‘Stop it!’ I cry out in horror, pushing forward through the crowd of small children. ‘That’s confidential! No one was supposed to see that!’
‘ “And above all, Father Christmas, I wish that Luke—” ’
‘Shut UP!’ In desperation I practically dive at the Grotto. ‘That’s private! It’s between me and Father Christmas!’ I reach the elf and try to wrench the paper out of her hand.
‘Ow!’ she cries.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say breathlessly. ‘But I’m Becky.’
‘You’re Becky?’ Her mascaraed eyes narrow – then she looks down at the paper again and I see comprehension dawning. After a few moments her face softens. She folds the paper and hands it back to me.
‘I hope you get your Christmas wish,’ she says quietly, away from the microphone.
‘Thanks.’ I hesitate, then add, ‘Same to you, whatever it is. Happy Christmas.’
I turn to go back to Mum – and through the thicket of heads I glimpse Luke’s dark eyes. He’s standing there, near the back.
My stomach flips over. What exactly did he hear?
He’s coming towards me now, weaving his way through the families, his expression impenetrable.
‘Oh, hi.’ I try to sound casual. ‘So … they read out my Christmas wish, isn’t that funny?’
‘Mm-hmm.’ He’s giving nothing away.
There’s an awkward-ish little silence between us.
He did hear his name, I can tell. A wife has an unerring instinct for these things. He heard his name and now he’s wondering what I was wishing about him.
Unless maybe he’s just thinking about his emails.
‘Mummy!’ A shrill, unmistakable voice cuts through my head and I forget all about Luke.
‘Minnie!’ I turn, and for one frantic moment I can’t see her.
‘Was that Minnie?’ Luke is also alert. ‘Where is she?’
‘She was with Mum … shit.’ I grab Luke’s arm and point at the stage in horror.
Minnie’s sitting on top of one of Father Christmas’s reindeer, holding on to its ears. How the hell did she get up there?
‘Excuse me …’ I barge my way between the parents and kids. ‘Minnie, get down!’
‘Horsey!’ Minnie kicks the reindeer joyfully, leaving an ugly dent in the papier mâché.
‘Would someone remove this child, please?’ an elf is saying into the microphone. ‘Would the parents of this child please come forward at once?’
‘I only let go of her for a minute!’ says Mum defensively as Luke and I reach her. ‘She just ran!’
‘OK, Minnie,’ says Luke firmly, striding up on to the stage. ‘Party’s over.’
‘Slide!’ She’s clambered up on to the sleigh. ‘Mine slide!’
‘It’s not a slide, and it’s time to get down.’ He takes Minnie round the waist and pulls, but she’s hooked her legs through the seat and is gripping on to the sleigh with superhero strength.
‘Could you get her off, please?’ the elf says, with barely restrained politeness.
I grab Minnie’s shoulders.
‘OK,’ I mutter to Luke. ‘You get the legs. We’ll yank her off. After three. One-two-three—’
Oh no. Oh … fuck.
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what we did. But the whole bloody sleigh is collapsing. All the presents are falling off the sleigh on to the fake snow. Before I can blink, there’s a sea of children dashing forward to grab them while their parents yell at them to come back now, Daniel, or there won’t be any Christmas.
It’s mayhem.
‘Present!’ wails Minnie, stretching her arms out and kicking Luke’s chest. ‘Present!’
‘Get that bloody child out of here!’ the elf erupts in toxic rage. Her eyes range meanly over me and Mum, and even Janice and Martin, who have appeared out of nowhere, both wearing festive jumpers with reindeers on and clutching Christmas Discount Shop bags. ‘I want your whole family to leave at once.’
‘But it’s our turn next,’ I point out humbly. ‘I’m really, really sorry about the reindeer, and we’ll pay for any damage …’
‘Absolutely,’ Luke chimes in.
‘But my daughter’s been longing to see Father Christmas …’
‘I’m afraid we have a little rule,’ the elf says sarcastically. ‘Any child who wrecks Santa’s sleigh forfeits their visit. Your daughter is hereby banned from the Grotto.’
‘Banned?’ I stare at her in dismay. ‘You mean—’
