For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [34]
He stepped into the room, half closing the door behind him.
'Shel, do you still have any notions about the whole Santa thing?' he asked.
She smiled and nodded. 'Of course, he comes in through the range hood over the stove. That's what you told me.'
Her father nodded. 'Well, Santa's running behind schedule this year – some kind of elf industrial dispute in the workshop – and he's asked me to help with the wrapping of presents for our family. Your brothers heard there was cleaning going on so they've skedaddled down the back for the moment. Do you think you might be able to help Santa out?'
'What is Santa offering in return?' Shelby asked.
'It just so happens that Santa has bought one or two little things for your family that he's happy to put your name on.'
'Really?' asked Shelby. With all the excitement going on, Shelby hadn't even thought about presents. Besides, she'd spent all her money on Maxshine Celtic Copper and boot polish.
He opened the plastic bag. Inside were two Spiderman figurines, a bottle of perfume in a gift box and a gardening apron with pockets.
'Santa is a champ,' said Shelby.
'I'll pass that on,' her dad replied. 'I'm off to get the rest of the goodies.'
Shelby gave him a hug before he left the room. 'Thank you so much.'
He swung the door open, and after looking furtively up and down the hall, he snuck away.
Almost as soon as he had gone her mother tapped at the window. 'Psst.'
Shelby unlocked the clasp and slid the window open. Her mother thrust a large brown package at her. 'Put this somewhere safe,' she whispered. 'It's from Santa for your father.'
Shelby took hold of it. It was heavier than she anticipated and she stumbled backwards a step. Something plastic cracked under her foot a couple of layers down. She hoped it wasn't a CD.
Shelby shoved the package under her desk, pushed the chair in front of it and then leaned forward to slide the window closed. Just as it clicked shut her father appeared in the doorway with a tower of boxes and bags. Shelby waved at her mum to disappear, and her mother quickly spun sideways with her back to the wall of the house and slid away like some kind of cat burglar. Shelby put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Her father dumped the bags and boxes onto the bed. 'Now,' he said. 'You're cleaning your room and you're in a terrible mood, OK?'
'OK,' replied Shelby.
'I've said you're not to come out again until it's sparkling, or you're grounded. Everyone should give you a pretty wide berth that way.'
'No problem.'
Her dad then backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Shelby cleared a space on the bed and sat down, grinning. It was the first Christmas that her parents had treated her like a real grown-up.
She pulled each present out of its shop plastic, turned it over in her hands, and then carefully wrapped it in gift paper. It was just like Christmas morning in reverse.
16 Poppy Goes Home
It was Christmas Eve. The Mulligans were coming to take Brat home – if she turned out to be their horse. There was little doubt about it. Brat pricked up her ears as soon as she saw their float pull up. She whinnied, cantering around the paddock in circles and tossing her head. Shelby's mum stood with her arm around her daughter's shoulders.
Mr Mulligan was a bald, short, roly-poly man with a big smile. His three daughters, Sarah, Louise and Amy, spilled out of the car behind him chattering with excitement.
'Daddy, she remembers us,' said the middle daughter.
'Of course she does,' said the eldest, as she headed towards the fence. Brat skidded to a stop, craning her neck over the wire.
'Why is she pink?' asked the youngest daughter, reaching up with her small podgy hand.
'Because the bad man dyed her,' answered the eldest.
Mr Mulligan extended a hand to Shelby's mother and she took it. 'Nice to meet you.'
'I can't begin to tell you what a relief this is,' he said, turning to watch his daughters slip through the rails, clustering around Brat. He was fiddling with a small book he was holding. 'We were