20
Dan used his savings to buy the boots, cut-price, from the discount shoe shop in town. He said it was an early Christmas present.
Mum noticed that the boots were different, but Kazia insisted that we found them on the doorstep on St Nicholas’s Day, and I think Mum was just too tired to question it. Besides, we had boots, new boots, and that was the main thing.
Dan had another trick up his sleeve too. ‘It’s a treat,’ he explained. ‘For Kazia, really. Friday evening, OK?’
How do you say no to a boy like Dan Carney? You don’t. It’s Friday evening and I’m ankle deep in snow, watching Kazia chatting to a fat old man with a bushy white beard who is sitting beside her in a sleigh piled high with presents.
He’s Santa Claus, the British version of St Nicholas, and we’re outside his workshop at the North Pole, Dan, Ben, Nate, Kazia and me. How cool is that?
OK, it’s not really the North Pole. It’s a converted shop in town, with life-size models of reindeer and fairy lights and Christmas music playing, but it’s half-price on a Friday night, so here we are. Dan explained the whole thing to Mum, and she said it sounded great and gave us money for tickets and bus fares. ‘Can we afford it?’ I asked, anxious.
‘Anya, it’s Christmas,’ she sighed. ‘I won’t let every penny I earn be eaten up by your dad’s business. You and Kazia need a treat.’
So here we are, standing in the snow, and there are real elves and fairies, and Santa himself, sitting on a plush red-velvet seat in a sleigh that’s strung with silver bells.
It’s not real snow, of course, just a kind of glittery powder that catches the light and crunches a little when you walk on it. The elves may not be real elves. One of them is chewing gum, and another is listening to an iPod, but they are wearing pointy green hats and red boots and wrinkly green tights. The fairies look bored, and one of them has a pierced eyebrow and a ladder in her tights, so I’m pretty sure they’re not real either. I think they could be students, earning a little extra cash, and that’s OK.
It’s even possible that the man in the red suit and white beard may not be the real Santa Claus, but his blue eyes are kind. He listens very patiently to Kazia as she talks. There is a long queue of hopeful children, including Ben and Nate, but Santa doesn’t rush things. Perhaps Kazia is telling him the story of the stolen boots, or explaining about Dad’s business and the flat with peeling wallpaper.
Santa hands her a gift from the sack beside him, a painted Russian doll, which opens up to reveal a whole family of smaller dolls inside. Kazia gives him a big hug, and one of the bored-looking fairies has to drag her away with a wave of her wand and a sprinkle of fairy dust. Everyone in the queue smiles and sighs and the elves look at their watches. It’s obvious they can’t wait for it to be eight o’clock when the whole late-night grotto thing is over.
‘Oh, Anya!’ my little sister says, her smile as bright as the fairy lights. ‘He says he will bring us everything we want, on Christmas Eve night!’
I catch Dan’s eye. Kazia will probably be getting an apple and a selection box and a pair of new mitts on Christmas Eve night, if she’s lucky. Still, right now she’s happy, and Ben and Nate are too, asking Santa for PlayStation games and bikes and rollerblades, and pulling on his beard gently, to check it’s the real deal.
‘I gave Santa one of the vouchers, Dan,’ Ben announces as we walk back up Renshaw Street afterwards. ‘For the free cakes. I told him to come any time. Think how many customers we’d get if the real Father Christmas started hanging out in our cafe!’
‘Great idea,’ Dan says.
‘Maybe the elves and fairies will come too?’ Nate smirks.
I smile. That’s all the cafe needs… a whole bunch of grumpy elves and fairies, alongside Ringo with his yellow cab and Lonely Hearts Club. Oh, and the misfit schoolkids too.
Kazia, Ben and Nate are still fizzing with excitement, skipping on ahead, the boys playing with the plastic swords they got from Santa while Kazia dances around them, bright-eyed, laughing.
‘It was a very kind thing,’ I tell Dan. ‘Taking Kazia to see Santa. It was very different from Poland, but good!’
‘Mum used to take me, when I was a kid,’ he shrugs. ‘I loved it, and Ben and Nate still do. Mum’s too busy this year, and it’s not like Dad’s gonna help, so I promised… and I had an idea Kazia might like it. I didn’t want her to think that Liverpool was just full of boot thieves!’
‘She doesn’t,’ I promise him. ‘She loves it – we all do.’
What would Dan think if he knew we might be heading back to Krakow in the New Year? I can’t even bring myself to tell him, because it would mean facing up to it myself. What if Dan didn’t care? And worse – what if he really, really did?
We reach the bus stop and lean against the shelter. The Christmas lights flicker and shine, and the streets are busy with groups of office workers on Christmas nights out. Restaurants and bars are overflowing, and every second person has fluffy reindeer antlers or a length of tinsel round their neck. Kazia, Ben and Nate link arms and start some random carol singing, and a group of women fuss and sigh and give them a five-pound note.
‘I was wondering…’ Dan says. ‘You know the Christmas dance Frankie and Kurt have been talking about? On the last day of term? I just thought I’d ask… um… d’you think we should go? Me… and you?’
I can’t stop grinning. Dan wants to go to the Christmas dance – with me! The whole evening feels like magic, with the Christmas lights shimmering, the office workers with their Santa hats, the kids singing.
And then the whole thing skids out of shape.
‘I’d like that,’ I start to say, but Dan isn’t listening any more.
He’s miles away, his face startled, shocked, angry. I can hear Kazia, still singing ‘Jingle Bells’ and getting most of the words muddled up, but Ben and Nate are silent, staring, mouths open.
I follow their gaze.
A tall, dark-skinned man in a smart suit is coming out of the bar just along from the bus stop, a fair-haired woman in a skimpy red party dress draped around his neck and whispering into his hair. The man is laughing, but the grin dies on his lips as his gaze slides over Ben, Nate and Dan.
‘Hello, Dad,’ Dan says.
Ben and Nate just blink, shocked and silent, and Dan turns and walks away. It’s left to me to grab Ben and Nate by the hand and run along after Dan, with Kazia in tow and Dan’s dad chasing us along the street.
‘Dan! Ben! Nate!’ he shouts. ‘Hold on! I can explain! It’s not the way it looks!’
Dan stops and turns to face his dad, who is standing a few feet away, raking a hand through fuzzy black hair in a gesture I’ve seen Dan use a million times.
I gather the kids in behind Dan.
‘You’re a liar,’ he spits out. ‘A rotten, lousy liar!’
‘Dan, son, you don’t understand –’ the man says.
‘We understand, all right,’ Dan says, his voice shaking a little as he speaks. ‘We’ve heard the rows, seen Mum crying. We’ve known for months that something was going on, so please don’t pretend you can explain. It’s pretty clear already, from where I’m standing.’
‘But, son –’
‘Don’t call me that!’ Dan bites out. ‘Because you know what? You sure don’t act like a dad!’
I don’t know what to do, but Ben is clinging to me, tears welling in his big brown eyes, while Nate and Kazia just look shell-shocked. I don’t know how to help, but I know I need to get the kids out of here, get Dan away too. A number 80 bus slides to a halt beside us with a squeal of brakes, and I herd the kids on board. ‘Come on, Dan,’ I tell him. ‘Please?’
Dan jumps on, looking back over his shoulder. ‘You know what?’ he yells. ‘I hate you, even if you are my dad. I hate you, and I’ll never, ever forgive you for this! So why don’t you just get lost, leave us alone? We don’t need you! We don’t want you!’
The doors slide shut and the bus lurches away from the kerb.