Chapter 2 – Set a course
"James, I have to walk up to the co-op market and buy celery. If you promise to stay right here you can sit on this bench and watch the boats."
We were on the Platt, the flat part of the village between the water and the Lifeboat Station. "Yes, Mummy, I will."
She smiled. "You are always so obedient, James. This must be how your father was a little boy."
It seemed hard to think of my parents as children but they used to be once. "And he had blonde hair like me. Not dark like yours."
Mum laughed. "Genetics James. Daddy could explain it."
"I know. Will my baby sister look like you or like Daddy?"
She smiled. "Don't know. Children can take after either parents, or be sort of a combination."
Mum walked away as I paid attention to the boats in harbor. It being winter and almost Christmas there were only two in the bay right now. The green one was silent and dark, but the big blue and white one had the engine cover off and Chippy Miller and Captain Mike Chubb were poking around under it. I could hear them arguing as well.
Chippy said, "It's a bloody daft thing to put the fuel filter where you can't get to it!"
Captain Mike bent down, then stood and threw a handful of something overboard. "Chippy we have to keep the dead fish outta the bilges! What a stink!"
"Not my fault you old bugger!" Chippy responded. "It's your stinky old boat!"
"Well you work fer me!" Mike answered. "And you'll do as I say!"
Then they were off on their usual bickering. They'd worked together for years, and they seemed to be friends on land, but on the boat they went at each other hammer and tongs. I once saw a blacksmith heating an iron bar and bending with his hammer and tongs, and that did not look like much fun.
But it was funny in a way to hear Mike and Chippy yell at one another. Capt. Mike was short and Chippy much taller, but their voices carried across the water as they yelled louder and louder. I laughed as the two of them argued and threw their arms wide. Who needed a telly when you could watch a great show like this?
Right then Andy Davies and his cousins Ike and Mike Clancy walked towards me. My heart sank into my wellies.
"So what did the Doc have to say?" Andy prodded my chest. "Doc Martin's prolly the smartest bugger in town. He'd know right? About Father Christmas?"
Andy wasn't very nice, or his cousins either. They were two years older and liked to pick on the five-year-olds when they could get at us on the schoolyard. "Oh he's real," I told him weakly although I had my own doubts.
"Humph," Ike scoffed. "About as real as little people and piskies!"
I don't know what got into me; defending my Daddy I suppose. I jumped up and grabbed Ike's coat. "If my Daddy says that Father Christmas is REAL well THEN HE IS!" I yelled into his dirt smeared face.
Mike spun me around and had his arm pulled back for a punch when a loud adult voice stopped the proceedings.
"Hey! You! Boy! Stop that!" Grandpa Bert was standing not six feet away, hands on hips. "Now what's all this then?" He was wearing a new suit along with his battered wool cap. He'd started makin' a lot of money after his Cornish whiskey business got going but the cap was just the same old one he always wore.
"Nuthin'," Andy answered sheepishly.
Mike's arm slowly lowered. "Just… foolin' Bert."
Ike started to slink away like he wasn't involved.
Grandpa Bert took me away from Mike, putting me in the shelter of his heavy arms. "That's Mr. Large to you three." He looked down at me. "Master James Henry. What have you got to say about this?"
I looked at Andy and saw him gulp. Grandpa Bert would have no fear at all about calling anyone's parents to tell on 'em.
"Oh," I shrugged. "You know. Just… kid stuff."
"Humph." Bert looked towards the chemist shop. "Oh, looky there. Isn't that PC Penhale acomin' this way? Now what would our good Constable think about this?"
My three tormentors ran away like the devil himself was chasin' them as I heaved a big sigh.
Bert sat down on the bench and patted the spot next to him. "Those three are trouble."
I sat next to him. "I know."
"They hurt you boy?"
"Nah." That was my answer but I felt sweat across my back and in my armpits. "But they're big kids."
He laughed. "I thought you were gonna get a punch right in the headlights."
"Yeah," I sighed. "I should have known better than to… agonize those three."
He put his arm around me. "I think the word is antagonize, James Henry. All's well that ends well." He squeezed me tight. "Many a time I was down; felt like the whole world was ready to stand on my neck. Right?"
"Doesn't feel so good."
"Nope. But you know what? I just kept carrying on! Keep a narrow course, just like them boats at sea. Now if your course doesn't bring in any fish, well then you have to pick a new course! Or maybe get a new boat? Or get outta fishin' completely and try your hand at something new? Look at me! I been a plumber, ran a restaurant, and then a handyman," he sighed. "None of 'em much good. But then I thought about makin' whiskey?" he laughed. "That was the ticket. So set yourself a course boy. It might be a whopper of a challenge – but you never know!" He sighed. "I got me a fine house, a new car, and money to burn, and with Al and Morwenna's baby, I'm now a grandpa. We'll have a fine supper at their house this evening. What used to be your Auntie Joan's farm, great-aunt really."
"But you're my grandpa too."
"Right you are. But you're special 'cause I chose you and yer mum." He sighed happily. "Yes sir, things are finally good for old Bert." He slapped my knee. "And tomorrow on Christmas Day we'll all get together up at your house for another feast." He chuckled and ruffled my hair.
I thought about what he said. "Like my Daddy used to be a surgeon, but now he's just a doctor?"
"And a mighty fine one too. Your dad decided… well… he… you see… Portwenn is awful lucky he changed course and came way out here to Cornwall. He… was looking for somethin' and by God he found it! Now, where's yer mum? Or are you out here all alone?"
I pointed up the hill. "Co-op."
Bert smiled. "Christmas fixin's?'
"Celery. Yech."
He laughed. "Oh, here comes yer mum now."
Mummy bustled up to us and hugged Grandpa Bert. "Everything alright?" she asked.
He turned his head and winked at me. "Sure. Not a care in the world."
000
At supper I kept looking at our Christmas Tree in the corner. It was pretty, all covered with little lights and ornaments.
Daddy wasn't happy about bringing it inside last week but Mummy told him, "James will have a Christmas Tree Mar-tin, so you had better get used to the idea."
Daddy bristled back. "Louisa, these trees can harbor any number of spores and molds. An artificial one… the one we used last year… would be adequate."
"Well you get a bucket of soap and the hose pipe and scrub it clean. Okay? James wants a real tree."
So Daddy and me washed and scrubbed until there was no tomorrow. Luckily it was warm that night and the next day and no rain, and it dried just fine.
Mummy had us put it in the corner and then we made it beautiful. "There, better than that tatty artificial one we had last year," she told us after Daddy lifted me up to put big gold star on the top. That was a few days back and now it was Christmas Eve.
After supper Mummy was doing more baking, while Daddy and me tidied and ran the vacuum cleaner. Finally I started to yawn so Mummy gave me my bath and then Daddy pulled out a book.
"This one?"
The cover had an etching of a Christmas sleigh. "I like that one. I remember it from last year."
"But…" Daddy caught the eye of Mummy. "Fine. Ahem. 'Long ago Father Christmas needed a helper to deliver gifts of Christmas.'"
Mummy sat on the arm of Daddy's chair and put her arm around him and me. "Sometimes Father Christmas needs a little help."
I peered up into Daddy's face and he winked at me, for I knew that he'd finished repairing the watch for Mummy. I was pretty sure that she wouldn't mind getting a gift from me and Daddy too. I mean Father Christmas usually brought the rest, right?
By the time we got to the end of the book I was sleepy. But what Grandpa Bert told me stuck in my head, plus the mean things that Andy and the other boys had tried to do to me. Okay. The way to really know – one way or the other about Father Christmas – is to go see him flying over the village in his sleigh.
I had set a course, as Grandpa Bert said.
Mummy and Daddy tucked me into bed, and I was pretty excited, but I tried to look sleepy yawning to beat the band.
"Sleep tight," Mummy said. "When you get up in the morning Christmas will be here. Like magic."
"Louisa, magic?" Daddy asked her. "Really?"
She chuckled. "If it was magic that brought me you and James, and this baby girl I'm carrying, then so be it."
Daddy actually smiled. He doesn't smile very much but when he does you know he means it.
"Yes," he cleared his throat. "Fine. Good. Magic then."
Arm in arm they wished me good night and closing the door left me with Buddy in my room. I waited a good long time until the house got really quiet. They had been talking and I heard doors open close. I've no idea what they doing. Finally no more footsteps or voices, just the sound of a breeze and the waves hitting the rocks against the harbor cliff.
I had to fight to stay awake, but I did.
That was another idea. That Father Christmas had to be magic. How could he visit all the Christian kids in the world in one night? And flying reindeer? Maybe they're really special reindeer. Well anyway, I was gonna find out.
I knew that I just had to go looking for an answer. I rolled over and peered down at Buddy, who opened an eye and looked back. "What you think boy? Ought we go look for Father Christmas?"
My dog rose up and shook himself.
"Right," I whispered in his ear. "Mummy and Daddy are all asleep. We have to be really quiet now."
He seemed to nod in agreement.
Up from bed I touched the window glass. It was cold. Really cold. "Have to dress warm for that." It looked a clear night with a half moon.
"Right." I took off my pyjamas, and put back on the jeans and shirt I'd worn that day. They weren't dirty, just crumpled from being in the hamper. Clean underwear of course, and I added a red and green Christmas jumper that would keep me warm under my coat. I looked around my room in the pale light of my torch.
My book satchel hung on my desk chair. I pulled out some school papers, added what I'd need, then slung it over my shoulder and tip-toeing into the hall, slowly descended the stairs. I was mindful of the squeaky ones, but I only had to be really careful on the second from the bottom. Daddy drove lots of extra nails into it but they always worked loose as our old house settled.
Down in the kitchen, I snuck into the pantry, climbed on the extra chair in there and got some digestive biscuits from the tin. Mummy hides them from Daddy but it's sort of a game because Daddy and I both know she eats them anyway. But the biscuits were to keep up my strength. From the fridge I got out some milk, and poured a small glass. I didn't spill much, but Buddy licked it up anyway.
I nibbled on a biscuit until I heard a squeak of a bedspring upstairs. I froze. Was Daddy awake? Or maybe Mummy? The clock on the wall (Daddy taught me to tell time when I was three) showed it was 1:15 AM. Surely they would stay asleep?
Buddy panted a bit, so I put my hand on him to keep him quiet. When I didn't hear any other sounds, I put my empty glass on the counter, quietly stepped into my boots, put on my coat, woolen hat with earflaps, and my heavy mittens. With book bag slung across my chest, I took a deep breath and pulled the kitchen door open a crack.
"Right," I whispered to my dog. "Come on Buddy, we have to find Father Christmas."
