There's a Dragon in my Stocking

by Tom Nicoll

  Gran obviously thought so, letting out a huge belly laugh. Soon everyone but Grandad was joining in.

  Hearing the laughter, Dad finally turned round.

  “But … but … how?” he said.

  “That was a bit mean of you, dear,” said Mum, trying her best to keep a straight face.

  “Yes, very funny,” said Grandad, shoving the tray back in the oven, before storming out. “Let’s all prank Grandad at Christmas.”

  “Nice one, Mr Crisp,” said Jayden.

  “Had me fooled,” agreed Min.

  “But … I was sure it wasn’t cooked,” said Dad to himself.

  “Not another one at the sherry too early?” joked Gran.

  Once everyone had left, Dad turned to me. “You saw it, didn’t you? The turkey? I wasn’t just imagining it, was I?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t really get a good look,” I lied. “But it’s not like it could have cooked itself, is it?”

  Dad shook his head slowly. “I guess not,” he said. “It has been a stressful day.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

  Dad pulled the tray out of the oven. “Wow, it really does look good, doesn’t it?” he said.

  “It looks great,” I agreed. “In fact, it’s going to be the best Christmas dinner ever.”

  Dad laughed. “Well, you might be getting a bit carried away there, Eric, but… Where are you off to?”

  “Er … toilet,” I said as I rushed out of the room. The truth was, I finally knew what Pan could give his parents for Christmas.

  “Can you guys come with me?” I whispered to Min and Jayden.

  “But we just started playing,” moaned Jayden, pointing towards the Who’s the Murderer? game set up on the coffee table.

  “Your gran suggested we play it to stop your grandad from whining,” whispered Min.

  I gave them a wild-eyed stare, the international sign for “Come on, we’ve got urgent Mini-Dragon business to deal with”. Or at least it is in our world.

  That was all they needed to see.

  “Hey!” said Grandad as we hurried towards the door. “Where are you going?”

  Min and Jayden looked at me.

  My mind ran through possible excuses:

  I plumped for the last one.

  “Oh, that’s very nice of you,” said Mum.

  “But they can’t just leave without solving the murder,” protested Grandad.

  Jayden closed his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Was it Professor Partridge in the allotment, with the tea cosy?” he asked.

  Grandad frowned as he picked up the sleeve in the middle of the board and pulled out the solution cards. “But … how did you know that?” he gasped.

  “Elementary, my dear Eric’s grandad,” said Jayden, giving him a bow. “And now if you’ll excuse us, we must be on our way.”

  At that moment, Toby reappeared, pushing past us into the living room.

  “Oh, look, here’s Toby,” I said. “He can play the next game.”

  “Excellent,” said Grandad, rubbing his hands together.

  “Huh … what?” said Toby as I shut the door behind me.

  “How did you know that?” Min asked Jayden.

  Jayden shrugged. “I’ve always been really good at intuition,” he said. “Plus I saw the cards when Eric’s gran was putting them in.”

  Min rolled her eyes, before turning to me. “So what do you need us for?” she asked.

  “We’re going to help Dad,” I said.

  “I thought you were just saying that to get us out of the room?” said Jayden.

  “And I thought it was Pan who needed our help?” added Min.

  “I was,” I said. “And he does. But now that I think about it, helping Dad will let us help Pan.” This didn’t do much to get rid of the bewildered looks on their faces, so I told them my idea.

  “Brilliant,” said Jayden.

  Min, on the other hand, seemed lost in thought. “I think I know how we can make this even better,” she said. “You guys take care of things in there. I need to speak to your sister.”

  “Posy?” I said. “What for?”

  “You’ll see,” she said with a smile. “Meet you upstairs in, what, ten minutes?”

  Dad seemed grateful for our help. With so many extra guests, we ended up having to lug in the table from the garden. Then Jayden and I carried through the food, which gave us plenty of opportunity to swipe what we needed while Dad was busy carving the turkey.

  Once the table was set, we hurried upstairs to find Min waiting outside my door. Dad was already calling everyone for dinner so we didn’t have much time.

  “I thought the dragons were in the spare room?” said Jayden.

  “No, they’re back in here,” said Min. “I can hear them complaining about how hungry they are.”

  “They must have seen Toby heading downstairs when they flew back up from the kitchen,” I said.

  Jayden and Min looked at each other. “The kitchen?” they said together.

  “I’ll explain later,” I said. I looked down at the tiny plates Min was holding from Posy’s new tea set. “Good work, Min. They’re just the right size. How did you convince her to give them to you?”

  “I traded them for some chocolate from one of your selection boxes,” she said. “I hope your parents won’t mind.”

  I tried not to worry about that too much as Jayden and I emptied our pockets, filling the plates with little slices of turkey, stuffing, Brussels sprouts, roast potatoes, pigs in blankets, carrots, turnip and parsnips, all snuck out of the kitchen under Dad’s nose. I had even managed to carry out little egg cups full of gravy and cranberry sauce.

  “All right, here we go,” I said, pushing open the bedroom door.

  “What’s all this?” asked Pan’s mum, looking up from a yoga book that had somehow managed to find its way into my room. I could tell from the way she quickly disentangled her legs from around her wings that she must have been in the middle of practising something from it.

  “Merry Christmas, Mr and Mrs Long,” I said, placing the tiny plates down in the middle of the room. Then I took out a can of lemonade I had stuffed up my jumper and tipped the contents into three little cups. “Pan thought it would be a nice idea for the three of you to have a proper Christmas dinner together.”

  “I did?” asked Pan. “Um… I mean, I did!”

  “This is his present to you both,” I said.

  “Oh, wow, son!” said Pan’s dad. “What a nice thing to do. Isn’t that lovely, Isabel?”

  But Pan’s mum didn’t reply. The bottom part of her snout trembled a little and then she burst into tears. She flung herself at Pan, squeezing him so hard that for a second I thought his head might pop off.

  “This is wonderful,” she sniffed.

  “And you’ll need these,” said Min. She took out three tiny crackers from her pocket and handed them to the Mini-Dragons.

  “Where did you get those from?” asked Jayden.

  “Made them,” she said. “We always make our own crackers. Posy had a brand-new craft set so I borrowed a few bits and pieces. Had to reduce the sizes obviously and make a few guesses on head sizes for the hats but…”

  “You made hats as well?” I said.

  Min gave me an odd look. “Of course I did. It wouldn’t be Christmas without hats. It’s not even worth thinking about.”

  Jayden nodded. “She’s got a point, mate.”

  “Well, thank you all so much,” said Pan’s mum, once they’d pulled their mini-crackers and put on their hats.

  “No problem, Mrs Long. We’d better go and get our own dinner now,” I said. “So we’ll leave you to it.”

  As we walked out, I saw Pan grinning at me. “Thanks,” he mouthed.

  I smiled and gave him a nod.

  Suddenly Jayden turned on his heel. “Whoops, almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a dollop of red and white gloop and slapped it down on to a spa
re plate.

  “It’s trifle,” he said. “Or at least I think it is. It’s kind of hard to tell now. I’m sure it tastes fine, though.”

  “Er … yes, I’m sure it does,” said Pan’s mum, smiling politely.

  We closed the door. With one Christmas meal sorted, it was time for another.

  I had never known a Christmas dinner like it. Fifteen people and one cat crammed into a single room.

  Seating was the biggest issue. The Blooms had nipped back home and brought over some chairs, which looked an awful lot like thrones to me, and Dad was using the office chair from the spare room. There were just enough seats for everyone. Well, if you can call the beanbag that I got stuck with a seat, that is.

  Fifteen people having Christmas dinner also meant fifteen crackers to pull, which went like this:

  And then one extra for Pusskin:

  BANG!

  Mum always insists that Pusskin gets a hat to wear, too. To be honest, I’m not sure she appreciates it as much as Mum thinks she does.

  “All right, dig in,” said Dad, placing the turkey in the centre of the table. “I think there should be enough for everyone.”

  That was an understatement. “I don’t understand, Dad,” I said. “How can there still be so much with all these people?”

  “It’s the first Law of Christmas,” said Mr Bloom, helping himself to some gravy. “No matter how many people you invite to dinner, you’ll always have too much food.”

  All the adults nodded in agreement. Dad had told me about the Laws of Christmas before:

  Everyone tucked in. After a minute or two, all eyes turned towards Grandad, who had just placed a sliver of turkey into his mouth. The room fell silent, awaiting his verdict.

  “Meh,” he said eventually.

  The look of disappointment on Dad’s face was horrible to watch. But before anyone said another word, Gran snatched Grandad’s plate and began shovelling his turkey back on to the serving plate.

  “What are you doing?” cried Grandad.

  “Well, if you don’t like it, George, I’m sure Monty doesn’t want you to force yourself to eat more,” she said, throwing me a wink.

  “All right, all right,” Grandad said. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Fine. I’m sorry, son. You’ve outdone yourself this year. In fact, I think this might be the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had. Maybe even better than the one I cooked back in ’74 for five hundred men.”

  Dad seemed to get something caught in his eye for a minute. “Thanks, Dad,” he said.

  “It really is the Ultimate Christmas Dinner,” said Mum, squeezing Dad’s arm.

  Gran smiled at Grandad, then returned the food to his plate.

  “Though you’ve overcooked the Brussels sprouts,” added Grandad.

  “George!” protested Gran, taking a bite of one herself. After chewing it for a couple of seconds, her expression softened. “Actually, I’m sorry, but he’s right there.”

  Dad let out a resigned laugh and the table fell silent as we all got stuck in again.

  Just as Mum finished dishing out the trifle, there came a noise from across the table.

  TING-TING!

  Mrs Bloom had stood up and was tapping her wine glass.

  “Oh-ho,” said Mr Bloom, rubbing his hands together. “Looks like Margery’s going to give one of her famous toasts.”

  As the room fell silent, Mrs Bloom opened her mouth and…

  BZZZZ. BZZZZ.

  Her phone had lit up and was vibrating itself towards the end of the table. She held up her hand to everyone then hurried out to take the call.

  “Ah, that’s a shame,” said Mr Bloom. “Well, I’d just like to thank the Crisps for taking us all in today and Monty for doing such a great job with the grub.”

  “Here, here,” said Min’s mum.

  “Three cheers for the Crisps,” said Jayden’s dad.

  Mr Bloom turned towards Toby, who was already tucking into his third portion of trifle. “What about you, Toby?” he said. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

  Toby’s face, the bits that weren’t covered in gravy and custard, turned red. “Erm … thanks,” he mumbled.

  “You’re welcome, everyone,” said Mum. “We’ve loved having you all here. Isn’t that right, dear? Dear?”

  But Dad was unlikely to reply, given that he was fast asleep in his chair, his head drooping into his pudding bowl.

  “Anyone fancy helping me clean up?” said Mum. She was looking directly at me as she said this but fortunately there was no shortage of volunteers as Gran and Min’s and Jayden’s parents offered their services.

  “Would you like to help, too, George?” asked Gran.

  “I would, but I think my back’s starting to play up,” he said, rubbing the base of his spine.

  I looked at Min and Jayden and tilted my head towards the door – our sign for “Let’s quietly leave the room to go and check on the Mini-Dragons”.

  “Where are you off to, then?” asked Grandad. “Fancy another defeat … I mean game of something?”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “We’re just going to…”

  “…go to Eric’s room, to spend some time together before we go away,” finished Min.

  “What about your other friend?” Grandad asked, pointing at Toby.

  “Well, he’s not really…” started Jayden.

  “…finished yet,” I said.

  Toby nodded and helped himself to the trifle from his mum’s plate.

  Ignoring the suspicious look on Grandad’s face, the three of us left the room and hurried upstairs.

  It seemed like the Mini-Dragons had enjoyed their Christmas dinner, too.

  “Oh, man, that was amazing,” said Pan, letting out a little flame belch.

  “Yes, you must pass on our compliments to your father,” said Mrs Long, patting her stomach. “I know we helped him out with the turkey but the rest of the meal was just divine. What is it he does for a living again? A chef, is he?”

  “Actually, he’s the manager of the most unsuccessful football team in the country,” I said.

  “Oh, yes, now I remember,” she said. “Well, whatever makes him happy…”

  Suddenly the door burst open and in stepped Grandad.

  “Ha!” cried Grandad, pointing his finger at each of the Mini-Dragons in turn. “Dragons! I knew it. They all thought I was off my rocker but I know what I saw.”

  Whenever they get frightened, Mini-Dragons automatically freeze themselves. According to the Encyclopaedia Dragonica, it’s a defence mechanism. Min and Jayden appeared to be trying it out, too, as I looked to them for help. Maybe it was because I was so full of turkey, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “Real-life dragons,” continued my grandad. “Who’d have thought?”

  Laughter broke out behind Grandad.

  I groaned. It was Toby, standing in the doorway. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

  “What’s so funny?” Grandad asked.

  “You,” said Toby. “You actually think those things are real?”

  Grandad looked at the dragons then back to Toby. “Well … yes.”

  “First of all, everyone knows dragons are extinct,” said Toby.

  “That’s dinosaurs,” said Min, shaking her head.

  “Whatever,” said Toby. “Second, even if they were still alive, they wouldn’t be that small, would they? And third, Eric’s had one of those since his birthday. Do you honestly think in all that time, I wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a real dragon?”

  Toby burst out laughing again. Min then started laughing herself and gave me a little nudge. I started laughing, too, as did Jayden.

  Then Pan and his parents joined in.

  “Not you three!” I hissed. Luckily neither Grandad nor Toby had noticed.

  Grandad seemed to be thinking it over. “Yes, I suppose you would have to be a complete imbecile not to notice a real-life dragon under your nose all that time.”

&n
bsp; “Exactly!” agreed Toby.

  “Well, what are they, then?” asked Grandad grumpily.

  “They’re toys, obviously,” said Toby. “I tried for ages to get hold of one but you can’t get them anywhere. Well, unless you’re Eric. Look, there’s another two he’s got now. Unbelievable! Santa better have got me some or there’s going to be trouble. And they’d better not be like those defective ones Eric tried to pass off on me. They kept complaining about the state of my room and telling me all about the history of dragons. Worst toys ever.”

  I could hear the muffled sounds of the Mini-Dragons giggling at his description of Pan’s horrible aunt and uncle.

  Grandad still looked unconvinced. “Toys?” he said. “I saw them fly. And I’m pretty sure I heard them talking. What kind of toys do that?”

  “I just told you they talk,” said Toby, rolling his eyes. “And no offence but considering you’ve spent most of the day playing games that are like a hundred years old, I’m not sure you’re that up to date when it comes to toys.”

  “I’m still up to date,” Grandad said. “I bet I could beat you at any modern game you’ve got. What do you want to play? Hoopsies? Pins? Shuffles? Dusties?”

  “Those don’t even sound like real things,” said Toby. “How about a proper game: Total Combat?”

  “Er … right,” said Grandad, “I think I’ve heard of that board game.”

  Toby shook his head. “It’s a video game.”

  “I knew that,” said Grandad. “I meant bored game, in that I’m bored of playing it so much. And, actually, I’ve had a few sherries now so maybe I shouldn’t…”

  “No, that’s perfect,” grinned Toby. “Probably explains why you think you’re seeing real dragons. Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

  “I know how it works,” said Grandad.

  “Sure you do,” sighed Toby as they headed out of the room.

  I shut the door behind them. We all stared at each other for a few moments before everyone erupted with laughter.

  “Can I open my presents now?” asked Pan.

  “Of course,” said Mr Long. Pan’s parents pulled their rucksacks out from beneath my bed and unzipped them, each removing a package wrapped in brown leaves. Mrs Long handed one to her son and Mr Long handed the other to me.