The Jacqueline Wilson Christmas Cracker Read online

  ‘Ssh! It’s only six o’clock. But he’s been, he’s left us presents.’

  ‘Has he left any presents for me?’ said Maxie.

  ‘No, none whatsoever,’ said Vita, jumping down the bed and pouncing on the presents. ‘Yay! For dear Vita, love from Santa. And here we are again – To darling Vita, even more love from Santa. And there’s this one too, To my special sweetheart Vita, lots and lots and lots of love from Santa. Nothing for you two at all.’

  Maxie started sobbing again.

  ‘She’s just teasing, Maxie. Don’t let her wind you up. Shut up, Vita. Be nice, it’s Christmas. Leave the presents alone. We open them in Mum and Dad’s bed, you know we do.’

  ‘Let’s go to their room now!’ said Vita, scrabbling at the bottom of the bed, scooping up all three parcels and clutching them to her chest.

  ‘No, no, it’s not time yet. Mum will be cross,’ I said, unpeeling Maxie and jumping up to restrain Vita.

  ‘My daddy won’t be cross with me,’ said Vita. I always hated it when she said my daddy. It was a mean Vita trick to remind me that he wasn’t really my dad.

  He always said he loved me just as much as Vita and Maxie. I hoped hoped hoped it was true, because I loved him more than anyone else in the whole world, even a tiny bit more than Mum. More than Vita and Maxie. Much more than Gran.

  ‘We’d better wait until seven, Vita,’ I said.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Half past six then. Mum and Dad were out till late last night, they’ll be tired.’

  ‘They won’t be tired, it’s Christmas! Stop being so boring, Em. You just want to boss me about all the time.’

  It’s almost impossible to boss Vita even though she’s years younger than me and literally half my size. She’s the one who’s done the bossing, ever since she could sit up in her buggy and shriek. It is a royal pain having a little sister like Vita. You have to learn to be dead crafty if you want to manage her.

  ‘If you come and cuddle back into bed I’ll tell you another Princess Vita story,’ I said. ‘A special Christmas Princess Vita story where she gets to fly to Santa’s workshop and has the pick of all his presents. And she meets Mrs Christmas and all the little children Christmases – Clara Christmas, Caroline Christmas and little Charlie Christmas.’

  ‘Can Prince Maxie play with Charlie Christmas?’ said Maxie.

  ‘No, he can’t. This is my Princess Vita story,’ said Vita.

  I had her hooked. She got back into bed. Maxie grabbed an armful of teddies and climbed into our bed too. I lay between them, making up the story.

  Princess Vita stories were very boring because they always had to be about sweetly pretty show-off Princess Vita. Everyone adored her and wanted to be her friend and gave her elaborate presents. I had to go into extreme detail describing each designer princess gown with matching wings, her jewelled ten-league trainers, and the golden crown the exact shade of Princess Vita’s long long curls.

  Our Vita wriggled and squirmed excitedly, and when I started describing the golden crown (and the pink diamond tiara and the ruby slides and the amethyst hair bobbles) she tossed her head around as if she was adorning her own long long curls. She hasn’t really got any. Vita has very thin, fine, straight baby hair like beige cotton. She’s been growing it for several years but it still hasn’t reached her shoulders.

  My hair is straw rather than mouse, and thick and strong. When I undo my plaits it very nearly reaches my waist (if I tilt my head right back).

  ‘Please put Prince Maxie into the story,’ Maxie begged, nuzzling his head against my neck. His hair is the same length as Vita’s, coal-black with a long fringe. If he’s wriggled around a lot in the night it sticks straight out like a chimney brush.

  ‘Princess Vita has a brother called Prince Maxie, the boldest biggest boy in the whole kingdom,’ I said.

  Maxie sucked in his breath with pleasure.

  ‘As if!’ said Vita. ‘Bother Prince Maxie. Tell about Princess Vita’s trip to see Santa.’

  I ended up telling two stories, swerving from one to the other, five minutes of Princess Vita, a quick diversion to see Prince Maxie defeating the seven-headed dragon spouting scarlet flames, and then back to Princess Vita’s sortie in Santa’s sleigh.

  ‘There aren’t really seven-headed dragons, are there?’ said Maxie.

  ‘No, you’ve killed the very last one,’ I said.

  ‘How do you know there aren’t any more hiding in their caves?’ Maxie asked.

  ‘Oh yes, there are lots and lots, all huddled down in the dark so you can’t see them, but they come creeping out at night all ready to get you,’ Vita said gleefully.

  ‘Will you stop being so mean to him, you bad girl!’ I said. ‘I’ll torture you!’ I got hold of her stick wrist and gave her a tiny Chinese burn.

  ‘Didn’t hurt,’ Vita laughed. ‘No one can hurt me. I’m Princess Vita. If any monsters come bothering me I’ll give them one kick with my ten-league trainers and they’ll beg for mercy.’

  ‘OK, let’s get you begging for mercy. I’m going to tickle you,’ I said, scrabbling under her chin, in her armpit, on her tummy.

  Vita giggled and kicked and squirmed, trying to burrow under the duvet away from me.

  ‘Come on, Maxie, let’s get her,’ I said.

  ‘Tickle tickle tickle,’ said Maxie, his hands shaped into little claws. He stabbed at Vita ineffectively. She was in such a giggly heap she squealed anyway.

  ‘I’m tickling Vita!’ Maxie said proudly.

  ‘Yeah, look, she’s cowering away from you,’ I said. ‘But there’s no escape, little Vita, the tickle torturers are relentless.’

  I reached right under the duvet and found her feet. I held one captive with one hand and tickled the other.

  ‘No, no, stop it, you beast!’ Vita screamed, thrashing and kicking.

  ‘Hey, hey, who’s being murdered?’ Dad came into the room, hands on his hips, just wearing his jeans.

  ‘Dad!’ We all three yelled his name and jumped at him for a big hug. ‘Merry Christmas, Dad!’

  ‘Santa’s been, Dad, look!’

  ‘He left lots of presents – all for me!’ said Vita.

  ‘You wish, little Vita,’ said Dad. He caught her up and whirled her round and round.

  ‘Me too, me too,’ Maxie begged.

  ‘No, little Maxie, we’re going to toss you like a pancake,’ said Dad, picking Maxie up and hurling him high in the air. Maxie shrieked in terror, but bore it because he didn’t want to be left out.

  I didn’t want to be left out either but I knew there was no way Dad could whirl or toss me. I sat back on the bed feeling larger and lumpier than ever. Dad pretended to take a bite out of Maxie pancake and then set him free. Dad smiled at me.

  He bowed formally.

  ‘Would you care to dance, Princess Glittering Green Emerald?’

  I jumped up and Dad started doing this crazy jive with me, singing a rock ’n’ roll version of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. Vita and Maxie started jumping around too, Vita light as a feather, Maxie thumping.

  ‘Hey, hey, calm down now, kids, we’ll wake Mum.’

  ‘We want to wake Mum,’ said Vita. ‘We want our presents!’

  ‘OK, let’s go and wish her happy Christmas,’ said Dad. ‘Bring the presents into our room.’

  ‘They aren’t really all for Vita, are they, Dad?’ said Maxie.

  ‘There’s one each for all of you,’ said Dad. ‘That one is for my number one son.’

  ‘I’m your number one daughter, aren’t I, Dad?’ said Vita, elbowing me out of the way.

  ‘You’re my special little daughter,’ said Dad.

  I waited. I didn’t want to be his big daughter.

  ‘You’re my special grown-up daughter, Emerald,’ said Dad.

  My name isn’t really Emerald, it’s plain Emily. All the rest of the family called me Em. I loved it when Dad called me Emerald.

  ‘Shall I go and make you and Mum a cup of tea?’ I off