Chapter 3
Santa drifted out of the wintry but beautiful sky, down towards the flashing beacon of the North Pole. Effortlessly his sleigh passed through the protective invisibility cloak that covered the whole complex. He had a magnificent view as his sleigh glided home. His ancient eyes took in the newly constructed tower. Its open top waiting like an unfed baby bird, spread wide and eager to be fed a needed meal.
The doors to the stable were sliding open. They knew that their reindeer occupants had returned. The sleigh touched down, its skids kissing the smooth ice then gently sliding easily as the reindeer slowed and trotted towards the open and inviting stables. Santa slipped from the sleigh. He was in a hurry to see if everything was as it should be.
The main work barn and former storage area doors opened at his approach, revealing a number of bustling elves and what appeared to be a huge metal box. It had an obvious conveyor belt running from the far side, pushing through the far wall into the toy department beyond. It all looked as though it were operating efficiently to Santa’s eyes. Mrs. Claus approached from his left. She firmly held in her hand his red and white special mug. The mug with his name on it and filled with his special North Pole hot chocolate.
“Home at last, and ready to do some work I hope!” She said, smiling at the same time, whilst holding out the mug to him.
Cringle, the elf that Santa most wanted to see, after his wife, wandered distractedly through from the assembly room. He looked up as though only just becoming aware that Santa was watching him. He carried a clipboard on which he had notes after notes of things he had to remember. Not that Cringle had ever been known to forget anything; he was that sort of elf, dedicated and efficient. He was not an elf to enjoy playing or even having fun. To him his purpose was to see that everything mechanical or magical functioned perfectly. He was, as Santa often described him, ‘the most efficient of his elves,’ and with that he allowed for Cringle’s self absorbency. Despite his different nature to the other elves, Cringle was both respected and liked and often, despite his not wishing to be, he found himself forced to enjoy himself by his brother and sister elves.
“Good day, Cringle and how goes everything?” Santa asked with a jolly boom to his voice.
Cringle looked up from his clipboard and pointed at the new machine. Santa looked where he was pointing. There was a box fixed or built out from the side of the machine. At either corner there was a light, one red the other green and in the centre was a third black button with the immortal words ‘start and stop’ written neatly beneath it. Santa saw that the green light was lit. The machine was just waiting to have its start button pressed, then it would all begin to happen… Mrs. Claus’s idea and Santa and David’s plan would have become reality. A smile and a nod of understanding, both closely followed by a deep heartfelt slurp of hot chocolate.
A bell sounded throughout the complex supported by an Elvin high pitched voice saying ‘Two objects, both flying, approaching fast, headed for the factory complex, identified as dragons and one human. Santa listened and immediately turned back to the main door. He stepped out into the crisp light (it never gets really dark at the North Pole) and looked up.
Twin dots appeared and as they closed Santa (who had excellent eyesight with his spectacles on) recognised first Royal and then Robert and finally his friend David. The packages swung gently beneath the twin dragons, each perfectly secure. Very soon the machine could be switched on and then they would see if the idea really worked.
Santa did not doubt that it would, after all David, Vindec and himself were all working on making it happen, along with hundreds of elves of all grades and skills who had also added to the mix, and not forgetting the battle dwarf’s contribution.
The North Pole and Santa’s Christmas gift production system was about to change radically. Also, he would be helping make the world for everyone, man or animal, plant or tree, a better, cleaner, nicer place to live. All because of a conversation held in David’s office over tea and biscuits. (Cook always made such excellent biscuits.)
Now here they all were nearly ready to put the outcome into permanent practice… if it worked the way Vindec insisted it would. A strange man, Vindec, but a good fellow to have around, thought Santa as the dragons and their cargoes closed in.
Robert lined up and dropping his package then extended his talons and made a perfect landing, much better than the first time he had attempted such a landing on snow and ice. Royal circled high above the tower closing in until with perfect timing he released his package. It fell directly within. Light exploded upwards as Vindec’s magic took effect. Within, but unseen, though monitored from inside, the packages expanded, shattering the net, tearing apart the rope and falling within the tower until the tower was filled to the brim.
Santa looked on as Royal circled and then landed, he was ready for a long snooze and so he settled himself into the snow and rested.
David had dismounted whilst Santa had been watching the aerial display of precision bombing. He tapped Santa as he passed him rolling his chair onward whilst calling back. “Are you going to stand there all day?”
“Cheek!” Exclaimed Santa as he swiftly followed. Robert like his mentor Royal decided that sleep was a welcome idea, the cold posed no threat to the dragons, they were self-heating.
Inside, elves rushed about, all but one that was who stood next to the machine examining the dials.
“Full and ready!” Called out Cringle.
Santa and David arrived at the same time. Santa started to reach out for the black button to start the machine, then he hesitated and turned to David. “This machine was your idea. I think you should set it in motion.”
David reached up… with a deep breath and a silent prayer he pushed firmly on the button. Nothing happened… not a peep… not a squeak… until with a roar the conveyor started up. Shortly the first product glided along and through the far wall. It was hidden from sight by the vertical sides of the hidden belt. David turned his wheelchair and headed towards the door to the toy room with Santa and Mrs. Claus following close on his heels.
Cringle stepped back in front of his precious dials and watched intently for any indication that something had gone wrong.
A good job. A very good job that Mage did installing this. He was a happy elf.
In the toy production room, the conveyor deposited a thick porridge of new recycled rubbish into a huge vat. Elves with large spoons lifted just enough and poured it into moulds. As the liquid spread, it changed, becoming the outline of the desired toy. Once spread the porridge set and was lifted out. Production was underway and fabrication had been enhanced considerably.
Now the elves would only have to finish and decorate, instead of carve and cut everything they made. “This recycling,” Santa heard an elf say to his companion, “is wonderful. Just look at this car. It looks like metal… it feels like metal… you know what I think it must be metal.”
All around elves discovered that the porridge became exactly what was needed. Best of all, Santa thought, it was free. It was made from pure household rubbish, and as such, it was probably everlasting. As if that was not benefit enough, it would be doing the planet the world of good as well. It was all recyclablel once its life ended.
Chapter 4
Vindec was about his business. He had a challenge set by David, and as the world’s greatest Mage he intended to astound everyone by the purity of his actions. He was going to change lives and futures and bring peace and certainty to a family deserving of such. No matter what it cost in his time and potions (where necessary) he would get the job done. Magic was about to be unleashed, but in a way that very few would recognise. Vindec was creating and delivering an early Christmas present, and he was going to enjoy doing it.
Julian Farrier went to bed a very worried man, the farm was teetering on the edge of collapse. Last year he had lost a third of his milking herd to bovine TB. That had reduced the herd to seventy, which with the recent drop in both milk price at sale and for some reason he could not fathom, a drop in milk yield from his remaining cows. The farm was running at a loss and he did not have the financial muscle to maintain it. He would shortly reach the point that forced the sale of his family’s farm, a thought and expectation that filled him with dread.
He had not had a good night’s sleep for months. His wife lay next to him. She knew everything and would support him as always, but still he felt like he had failed them all. Across the hall his young son slept fitfully by the sound of it. Julian thought that the boy knew something was wrong, after all he was a bright lad and very observant.
Tomorrow he would have to consider everything; tomorrow he would have to make the decision, tomorrow. His eyes grew heavy, his wife settled into her sleep, across the hall the boy John slipped into a pleasant dream. The house relaxed and the tension that had existed faded away as the night outside closed in, covering everything.
Vindec lowered his staff; the peace spell now coated the farm, even the cows relaxed. Vindec was about his magical business.
Sunlight streamed into the bedroom waking the sleeping couple. A glance at the alarm clock, set as usual for five-thirty in the morning had failed to go off and now told Julian that it was half past eight in the morning. ‘The cows,’ he thought, realising that for the first time in his adult life he had overslept. The cows would be crowded against the top field gate desperate to be milked. He sat up, got up and dressed quickly. His early morning mug of tea would have to wait until he had caught up with the work he was supposed to have started on three hours earlier.
Trying to be quiet he slipped down the rickety stairs. For a change they did not creak and crack as they always did. He grabbed his coat, pulled on his wellie boots, dropped his battered hat on his head and stepped out the front door. At the gate he looked towards the top field as a cheery voice called out.
“Fine morning boss and a good yield from the old girls. These new cows are as good as you said they would be!”
‘New cows.’ He had not been in a position to replace any of his lost herd.
Old Frank was walking on past. He had worked for Julian as a stockman up until things had got really bad, then he had been forced to lay him off. Now here he was walking a large herd back to the fields and its lush grass. He could see the grass. He recognised its beautiful green cover. The only thing he felt was wrong was that yesterday (he felt certain) that top section of that field had been sticky mud. He had almost fallen over when a boot got stuck. Now it was lush grass and he had Old Frank there working an enlarged herd. Huge, beautiful cows strolled as cows do before Old Frank. Cows the like of which he had only ever dreamed of owning.
“Good morning,” chirped up two voices as they rounded the large four-wheel drive pick-up truck.
Who the? He thought as the two men in their thirties sauntered on past as though they belonged where they were going. Names appeared in his memory, familiar names and at the same time new names and faces. He called back a good morning more out of reaction than intent.
The taller of the two added, “we will have the sort and catch ready for ten as requested. They are beauties I can tell you.”
Julian heard the words but did not understand their meaning. He walked toward the top field gate as Old Frank closed it, and then stopped to watch his charges heading out to pasture.
The four-wheeled pickup truck in dark green blocked his route. He looked at its shiny paint and then intrigued he glanced within. It was the top of the range model; it was also the vehicle he dreamed of owning. What amazed him was that the keys were dangling from the ignition. He glanced around wondering who it belonged too and more importantly, why they were there.
The cows had vanished deeper into the field. Old Frank had turned away and with a smile said, “I’ll see you at four as usual boss. I’ve cancelled that dentist trip as my tooth seems to be alright now.”
Then he left Julian standing in confusion, his gaze taking in the field. Old Frank seemed to think he belonged! Had he gone daft or was it himself that was daft because nothing made sense. He turned as Frank sauntered down the long drive his hands swinging as though he was marching. A cheery whistling carried on the breeze to Julian.
Julian turned back towards the farm. The Old barn with its battered tractor came into sight. Well it should have, but now that barn was not there! Nor was the tractor. Instead, in its place stood a shiny building with large silver pipes running out of the side and down into the lake. There had never been a lake next to the barn, but if Julian was not seeing things there was now.
He could not take any more. He turned with purpose and headed back to the farmhouse and sanity. The postman waved as he turned from the gate heading down the drive after Old Frank.
Hannah Farrier put the old teapot on the table and looked around her, wondering how long she had left to be a farmer’s wife. She called up the stairs to her son John, telling him to come on down. It being Saturday meant that there was no school.
The doorknocker banged loudly, something that rarely happened. She opened the door and to her surprise there stood the postman holding out a bunch of flowers to her with (she noticed) a card sticking out of the top.
“Petersons, the florist, asked me to deliver these and I thought why not, after all they are beautiful.”
Hannah took the flowers thinking they must be from her husband as a prelude to bad news. The card said something very strange, it said…
Merry Christmas Hannah
V
V, she looked again, clearly the card was signed with a letter V. Who was V? She did not know anyone whose name began with a V, or that would send her flowers. There had to be a mistake. She re-read the card it had her name on it. The postman held out a pile of letters saying
“I got two brown and a white and a couple of very nice looking cream for you today.” Then he turned away and left.
She followed him with very puzzled eyes. He never delivered the post to the door. They had an old wooden box down by the gate in which he left the post, normally. As he turned left out of the gate, she could see a pick-up truck parked beyond. Another visitor. Perhaps her husband had a buyer for the farm. She would just have to wait and see, but first she had the flowers to attend to. Now where did I put that vase, she asked herself?
With the flowers placed in the only vase she possessed Hannah turned her attention to the post. One brown, one white, an obvious letter from the bank and two very nice looking cream envelopes. The brown drew her attention first as she could clearly read the government departments name. It said HMRC or as she thought of the department, Her Majesty’s Collector of Taxes. She held the letter. It felt light and slim, but to her it contained the axe they had been waiting to fall on them. She fingered the envelope wondering but finally decided to rip it open.
Inside was a single neatly folded sheet of paper. Funny she thought as she held the folded sheet, how little paper was needed to devastate lives. She opened the paper and read the contents. Behind her the door from the upstairs opened and John walked in. Hannah’s hands shook as she re-read the content. Disbelieving she read it again.
Finally, in desperation she opened the bottom flap and realised that what it said was true. She dropped the letter in wonder and reached out for the Bank letter. Perhaps one could offset the other. She read the content then she looked at John who had been watching her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s all going to be okay, at least for now.”
The front door opened and her husband walked in. He just stood on the mat looking at her. She turned and picked up the Tax Office letter and began to read its contents out for him.
Dear Mr Farrier,
It is with great regret that I have to inform you that for the last five years your tax coding has been incorrect. To amend the situation please find enclosed a cheque to cover the overpayment you have been charged.
She stopped reading and instead held out the letter. He took it and looked at it. Finally, he looked at the cheque attached to the letter. It was for eighteen thousand three hundred pounds and thirty-two pence. He just went on looking at her as she smiled back at him. John could see that something had happened, and the smiles implied that it was good for a change.
Hannah handed her husband the bank letter, whilst she opened the single remaining buff. The content was a set of vehicle documents. She read the registration number and then sent John outside to look at the pick-up parked there. The number he returned with matched the documents. She looked up to see total amazement on her husband’s face. His hands now shook whilst hers were rock steady. The bank letter confirmed their business account and held a statement which showed the last credit at nineteen thousand pounds and before them were three others, varying from twelve thousand onwards. All having cleared in the last month.
“What are we going to do?” He said to them both, his voice quivering slightly.
“I think you can take us out for lunch in your new pick-up truck. She held out the documents for him to see. He turned looking at the vehicle. The doors were now signed, it said:
D. V. & J. LIVE FISH SUPPLIES
Environmental Restoration Services
“What the heck is going on? What do these initials stand for?” He asked in a very puzzled sounding voice.
“Whatever it is I sincerely hope it continues!” She replied.
Two letters remained unopened, the cream nice quality ones. One was addressed to Mr. & Mrs. J Farrier. The other to Master J. Farrier. She handed John his letter and opened theirs.
Three miles from the farm gates, in a corner house at six-thirty in the morning, a woman opened a front door and called out.
“Are you in, Jessica?”
Jessica (who had just arrived home by dragon) responded as she came down the stairs to greet her mother. They both saw two envelopes resting on the mat at the same time. Her mother bent and picked them up, reading her own name and Jessica’s one on each cream envelope.
Letters such as these always, always, always led to adventures. Jessica tore hers open; her mother stepped in and closed the door. Her mother sat down at the kitchen table and looked at her envelope, then she too opened it. The methods used were different, she was gentle and calm, her daughter was overly excited. The contents were different; hers was a neatly printed invitation from David and his wife to attend a themed barbeque and weekend party. Her daughters contained both the invitation and also some specific requests. Both looked up at the same time.
“Oh boy,” said Jessica grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, that takes care of what we are doing this weekend, I had better turn my mind to costumes…”
At the farm three miles from Jessica’s home a lorry trundled past the front door heading towards the new building. The driver was a small looking man with a bushy beard and wearing a flat cap. Down the side was etched.
D. V. & J. LIVE FISH SUPPLIES
Environmental Restoration Services
Julian stepped out of the front door to watch it pass by. He noticed that its flat back was neatly filled with large blue plastic tubs, each labelled the same as the lorry. The vehicle swung to the left and then with a beeping noise it reversed into the building and disappeared from sight. Loading up Julian presumed. He was about to walk up to watch when another much smaller lorry turned onto the farm drive and accelerated.
This one was very different looking. It had twin tanks on its back and had Milk Services printed on each. The new lorry seemed to have the same driver, that of course Julian knew could not be true, but the two of them seemed to be identical twins.
This latest lorry turned towards the milk storage shed and then he saw the driver climb down and begin pulling out a pair of hoses, one for each container. Intrigued he walked towards the lorry. The milking barn he had grown up with had been replaced, now a stainless-steel edifice was in its place. Stalls for the cattle were as they should be, but there was an automatic milking system fitted. That was something Julian would have loved to have fitted, but he just could not afford it.
The driver was talking to a young man. Julian recognised the man as the son of his oldest friend. He struggled for a second to remember his name then it popped into his mind, ‘Tom’.
“Morning boss, the cream just as you said it would be. Those new cows are incredible. The yield is amazing, and Old Frank was right when he said they had the nicest nature of any cows he had herded.”
Julian approached the twin product storage units. Milk looked much as it always did but when he looked at the skimmed off cream he was amazed. It was thick and rich, and a taste told him it was the best cream he had ever tasted. The driver nodded to him and then without a word he turned away to his lorry and watched as the product was loaded. He waved a cheery goodbye and climbed into his vehicle and shortly disappeared down the long farm drive.
Julian decided that he had cracked up and would probably wake up in a padded cell, but what the hell, his new pick-up truck needed a drive and his family needed feeding. So, he returned to the farmhouse intending to take them all out for a slap-up meal, whilst his delusion lasted.
The nicest town with a good restaurant was turn right out of the main gate. The brand-new pick-up truck started perfectly. A glance at the odometer showed zero miles, not even part of a mile registered, yet another thing that did not make sense. How could someone deliver a vehicle with zero miles on the clock? Julian ignored it and drove on. Just another puzzle to add to a day of puzzles.
They approached the bottom acre field intending to pass by, but the sight of a metal gate and high heavy-duty fencing forced Julian to pull over. He stopped, got out and approached the gate. It was locked. A sign indicated that it was restricted access and trespassers would be prosecuted or eaten!
Julian looked through between the vertical poles that made up the gate, seeing only trees and more trees, all young Christmas trees. His land had sprouted a field of trees overnight. Each was staked and appeared to be thriving on what had always been very poor quality soil, heavily littered with rocks.
He shook his head and turned away making a note to himself to look into the situation another day. For now, he had a new vehicle to drive and his family to treat, something he had not had either the time or the money to do for longer than he cared to remember.
“A problem?” His wife asked as he started the engine.
“No, not really and it will keep.” He drove on to what would be the nicest daytrip out any of them could remember.
On the way home, as darkness settled in Hannah started to talk, she had seen things, she also realised that everything had changed, that their lives their farm their everything had become something else. Admittedly something good but still she wondered how?
“Julian you know that invitation, it said we would be picked up this Friday night. Are we going?”
“Of course, we are going. I have a feeling that everything is connected. I hope to discover what is once we arrive.”
“I will need a new dress.”
“Darling you can have as many as you want, but not for Friday. You have forgotten it’s themed on Country and Western. So, your jeans and a plaid shirt sounds about right.”
“If you think I am going in jeans and a plaid shirt you have another think coming!” She stuck her chin out, pursed her lips and as a final reinforcement folded her arms.
“You win.”
“Dad could you drop me off at Jessica’s? I would like to have a talk with her.”
Twenty minutes later John clambered out of the rear seat and waved as his parents drove on home. He walked up the road. As he approached the front door it opened, revealing Jessica.
“You took your time. I’ve been expecting you for hours. You did get your invitation, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”
“Good, I will pick you up as soon as it gets dark. I am not allowed to say anymore, but all will be revealed and explained Friday evening. Don’t worry, but now I have to go, see you Friday.”
The door closed leaving a rather puzzled John standing alone, wondering whether to hammer on the wood or just leave. He decided to leave. Somehow it seemed the right thing to do…
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