Von Gobstopper's Arcade (19 page)

The nine mangy reindeer stood in two neat rows at the front of the sleigh, holly wound around their antlers. They snorted and pawed the ground, eager to get going. The children saw Rudolph’s inflamed nose glowing like a beacon in the darkness. The sleigh was filled with bulging sacks brimming with brightly wrapped presents. In the middle of it all sat Dr Illustrious, looking nothing like the fat and jolly Father Christmas he was meant to be impersonating. First of all, he was too thin. His red coat trimmed with white fur hung off him limply and there weren’t enough holes in his belt to fasten it securely around his middle. His false beard was lopsided and his hat flopped over his eyes. The only thing that fitted properly were his black shoes. He looked gangly and awkward, but Milli supposed that from a distance no one would see through his disguise.

‘What will you do if you run into the real Santa on your way?’ she asked him spitefully. ‘He’s not going to be too happy about this.’

Dr Illustrious laughed cruelly. ‘Myths are usually harmless,’ he said.

‘What about those who believe in them?’ Milli countered.

‘Be silent, you insolent girl, and follow instructions. Get in!’

Reluctantly, the children climbed up, took their places and put on the fur coats.

‘Ho, ho, ho!’ the magician cried triumphantly as he lashed his whip. The reindeer looked alarmed and broke into a trot. Another crack of the whip and they began to run.

Ernest gripped Milli’s hand as the edge of the roof approached. ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ he called out in a panic, but Rudolph had already leapt from the edge, followed by the next two reindeer.

As the sleigh slid from the rooftop it dipped alarmingly and the children found themselves sitting in midair for a split second. Then they were flying above the snow-capped trees and Milli thought that if their ride hadn’t been imbued with such sinister intent it would have been almost magical.

As the reindeer did not travel in a straight line, but rather swerved and swooped all over the place, they felt rather like they were on a
rollercoaster ride. They were soon flying over the rooftops of Drabville. The houses were decorated with fairy lights and holly wreaths adorned the doors. Snowmen had been constructed in front gardens and tinsel wrapped around letterboxes. The whole town was immersed in the Christmas spirit and totally unaware of what was in store for them.

Dr Illustrious steered the reindeer towards a terracotta roof some ten metres away. With a gentle clop of hoofs they landed. Milli and Ernest recognised the house as that of their dear friend Gummy Grumbleguts and his family. Milli knew for a fact that Gummy’s little sister, Gummola, had been counting down the days until Christmas for months now. The little girl was hoping for a doll to replace the one she had accidentally dropped in the river at the Midsummer Festival. Milli shivered to think of what would happen when she opened her gift in the morning.

Dr Illustrious rummaged around in a sack labelled with various house numbers and withdrew an oblong box wrapped in striped green paper with a shiny silver bow tied around
its middle. Milli had to admit that it looked appealing. Dr Illustrious withdrew a larger box for Gummy, wrapped in paper decorated with bright pink cakes and puddings. Lugging the gifts under one arm, he moved towards the chimney and stopped to fasten a hook to the top of it. Laughing under his breath, he unravelled a rope and tested his weight on it. He cast the children a sly glance before cocking one leg over the side of the chimney and disappearing from view.

Before Ernest could say a word, Milli had jumped from the sleigh, unlatched the hook and dropped the rope down the chimney after the magician.

‘Milli!’ Ernest hissed. ‘What are you doing? He’ll kill us!’

‘We have to do something,’ Milli hit back. ‘We’ve sat like lumps for long enough.’

Much as Milli must be applauded for her brave effort to stop him, Dr Illustrious had been prepared for such an attempt and was hardly even delayed by it. Milli was just jiggling the reins and urging the reindeer forward when a soot-blackened hand rose up from the mouth
of the chimney. It was followed by shoulders, a waist and finally the skull-like face that had become so familiar. Milli noticed a swirling blue mist at his feet and cursed herself for being foolish. She had forgotten that he had powers beyond that of an ordinary man. Dr Illustrious looked even more deranged than before (if that was possible), perhaps due to the soot now smudged under his eyes and the scrape down his left cheek. The children shrank back as he drifted towards them, and Milli dropped the reins as if they were hot coals.

Dr Illustrious resumed his place at the head of the sleigh then glanced at them over his shoulder.

‘Rope slipped, did it?’ he said with a smirk. ‘Dear me, I must be more careful.’

The journey continued in the same way, the sleigh stopping at each house for Dr Illustrious to deliver his fatal gifts. He was only ever gone a few moments but the children knew how much damage he caused in that short time. Once he returned holding a glass of milk and a note and wearing an expression of disgust.

‘What do you call this?’ He smirked at Milli and Ernest. ‘A bicycle, a board game and a kitten all in exchange for a glass of milk. Humans continue to astound me.’ He tore the note into little pieces, and let the glass of milk smash on the lawn below, before pulling out of his pocket a silver flask of strong-smelling liquid which he gulped hastily.

In the magician’s brief absences, the children tried in vain to find various means of escape or sabotage. They considered jumping from the roof, before realising they would most likely break their legs. They thought about blocking up the chimney with sacks to prevent him climbing back out, but found that the sacks were stuck to the sleigh by enchantment. When they tried to encourage the reindeer to take flight, they refused to budge and made such a racket that the children didn’t dare a second attempt. At one stage in mid-flight they were spotted by a family on their way home from late-night celebrations. Milli and Ernest waved desperately at them and called out, but they only squealed and waved back in delight.

‘Ho, ho, ho!’ Dr Illustrious cried out. ‘Merry Christmas, my friends!’ And the sleigh sped away, leaving the family stunned to have finally glimpsed the real Santa Claus at last rather than just some tubby old fellow in the department store.

As the hours rolled by, the children couldn’t keep their eyes open and soon fell asleep leaning against one another. They woke with a jolt just as daylight was beginning to break. True to his word (for once), Dr Illustrious delivered them safe and sound to their own homes.

‘Someone’s going to stop you,’ Milli cried. ‘You won’t deceive the town again. You’ll never succeed!’

The magician laughed as he lashed the beasts and drove the sleigh high above the chimney tops. He looked down at her.

‘It seems I already have,’ he called out as the sleigh sped into the dawn.

‘Merry Christmas!’

Milli let herself into her house and stumbled down the hallway, flicking on lights and calling out to her parents as she went. Her unexpected
arrival brought Stench barking wildly from his basket. He didn’t calm down when he recognised Milli, but instead began to lollop playfully around her ankles, licking her hands. Stench had missed Milli these past few days. His excitement caused her to trip up and graze her knee on the carpet but she hardly even noticed. A bedroom door was suddenly flung open and there stood her parents, bleary-eyed and wearing dressing gowns. Rosie ran forward, scooped Milli into her arms and held her tight. Milli buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and breathed in her familiar floral scent. For a moment all the outside dangers that had been plaguing her seemed to fade into a blur.

But Milli knew she couldn’t give in to the comfort of home just yet, tempting as it was. She detached herself from her mother and, ignoring the volley of questions being fired in her direction, led her parents to the kitchen.

She waited for her family to sit themselves around the table with frothy mugs of cocoa before launching into an explanation of what was happening at Von Gobstopper’s Arcade. She told them about Theo, the leader of the Resistance,
the dainty Pascal and her narrow escape from the Botchers, the bold yet diminutive Captain Pluck, and the heroic and good-looking apprentice named Fritz Braun. She described the distressing experiments being conducted in the underground laboratories and, in a choked voice, related the fate of Loyal the rocking horse. When she had finished, she looked hopefully at her parents. She wished she had sought their advice before now, but she had been too confident in her own abilities. It was a relief to be finally handing the responsibility over to someone else—as long as it wasn’t too late.

‘The other parents need to be warned,’ said Mr Klompet without hesitation.

‘Yes, but there isn’t time,’ Rosie replied. ‘By now every family in Drabville will be on their way to Carols in the Square.’

It was a long-established tradition in Drabville for the townsfolk to gather very early on Christmas morning to sing carols and enjoy a lavish breakfast of crumpets, pancakes and hot chocolate. It was also customary for somebody’s obliging father to dress up as Santa and hand out the presents to the children. There was a countdown, at the end
of which all the children tore open their gifts. The town choristers sang some more carols and everyone drank eggnog before heading home for their private celebrations.

The Klompet family bundled into their coats and climbed into Mr Klompet’s delivery van with its insignia of a steaming pie and the words
Klompet’s Breads and Pastries
on its side. Milli was surprised to see her older sister, Dorkus, beside her. Dorkus’s hands were plunged in her pockets and she looked uncomfortable at being so far from the security of the house. But there was also a look of determination on her face that Milli and her parents had not seen there before.

‘It’s OK, Dork,’ Mr Klompet said to his elder daughter, ‘you don’t have to come. We’ll sort it out and tell you all about it when we get back.’

Dorkus shook her head like a wilful child. ‘Move over,’ she said to Milli. ‘I’m coming.’

Milli was so proud of her sister at that moment that she wanted to give her a crushing hug, but she thought better of it. She didn’t want Dorkus to become self-conscious and change her mind.

The Klompet van made a quick detour into Bauble Lane, where they found a desolate Ernest sitting on the front steps of his house.

‘What are you doing out here?’ asked Milli.

‘I’ve been disowned and disinherited,’ he replied forlornly. ‘During our absence, my mother’s blood pressure hit an all-time high.’

This seemed rather dramatic behaviour, Milli thought, for such a reserved family. She wondered whether there might be a touch of Mediterranean blood somewhere down the line that Ernest was unaware of.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Milli’s mother. ‘Everyone’s just very upset.’

She rang the doorbell. The usually vague Mr Perriclof answered, looking red-faced and agitated.

‘I can’t believe you have the temerity to turn up at my home,’ he exploded. ‘Hasn’t your daughter done enough damage? Poor Roberta hasn’t been able to leave her bed in days!’

‘Oh, shush!’ said Rosie crossly. ‘We don’t have time to explain now but our children haven’t
done anything wrong. In fact, they’ve put themselves at risk in order to save others.’

Rosie gave a burbled summary of what had happened, and when she’d finished Mr Perriclof looked mortified and gave his son an apologetic smile.

‘What are we standing here for?’ he exclaimed, piling into the back seat with the others. ‘There’s no time to lose.’

T
he delivery van sped along Drabville’s cobbled streets, narrowly avoiding bins and lampposts. No one inside spoke; words seemed unnecessary. All eyes were glued to the road ahead. Finally the town square came into view and they could make out the small stage that had been rigged up for the choir, now singing ‘White Christmas’, a famous Christmas melody. The spectators stood in clusters, rugged up in coats, mittens and hats. Some grandparents sat in folding chairs and poured hot drinks from thermos flasks. The children were clearly restless, trying to listen respectfully to the singing, but their eyes kept wandering over to the pile of
presents at the back of the stage. As if by magic, they had all selected the gift with the brightest paper and special name tag, believing it would contain the biggest surprise. The van pulled up and its occupants tore out just as the countdown was beginning. Mr Hapless, Harietta’s father, was almost unrecognisable in his costume, until he tripped over the microphone cord and lost his Santa hat, which gave him away entirely.

The children were lifted onto the stage where they congregated in a large huddle, each clutching a present to his or her chest. Their faces were bright with excitement. They were nearly blinded by the camera flashes as doting parents recorded the event.

‘Wait!’ Milli shouted over the din of band instruments.

But nobody heard her or even glanced in her direction.

‘Nine, eight, seven, six,’ cried the townsfolk, joining in with Santa’s countdown and clapping their hands in time to the music.

‘Don’t open them!’ yelled Ernest. ‘You don’t know what’s inside!’

‘Four, three…’

‘They can’t hear us!’

‘Two, ONE!’

From there everything happened rather quickly. We all know what children are like when unwrapping gifts—there is no delicacy or thought of saving the expensive paper for reuse. If you think back to your own experience with gifts, I’m sure you will remember tearing off the wrapping paper and flinging it to the floor, impatient to end the suspense and feast your eyes on the contents within.

Before Milli and Ernest had reached the stage, its surface was awash with wrapping paper, ribbons and discarded cards, their messages far too predictable to bother reading. But as the presents were revealed, each child fell silent. They stared into the boxes, their eyes wide. The parents, who had been expecting looks of elation, were confused.