by Anna Blix
“No. I don’t think so. Have you got the manual in there?”
“It’s right here.” Clare got the manual out of the glove compartment and handed it to Niklas. “Here you go, knock yourself out, if it makes you feel better. I’ve had this car for years, and I know what that light means, and what to do when it comes on. It means stop driving — that is, if the car even has the courtesy to start — and have it towed to a garage.”
Niklas flicked through the manual until he reached the warning lights section. “Ah, there it is. Engine failure. Stop driving immediately. Tow the car to a licensed garage. There you go.”
“What do you mean, there you go? I just told you exactly that!” Clare put her hand to her forehead. “Just be quiet and let me think. What do I do now?”
“Maybe you should open the hood anyway? I can check the oil level.”
“It isn’t the oil, it’s an engine failure! And we can’t fix it out here by ourselves.” Clare got out of the car and slammed the door shut.
“I’m only trying to help. No need to be so prickly.” Niklas shook his head. This was the thanks he got for all the help he had given her — shouting and door slamming.
“We’ve got to take Einar somewhere safe for the night. A sheltered place where he can sleep,” Clare said.
“Good luck finding a place like that in the middle of London,” Niklas said, but then he stopped himself. Should he? What if she turned out to be a militant animal rights activist after all, and not a peaceful reindeer herder? He decided to take a chance on her, annoying as she was, because he did know the perfect place after all.
“Come to think of it, I know just the place. And it’s not far away.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
‘Yes.’
“Is it private? I don’t want anyone spotting Einar and kicking up a fuss.”
“Yes, it’s private. Nobody will see him. Trust me.” Was it private? Niklas had to think. Well, at least it was hidden from view of passers-by out on the street. And the fence was quite high. He didn’t think any nosy neighbours would be able to spy over it.
“It would only have to be for one night. I’ll get the car fixed in the morning,” Clare said.
“It will be fine. Come on, I’ll take you there.”
“Great! I’ll just grab some stuff for Einar.” Clare entered the trailer through a narrow door in the front and came back out with two empty buckets and a large sack of something that most likely was reindeer food.
It was only a fifteen minute walk before the three of them were standing outside Mrs Dollimore’s house with its wooden B&B sign. Niklas gave the door three loud thumps, and soon the little lady came to open.
She looked from Niklas’s proud smile to Clare and then to Einar with his jingling brass bells. “What on Earth? What is that animal?”
“Good news,” Niklas said. “I’ve helped this woman and her reindeer, and she agrees that I’m a benevolent character. And I’ve acquired the present.”
Mrs Dollimore shook her head. “I beg your pardon?”
“You can tick it off the list!”
“Oh. Well, that’s lovely, Niklas… But, who is this young lady?”
Sometimes Mrs Dollimore needed quite a lot of explaining. “I found you two new guests. Mrs Dollimore, meet my new elf, Clare, and Einar the reindeer.”
Clare raised both hands as if to signal peaceful intentions. “It’s nice to meet you. And to clarify, I’m not an actual elf.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you too,” Mrs Dollimore gave Clare an awkward wave. “But… I don’t understand… Are you saying you have come to stay the night?”
“Only if you’ve got room for me. And if it isn’t too much trouble? And, ahem, is there somewhere Einar can sleep for the night?”
“Oh, I don’t know… You see, my son, Steven, is due to arrive any day with his wife. They’re coming to visit from Devon and I don’t mean to be rude, but it might be an inconvenience to them if I had bed and breakfast guests when they arrive. I really don’t think it’s a good idea…”
Niklas interrupted. “It would only be for one night. I’m sure Steven will ring before he shows up. And you said this is a pet-friendly B&B.” He turned to Clare. “She’s got a large shed at the back that would be perfect for Einar to sleep in.”
“But, a reindeer…” Mrs Dollimore stared at the animal. “…Is he really?”
“A reindeer? I know, isn’t it great? I didn’t believe it myself at first. I thought it was some kind of strange cow. He won’t be of any trouble to you. And you can charge him your standard rate.”
“But… the shed?”
“We can move the train set and all of the other things out, so he doesn’t ruin anything. And Mr Dollimore will be pleased his shed is being used once more. I’m sure he’ll smile, looking down from his cloud.”
This was fun, although Niklas had no idea why. Just an hour ago, he couldn’t have cared any less about Clare and Einar, and now, for some reason he didn’t quite understand, here he was, eagerly trying to persuade Mrs Dollimore to take them both in. “Go ahead and charge him your premium rate. I’ll pay.”
“But, I don’t have a premium rate,” Mrs Dollimore said.
“Shh, you’re not supposed to say that. Just make one up. Please?”
Mrs Dollimore sighed. “Well, go on then. As long as he doesn’t break anything, I guess it won’t do any harm. But it can only be for one night.”
Niklas gave her a big smile. “Thank you! He’ll bring you nothing but joy, I promise. We can take him around to the back if you hand me the key to the gate.”
“While you go and reword your pet-friendly policy,” Clare said. “And thank you — you’re a star!”
Niklas opened the side gate, and Clare walked Einar through to the back. Niklas set down the two buckets, and let the heavy sack slide off his back and onto the patio.
“Are you sure it’s okay? She seemed a bit unsure,” Clare asked.
Niklas smiled. “It will be fine. She loves animals. Mostly cats, but reindeer also, I’m sure.”
With a click, the back lights turned on and flooded the dewy lawn in harsh brightness. Mrs Dollimore unlocked the back door and came out with the key to the shed. “I’ll just unlock the shed for you,” she said and walked in a wide semi-circle around Einar.
Clare followed and gave the shed a close inspection. “Those boxes need to go — and all the tools.” She gestured towards the tools hanging on the pegboard. “He could cut himself on those. And that thing needs to go, whatever it is.” She nodded towards Niklas’s heap of discarded scooter parts in the corner. “And the concrete floor is really hard. Einar’s going to need a thick layer of straw. Lucky I brought loads.”
Mrs Dollimore nodded. “You can take the boxes and tools into the kitchen for now, Niklas. We’ll sort them out from there. And your… scooter, if you want to keep it.”
Clare tied Einar’s rope to one of the posts that held up Mrs Dollimore’s washing line. Then she filled the bucket with fresh water from the garden tap and put it in front of Einar. The reindeer lowered its head and drank with long, greedy gulps.
“No wonder you were thirsty, boy. After such an afternoon. Will you keep an eye on him for me, while I get the straw?”
“Of course we’ll watch him. I’ll help you with the boxes, Niklas,” Mrs Dollimore said. Clare left the garden and closed the gate carefully behind her.
Niklas picked up one of the plastic storage boxes from the concrete floor and carried it across the grass, and Mrs Dollimore followed with another. “Clare seems nice,” she said. “How do you know her? And how come she showed up here with a reindeer?”
“I met her for the first time today. At first, I thought she was a militant animal rights activist, but it turned out she’s just an ordinary reindeer herder. She was in trouble, so I helped her. See, I’m benevolent. Don’t forget to tick that one off the list — benevolent.”
“I’ll do it straight away.” Mrs Dollimore smiled
. “But what happened? Surely she wasn’t herding the reindeer at the shopping centre?”
“There was some sort of riot, and Clare had to liberate Einar from an evil criminal. Then we found out her car had broken down and she needed somewhere to stay. But in the end, I did get hold of a new scooter, and that’s the main thing.” Niklas put the box down on Mrs Dollimore’s kitchen floor. “The only problem is that it’s blue and not red, but Sophie’s going to have to live with that. There weren’t any red ones left.”
Mrs Dollimore took a pen out of her kitchen drawer and made a tick next to the word “benevolent” on the list. “I’m sure it will be just fine. But are you sure Clare will only stay for just one night? I don’t want the house full of people when Steven and Lydia get here.”
“She just needs to get her car fixed. Then she’ll be on her way to Scotland.”
Mrs Dollimore smiled. “I’ll put her up in the second guest room for the night. It’s not as nice as yours, but don’t tell her that.”
29
“Einar is an unusual name. Did you come up with it, Clare?” Mrs Dollimore said.
W hen Niklas came downstairs the following morning, Mrs Dollimore and Clare had already finished their breakfast, judging by the empty plates on the table. Mrs Dollimore was reading the newspaper with White the cat curled up on her lap.
Clare looked up at Niklas and smiled. “Good morning!” She seemed to be in a good mood, considering the predicament she was in. Niklas noticed she seemed different in daylight. Or it wasn’t the daylight so much as her hair that was different. It was uncombed, like she’d just got out of bed, but in a nice way.
She turned back to Mrs Dollimore and said, “No, but I’ve looked it up. It’s an Old Norse name which means ‘one warrior’. I think it fits him, after what he’s had to fight through, don’t you? But I have no idea who named him. Don’t think it was that woman at the farm.”
Mrs Dollimore slid the newspaper across the table to Niklas and pointed to a half-page article. “Look here, Niklas. You’ve made the national news!”
Niklas looked at the article. The headline read: “Escaped Reindeer Runs Amok In London Shopping Centre”. A grainy photo taken from a surveillance camera showed a picture of Einar as he jumped off the stage and into the crowd.
Saturday, 3pm. A reindeer broke free from its handler during a Santa’s Grotto family event at Aspenwood Shopping Centre in West London. The animal ran uncontrollably through the busy centre, causing terror amongst shoppers. The building was evacuated and closed for the remainder of the day. The reindeer escaped through the North exit and has of yet not been found. The police are appealing to members of the public for information relevant to the incident. Please call the police non-emergency number 101. Do not approach the reindeer if seen. If you believe yourself or another person to be in direct danger, call the emergency number 999. The police wish to speak to the individuals pictured below in relation to the incident.
Underneath the article were three blurry photos: one of Russ Gibson, one of Clare chasing after Einar and one of Niklas.
“I knew it!” Niklas said. “We are wanted by the police! Have you seen this, Clare?” What was he supposed to do now? Maybe he should phone the telephone number and explain what had happened. Make it clear he was just an innocent passer-by who had nothing to do with it. Say he had acted in good faith when he had helped Clare get away. If he informed on her, maybe they would let him off the hook.
Clare turned the newspaper around and studied the article. “It just says they want to talk to us, not that we are wanted,” she said. “But I still think we should lie low. Look at those blurry pictures! There’s no way anybody will recognise us.”
Niklas scoffed. “That’s easy for you to say!”
“Niklas!” Mrs Dollimore said. “Be nice! Besides, Clare is right. There’s no need to do anything rash. The article is only on page nine; it’s not like they’re going to send out the special forces.”
Do anything rash? Niklas was a scientist — he never did anything rash. In fact, he was going to get himself some breakfast — that would show them how level-headed he was. He went out to the kitchen, where boxes from the shed were still stacked high, and took a cereal bowl from one of the cupboards.
“Help yourself to some eggs and bacon, dear. There’s plenty left,” called Mrs Dollimore.
Niklas scooped some scrambled eggs into the cereal bowl and placed two rashers of crispy bacon on top. The washing machine entered its spin cycle, and he could no longer hear the two women’s conversation out in the breakfast room. He put the kettle on and spooned three measures of instant coffee into a cup, then leaned back against the countertop while he waited for the water to boil.
So now he was wanted by the police. It was the price he had to pay for yesterday’s many successes. In a strange way, it felt exciting. He chuckled softly and read the checklist on the fridge: Travels by reindeer. He must remember to ask Mrs Dollimore if they needed a sleigh, or if he could just ride on the reindeer.
He poured the boiling water into his cup and took his breakfast to the table.
“…breakdown?” Clare looked up when he re-entered the room.
“I think so,” whispered Mrs Dollimore.
Niklas sat at the table and cut up his bacon. It sank to the bottom of his cereal bowl, buried underneath a mound of scrambled eggs.
“Clare and I have decided to do nothing for now,” announced Mrs Dollimore. “We’re not going to contact the police about Einar — nothing good can come from it. Besides, you’ve got much more important things to do.”
So now he didn’t even get a say in it? Fine, have it their way. Niklas certainly didn’t want to come across as rash again, so he stayed quiet.
“Oh? What do you have to do that’s so important?” Clare asked.
Mrs Dollimore leaned forward and smiled secretively. “You won’t believe this, Clare.” She was visibly bursting with excitement. “Niklas here is the actual real Father Christmas! Or at least that’s what we’re trying to prove.”
Clare stared at Mrs Dollimore, then Niklas.
“It hasn’t been proven yet,” Niklas said. “But we have set up a hypothesis and are working our way through the criteria.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Mrs Dollimore said. “The list is on the fridge, if you want to have a look.”
Clare looked from one to the other again, but didn’t say anything. Slowly, she pushed her chair back and went out to the kitchen. Reappearing with the list in her hand, she read out loud: “‘Beard, Red Coat and Hat, Benevolent, St Nicholas/Niklas, Travels by Reindeer’ — Travels by reindeer?”
“Yes, and I was going to ask the test conductor about that…” Niklas nodded towards Mrs Dollimore. “…If I just ride on it, will that count? Or do I need a sleigh?”
“What? What a minute.” Clare wrinkled her forehead. “You’re not going to… Are you talking about my reindeer? Are you completely insane? Who are you people?”
“I don’t see any other reindeer here,” Niklas said.
“Easy now,” Mrs Dollimore said. “Nobody’s riding on Einar.”
Niklas waved his fork in the air. “But this chance is too good to miss out on. We’re not going to find another reindeer before Christmas!” He turned to Mrs Dollimore. “It’s destiny, just like you said.”
“Destiny?” Clare made a series of uncomfortable noises, then she said, “You both know reindeer don’t fly across the sky, don’t you? All of that’s just made up.” She stared at Niklas. “You’re not going to prove you are Santa Claus by being cruel to animals.”
Niklas shook his head. “No, I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to hurt him. I won’t ride on him if you don’t want me to. Maybe I could just lean gently on him?”
Mrs Dollimore said, “Niklas, you travelled with Einar yesterday, didn’t you? When you two walked over here. Let’s leave it at that — you’ve travelled by reindeer. I’ll tick it off the list. Everybody stay calm.”
Clare stared
at Niklas. “But it doesn’t prove anything. This isn’t science. It’s just… What are you up to? Are you taking advantage of her? Is this some kind of elaborate scam?”
Niklas felt his cheeks redden. How could she think he would do such a thing after his display of benevolence yesterday? Scam a defenceless little lady! What did she imagine such a scam would look like?
“Don’t be silly,” Mrs Dollimore said. “Of course he’s not scamming me. Niklas has been very helpful since he moved in. He pays his rent on time every week, and he keeps me company.”
Clare shook her head in disbelief and carried on reading, “‘Lives at the North Pole’. How are you going to manage that one?”
“Oh, but that’s one of the easy ones,” Mrs Dollimore said. “Niklas already lives at the North Pole. Well, he’s here now, obviously, but his address is still the North Pole.”
“His address is the North Pole?”
“Didn’t he tell you? Niklas used to be a polar researcher, and he lived at the North Pole, but he lost his funding because he never produced any results. Didn’t you tell her that, Niklas?”
Niklas mumbled, “I guess it never came up.”
Clare sighed deeply and carried on, “What about this one then, ‘Makes Presents with the Help of Elves’?”
Mrs Dollimore’s face brightened. “Well, you had a good go at making the present yourself, didn’t you Niklas? Did you see that thing out in the shed yesterday, Clare? That’s what Niklas calls a kick scooter. One children are supposed to ride on.” She nodded. “I know. So naturally, in the end, we decided to leave the production to the elves.”
Clare scoffed. “What elves?”
“Elves, as in toy-making professionals.” Mrs Dollimore put her hand to the side of her mouth as if it was supposed to stop Niklas from hearing, and whispered loudly, “He bought the present at the shopping centre.”
Clare scoffed and continued, “‘Brings Present(s) to Child(ren) at Christmas’? What’s going on there?”
“We let the cat decide about that one,” Mrs Dollimore said.
