struck by how much Seth doesn’t belong with us and I don’t want him in our house at Christmas. Not that I want him in our house at all, but absolutely not at Christmas.
I wander down towards the north east entrance, only remembering that Santa is coming in this way when I almost walk into two men carrying a shed covered in glitter. I step back out of the way and watch for a moment as the men struggle past me with their shed, obviously heading towards the main part of the mall. They’re followed by another man who is carrying a giant candy cane. Wow, this year’s Santa is really going all out. Usually it’s a few planks of wood nailed together with tinsel wrapped around it, nothing so fancy as this. Another man passes me carrying a plastic reindeer and I step back into the shadow of a doorway to watch for a moment. The sight and smell of Christmas things always cheers me up. The smell is something else I notice straight away. This year’s Santa’s equipment actually smells like Christmas. The pepperminty smell of candy canes wafts past me, and I realise the giant fake candy cane one of the men was carrying actually smells like the real thing. It’s kind of cool. I can’t wait for Pippa to see all this. She’s going to love it.
I catch a glimpse of Santa himself through the doors, he looks very typical—an overweight old man in a red suit. I think it’s funny that he’s wearing the red suit even though he’s not working today, he’s just here to set up before he officially starts work tomorrow. Even then he probably won’t get many visitors until the weekend as kids are in school all day and not many parents bring their children to the mall on a weeknight. I guess he’s dedicated to the job though because even in the middle of a cold December that suit looks like it would be hot to wear.
The man who was carrying the candy cane comes back out, but he doesn’t seem to notice me watching.
Santa himself bustles in just then. He’s carrying a sack full of presents. Of course he is. I can’t help but smile at the sight. Not that I’ve watched a Santa set up his grotto before, but this one seems pretty into the role. I wonder if he’s a method actor just doing the Santa gig for extra holiday pay.
The funny thing is that when Santa gets to the doorway where I’m standing, even though none of the other men unloading his gear have noticed me, he does. Santa stops and turns my way. He smiles and lifts his hand in greeting.
“Hi there.”
“Hello,” I say, stepping forward. I don’t want him to think I was spying on him.
“Don’t tell me you’re my new bodyguard,” he says with a wink, nodding to the hat on my head. “You look a little young to be working for security.”
I can’t help but smile. Something about him puts me at ease instantly. “It’s my dad’s,” I say. “He’s the head of security here. You’ll meet him soon.”
“Oh yes, it’s Andrew isn’t it? I know all about him.”
I nod. I have no idea how he knew that but, well, I guess he’s been in for a job interview and probably met my dad then. Although why he would’ve met Dad for an interview is beyond me, that’s not Dad’s job at all.
“And you are?”
“Kaity,” I say.
“Ah, yes. And would that be spelt K-A-I-T-Y?”
“Wow,” I say, taken aback. “I have no idea how you knew that.”
“Your dad must have told me.” Santa winks at me again. “I’m Santa,” he takes a step forward and holds his hand out. I shake it.
“You’re really committed to the role,” I say. “Seriously, don’t you have a real name
? It seems weird to call you Santa all the time.”
Santa smiles like he knows something that I don’t. “I prefer Santa,” he says. “It won’t do for any child to accidentally overhear me being called something other than Santa. Children will never believe in me if the adults go around calling me something different. Kids are smarter than you think, you know.”
“Oh, tell me about it,” I say. “I have a five-year-old sister who loves all things Christmas and Santa. No doubt you’ll meet her soon enough. She’ll be posing for a million pictures with you. It’s what she does... And I have no idea why I thought you’d want to know that. Sorry.”
“Kaity, don’t ever apologise for being who you are, you’re a very special girl and—”
There’s a crash and the sound of Christmas ornaments smashing from up ahead, followed by a cry of “Oh jingle balls!” from an exasperated-sounding man.
“Oh dear, that sounds like one of my elves. Please do excuse me, Kaity, I had better go and help. I’ll see you around though, won’t I?”
“Yep, I’m here after school every day for a while,” I say. “See you soon. And good luck with that... whatever it was that broke.”
Santa waves as he walks away laughing, a jolly ‘ho ho ho’ laugh that he must’ve spent months perfecting. I can’t help giggling at the idea that one of those huge, muscled men who were carrying things could ever be an elf.
Somehow a feeling of calm has come over me and I don’t feel as bad as I did earlier. I guess even at the worst of times, Christmas still makes me feel better.
I glance through the doors as I walk away and see all Santa’s gear in a heap in the staff car park outside. How strange that he’s not unloading from a vehicle. It would have made much more sense to drive up to the door and unload from a van or something. That stuff doesn’t exactly look light or easy to carry. I shrug as I walk past. It’s not important, just an observation.