Another Christmas Carol

Jingle sat at the bar feeling tired and nervous. He was worn out, and he deserved this little treat. He did deserve it didn’t he? No matter how he tried to convince himself, that knot of unease in his stomach would not relax. He’d worked hard in the run up to Christmas, no one could deny that. He’d sourced toys, he’d checked hundreds of names on both the naughty and nice list, he’d wrestled with uncooperative sticky tape wrapping presents until his fingers ached, and the number of buckets of reindeer manure he’d lugged out of the stables was horrifying.

Unconsciously, he raised his fingers and wrinkled his nose as he sniffed them assessingly. As he was mid sniff, the bar man placed the drink he’d ordered in front of him, and Jingle felt a wash of embarrassment.

“I was just checking I didn’t smell of reindeer poo,” he tried to explain, but from the twitch of the barman’s eyebrows, his comment hadn’t helped the situation. “There’s tons of it at the…” he caught himself just before he said the North Pole, taking a breath before he carried on, “at work, and we all have to take a turn on stable duty.” The barman gave him an uncertain smile, and Jingle decided some humour was in order, “I bet you’re glad your job doesn’t involve shovelling shit – well only on a really rough night!”

To Jingle’s relief, the barman chuckled.

“I could tell you some stories,” the barman laughed.

“I love stories,” Jingle said with enthusiasm. Relaxing a little, having made friends with the barman, he raised his glass and took a sip. Immediately he choked, coughing violently, clamping his hand over his burning throat. The barman didn’t laugh, but allowed himself a broad smirk.

“That’s sherry?” Jingle asked as soon as he had the breath to speak.

“Yep,” the barman nodded smiling, as he picked up a cloth and wiped the bar counter. “We don’t get much call for sherry to be honest, bit old fashioned.”

“Really?” Jingle was astonished. “But Santa…” he corrected himself again, “my boss loves the stuff. Can’t get enough. He drinks gallons of it.”

The barman stopped and stared at Jingle, “You’re well into character aren’t you?”

Jingle frowned, “What do you mean?”

“The outfit,” the barman waved a hand from Jingle’s pointy red hat, complete with jingling bells, down to his pointy red shoes, which were also decorated with bells, passing over his red and green tunic which stopped mid-thigh, leaving plenty of legs clad in red striped tights on show, “the make-up,” he indicated Jingle’s flushed cheeks, “all the funny things you say.”

Jingle was a little offended – yes his outfit stood out a little, although he had hoped that with it being Christmas Eve he would get away with it - but he had been careful about what he said. A pause developed and Jingle was unsure how to fill it, and hoped he was not about to alienate his new found friend.

“But how come you’re not working? I mean it’s only lunchtime on Christmas Eve, I’d have thought today was really busy for you,” the barman said, resuming his cleaning activities.

Jingle felt a flood of relief that the barman was still pursuing their conversation, and that he had asked a question which made sense to him, “Oh no, by Christmas Eve all the work’s done. Well all my work anyway, it’s just the delivery left – mind you that’s a mammoth job.” He eyed the dark liquid in his glass with distrust, “And I don’t know how he does it when he has to drink sherry in virtually every house.”

Jingle shook his head in disbelief, and the barman copied the action, though he grinned, “See – you’re brilliant, you look and sound the part. Are you in panto somewhere or are you off to a fancy dress party?”

“I, er…” Jingle knew he had said too much and if he was going to avoid having to memory charm this human, he’d have to go along with the just pretending to be an elf suggestion. “Yes, I’m off to a party.”

“Well if you can’t go round dressed as an elf on Christmas Eve when can you?” the barman asked. “I’m Clive by the way.”

“Good to meet you Clive By The Way. I’m Jingle,” Jingle replied.

At that point the door of the pub was pushed open, admitting gusts of freezing cold wind and a group of men who were clearly in high spirits. The group made their way to the bar, clustering around Jingle as they each tried to be the one to put the drinks order in with Clive. Jingle was jostled, and he wobbled precariously on his bar stool.

“Mind what you’re doing,” he remonstrated mildly, but his gentle protests went unheard and unheeded.

Around him a forest of arms clutching twenty pound notes sprouted and waved. Jingle suddenly felt small and very foreign. He clung to his stool, hoping the men would soon be served and go away. Going to a human pub was something Jingle had thought about doing many times, but this was the first time he’d had the chance and the courage at the same time to do so. He was not so sure so far that he wanted to do it again – the sherry was horrible, and the humans were incomprehensible at best, and seemed dangerous at worst.

Clive was now completely distracted with his lively customers, leaving Jingle to fend for himself in this suddenly crowded, noisy environment.

“Oooh, nice hat!” one of the men said, and without warning Jingle’s hat was wrenched from his head and the man was ramming it onto his own head.

“That’s mine,” Jingle protested, but the stranger ignored him, nodding his head so that the hat’s bells jangled.

“Merry Christmas,” the man called out, launching into a jerky jig, his arms and legs flailing around.

“Give me my hat back,” Jingle raised his voice, worry making him angry. If these humans damaged the hat he’d be in trouble with Mrs Claus.

“My go!” another man snatched the hat, pulling it onto his head. “You’ve got a tiny head mate,” he told Jingle.

“I have not, you’ve got a big, fat head,” Jingle shouted.

“Ooo-oooh!” several men made high pitched mocking noises.

Jingle felt very unhappy, and he looked to Clive for help –surely his new friend would defend him?

“Come on lads, give him his hat back. He doesn’t want you ruining his fancy dress,” Clive tried to smooth things over, never pausing in his task of pouring out the large drinks order.

“It’s fancy fancy dress!” one man laughed, making a grab for the hat, while the man wearing it dodged away.

The riotous bantering over the hat continued, and Jingle realised it was up to him alone to make them return his hat undamaged. Quickly, trembling slightly with rage and the huge significance of what he was about to say, Jingle clambered up to stand on his stool. “You,” his voice was shrill and cut through the noise in the room, as he pointed an angry finger at the men around him, as he delivered the worst threat he knew of, “if you don’t give me my hat back, you will all be on the naughty list!”

Mandy read what she had just written, “And the key to Ebenezer Scrooge’s character was…” Pausing, her fingers poised over the keyboard, waiting for words that refused to come, Mandy frowned at her laptop screen.

“Well - what was the key to Ebenezer’s character?” she demanded to the room in general.

On the sofa behind her, a large dog which took up most of the sofa, stirred in his sleep, but otherwise gave no reply.

“Well come on then,” Mandy snapped, getting impatient with herself.

A canine eye opened and regarded her somewhat forlornly.

“So far you’ve read the original Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, which was fantastic, watched every film adaptation of the novel most of which were good, every variation thereof some of which were bad, plus a lot of online comments about him, much of which gained me nothing,” Mandy tailed off. She allowed her fingers to cease hovering over the keyboard, reaching for her coffee with one hand, while running the other hand through her hair. The coffee was disappointingly cold, a fate which befell too many of her hot drinks when she became engrossed in her work.

“Sadly, today my writing is not good enough to justify letting good coffee go cold,” she admittedly sadly, scanning the desultory prose on the screen.

She was just not getting to grips with Scrooge the man, as opposed to Scrooge the cliché. He was not a cliché when Dickens invented him, but he had become one; more so with each passing rendering of him.

“So what am I doing to help? I’m trying to write yet another second rate version of him,” she closed her eyes, unable to bear looking at her own words any longer. She had had such high hopes when she set off, such confidence that she would be able to infuse new life into the character, but somehow along the way she had lost the clarity of her original vision, until it became so diluted as to be useless.

The dog rolled onto his back and wriggled happily. He was always happy – simply being in the same room as his mistress made him happy, although he could sense her unhappiness and he wanted to put that right immediately. Well, immediately as soon as he had a satisfactory stretch and wriggle.

“Why does Scrooge keep pulling writers in like this?” Mandy mused aloud. Having thought about this extensively, Mandy suspected it might be the message of redemption at the heart of his story which writers and readers alike were drawn to. But it was connected to Christmas too – it was a time of year most people loved, and surely if there was ever a time in which you could believe in magic, it was Christmas. Scrooge himself was an unsympathetic character for most of the story, and it was trying to get to grips with him which was troubling her. She had become obsessed with him, she knew. “Ebenezer, you haunt me every bit as much as those ghosts haunted you!” she giggled slightly, and she could hear the raw emotion in her own voice. Her lack of ability to do justice to Scrooge in the way she had set out to was really upsetting her.

She opened her eyes, but tapped the mouse on her laptop, hiding the word processing software and opening a web browser instead. In an effort to distract herself, she consulted the weather forecast.

“Snow,” she said delightedly. A white Christmas would be wonderful. The large furry head shoving itself under arm made her jump. “Hello Diamond,” she said happily, wrapping the arm under which he had insinuated himself around him, reaching her other hand over to stroke his head fondly. “What do you think about snow?” she asked and Diamond’s tail beat a happy rhythm against the sofa. He was a large dog, and any time he wagged his tail inside her flat it beat against something. Occasionally it encountered something Mandy had forgotten to move up to a higher surface, and swept it onto the floor, but it was a small price to pay for such a cheerful, devoted companion.

“I suppose you think it’s time for a walk?” she said knowing he would recognise his favourite word, and the increase in his tail’s tempo confirmed he not only understood, but fully approved of her comment. “Well, we might as well, since I’m not getting any work done.” She stood and Diamond did a jig of happiness. He circled in excitement, his plush tail sending a magazine plummeting from the armchair to the floor, and Mandy rolled her eyes, “We’ll pick it up when we come back.” She slipped on her boots and coat, and clipped on Diamond’s sturdy lead.

They hurried down the single flight of steps, in Diamond’s case in a hurry to get out and about, in Mandy’s because she had no choice but to keep up with Diamond, and they were going so fast by the time they approached the front door of the small block of flats, they couldn’t stop when the door opened. The man entering through the door had his vision blocked by the several packages and bags he was balancing in his arms, but Diamond knew he was a friend and greeted him enthusiastically.

By the time Mandy had persuaded Diamond to calm down and sit down, the man’s arms were empty and his packages were strewn around the entrance hall.

“I’m so sorry,” Mandy apologised, blushing madly. Why did it have to be him? Why did her dog have to like her neighbour apparently almost as much as she herself did?

“It’s fine,” Dave soothed, putting a hand either side of Diamond’s shaggy head and fussing him. Diamond wagged his heavy tail, leaning into Dave’s embrace. “You were just saying hello weren’t you? Or was it Merry Christmas?” Diamond seemed happy with either.

“Have you been Christmas shopping?” Mandy asked, partly to make conversation, and partly because she was amazed anyone could leave things so last minute.

“Yes, it’s not that I want to leave things so late, but I never know what to buy for anyone, and then I can’t leave it any longer, so I buy it all in a last minute whirl,” he laughed, standing up. “I suppose you had all yours bought weeks ago?”

Mandy nodded, “And wrapped too.” There was a delicious moment when they just smiled as each other, but all too soon he broke the spell, moving away to gather up his shopping.

“You see there’s another thing – I’m hopeless at wrapping, so I get it all gift wrapped in store,” he said. Then he made a rather sad, “H’mm” noise as he picked up a parcel whose gift wrapping had come rather askew in the encounter with Diamond.

“I’m so sorry,” Mandy said once more.

“Stop apologising,” Dave reassured.

She decided to push her luck, “I could always pop down later and help you wrap it up again?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, I can rescue it I’m sure,” he said, finally having amassed all his parcels and bags again.

He had been her downstairs neighbour for three months, and for all that time she had fancied him from afar, with neither of them setting foot in each other’s flat. It was difficult though, with a neighbour – you couldn’t just flirt with him. What if he didn’t flirt back? Then you’d be reminded of your embarrassment every day when you saw him. So Mandy restrained herself to friendliness, but the trouble was so did Dave, so although they chatted whenever they passed in the entrance hall, that was as far as things proceeded.

“We’d better leave you in peace then,” Mandy said, not moving away at all.

“Yes, you have a good walk,” Dave smiled, not moving either. “Merry Christmas by the way.”

“You too,” Mandy smiled back.

It was Diamond who finally decided enough was enough, yanking Mandy towards the door.

“Be careful out there,” Dave called after her, and Mandy turned in the doorway. “It’s mad – they’re either in a shopping frenzy like me, or they’re intent on getting the Christmas celebrations underway as soon as possible.”

He was worried about her – the realisation gave her a warm feeling in her stomach. “I’ll be fine – Diamond will look after me. Unless you want to c...” Mandy didn’t get to finish the invitation to accompany them, as Diamond once more took matters into his own hands – paws that is – and the two of them were suddenly out on the pavement, mixing with the shoppers and celebrators. She turned her head to look behind her, her neck jerking painfully as Diamond towed her briskly along, hoping Dave had understood and taken up her invitation.

Jingle was in the middle of the group of men, being bought drinks he didn’t want, being told jokes he didn’t understand, and occasionally still being the butt of some ribald comments, but on the whole, things seemed to be going not too badly. Someone had nipped out to a pound shop and returned with an elf hat for everyone, which bizarrely somehow made Jingle feel a little bit at home. His own hat was still on another young man’s head, and the shop bought one was flimsy and substandard by comparison, but once the drinks started flowing most of the humans had been kind enough to him.

He was still not sure how he was going to get out of the pub, but the others must go home at some point, mustn’t they? It was Christmas Eve, surely humans would want to go home to their families rather than staying in this raucous environment? He knew he wanted to go home. Right then a roast dinner, followed by a Christmas pudding, surrounded by his extended family, friends and workmates was extremely appealing. That’s where everybody else would be - all the other elves – gathered together celebrating another successful year with the sleigh loaded and Santa on his way. Of course the shenanigans didn’t really get under way until Santa arrived safely back at the North Pole from his complicated circumnavigation of the globe, but elves knew how to party, and he was becoming increasingly aware that he was not where he belonged.

“Why is Prancer always wet?” one man nudged him, leaving him no time to answer before he continued, “because he’s a rain deer!”

The man guffawed happily, but Jingle looked perplexed. “It’s not spelt liked that, besides which Santa’s reindeer don’t get wet, they’ve been bred over centuries for various traits, one of which is their waterproof fur.” The man nudged him again, smiling happily, but the nudge unbalanced Jingle, and the strange smells on the man’s breath made Jingle feel unwell. He tried to keep talking, the drinks they’d bought him made him feel like talking, “And there’s not just one reindeer called Prancer. There was once, but now none of the reindeer is the original one.”

A few heads turned his way, and Jingle decided he liked having an audience. “You see reindeer – Santa’s reindeer anyway – live a long time, but not forever, and he can’t remember lots of different names, so they all have their real name and a sort of professional name. And only eight of them pull the sleigh, but there are hundreds in the stables.” Jingle looked around, seeing many eyes turned his way, and feeling good about it. “And of course there’s not even just one Rudolph, although the reindeer that take his name pulling the sleigh are descended from the original Rudolph, and they have the same quirk that makes their noses…” Jingle stopped dead when he suddenly saw a pair of eyes looking back at him which he recognised. “Holly,” he said in shock, as the other elf glared at him.

Heads swivelled in the newcomer’s direction.

“It’s another one!” a man called, laughing. “It’s another elf. You going to the same fancy dress party then?”

Holly’s face was pale, his eyes were hard and his mouth pulled tight.

“I was just telling them…” Jingle began.

“I heard,” Holly cut them off. “Don’t tell them anything else.”

“He’s just as good as Jangle here,” a man shouted, “but he’s not jolly. Come on mate, don’t be a miserable elf.”

“Jingle, we should leave,” Holly said coldly, his stern gaze on Jingle, ignoring the humans.

There were cries of, “Party pooper!” and, “Bah humbug!” and “This one’s too up his own arse - too much ’elf esteem!” and even, “Ah, push off mate, we’re having a good time.”

Jingle shifted uncomfortably, then wriggled down from the bar stool he’d climbed back up onto.

“And remove that ridiculous headwear,” Holly snapped.

Jingle obliged, but a nearby man grabbed the hat and rammed it back onto his head saying, “I bought that.” He turned an angry glare on Holly, “And if you want to talk about ridiculous, take a look at what’s on your bloody head will you?”

Before Holly could respond, someone had swiped his green hat off his head and placed it onto his own. Then, as the bells on Holly’s hat tinkled, the feisty thief launched into an animated rendition of, ‘I’m the fairy on top of the Christmas Tree.’ Several of the others joined in. Work was over for a few days, and the Christmas spirit – the one that comes in bottles – was flowing. Holly’s mouth was a grim line.

Knowing he couldn’t use magic in a crowded venue like this, he strode closer to Jingle and kept his voice low, “Right, we’re getting out of here now. You are in a lot of trouble, do you understand?”

“But Holly,” Jingle began, before being interrupted.

“Holly?” a slurring voice echoed. “This one’s got a girl’s name! Holly!”

Holly closed his eyes, feeling his anger rising inside him, but knowing it would only make the situation worse. His lids slid open but he kept his eyes firmly on Jingle’s. “Home. Now.” He turned on his tinkling heel and started to push his way through the crowd. It turned out that many of them were not in the mood to be pushed.

Jingle was not watching his friend’s progress though, he was scanning the crowd in search of his hat. A telling off from Mrs Claus was not enjoyable. Even Santa himself did as he was told, though he made out to the elves that she was not the boss of him. He said it quietly if there was any chance of her overhearing the claim.

Spotting his hat, Jingle tried to catch the eye of the man wearing it, but soon realised it was hopeless as he was so much shorter than most of the humans around him. He hauled himself back up onto the bar stool and got precariously to his feet. Leaning on the nearest person’s shoulder, he reached over and carefully grabbed the end of the hat. Trying not to damage it, he gave a good tug. The hat, being far too small for a human head, was well jammed on, meaning that Jingle had to apply a lot of force to pull it off said head. When the hat finally came free, it took Jingle by surprise, sending him sprawling backwards off the stool and into the unsuspecting crowd. People staggered, drinks were spilled and expletives were exclaimed.

Coming to rest on the floor, dampened by several drink spillages, but still grasping his treasured hat, his cheap shop-bought hat on the floor beside him, Jingle sprang to his feet, and started to make for the door, the direction he assumed Holly would have gone in. After only a few feet though, Jingle encountered a melee. Standing shocked, it took him a few seconds to realise that in the middle of the group of humans was none other than Holly. Jingle put his hat on, then realised that in the current company that was simply asking to have it stolen again, so he removed it and slid it inside his tunic. Then he pulled himself up to his full height – about armpit height for the rest of the company – and flung himself into the seething mass of humanity. Holly was at the centre of the group, being pushed this way and that by some of them, while others tried to argue on Holly’s behalf and stop their colleagues from bullying the elf. The fact that the humans were not only having a go at Holly, but also at each other made things complicated.

Jingle lashed out, punching and kicking madly this way and that, until he made it to Holly’s side. “Back off!” he yelled, and though some of the humans did, two or three younger men laughed and closed in. One of them was wearing Holly’s hat, the seam of which was now ripped and gaping to accommodate the larger head. Jingle really didn’t like the look on their faces, and realised the state of affairs was dire. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a closed fist which he brandished at the young men.

“Back off,” Jingle warned again.

“Jingle don’t,” Holly warned.

“Oh, what you gonna do elf?” a man taunted.

“This,” Jingle said, opening his hand, waving his other hand over it, and immediately a brilliant white flash illuminated the room. People covered their eyes and turned away hurriedly. “Come on,” Jingles hissed to Holly, grabbing his arm and setting off through the stunned crowd, towards the door.

Holly abruptly broke away from Jingle, lurching towards the man wearing his hat. He was unable to reach the hat, but a sharp kick to the man’s shin quickly had him leaning over to rub his leg, at which point Holly reclaimed his hat, and allowed Jingle to pull him out of the pub.

They hurried along the crowded pavement, weaving between people, many of whom laughed at or commented on their outfits, but neither elf responded, intent on escape. A few shops down from the pub was a deserted alleyway into which the elves dashed. Leaning against the cold, grimy wall, they put their heads back and panted.

However, they both snapped to alertness when a voice as icy as the weather sneered, “Oh dear boys, lurking down a dark alley? Nasty things can happen down here.”

Dave had not followed Mandy, a realisation which slightly disheartened her, though it was impossible for her to feel down for more than a few seconds with Christmas so evident all around her. The colourful illuminations were lit, festive music spilled out of every shop doorway, shoppers were laden down with last minute purchases, and even the headlights of the traffic seemed cheerful. So she couldn’t help but smile as she and Diamond picked their way between the other pedestrians.

Her large dog attracted many comments, most of them simply complimentary, some of them humorous. One woman asked, “Crikey, will he be pulling Santa’s sleigh tonight? He’s big enough, just needs some antlers!” Several people wished Diamond a Merry Christmas, slightly fewer wished her the same; it always amused her that British people seemed more willing to talk to a dog than to each other. Diamond didn’t mind what anyone said, he liked the attention.

Luckily he was a well-balanced dog whose tail was wagging and whose head was held high despite all the bustle and noise. Not just luck of course, a lot of socialisation as a puppy, but he did have a gregarious nature, which helped.

Mandy and Diamond were definitely in the Christmas spirit – not the one that comes in bottles – when Diamond suddenly stopped and stared down an alleyway. Mandy encouraged him to start walking again, but he refused to budge. It was too dark in the alley in comparison to the brightly illuminated street for Mandy to make out very much, but she could see Diamond’s hackles raising along his back, making his tousled coat stand on end, and she knew enough to know that her dog did not react like that for no reason. As she watched, his body stiffened and he stretched his neck inhaling deeply.

“Everything alright?” she called stepping down the alley a little way, concerned, but unwilling to leave the safety of the busy street. Her eyes were adjusting to the gloom, and she saw movement in the alley, but still could not make out enough detail to know exactly what was going on.

“Just walk away, love,” a sneering voice advised, but rather than persuading or scaring her, it made Mandy angry.

“Why don’t you walk away?” she said icily, and thought that at her side she heard a low canine rumble.

A tall shape loomed up out of the gloom and Mandy realised a person was approaching her. Diamond’s rumbling became subtly louder, and Mandy could feel the vibration from his throat traveling up the lead.

“It’s bad luck to get into trouble on Christmas Eve,” he was closer now, and light from the street fell on his feet, his legs, his torso and finally his face as he neared Mandy. His face was contorted in a cocky sneer, and he’d obviously been drinking judging from his flushed cheeks and nose, not to mention that he reeked of alcohol.

While Mandy internally debated whether to stand her ground or run for help, Diamond stepped firmly between his mistress and this stranger. He was a well behaved dog, but he was a dog, and he recognised normal human behaviour – which this was not. This man smelled all wrong to Diamond, and so although it went against the grain, he knew he must take action. Newfoundlands, for that was the noble breed to which Diamond belonged, seldom demonstrated aggression. That was because they seldom had to; with a dog so massive, a threatening stare, a menacing growl, and a flash of the impressive teeth were usually all it took to deter any potential aggressors.

The man took a step back, “Keep that bloody dog away from me.”

“Oh dear,” Mandy feigned dismay, “is it bad luck to get bitten on Christmas Eve?”

Taking a look over his shoulder for support, the man said, “Look, this is nothing to do with you, just bugger off eh?”

Mandy made a mental note to buy Diamond a juicy steak on the way home. “As you said it’s bad luck to get into trouble on Christmas Eve, and there’s no way I’m turning a blind eye while someone else seems to be getting into trouble. And as you can see, my dog is of the same opinion, so if I were you I’d get out of this alley.” She didn’t know exactly what she’d stumbled into, but she was fairly sure somebody in this alley needed to be rescued.

Clearly thinking over his options, the man kept his eyes on Diamond, and from his expression, Diamond’s potential to damage him was scaring him.

“Get that dog out of here,” said an impatient voice from the darkness, apparently an associate of the man who’d spoken to Mandy.

He turned around now, irked, “You bloody have a go if you think it’s so easy. He’s the size of a donkey with a mouthful of teeth.”

The second man came to join the first, and Mandy couldn’t help but be amused, despite the possible danger of her situation, as she saw the humour drain from his expression when he drew near enough for his face to be illuminated, which was when he was near enough to appreciate for himself just how formidable Diamond was.

However, rather than lose face in front of his friend, the second man rolled his eyes and took a step towards Diamond, muttering, “If you want something done, do it yourself.” The rumble emanating from the dog instantly bourgeoned into something resembling the throb of a small engine. Not that small an engine either.

Both men hesitated, backing away and looking at each other.

“Oh forget it,” the second one said. “Let’s just get back to the pub.” They both pressed against the wall that was furthest away from Mandy and Diamond, and inched along it with great care, never taking their eyes of the dog.

Mandy breathed a sigh of relief as they made it to the end of the alley, and stepped out onto the pavement which they hurried along without turning back to her.

“Good dog,” she told Diamond with huge gratitude. He was a gentle giant she knew, but he had once behaved like this before, stepping in front of her. On that occasion, she had been at a cash point about to get some cash, when a man who had been loitering nearby approached her. She had tensed, Diamond had perhaps sensed her anxiety, or perhaps some sixth doggy sense had kicked in, because although the man had walked on by without even speaking to her, she heard the next day in the local news that several people at that cash point had been robbed.

Now she ran her hand along Diamond’s back, thankful that to the rest of the world he could seem a fearsome beast, rather than the big softie he truly was. Diamond however, only gave the slightest wag of his tail, keeping his attention directed down the alley.

A horrible thought struck Mandy. “Who’s down there?” she called warily. She had assumed it was just her and the victim of the attack she had interrupted left in the alley now, but maybe she assumed too much too early.

“There’s another of the brutes down here,” a voice told her from the darkness. “Don’t stand your dog down yet.”

Mandy took a deep breath, speaking to this unseen brute, “Well you’d better get out of here, because as you’ve seen my dog doesn’t take well to criminals.” When there was no response she added, “Besides which I’ve just pushed the panic button on my phone which texts my location to the police.” This was a lie but it seemed to have the desired effect, because there was a scuttling noise and a third man emerged from the gloom, pressed his back to the wall to get past Diamond then ran away from the alley.

“Who’s here now?” Mandy asked, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

“Just us two.”

To Mandy’s surprise, two slight men dressed as elves now came forward into the light. They looked a little the worse for wear, one had a tear in his tunic, and the other’s nose was bleeding, but other than that they seemed alright.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Diamond gave a series of huge wags of his tail and surge forward to greet these new friends. The new friends were not so keen to be greeted, both leaping backwards, crossing their arms over their chests – which were at Diamond’s head height – and positively shrieking.

“It’s alright,” Mandy reassured, tightening her hold on Diamond’s lead, “he really won’t hurt you.”

“I saw the look in his eyes when he growled. He would have eaten those humans,” Holly said, a strong note of accusation in his tone.

“Well he wasn’t keen on them, but look at him, he’s pleased to meet you,” she said. “Sit Diamond,” she added fishing a treat out of her pocket. Diamond sat, and she rewarded him with the treat. From her other pocked she produced a tissue which she offered to the man with the bloody nose. He took it with his fingertips, reaching out to her to maintain as much distance between him and Diamond as possible, applying the tissue to his nose.

“Thank you,” he said, as he mopped at his face. “I’m Jingle and this is Holly.”

“Don’t talk to her,” Holly reprimanded, before Mandy could respond with her own name.

“Why not?” Jingle demanded. “She’s alright, she saved us didn’t she?” In his irritation at his friend, Jingle took his attention off Diamond, who now pushed his head against Jingle’s hand.

“Be careful,” Holly warned, grasping Jingle’s arm in an attempt to pull him away from the dog, but Jingle shook him off.

“He’s alright too,” having survived first contact with the dog, Jingle was gaining confidence. He tentatively stroked the dog’s wide head, letting his hand trail along the dog’s back, ruffling his coat affectionately. Delighted, as he always was with any attention, Diamond fell to the floor, waving his legs in the air towards Jingle. Jingle looked to Mandy for help, “What should I do?”

“Tickle his tummy,” Mandy hoped her amusement at the question hadn’t offended Jingle, but he seemed not to notice as he knelt beside Diamond, initially dabbing at the dog’s stomach, but when Diamond did not object, and in fact showed his approval with great wags of his tail, growing brave and rubbing with enthusiasm.

“Oh Holly you have to feel his fur, it’s soft as any reindeer,” Jingle urged, but Holly frowned and kept his distance.

“Are you two on the way to fancy dress party?” Mandy asked, intrigued by their elaborate costumes.

Holly was unsure of what to say, but Jingle had already experienced this conversation with Clive the barman, and launched in with confidence, “Yes a party – or maybe a panto.” He had no idea what a panto was, but Clive had mentioned the two together, so it must be a human thing.

“Is that why those three were picking on you?” she asked, not sure if Jingle was joking or just a little odd. Mandy hoped they were harmless oddballs, but the fact that Diamond had taken to them so readily reassured her.

“Yes,” Holly answered, taking both Mandy and Jingle by surprise. “They picked on us in the pub, then when we ran away they came after us.”

“It wasn’t our clothes, it was you attitude,” Jingle accused, now sitting on the floor, Diamond’s head in his lap, both of them happy.

“Oh shut up,” Holly retorted, “and do get up, you’ll get filthy and covered in dog hair.”

“I don’t care, this dog saved my life,” Jingle said stubbornly.

“Look,” Mandy butted in while she got a chance, “maybe you shouldn’t go to the pub behaving like elves again.”

“And what’s wrong with how elves behave?” Holly immediately took her to task.

“Nothing it’s just…” she tailed off wondering how to word it tactfully.

“It’s humans that are the problem,” Holly stated, and Mandy detected in his tone that it was pointless to pursue the discussion.

“Perhaps we should leave this alley. It’s getting dark, and you two are going to get cold with no coats,” she suggested.

“Oh it’s colder than this at the North Pole,” Jingle said cheerfully, “and your dog’s keeping me toasty warm.”

“Well I should be getting home,” she said. She did want to get in out of the cold, and if she was honest there was something about these two that made her a little uneasy – they were different in some way. Then she had a pang of conscience about their welfare if she abandoned them. “Are you sure you two are okay? Do you need to go to hospital? Do you want to report this to the police?”

“Certainly not,” Holly exclaimed. “We want to get home too, and we have a long way to go.”

Mandy felt relieved, but still felt some a sense of responsibility for them. It was illogical, but rescuing them had bound them to her in some way. She reached into her jeans pocket and dug around until her fingers closed on the emergency twenty pound note she always carried on dog walks. She pulled it out and offered it to Holly, who stared at it as if she was offering him a dog turd instead.

Jingle reached up and took the money from her, stashing it inside his tunic before Holly could intervene. “Thank you,” Jingle said warmly, giving Diamond a last fond stroke and getting to his feet. He was a lot shorter than Mandy, and he gazed up at her warmly. “Thank you for saving us and for this present,” he indicated the money inside his tunic, and Mandy wondered why he called it a present rather than simply saying money, but his next question distracted her. “Is there anything we can do for you?” Jingle asked bigheartedly.

“No, nothing,” she said, touched by the offer.

“There must be something you want help with,” Jingle persisted, his relief and gratitude making him want to repay the immense favour she had done them. There was no doubt in his mind that the terrible men who had followed him and Holly from the pub would have killed them, slowly and painfully. In reality, the men had been high on a mix of breaking up from work and drinking too much, coupled with having their masculinity insulted and fearing their friends would look down on them, fuelled by a bit of primitive, tribal instinct to have a go at someone who was different. In reality they were a nuisance but not dangerous; Holly’s tunic had been torn when it caught on a fence they’d run past, and Jingle had bloodied his nose falling over and hitting it on the pavement.

Now, Jingle looked so crestfallen at her refusal of his offer of help that she rethought. “You can get home safely, I don’t like to think of anyone being unhappy at Christmas. Unless you can help me with writer’s block that is,” she added as a joke.

Jingle smiled, “I’ll see what I can do. You are kind, and I hope you get home safely too.”

“Well thank you,” Mandy said. “Come on Diamond,” she said to the dog who was still lying down, eyeing Jingle hopefully, not having given up on the possibility of another cuddle.

The four of them – one human, one canine, two elf – walked out of the alleyway onto the busy street.

“Goodbye,” Mandy felt an odd mix of relief and reluctance at parting with them. She took a step away then turned back to Jingle and Holly, “And merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jingle returned genially. Holly had already turned in the opposite direction from Mandy, and was trudging wearily along, but Jingle stood and watched Mandy and Diamond, a warm smile on his face. He waved his hand in the direction of his recuers, then nodded in satisfaction and turned to scramble after Holly.

“Oh you are coming with me then,” Holly grumbled. “I thought you might have decided to go with that smelly dog.”

“He’s not smelly,” Jingle protested.

“Working in the stables has ruined your nose,” Holly said, “that dog stank, all these humans stink.”

“A dog isn’t human,” Jingle said.

“What is he then?” Holly demanded. They were taking no interest in the brightly lit windows of the shops they were walking past, but quite a few shoppers pointed at or commented on the elves. Holly made no response, but Jingle nodded and smiled at anyone who seemed to notice him.

Jingle stood still to think, but Holly grabbed his arm forcing him to keep walking. “A dog is… well a dog is definitely not human, I know that much,” Jingle managed to speak with a flourish despite not having really come up with an answer. “Anyway,” he continued as they turned off the street heading over a bridge, “not all humans are bad.”

“Just most of them,” Holly said.

“No, I was getting on alright with them this afternoon until you arrived,” Jingle asserted. Holly made a doubtful noise in his throat, and Jingle argued back, “I was. Lots of humans are fine once you understand them.”

“Oh and you understand them now do you?” Holly scoffed.

“Some of them,” Jingle said, stopping walking and looking out over the bridge at the river below. “Look at that Holly, look at the lights reflected in the water, that’s beautiful.”

Holly deigned to look at the river, but curled his lip in disdain, “It’s not beautiful. You need snow for a truly beautiful view. And look at all the rubbish the humans let collect in their river – there’s none of that at the North Pole.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful,” said Jingle. “It’s Christmassy.” He paused grinning happily, “And I know one human who’ll have a good Christmas.”

There was silence for a few seconds, then Holly swivelled his head sharply towards Jingle, “What do you mean you know one human who’ll have a good Christmas?”

Jingle looked slightly abashed, “That lady human, with the dog, who saved us.”

“What about her?” Holly asked grimly. Again there was silence for a few seconds. “Answer me,” Holly insisted.

“I just think she’ll have a good Christmas,” Jingle said quietly, avoiding Holly’s eyes.

“Why?” Holly demanded. He shook his head, then gingerly kneaded his temples before putting is hands on his hips, “Does anything particular make you think she’ll have a good Christmas?”

“No,” Jingle replied quickly.

“Jingle,” Holly said in a tone that conveyed a world of accusation and threat.

“I might have…” Jingle muttered the rest of the sentence so that Holly couldn’t hear it.

“Say it properly,” Holly commanded.

“I might have,” Jingle squirmed uncomfortably, “given her a wish.”

Holly couldn’t speak temporarily, he simply gaped at Jingle, horror in his eyes.

“You haven’t,” he said at length.

“I have,” Jingle said sheepishly.

“You have taken your previous misbehaviour to a new level with this,” Holly said, disgust and fear in his voice. “This is… I mean this is… I’ve never… the boss will… oh and Mrs Claus will…” Holly leant over putting his hands on his knees, breathing deeply.

“It’ll be fine,” Jingle tried, but even to his own ears it was a lame attempt.

“It will not,” Holly said, managing to sound both fierce and utterly dejected at the same time.

“She’ll make a sensible wish. Something to do with her writing and neither the boss nor Mrs C need to know about it at all,” Jingle said, some of his former spirit returning.

Holly stood up, his face puckered with distress, “What if she wishes for something disastrous and inexplicable like flying monkeys?”

Jingle raised his arms in a defensive shrug, “She’s not a wicked witch is she?”

Undeterred, Holly continued, “What if she wishes for no gravity?”

Jingle hit his hand to his forehead, “Why on earth would she want that?”

Holly ignored him, building himself up into a frenzy of worry, “What if she wishes for summer all year round and the ice caps melt, the North Pole floods, the seasons stop, no food grows, all life starves…” he carried on in this tumultuous fashion until Jingle gripped him by both shoulders and brought their faces almost nose to nose.

“Holly,” Jingle bellowed, and his friend paused. “None of that will happen, but just to put your mind at rest we will find her and take the wish back. Alright?”

“Alright,” Holly echoed weakly, nodding feebly.

“Good,” Jingle let him go, breathing easier now Holly had stopped ranting.

“How do we find her?” Holly asked.

“Ah, well,” Jingle began, then realised he had no idea how they were going to find her. Then he came up with a brainwave, “A dog like that can’t just disappear, can he? Find the dog, find the human.”

Copyright © Julie Hill 2016 All rights reserved.