Holly and the Faux Man (A Magical Festive Novella)

Chapter Eight

***Author's note: I debated over this, but I've decided to put a little trigger warning here as I do briefly address bereavement later in this chapter***

"So, this can only lead to one conclusion." Holly Sprigg - with that special brand of confidence that only a seven year old can possess - pulled the world map she'd been using as one of her props off the wall, brandishing it triumphantly towards her fellow pupils. "There's absolutely no way Santa can deliver presents all over the world in one night. He's not real!"

Someone began to wail in the background, and Holly looked disgusted. "You don't even have a fireplace, Kayleigh," she told the crying child. "How did you think Santa was even going to get into your house?"

"Mum said she'd given him the spare key to the front door!" Kayleigh sobbed, tears dripping down her little red face. A few other kids started to cry along, while a very small minority seemed unmoved and unsurprised.

"Um, Holly?" Miss Bradford said, reaching out for her hand. "I think we need to have a little chat."

As the teacher towed her towards the classroom door, Corrine Hartley - the most popular girl in the class - leaned forward over her own desk.

"That wasn't cool, Holly," she informed her solemnly in a whisper. "If you find out the truth about Santa, you're not meant to tell." She shook her head, looking thoroughly disappointed, and Holly wilted, the wind truly taken out of her sails . . .

"I can't believe you made me re-live that," Holly sighed now as Noel hit pause on the scene. "I'd blocked that one out for years." No wonder she was always so worried she'd slip up and tell her nephew the truth about Santa - she already had a permanent mark on her 'naughty or nice' record for that one!

She remembered being so proud of how she'd worked it all out . . . So determined to show everyone else her superior knowledge and expose Santa for the myth he was. Instead, she'd been met with a lecture from her teacher, a reprimand from her parents . . . and a lot of crying children.

"It's pretty mortifying, actually," she said quietly. "I'd prefer not to have remembered that."

"It sounds like perhaps it was a core memory you needed to unlock?" Noel suggested carefully. Holly considered this, then shrugged.

"I'm not sure why. It's just making me feel bad." She laughed ruefully. "And I feel bad most of the time as it is." She took what she hoped to be a fortifying gulp of wine, but it had cooled significantly now . . . and everyone knows that mulled wine is nowhere near as comforting when it's not hot.

"What happened the year before, Holly?" Noel prompted, his face serious.

"Um . . . I can't remember." Holly lied, shaking her head frantically even though the memories were starting to trickle back.

Noel nodded towards the TV screen, which he'd now changed to Family. "Why is there no image on the thumbnail for 2003? It's just a black square."

"I don't want to do this anymore." She could feel her eyes welling up, panic dancing through her veins. Her breath was coming faster than usual, and dizziness swirled around her.

"You didn't want to do it in the first place," Noel pointed out. "What difference will another film make?"

Because I now suspect I know what's behind door 2003 in the Holly Sprigg advent calendar, and I don't think I'm ready to go there, she thought to herself.

"C'mon," Noel coaxed, slipping an arm around her and pulling her close. "I'm here for you, and we can do this together." She opened her mouth to make a flippant comment, and he cut her off. "And don't say you'd 'rather do me' - we've already established that's not happening again!"