Love Your Elf Page 2

  “No,” I shake my head as they complain and demand sweets, “after you fix it I’ll sugar you up, but not a moment before.”

  One of them hurls a fist full of grease at me that smacks me right on the cheek, and I growl.

  “Don’t even...” I shake my finger at the small one with the wicked grin as she seizes another glob.

  Dodging just in time, I rip my shirt off, the only shirt I have left with me, thanks to that prick Santa, and catch the grease square on my chest.

  “OK, OK, you little bastards,” I growl, throwing my hands in the air, “I’ll find sweets.”

  “And turn the music up,” one of them squeaks.

  I nod, and their contented chattering follows me as I head to the staff fridge, where Holly had said food might be found. Sure enough, I find several bars of chocolate. Helping myself to one, I pick up the bowl of sugar from the small coffee bench to take back downstairs with me.

  The sprites have pretty much already fixed the heating system by the time I’ve returned.

  “Maybe you won’t be such pains in the ass to have around,” I murmur as I hand them the sugar and open a second chocolate bar. “Although next time I leave the North Pole, I’m going to take the underground railway, so none of you know where I’m going.”

  They giggle contentedly as they shovel handfuls of sugar into their tiny mouths, and I sigh.

  ‘Of course, next time I leave, all going to plan, I’ll be sitting on a sleigh, delivering gifts, and probably have four hundred sprites with me. And I’ll be returning a day or two later, to my wife.’

  As I think this, I frown. Aurora, Santa’s daughter, the woman who had caused my banishment, was definitely a beauty, and definitely wife material for anyone holding the office of Santa.

  ‘Come Christmas Day, when Santa realises his error and offers me the job, I’ll bite the bullet and pop the question, settle down. After all, I could grow to love her, love any children we had – many an elf would be keen to step into my boots and into her bed. Still, sticking to one bed is not my gig. It won’t be easy.’

  I finish the chocolate bar.

  ‘But then, I have at least a month or more to kill before Santa can leave the North Pole – plenty of time to sample the local ladies before taking up the role of doting husband.’

  I smile as I think of all the women I might meet during this break, the image of the little shop owner, her lovely figure not entirely hidden by her bulky clothes, springing to mind.

  3

  HOLLY

  “Sounds like a big bloody mistake to me,” Louis drawls, “and you better get down there and fix it.”

  “I know,” I groan, pressing my forehead to the phone, wishing he was with me now, to comfort me, advise me. “But he seemed so genuine. I can’t explain it, there’s just something honest about him.”

  ‘And he’s hotness personified.’

  I blush guiltily, I shouldn’t be thinking of another man’s body when I’m on the phone to my boyfriend of two years.

  “Babe, you’re tired and not thinking with your lateral brain – that silly artistic side of you has taken over, as it does. Right now, that guy is backing up a removal truck to the freight doors and emptying your parents’ shop – use your head.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right. Now call the police and tell them you were duped into giving the business keys to a con man and have them meet you down there so you can deal with whatever shit you’re about to face.”

  “Louis,” I moan, the lump in my throat growing to the point I feel I might choke, “I miss you so much.”

  “Miss you too, babe, but right now I gotta run, the guys and I are hitting the Louvre before our bar crawl tonight.”

  “The Louvre,” I allow a few tears to fall, “take pictures for me, Louis.”

  “If I get the chance,” he says quickly, the sound of voices in the background drowning out his next words.

  “I love you,” I add before he hangs up.

  “Ditto, speak soon.”

  The line dead, I lay on the bed staring at the phone for a full ten minutes, allowing a few more bitter tears to leach out. I should be the one touring the Louvre with him now, not his asshole group of friends. I’m the art major, he’s the law major – but our meticulously planned university break on the continent had not eventuated for me. Not for me the galleries of Europe, enriching my knowledge, filling my creative well, satisfying my life-long wish to see the artistic treasures of the world.

  No. Family comes first.

  Sniffing, I wipe my nose on my pyjama arm, self-pity over, dependable daughter hat now, once again, metaphorically wedged on tight. Rising, I head down to Sapphire’s room to rouse her. Louis had managed to completely freak me out with his suggestion that I’d just handed over the keys to my parents’ business to a total stranger. I know I need to act fast to fix the situation.

  ‘Louis is right, what kind of an idiot am I? He’s always saying I’m too trusting, too gullible. Should I call the police? Or should I just go down and ask Kris to leave? If that is even his real name. Jesus! How can I explain to the police that I believed the line spun by a man who told me he was an elf? A fucking elf!’

  I make my way to the garage to start the car, before returning to the house and slipping on some shoes.

  Walking into Sapphire’s room, my sister’s old bedroom, I turn on the light and survey the mess. Since the girl had been handballed to me three weeks ago, she’d pretty much holed up either in here or the hardware office with her books and music. This room, once so spotlessly tidy, now looked something akin to a dormouse nest. Clothes and books were scattered amid dirty plates and photo albums, the latter she had obviously found amid Mum’s treasures.

  Her own mother assures me I will only need to babysit until her divorce negotiations are complete.

  ‘But how long do you need to argue about who gets what? And how long before my older sister pulls herself together, stops with the anger, the recriminations and the selfishness, and comes to collect her little girl?’

  I pick up the picture on the bedside table. It’s a photograph of Sapphire as a much younger child, perhaps six, with her father and mother on holiday in Bermuda. They look like the quintessential happy family. And yet even then, apparently, he was screwing around.

  ‘At least she doesn’t know about that. Poor, angry little kid.’

  Reaching down, I reluctantly give her shoulder a shake, whispering for her to rise.

  ‘It’s easy to like her when she’s asleep.’

  “Kiddo, we have to duck back down to the store. Wake up, please.”

  “Noooo,” Sapphire groans, “I’m not gonna.”

  “You are,” I grimace, pulling back her covers and throwing her robe onto the bed.

  She glances at the clock and chokes when she sees it’s one in the morning.

  “I’m telling Mum about you torturing me.”

  “Tell away,” I roll my eyes, “this will only take five minutes, I promise. Believe me, Saph, I don’t want to go either.”

  “It’s Sapph -ire,” she corrects me for the millionth time, looking at me in distaste as I stand before her in my ‘Define Naughty’ Christmas pyjamas and fluffy pink bathrobe, hair a mess.

  I pull the scrunchy from my wrist and wind my tresses up into a messy bun, poking my tongue out at her.

  “So mature,” she sniffs, pulling on her robe, slipping on her slippers, and following me out of her room, and down to the garage. When she gets into the back seat, I cover her with the blanket I had taken from her bed and pass her a cushion I’d snagged from the couch when I’d grabbed my snow jacket from its peg.

  “Lie down and go back to sleep. I just need to drive down there, check the place hasn’t been fleeced, ask him to leave, and then we can come home to bed.”

  She doesn’t answer, just closes her eyes and pretends to chatter her teeth as though she is freezing.


  “I had the car running for ten minutes, heater on high, before I woke you, so you can cut the crap,” I laugh as I reverse out of the carport and into the abandoned street. It’s silent out, light snow is falling, and not a soul is moving in this small town, not even a squirrel.

  Driving carefully, way below the speed limit because of the thickness of the snow, and the fact that I’m half asleep, I round the corner to the hardware store and see all its lights ablaze. Frowning and trying to remember if I’d even turned them all off at the master switch before I left this evening, I park.

  “Stay here. I’ll leave the car running,” I murmur to Sapphire.

  “Sure,” she grumbles where she reclines across the back seat, “and if some crazy drives off with me, be sure to look in abandoned woods for my body.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I spit, turning to glare at her before switching off the engine and getting out.

  Opening her passenger door, I give her slippered feet a kick. “C’mon then, you can’t stay in a cold car; you need to come inside while I check on the man.”

  “You mean the freak who thinks he’s an elf,” she snorts, head under the blanket.

  “Yes,” I sigh, “one and the same. Now wrap the blanket around yourself and follow me.”

  Groaning and muttering retribution, she shuffles along behind me to the door, telling me to ‘hurry up’ as I use my spare key to gain entry.

  Inside, the noise is deafening.

  “Ugh!” Sapphire claps her hands to her ears, the blanket pooling around her feet.

  “Fucking hell,” I shake my head, making my way towards the office. Christmas carols are playing so loudly the shelves are shaking.

  ‘It’s a wonder the cops haven’t shown up.’ I think as I stalk to the rear of the store, Sapphire trailing behind. ‘Should I have called them? Is this man dangerous?’

  But all thoughts of cops, and my anger at the music, not to mention my annoyance at having to second-guess myself and check on the man, go out the window when I see him, shirtless and covered in grease, emerge from the basement.

  ‘Whoa, look at those taut stomach muscles, and those pecs. Now that is one elf I seriously wouldn’t mind on my shelf.’

  “Hello,” he says, smiling and wiping his hands on a cloth, oblivious to the impact his torso has had on my body. I’m suddenly very glad my big, puffy jacket hides my nipples, which had sprung to attention like a greyhound spotting a rabbit.

  “Ugh, hi.”

  “Checking to see if I’ve finished already?”

  “No, um, ah, yes,” I nod.

  The music stops, and I know Sapphire has found her way to the intercom system.

  “Oh, and I was enjoying that one,” he smiles as she walks into the room, scowling.

  “You were enjoying ‘Jingle Bell Rock?” she sneers, looking him up and down, “you don’t fool me, buddy. You don’t look like an elf. I’ll bet you just got out of jail.”

  “And I’ll bet you just got out of reform school,” he shrugs.

  “Very funny,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m on holidays with my aunt,” she nods her head to me as though I’m just the hired help.

  “I’m looking after her while her parents take some time,” I add quickly before he can ask.

  “Time,” Sapphire laughs humourlessly, “yeah. You mean while they fight about who gets what. Wouldn’t want the little girl to hear all the shattered plates and screams.”

  “I gather your parents are divorcing,” Kris says gently, turning to put on his shirt but grimacing as he sees his chest is covered in black grease, and dropping his shirt back to the couch, “that can’t be easy.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she snipes, “parents get divorced every day. It’s no biggie, and it’s got nothing to do with me,” she rolls her eyes, “as they both tell me over and over - it’s not my fault.”

  “Of course it’s not your fault,” I sigh.

  “Well,” Kris shrugs, looking down at her, “it could be.”

  “What?” Sapphire and I splutter together.

  “Statistically speaking, many parents grow apart once they have children. They don’t communicate any more, have no time to spend focussing on their relationship, for making love,” he muses as he struggles to wipe the grease from his torso with the small handcloth, “sometimes that leads to divorce.”

  “You can’t say that,” Sapphire spits.

  “I just did,” he shrugs.

  “And you call yourself a Christmas elf?”

  “Elves always tell the truth,” he looks down at her banally, “unlike humans.”

  “No wonder you got fired. Suckiest elf ever!” she sneers, storming out of the office.

  “Terrific,” I shake my head, frowning at him, “really?”

  He smiles, his eyes twinkling. “She and I are going to become great friends. I don’t suppose you will take me to your house and allow me to shower? I don’t have a way of getting clean, it would seem – the heater’s fixed, by the way.”

  “Jesus,” I groan, shaking my head as I turn for the door, “c’mon.”

  4

  HOLLY

  “You can’t have a strange man living under the same roof as my daughter,” Stacey admonishes. “I expected better of you, Holly, this is not college, it’s not some frat house where you can just have men staying over every night, you need to be responsible….”

  “Oh, give me a break,” I snap, my lack of sleep making my temper short, “you couldn’t give a rat’s ass if I was living in a harem, you just wanted to get rid of Sapphire while you punish Roger.”

  “I know you don’t mean that,” she gulps, beginning to cry.

  I hold the phone away from me at arms-length and mouth abuse at the ceiling, before once more resuming the conversation.

  “No, you’re right, I don’t mean that. I’m sorry, Stacey. You know I don’t mind looking after Sapphire.”

  “And you’ll move the man out?” she sniffs, so like her to switch from guilt trip to older sister voice in a matter of seconds.

  “Yes,” I sigh, “he just needed to shower.”

  The silence is deafening.

  “Because he fixed the hot water system in the shop and got all greasy,” I explain patiently.

  “Oh. Well, thank goodness, I mean Louis…”

  “Louis is having the time of his life in Paris,” I mutter, “while I run the store for Mum and Dad and babysit for you.”

  “How wonderful,” she sighs, hearing only what she wants to hear.

  “Sure.” I expel a deep breath and move to change the subject. The last thing I need is to discuss my boyfriend with a messed-up sister who stayed with a cheating husband for years. “Have you heard from Mum?”

  “No, I guess she wants to give me some space.”

  I don’t say anything. It’s more likely Mum doesn’t want to listen to her eldest daughter whine for half an hour about how bad her life is, when she’s sitting in a chemo ward battling aggressive brain cancer.

  “I’ve heard from Dad,” I offer. “He phoned two days ago about a hardware order that’s due this Friday. He said the treatment is going well, the doctors think they might be able to shrink the tumour enough to make operating to remove it a viable option.”

  “Holy hell,” she breathes, “they said that might kill her.”

  “I know,” I whisper, “but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And I’ll make sure I’m right there with her.”

  I look up as Kris enters the room, a towel around his waist, his dark hair wet.

  ‘Whoa!’

  “Ugh, sis, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry about Saph, I’m keeping a good eye on her.”

  “I’m trusting you are. I’ll call in a few days – make sure you get rid of the guy. And give my love to Louis.”

  “I heard you the first time,” I frown into the phone. I know full well she likely won’t call, unless Sapphire phones her again claiming
I’m converting the family home into a homeless shelter.

  I hang up and turn to the reason for her call.

  “Hi,” I swallow hard, dragging my eyes away from his washboard-flat stomach, “your clothes not dry yet?”

  “No,” he shakes his head, “the dryer is taking forever – who is Louis?”

  “You heard that?”

  “Elves have excellent hearing.”

  I narrow my eyes and try to see his ears, but they are covered by his hair.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, of course they aren’t pointed, he’s not a real elf for Christ’s sake.’

  “Uh,” I frown, seeing him waiting for my answer, “my boyfriend. He’s touring the continent with some of his friends at the moment.”

  “I see,” he studies my face, “and where are your parents? If you don’t mind me asking. I’m assuming this is their home?”

  “They’re in New York.”

  “On holiday?”

  “No,” I murmur, “my mother is sick, the treatment she needs is there.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he says quietly.

  I swallow the lump in my throat that talking about my mother brings. Every. Single. Time.

  “I’ll find you some of my father’s gear,” I rise and make for the stairs, “I’m sure something will fit you.”

  “I’m not cold,” he shrugs.

  ‘No, you are hot, hot, hot. Goddam, those shoulders…’

  “Still, roughly what size are you?” I turn back when he doesn’t answer and see him studying the lounge room with a critical eye.

  “Something wrong?”

  ‘God, I hope you’re not casing the joint. Why on earth did I let him come here? Stacey is right, it’s irresponsible of me.’

  “A month or less until Christmas, and no tree?” he raises one quizzical eyebrow.

  “I kind of haven’t had time,” I shake my head. “I got back from uni a month ago and jumped straight into managing the store, and in my spare time I have Sapphire, so...”

  “All the more reason to put one up, a child in the house,” he says gently.