Chapter 10

The Christmas morning breakfast table was groaning with food of all kinds. Around the table, big enough for twenty normal people, had lots of tall chairs, with ladder like rungs up the side for little legs to climb up to the top.

Jennifer had heard the hubbub of excited voices and deep joyful laughter all the way down the passageway to the hall and, although Junior gripped her hand more firmly, she still fought the rising panic inside her.

“Ah, there’s Gramps and Grandma, they’ve saved a couple of seats for us.” Junior leaned in a whispered, “I knew they would.”

Halfway down one side of the table, Jennifer could see an old, but rather distinguished looking gentleman with a round and reddened jovial face, dressed in a green suit, not unlike the colour green of her own dress. Next to him were two empty chairs. His arm was stretched across the backs of the empty chairs and entwined with the arm of an exceedingly beautiful woman, who looked the least like any single grandma she could ever imagine, she was more like a princess. As their eyes met, the beautiful grandmother beamed back at her with a wonderful smile, full of welcome, fit for any pretender for the role of future Mrs Claus. Jennifer smiled uncertainly back at her, and the woman winked! Then the couple rose from their seats and eagerly beckoned them come join them.

The young couple walked around the foot of the long table. Jennifer noted that Santa, Young Nick, was at the head of the table, while Hilde sat at the top of the side that Junior’s Gramps and Grandma sat, while Beata sat opposite Hilde.

“This is my Gramps and Grandma, Jen. Folks, I’d like you to meet my er, dear friend, Jennifer.”

“Get away, Junior! Friend indeed! We know just who she is!” boomed the green suited Santa, in a voice that simply oozed bonhomie, “Come here my beautiful girl, give your future grandfather a proper squeeze!”

Gramps gave her a big hug, “it is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Obviously, Junior’s told us absolutely nothing about you at all, he’s too close-mouthed by half! But we have ways and means of finding things out, once he asked Me Lady and I to lend him our support. Now tell me, did you pick that dress, or was it Junior?”

“Er, I, Junior, well, he didn’t see me in it until just now. Gronwynk showed me endless dresses of all shapes and hues, but I simply loved this dress and the colour.”

“Well, then, Jennifer my dear, I declare that you have a great sense of colour, as indeed do I, and whatever happens, you will always be welcome at our lodge any Christmas, and at any time during the year too, won’t she, my dear?”

“Of course she will,” Grandma smiled, “now let her go, you great oaf, while she’s still breathing, I swear she’s turning blue! I want my opportunity to welcome her to the family.”

She is so English, Jennifer thought, and her accent would cut lead crystal glass, probably Regency English, if she remembered snippets of conversation from Junior. Gramps relinquished his warming grip slowly and Grandma, fully six or more inches taller than Jennifer, bent down and kissed her enthusiastically on both cheeks. There was no denial of pleasure in welcoming this new girl into their grandson’s life.

“Come sit next to me, Jenny, dear, while the men boast, sorry discuss, how their deliveries went,” then she dropped her voice to whisper in Jennifer’s ear, “take it all with a pinch of salt, Jenny, they will exaggerate every set-back, double the strength of every headwind and reduce every near miss to the width of a caterpillar hair!”

Jennifer laughed, feeling more at ease and sat down with Junior’s grandmother. Jennifer wondered how she should address her. A glance to her left revealed Junior and his grandfather still slapping each other’s shoulders and, from the wildly extravagant arm stretches and gestures, clearly both were giving a running commentary of the few million homes each ‘assistant Santa’ had encountered last night.

“I wanted to have a nice chat with you, Jenny, now, do you prefer Jenny, Jennifer, or Jenna?”

“I was always called Jenny or Jen at home. For a while I preferred Jenna, but that only sounds rather pathetic now. I suppose I think of myself as Jen, and I’m more than happy with that, especially as Junior calls me that more often than not. Yes, I think I like it more because I really like the man that calls me ‘Jen’.”

“Well, I’m glad you like Junior. Don’t ever tell him this but he is our favourite grandson, after all, and he will be as good a Father Christmas as his grandfather ever was.”

“Are you saying that Junior’s father—”

“He has been a disappointment to us, Jen. I will be honest with you. Look at him. This is his biggest day of the year, which has gone off as well as any other Christmas in living memory, and see how grumpy he is!”

Jennifer sneaked a look. Both Young Nick and Beata looked miserable, in stark contrast to the elves nearby, who were stuffing themselves and having a good time after all their hard work throughout the year had once more come to fruition. She couldn’t see Hilde from where she was sitting, but imagined that she too, would be frowning.

“I see what you mean. It is such a shame, as Beata really is quite beautiful, er, sorry, what do I call you, I can’t call you Grandma, can I?”

She laughed. It sounded to Jennifer like someone gentle shaking a crystal chandelier, “You can if you wish, Jen my dear, but if you feel more comfortable, I am Georgianna. As for Beata, I agree, she is indeed very beautiful. And, as she has stayed here several times over recent months and I have had opportunities to speak to her, I find that she is indeed a very sweet girl who deserves a special husband. But that will not be Junior, his hopes lie in a determined direction, so she is doomed to disappointment in that expectation.”

“So what is it about this prophecy of the perfect wife for Santa, Georgianna? He has no choice but to be aware of her as soon as she is born, but then she hold all the aces, it appears, and has to choose him of her own free will?”

“Well dear, it has a long history and goes back to when the festival of Christmas first came about. It used to be a very wild affair, you know, with drunken orgies and all sorts of unsuitable goings on.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of Saturnalia before.”

“Exactly, Jen. And you still see these old places inhabited with their ghosts, hoping that one day the Magic Spell will be broken and they will rule the roost once more. We do not mean that to ever happen.”

“Nobody wants that, Georgianna, I least of all.”

“When the festival became Christmas, Saint Nicholas was appointed to be the Saint of Christmas. However, the free and easy access that Santa has to people in their own property, knowledge of their good and bad deeds, including to some extent their good and bad thoughts, puts Santa into a unique and potentially powerful position. Quite how would it be possible for such a man, even a saint like the original Saint Nicholas, or any of his eventual offspring, be able to take part in the usual games of courtship? As you have already experienced, before a couple can eventually build the trust and love to be completely open and honest with each other? An impossible imposition on the poor man, because Santa, of course, would see through any ruse, subterfuge and tease, which is a normal everyday part of the pleasurable agony of courtship.” Georgianna laughed, no doubt remembering masquerade balls in candlelit ballrooms.

“Of course,” Jennifer realised what constraints Junior would have to face trying to go through a normal courtship, “I never really thought about it before. His innocent little visitations, coupled with his openness and direct declarations of his attraction and love for me, so beyond his control, seems so odd, unreal somehow, that they would appear fake to a modern, particularly insecure girl like me. We are so used to fakery that we can’t imagine any man, even Santa Claus, as being the genuine article any more.”

“Yes, it is both frightening and refreshing. I remember my own courtship. Then, Nick, being Russian, played the role of a Count in the Imperial Court, and I, a mere Bishop’s daughter, was completely swept off my feet. Girls in my time were so innocent and thoroughly obsessed with romance. I remember how smitten young Victoria was with Prince Albert.”

“Queen Victoria?”

“Yes, we knew her as a girl, you wouldn’t believe how tiny she was, yet charming and persuasive. And Nicholas and I were new parents at the time, so she often sought my advice in the early years of her marriage to dear Albert.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Anyway, back to the prophecy of Mrs Claus. So, the very first Saint Nicholas insisted that the random chance of finding a soulmate be removed from the equation and that the future Santa would know her from birth and, when she was of courtship age, something that naturally varies with time and society, they would come to meet and get to know each other. The young Santa is even permitted to explain to her what could happen. But, the onus of acceptance of their troth must always be with the free will of the female involved. As for the future Santa, he has only one choice, one soulmate. Only after receiving either many rejections of his court, or if she removes herself from the game of courtship, would he be granted leave to seek an alternative bride, because as surely as the sunrise, we must have a new Santa to follow the old.”

“Removes herself?”

“Our eldest son, Young Nick, was disappointed because the war between France and Germany was still so raw, and that his Prophecy Bride married another. This is not the first time that the Prophecy has been compromised, another Santa in the far distant pass was also denied his intended, when the poor girl put herself into a nunnery rather than make a decision of such momentous importance.”

“Oh dear, that puts an awful lot of pressure on me, then. I do like Junior, really, who wouldn’t? Junior seems so, so lovely a man, but it is a big responsibility, such a long time to spend with someone you are not sure if you love or not. I have to be certain that he is the one person that I cannot live without.”

“A perfect way to look at it, my dear. Take your time before you decide, and as much of it as you want. In my Nick’s day we had no choice, but we are all of our era, so you are free to live together until you have reached your decision. Be certain and follow your heart.”

“If you had had that chance, to live with your Nick before ... would you have?”

“No, my dear. I knew, as soon as we met, that there would be no other. He was introduced to me in that rude assembly hall as a Count, but I would have taken him as mine if he was a coalman! Our engagement seemed longer than the length of our marriage. So, my dear, whether instantly or developed over time, be certain before you choose, eternity is a long time.”

“I will. How long have you and Old Nick been together?”

“We married just under two hundred years ago, Jen, my dear, after a four year engagement. They were far too long in those days, but my mother and father insisted I marry at full age and young girls...”

“How old were you?”

“I was 21 when we married, only 16 when he starting courting me as a dashing cavalryman, 17 when we were betrothed. That was a different society and we had to live in it and bring up our children. No, you really must marry for love, my dear, not out of duty, that wouldn’t be a good thing for either of you. The prophecy is about the perfect match for Santa Claus, and it works both ways. If you marry someone else, well, all I can say is that you ignore the prophecy at your peril, dear.” She patted her hand, “But Nick and I, we’re sticking up for you against Hilde.”

It was five o’clock in the morning, when the couple arrived at her Mum’s house, after flying, landing, and driving her car through the deserted streets. Scott slept on the couch, snoring loudly, a finished bottle of brandy lying on its side on the coffee table.

They silently made their way upstairs to their temporary bedroom.

Jennifer woke refreshed on Christmas morning, lying on her side, bum cheek to bum cheek with Junior. It seems that he was still asleep.

‘Poor lamb,’ she thought, ‘all that work he had got through during that long night, yet he smiled all through that equally exhausting breakfast. The contrast between the current Santa and Junior and Junior with his Grandpa, was enormous. Georgianna was right, compared to his grumpy father, Junior is going to be one brilliant Santa.’

She reflected on the last few days, how adrift she had felt, afraid to admit that she couldn’t attract or keep even an ordinary, rather disappointing man, who had proved to be a disrespectful cheat and a liar. She had expected so much more out of a relationship, and she wanted more, deserved more, like an honest exchange of love and respect.

Yet, here she was with this marvellous beautiful, magical man, currently keeping her warm in her bed, while being a thoroughly decent gentleman throughout all the time she had known him, and that was almost all her life that he had cared for her, even when he was disappointed by her choices. He had rescued her, had watched over her all his life and would always do so, without question. “Always” meant “always” for a Santa. She smiled, thinking of Old Nick and Geogianna, still absorbed in loving each other after two hundred years together. Magical, it was, like a fairy tale, and she had been a part of it for just a while. How wonderful it was how Junior cared for his animals, those soft, gentle and affectionate reindeer, the loving relationship he had with his grandparents, the deep affection his friends the elves had for him, which had, at least in part, been transferred enough to serve her while she was there.

But what did she feel deep down about Junior?

More to the point, how would she feel, if she gave him up?

It was her right, her prerogative under the Santa prophecy; he was tied into it, only she could release him from his obligations towards her. What a power to hand to a woman, let alone a girl like Georgianna was when her Nick told her how he felt and was compelled to do. Even the prophecy itself, really made simple sense to her.

Of course, someone who instinctively knew how good or bad someone is, would have a terrible time picking a mate. If she rejected Junior, he would have to compromise and possibly end up miserable like Young Nick and Hilde. And would he choose the beautiful Beata? How would she feel for the next hundred years or so knowing she was his second choice? She had also looked miserable at breakfast, sitting uncomfortably where she clearly didn’t really belong. And how would Jennifer herself feel, if she decided to give him up? There would have to be a complete break between them, and her life would never be the same again. She would never again wake up during Christmas night, knowing Santa was there, reassuring her in his magical voice that everything was all right. There would have to be no more dream Santa. Would she be able to bear losing that? It had always been a part of her life. It had been a part of Nurse Bernadette’s life too, but torn apart by war, she had decided their paths would separate. Had Bernadette been happy with her choice a few years down the line?

She bumped Santa with her bum.

“It is all right,” he said, brightly, “I am awake. Just allowing you time to collect your thoughts.”

He turned over and she fitted comfortably into his arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you always know what I’m thinking?” Jennifer asked.

“Not exactly, but I know when you are in reflective mood. In fact, any idiot would predict that after last night and this morning that you would have much to reflect on.”

He kissed her forehead. That naturally led to more kisses, delicious kisses that delighted them both.

“We better go down, I think,” she said, “I need to go to the bathroom first, anyway.”

As soon as the bedroom door opened, she could smell the dinner cooking. Jennifer realised that despite the lavish breakfast laid on at the North Pole, she had been so engrossed in conversation with Georgianna, she’d not actually touched a morsel.

In the bathroom, Jennifer used her phone to call Sitesh, to pass on season’s greetings to her best friend, and tell her about the new man in her life.

“So, this man rescues you from breaking down in the snow, he fixes your car that Scott had virtually run into the ground, he saves you from Scott’s clutches, having been encouraged to sleep with you by your Mum, he flies you in his plane -”

“His dad’s plane -”

“All right, he flies you in his dad’s plane to his parents’ fabulous estate, where his Mum is trying to fix him up with a different beautiful blonde girl, then he flies you safely home again, he sleeps with you without forcing his natural intentions on you ... right so? Yes? And you are still wondering whether to marry him or not?”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

“Your courtship sounds more dramatic than even my arranged marriage! Of course, even if you have only known him a couple of days and you feel he is the right man for you, than marry him, and marry him just as soon as you can. If there is anything you are unsure of, then just wait a few weeks until you know him better.”

“There is one more thing Sitesh, something I haven’t told you. You know those recurring dreams I told you about regarding visitations from Santa? ... Well, you may find this hard to believe, but...”

“Oh, lovely, you’re both up,” smiled Lisa, hearing them come down the stairs together arm in arm, “coffee or tea?”

“Tea for me Lisa,” replied Junior, “Merry Christmas, Lisa,” giving her a squeeze and a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” grinned Jennifer, embracing her, I better have tea, too, I’ve been drinking chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows all night!”

They exchanged greetings in the lounge with Jack, Stephanie and Scott, and then Lisa pointedly asked Jennifer to help her out in the kitchen.

“Well, how did you get on meeting with Junior’s parents?” she asked as soon as the kitchen door closed behind them.

“Not so well, to be honest, Mum. You will laugh at one coincidence though ... they had only gone and invited the girl along that they wanted Junior to marry!”

“No! Really?”

Jennifer nodded, grinning madly.

“Was she an old girlfriend?”

“No, but it was a girl that he had met once before.”

“Oh sweetheart, I am so sorry about bringing Scott back into your life,” Lisa said, “So, tell me, what was this preferred girl like?”

“Beautiful, tall and leggy, blonde and blue-eyed. Honestly, she was an absolute walking wet dream for any full-bloodied man, and his parents already love her to bits. And the poor girl is being used like a ping pong ball.”