For Steph

  Tuesday 21 October

  Last night I dreamed I was a Christmas Elf.

  It was Christmas Day, and we were all at Father Christmas’s lodge in the Arctic Hills, celebrating another successful year.

  At one end of the room was a roaring fire, framed by garlands of holly, ivy and mistletoe; at the other sat Father Christmas, flanked by his Right-Hand and Left-Hand Elves.

  And in between sat the rest of us: row after row of red-faced Toymaking Elves, feasting, laughing and joking.

  I was just tucking into my second turkey leg, when Father Christmas stood and tapped his glass with a spoon, to get our attention. We all fell silent.

  ‘Dearest elves,’ he said, sliding gracefully off his chair and on to his feet. Unfortunately he is quite short, so all we could see behind the table was his red velvet hat.

  ‘Ah,’ said Father Christmas thoughtfully.

  Steinar, his Right-Hand Elf, and Ola, his Left-Hand Elf, helped him to stand on the seat of his chair. Father Christmas mopped his face with his handkerchief, collected himself, and resumed his speech.

  Father Christmas stood and tapped his glass

  ‘You have worked tirelessly all year, and I am quite overwhelmed with gratitude. On behalf of all the children of the world, thank you, thank you, thank you!’

  We all clinked glasses and drank huge mouthfuls of the most delicious mead.

  ‘Now, I know what you’re all wondering,’ Father Christmas continued. ‘Who can it be? Who is my Christmas Elf of the Year?’

  The room filled with excited chatter.

  ‘Well…’

  An expectant hush descended.

  ‘Without further delay…’

  Everyone looked around the room.

  ‘My Christmas Elf of the Year is…’

  An elf on the far table let out a yelp of excitement.

  ‘The one and only…’

  Steinar, the Right-Hand Elf, cleared his throat, impatiently.

  ‘… Tog!’

  That was ME!! I was Christmas Elf of the Year!

  The room burst into wild applause.

  ‘Up you get…’ said my mother.

  But I couldn’t seem to get up from the table! It was as if my bottom was glued to my seat.

  ‘… Tog, get up! You’re late!’

  I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in Father Christmas’s house at all. I was in my bunk, in the tiny room I shared with my four younger brothers and sisters: Twig, Leaf, Plum and Pin. My mother was shaking me by the shoulder.

  ‘Your father and I are off to work! You need to get the little ones to school!’

  Which was when I remembered who I really am: an unemployed one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old loser elf who is still living with his parents.

  Oh, and just in case it’s a human reading this (it’s always possible): elves live ten times as long as humans. So one hundred and sixty to us is like sixteen to you.

  Wednesday 22 October

  Disaster. Plum has lost Oscar.

  We only noticed when we got to the school gate.

  Oscar is Plum’s toy lemur. Father Christmas gave him to her when she was a baby, and he goes everywhere with her.

  ‘She must have dropped him,’ said Twig.

  ‘In the snow,’ said Leaf.

  ‘Because we were rushing,’ said Twig.

  ‘Because you overslept,’ added Pin, helpfully.

  It was true, and I felt terrible.

  ‘Don’t worry, Plum,’ I said. ‘Socks will find him!’ Socks is our pet husky, and her sense of smell is amazing.

  ‘Pinky promise?’ Plum sniffed.

  ‘Pinky promise,’ I said, and we solemnly shook fingers. No elf has ever broken a pinky promise.

  Not until now, anyway.

  Because even though I’ve searched everywhere, Oscar is nowhere to be found.

  I even tried giving Socks one of Oscar’s knitted jumpers to sniff, to tune her in to his scent, but I’m not sure she understood what I was asking for.

  I’m such a failure.

  All I have to do is walk my brothers and sisters to school, clean the house, buy the food for supper, cook it, walk them home, help them with their homework and get them ready for bed. And I can’t even do that right.

  And as for my dream of becoming a Christmas Elf…

  Well, I suppose I should just forget it.

  Thursday 23 October

  Still no sign of Oscar.

  I’ve searched everywhere, but he’s vanished.

  It’s a long time until Christmas, and Plum has already had her birthday, so to stop her having to wait ages for a replacement, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.

  After drop-off at school, I called in at the library. They only have one book about lemurs, but luckily no one has ever borrowed it, so it was available.

  My head is now full of lemur facts. It turns out that Oscar was a ring-tailed lemur. Did you know lemurs are only found on the Island of Madagascar, off the east coast of Africa? Their faces are white, with black patches around their eyes and noses, and they have grey bodies and white tummies. Oh, and tails circled with black-and-white rings. Which I guess is how they get their name.

  Their favourite food is the leaf of the tamarind tree. And they love to sunbathe by sitting upright on their hind legs with their arms outstretched, which looks a bit like they are doing yoga.

  I could go on…

  Friday 24 October

  I am so embarrassed.

  Went to the craft shop with a list of all the things I need to make a lemur:

  1. black, white and grey fur;

  2. a fluffy black-and-white tail;

  3. a black sew-on nose;

  4. orange sew-on eyes.

  While I was in there, I bumped into someone. Literally. Lots of electronics spilled out of her shopping bag, and I bent down to help her pick them all up.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see you there.’ She had pale green eyes, freckles on her nose, and bright red hair.

  ‘What are you making?’ I asked her.

  ‘A fixed-wing drone,’ she replied. I think I must have looked confused because she added, ‘It’s like a multi-rotor drone, but with a much longer flying time. Plus, it can take a heavier payload.’

  I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just nodded.

  ‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘What are you making?’

  ‘Sorry’ she said. ‘I didn’t see you there’

  ‘A lemur,’ I replied. Now it was her turn to look puzzled. ‘It’s a kind of primate,’ I said helpfully, ‘that lives on the island of Madagascar.’

  She still looked confused, so I kept talking. That may have been a mistake. ‘They never fight,’ I said. ‘Not with their claws, anyway. They put stink on their tails instead. And the lemur with the most stinky tail wins.’

  ‘Interesting,’ she said, in a way that clearly meant: ‘I’m leaving now.’

  Then she left.

  I think I might be in love.

  Saturday 25 October

  No school drop-off today, so I spent the day working on Oscar. Do you know how to make a soft toy? Just in case you want to work in Father Christmas’s workshop one day, let me tell you.

  1. Make sure you have two pieces the right shape, then sew them together, but do it so that the fur is on the inside. Don’t sew it all the way up and make sure you leave a little gap.

  2. Use a special stick with a hook on it, so that you can pull the inside out. (This is especially useful if you’re making a very small lemur.) Now the fur is on the outside, and the sewed bits are on the inside, which is exactly where you want them to be.

  3. Use the stick (or your finger) to push in little bits of stuffing until the toy takes shape.

  4. Sew on the tail. Obviously for Oscar that’s quite a big job.

  5. Sew on the eyes and nose.

  When the replacement Oscar was finished, I felt really pleased with him.

  But proud as I was, nothing prepared me for Plum’s reaction. She squealed!

  ‘Oscar!’ she cried. ‘You’re back!’

  ‘What is that?’ asked my older sister, Bay, who – along with my older brother, Bo – had called in for supper. They’re both over 180 years old and have jobs (which they love to remind me about). They’ve moved out now, so we only ever see them at weekends.

  ‘My toy lemur,’ said Plum proudly. ‘I lost him, so Tog made me another one.’

  ‘A lemur?’ asked Bo, as he dipped a hunk of bread into the pot that was simmering on the stove. ‘Looks more like a squashed racoon. Or a badger that’s been run over.’

  ‘Or a zebra,’ added Bay. ‘That’s had cosmetic surgery.’

  ‘Speaking of toys,’ said Bo. ‘Any reply from Father Christmas?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Shame,’ said Bay.

  ‘You applied the day you left school, right?’ pressed Bo.

  ‘And that was, what? A year ago?’ asked Bay.

  I nodded.

  ‘Don’t take it to heart,’ said Bay.

  ‘It was a bit of a long shot,’ agreed Bo.

  Bay put her arm around my shoulders, which for some reason made me feel worse. ‘Trust me,’ she said. ‘We know how you feel. We felt like total losers until we got our jobs at the ice rink.’

  Sunday 26 October

  Took Leaf, Twig, Pin, Plum and Socks to the ice rink. It was very busy. I’ve been teaching Plum to skate, and she’s slowly getting more confident.



  There was a big sign by the hot chocolate stand saying: Boxing Day Pairs Competition. Entry: 5 acorns per couple. I wonder if I should enter, just in case I can find someone to skate with? Though if I didn’t win, it would be a waste of money, and at the moment every acorn I get comes from my parents.

  Spotted a girl in the crowd with red hair. Thought for a moment it might be the girl from the craft shop, but it wasn’t.

  Monday 27 October

  Nothing interesting happened.

  Tuesday 28 October

  My life is so boring.

  Wednesday 29 October

  Something happened today that really cheered me up.

  While I was waiting at the school gates, a little girl sidled up to me.

  ‘Are you Plum’s brother?’ she asked.

  I said that I was.

  ‘Would you make a lemur for me too?’

  I smiled a huge smile and said that I definitely would.

  Thursday 30 October

  Two more orders for lemurs from two boys in Plum’s class.

  Friday 31 October

  Plum’s entire class have ordered lemurs.

  I’m really not sure why! I mean, they must already have soft toys of their own. But I guess they are the ordinary kind, where the eyes are straight and the stuffing is even. My lemurs are a bit more individual.

  Or as Bo and Bay might say, weird-looking.

  Saturday 1 November

  I saw the girl with red hair today!

  It was at the craft shop when I was buying more lemur supplies. She tapped me on the shoulder as I was tugging at a giant roll of fur.

  ‘They have a matriarchal society,’ she said.

  For a moment I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  ‘Lemurs. They live in troops. And the females are in charge.’

  ‘Yes!’ I said, thrilled that I had someone to share my lemur knowledge with. ‘The females eat and drink first. Before the males, that is.’

  ‘So how come you’re making lemurs?’

  I explained about Plum, and Oscar, and the kids in Plum’s class. When I had finished, she nodded and looked thoughtful.

  ‘I’m applying to be a Christmas Elf,’ she said. ‘Maybe you should too?’

  ‘I tried,’ I said. ‘But I didn’t get a reply.’

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s strange. Maybe your letter got lost?

  I was about to say that, yes, maybe it had, when the roll of fur finally came loose and the entire display fell down on top of me. By the time I’d fought my way out, she was gone.

  Friday 7 November

  Phew. There’s been no time to write my diary this week because I’ve spent every spare minute making thirty-seven lemurs. I took them with me at pick-up time and Plum’s entire class came crowding around me, laughing and clapping with joy. I handed out the lemurs, and they all started to play with them straight away, naming them, cuddling them and making them talk to each other. I felt so happy, like my life finally had a purpose.

  This must be what it’s like to be Father Christmas! Except, of course, that he never sticks around for children to say ‘thank you’. He just leaves the toys and creeps away without anyone seeing him. Which sort of makes it all the more impressive, I think – he doesn’t need the praise.

  Even if I can’t be a Christmas Elf, at least I can make children happy by making them presents the rest of the year. Although I’m not sure I’ll have enough acorns to buy all the materials at this rate.

  Saturday 8 November

  Very tired. Slept.

  Sunday 9 November

  I can’t believe what happened today.

  I took the four little ones with me to the ice rink.

  While teaching them, I’ve got quite good at skating backwards, which I’m very pleased about. Anyway, I was showing off my skills to Leaf, Twig, Pin, Plum and Socks when a small crowd began to form. They started to whoop and cheer, and the more noise they made, the more I showed off.

  I was just beginning to get tired, when who should appear but the girl with red hair! The whole crowd started to clap in unison, and she joined in.

  Excited, I decided to skate in smaller and smaller circles. Which was when things went a bit wrong. I tried to finish with a spin, but I haven’t really learned how to do that yet, so I slipped and ended up spinning on my bottom instead. But no one seemed to mind – they all just carried on clapping.

  Exhausted, I clambered to my feet and took a deep bow. Which was when I realised they weren’t looking at me at all, but at someone behind me…

  I turned to see an athletic figure dressed in a purple sparkly suit, with lightning bolts on the arms, spinning faster and faster in a dazzling pirouette! It was him they had been watching, not me!

  He came to a dramatic halt in a spray of ice, the crowd burst into applause, and the girl with red hair rushed straight past me and into his arms.

  ‘Max!’ she cried.

  Of course! Now I recognised him. It was Max Grimmsson, Grimm Grimmsson’s son. I guess that makes him Max Grimmssonsson.

  ‘Holly!’ he replied.

  Oh well. At least I now know her name.

  Monday 10 November

  Feeling pretty miserable, so no diary today.

  Tuesday 11 November

  Or today.

  Wednesday 12 November

  Or today.

  Thursday 13 November

  Something incredible has happened.

  I was upstairs in my room after dinner, lying on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling, when I heard voices downstairs. The longer I listened, the more familiar one of the voices sounded. Deep, rich, jolly and serious, all at the same time. It couldn’t be… could it?

  I rushed downstairs. My mother had collapsed on to a chair, while my father was pressing a cold flannel to her forehead.

  ‘Mum! Are you okay?’

  ‘Fur Griz… Fur Griz…’

  ‘Father Christmas,’ my father explained. ‘She just opened the door to Father Christmas!’

  ‘What?’

  I ran outside, but he had gone.

  My mother struggled to catch her breath. ‘Here…’ she managed, holding out a letter. ‘It’s for you.’

  I took it from her in a dream.

  Tog Harket is invited to attend the Christmas Elf training course at Father Christmas’s workshop, Christmas Place at 9 a.m., Monday 17 November.

  That’s in four days’ time!

  Father Christmas must have got my application after all!

  Friday 14 November

  Couldn’t sleep last night, I was so excited.

  I decided to practise the route to Christmas Place, ready for Monday. So I crept down the ladder from the top bunk, got dressed and snuck outside.

  Not that I really needed much practice. Ever since I was tiny, I had known that was where Father Christmas had his workshop, and ever since I was only slightly more than tiny, I had been sneaking up to the gates for a peek inside, imagining what it must be like to be a Christmas Elf.

  There was a bright moon and the snow squeaked when I walked. I tiptoed through the lanes to the school gates, then turned right on Reindeer Way and crunched my way up to the top of the hill.

  Peering between the bars of a huge iron gate, I saw the old shoe factory on the left. The sleigh was inside, lit up like an exhibit in a museum. It looked so beautiful, with its gleaming red, green and gold paint, plush leather seats and cosy fur blankets.

  Beyond it was Christmas House, which – like the rest of Christmas Place – once belonged to Max Grimmsson’s father, Grimm Grimmsson, the notorious elfin shoemaker. The factory had closed down after it was discovered that he had been stealing money from his workers.

 

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