A/N Just a short story featuring a manic Merriman and a harassed Will. Not to be taken seriously!!
Disclaimer: Will, Mrs Stanton, Merriman and anything else from TDIR belong to Susan Cooper.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
"Come on, Will, we've only got 2 weeks left before Christmas. I've still got to get presents for Max and Paul. You boys are so difficult to buy for." Mrs Stanton gave Will yet another plastic carrier bag to add to the 4 he was already holding.
"Why do I always get the short straw and have to help Mum with the shopping?" thought Will as he struggled through the crowds in the Slough shopping centre. A Salvation Army band was playing Christmas carols in the middle of the precinct. Will stopped for a moment to listen. The tuba player looked rather odd – a very tall, gangling old man with unruly white hair and a nose like Concorde. He was puffing away, looking very out of place and Will couldn't help giggling to himself.
"Will stop dawdling –you'll get lost," his mother said pulling at his sleeve.
"Mum! I'm not a little kid, I'm nearly eleven. By the way, can I have a party this year?"
"No. I've got enough people to cope with, without a group of ten year olds tearing up the house."
"But Mum, I never get a party – all I ever get is liver and bacon."
"You like liver and bacon."
"Yeah, but I'd rather have a party."
Mrs Stanton took no notice. They passed a television shop window, and all the screens suddenly went fuzzy with the pictures distorting and breaking up.
'Aircraft interference,' Will thought. He looked back as they moved on and all the television screens were perfectly normal again.
"We're going to Marks and Spencer's," announced Mrs Stanton. "I'll get a nice tie for Dad."
They approached the automatic door, Will going first, but it didn't open. He stepped back but his mother kept going and the door swished aside. Before Will could get through, the door closed again and stubbornly refused to move even when he did a strange little dance backward and forward to charm it into granting him admittance.
A woman with a pushchair ran into his ankles as he stood there scratching his head. He was just going to utter some choice words about watching where she was going, when the door slid open for her, so Will hobbled painfully through at the same time.
His mother was looking round for the men's wear department, totally oblivious to her youngest son's difficulties with the door and his bruised ankles. "There you are, Will," she said. "I think it's this way. And keep close please."
When they got to the suits, she gave him two more carrier bags to hold plus strict instructions not to go anywhere until she came back. Then she disappeared through racks of grey and blue jackets in search of her goal.
Will shifted the plastic bags around in his hands, stuffing James's orange stripey socks into the bag with Mary's new set of screwdrivers – only 6 bags to carry now. Why his mother had bought the large green cuddly hippo for Barbara he'd never know. And that silver sparkly handbag just wasn't Robin's taste. Still, she was their mother and they all loved her, despite the eccentric presents she bought. After Christmas they all secretly swapped to get something they liked.
"There you are Will," said a voice, thin and nasal in tone with a slight, unplaceable accent. Will looked up to see a man in a black overcoat and fur hat. He had reddish hair, a moustache and goatee beard, which made him look, Will thought, like a Russian spy. "Your mother's outside in the car – I'm giving you all a lift home."
"Oh," said Will puzzled. "Who are you? I thought Mum was looking at ties."
"Yes, she got a pink and green spotted one for your father – very nice too. I'm Ivor Ramoska – I work with your father sometimes. Now come along, I'm parked on a double yellow line and the traffic wardens are on the prowl."
"OK," said Will, thinking only of the relief of getting rid of his burden of shopping bags. He walked off after his father's friend, smiling at the man's odd walk; he kept bobbing slightly up and down like he was riding an imaginary horse.
On their way through the crowded shop, one of Will's bags got caught up amongst a rack of umbrellas. He tried to tug it free, but suddenly the metal arm on which the umbrellas were hanging decided to detach itself from the stand, scattering its contents across the floor. Will stumbled and almost stabbed himself on an umbrella spike. He began to try and pick them up.
"Oh, just leave them," hissed Mr Ramoska impatiently. "An assistant can pick them up. We have to go."
Will didn't need telling twice, he'd already decided he hated this shop, so he trotted after his new acquaintance. They approached the exit and Will was thankful Mr Ramoska avoided going through the shop's automatic doors. The man swung open a glass door for Will, but before he could get through it, the shop alarm went off.
"Just come on, it's not you," said the bearded man. But a security guard came up to Will and asked if he wouldn't mind coming back into the shop. Will looked towards Mr Ramoska only to find that the man had vanished and the door was gently closing by itself. Confused, Will scanned all around for the strange man.
"Young sir, I believe your mother is waiting for you by the cash desk," said the security guard. Finally, Will glanced up at the guard. He was tall with white bushy eyebrows and a hooked nose. Will jumped as he recognised the face.
"Hey, weren't you playing with the Salvation Army band just now?"
The man looked at him quizzically.
"Do you have a twin brother? You look exactly like him."
"Perhaps you're a little tired, young man. Your mother is over there, and I'd advise you not to go off with strangers again."
Mrs Stanton was re-united with her son, though she didn't seem overly concerned that he'd narrowly escaped being abducted. She'd spotted some leopard-print shorts that she thought would be perfect for Paul.
Their final visit of the day was to Debenhams. Mrs Stanton had decided on some aftershave for Max and knew he got his favourite one in the perfumery department there, although she couldn't quite remember what it was called.
Will trudged past the bright, flashy counters of beauty products, crashing into unwary shoppers with his mountain of now eight plastic bags.
"Mum, please hurry up, my arms won't take much more," groaned Will.
"Yes, yes. Oh, I think it's that one…No, maybe it's the one over there." She moved to the next glass-fronted counter, whilst Will trailed behind her, knocking over a display of boxed hairdryers. He looked back to see the damage he'd done and suddenly tripped over the walking stick of an old lady in a grey fox fur coat. Both he and his shopping bags went flying, and he hit his head on the bottom of a stand holding make-up cases. As they tumbled down on top of him, he was sure he saw a streak of red flash past his feet.
"Will, what are you doing?!" said his mother, at last paying attention to the plight of her bewildered son.
"An old woman tripped me up," said Will, staggering to his feet, kicking several vanity cases aside.
"What old woman? You're being so unhelpful today. I think we'd better go home," said Mrs Stanton gathering up spilled shopping.
"Unhelpful!!! Thanks a bunch," he muttered to himself, as his mother had already turned away.
"Sir, would you like to try this new perfume?" said a young, over-made-up woman to Will as he heaved his bags through the crowd again. "Your sister would love it."
He looked at the woman curiously – she seemed about to spray the hideous pink perfume in his face. "How d'you know I've got a sis--"
"Ho, ho, ho! And what would you like for Christmas this year little boy?" Father Christmas suddenly barged his way between Will and the young woman. There was a hissing sound behind Santa as the perfume spray hit the hood of his suit. Will thought he saw a puff of smoke rising up, but decided he'd probably imagined that.
"I'd just like to get home in one piece," said Will. He couldn't see Santa's face because of the hood and thick white beard, but he saw a large nose sticking out that looked very familiar. "It's you again, isn't it! How did you get here?"
"Ho, ho, ho! It's nice to meet you!" said the deep voice, as Santa swept Will along firmly by the shoulder, guiding him towards the entrance of the shop. His mother was waiting for him and waved a thank you to the mysterious Santa Claus.
"Come on, Will. Let's go home," she said wearily.
Santa put his hood back and took off his curly beard. A little girl screamed and burst into tears. Merriman, taking no notice, smoothed down his hair and breathed a sigh of relief. "See you soon Will Stanton," he said.