The Jacqueline Wilson Christmas Cracker Read online

  I tried to imagine my dad in a uniform.

  Then I heard Dad asking Mum to take his old work trousers to the cleaners for him.

  ‘This little kid spilled his can of coke all over me!’ said Dad, laughing ruefully.

  So Dad worked amongst children.

  ‘Perhaps he works in a McDonalds?’ Angel suggested.

  ‘He said he doesn’t work in any kind of restaurant,’ I said.

  ‘Do you think he could be a lollipop man?’ Sarah asked. ‘You know, taking little kids across the road. They have to wear a white coat as a uniform.’

  Ah! I thought I’d guessed right now. But when I casually said, ‘How was the traffic today, Dad?’ he just looked at me and laughed.

  ‘No traffic! Now give it a rest, little Miss Sherlock!’

  ‘But why won’t you tell me, Dad?’

  ‘I don’t want to, isn’t that reason enough? Now quit pestering me or your chances of getting that iPad mini for Christmas are nil,’ said Dad.

  I shut up mega fast immediately! It was lovely that we had a bit more money now. Mum started buying a few things for Christmas when we went shopping on Saturday. She bought a box of posh chocolates and a Yule log and wine for her and Dad and fizzy lemonade for Dexter and me.

  ‘Hurray!’ we said, because we hadn’t had special chocolates or fancy cake or nice drinks for ages.

  ‘Can we do some Christmas present shopping too, Mum?’ I asked. ‘I need to buy something for Angel and Sarah. And you and Dad and Dexter.’

  ‘All right then. So long as you don’t take all day,’ said Mum.

  ‘Can we go to Mitchells’ Christmas Bazaar?’ I said.

  Mitchells was the big department store in the shopping centre. It always had a huge selection of cheapo stuff for children without much pocket money doing their Christmas shopping – i.e. me! Mum always loves going to Mitchells too, so I was surprised when she pulled a face.

  ‘I think you might find just as good things in the Arcade or the Pound Shop,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Mum! Go on! Let’s go to Mitchells.’ I gave Dexter’s arm a little tug. ‘You want to go and see the dancing teddies at Mitchells, don’t you, Dexter?’

  This was dead crafty. Dexter simply adores the animatronic teddy bears in the Mitchells’ entrance hall. He is always transfixed with delight and dances about too, singing all their silly songs.

  ‘Yeah, I love the teddies! Let’s go and see them now,’ he said, clapping his hands.

  Like I said, Dexter is so sweet that no one can ever resist him, not even Mum.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, sighing.

  We spent ages watching the teddies. Dexter danced and sang. Don’t laugh, but I danced and sang a little bit too. I used to like those teddies just as much as Dexter when I was little.

  Then we got to go to the Christmas Bazaar in the basement and I rushed round all the counters choosing my presents. I made Mum and Dexter wait outside because I didn’t want them to see what I was buying. I bought a pink glass bangle for Angel and a blue glass bangle for Sarah. I very badly wanted a glass bangle for myself, pink or blue or any other colour, but I didn’t have any money left after I’d bought a tiny yellow teddy for Dexter, some rosy soap for Mum and a pen for Dad. I minded a bit, but it couldn’t be helped.

  ‘All sorted?’ said Mum, smiling at my carrier bag of presents. ‘Let’s go home then, before the shops close. We don’t want to spend ages waiting at the bus stop.’

  Just then there was a loud announcement on the store’s intercom.

  ‘Last chance today to see Father Christmas in his grotto! Make your way now to the second floor!’

  ‘Father Christmas!’ Dexter squealed. ‘Oh, let’s go and see Father Christmas!’

  ‘No, darling, we have to get home,’ said Mum.

  ‘But we need to meet Father Christmas to ask him to come and see us!’ Dexter insisted. ‘You said he wouldn’t come to us this year, Mum. We have to see him now!’

  ‘Oh Dexter, don’t make a fuss! Don’t worry about Father Christmas. I think he probably will be able to come to see us this year after all,’ said Mum.

  ‘Oh, please please please can we go and see him, just to make sure?’ said Dexter.

  ‘No we can’t, so stop making a silly fuss, Dexter,’ said Mum.

  Dexter stood where he was, his little face agonized. Big fat tears started dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

  ‘Oh dear, stop crying. All right, we’ll pay Father Christmas a very quick visit,’ said Mum.

  We hurried up to the second floor and joined the queue to pay to go into the grotto.

  ‘It’s mostly for little kids, Dexter’s age or even younger. You don’t really want to go too, do you, Livvy?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes!’ I said, knowing that you always got a present when you went to see Father Christmas in Mitchells. Maybe he’d give me a glass bangle!

  ‘I could find a nice lady in the café over there to keep an eye on you while I pop in with Dexter,’ said Mum. ‘I’ll buy you a strawberry milkshake.’

  I loved strawberry milkshakes. I’d drunk gallons of them back in the days when we had lots of money. But I thought I’d like a glass bangle even more. And I didn’t want to be left out.

  ‘Why can Dexter go to see Father Christmas and not me?’ I said. I wasn’t as good at crying as Dexter, but I made my eyes go all watery. ‘Do you like Dexter better than me?’

  ‘Oh, stop it. I love you both the same, you know that. All right, all right, you can see Father Christmas too, if you really must,’ said Mum.

  She sounded very anxious. Perhaps she didn’t have enough money left for two tickets? We waited in the queue for ages. I began to wonder if I’d made the right decision. I could have been sitting in comfort with a strawberry milkshake rather than shuffling endlessly through Father Christmas’s boring grotto, with little whiny kids all around me.

  Dexter wasn’t whiny. He was deliriously happy, singing ‘We’re going to see Father Christmas soon soon soon,’ again and again. And again. It started to get almost as annoying as the other kids’ whining. But then at long last we shuffled round a corner and there was a strange lady dressed in a red and green costume.

  ‘Hello, I’m Father Christmas’s special little elf friend,’ she said. ‘And who have we here?’

  ‘I’m Dexter and this is Livvy,’ said Dexter. ‘Is Father Christmas really here? Mummy said he might not be able to come this year.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mum, looking embarrassed.

  ‘Father Christmas is right here and he wants to meet you now,’ said the elf, and she took us both by the hand and led us round the next corner, Mum following.

  There was Father Christmas just as promised, wearing his familiar red outfit and big boots, his white beard hanging down his chest. He looked very surprised to see us. I felt a bit shy and silly but Dexter went leaping forward.

  ‘Hello, Father Christmas! I’m Dexter and I’m so so so glad you’re here! Will you come and leave us a present on Christmas Eve, even if it’s just a little one? I promise I’ve been a good boy. Well, I’ve been quite good, haven’t I, Livvy?’

  ‘Dexter’s been very very good,’ I said truthfully. I took a deep breath. ‘I haven’t always been very good myself, because I so want an iPad mini and I’ve nagged about it, but if you could possibly spare me one I’ll be ever so grateful.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises,’ said Father Christmas.

  He spoke in a funny deep voice, as if he was pretending to be older than he really was. His face didn’t look old at all, in spite of his long white beard. He had a lovely smiley face, a bit like my dad.

  Then I looked a little closer. I stared and stared, my mouth open. It was my dad! Oh my goodness, Dad was Father Christmas! This was his new mysterious job!

  ‘I know who you are!’ I blurted out.

  Mum’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. ‘Father Christmas’ shook his head at me,