Fraud at Snowfields Page 4

  Will looked over at his parents, who had finished reading the letter.

  His father said, ‘Well, what do you think, Will?’

  ‘I...don’t know. All this sounds so…so absurd. Father Christmas, a Christmas Organisation, a school for Christmas.’ A smile spread on his face. ‘But it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, and even if this is a dream, I want to live through it until it ends. What do you think?’

  His mother smiled. ‘I am glad you think about it like that. Your dad and I have been talking about all this since Mr Chevalier arrived this morning and told us what he wanted. And, although it took him quite a bit to convince us he was telling the truth, we think you’ve got a great opportunity here, one you shouldn’t miss.’ She laughed. ‘I would have given anything to work for Father Christmas if anyone had asked me when I was young.’

  Will looked at his father, whose enthusiastic nod said he was feeling the same.

  Will looked at Conrad, who had been sitting there listening to the conversation without interrupting. Finally Will squared his shoulders and said, ‘Right, then. I would like to go to your school.’

  Conrad jumped up. ‘Excellent! I assure you, you won’t be disappointed. It will be far better than you can imagine.’ He grinned eagerly and rubbed his hands together businesslike. ‘Let’s get cracking! I will tell you a bit more about the school and the village around it, about the way to get there, and all the other things you’ll need to know. But most of it is also explained in your letter.’

  And Conrad started to talk. Will listened, fascinated. He learned that the school was set in a lovely village, and was dedicated to training staff for the White Christmas Organisation. School and village both belonged to this organisation, and all the people and other beings who lived in the village worked for it. There were factories where presents were produced, warehouses where they were safely stored away until Christmas, research departments where new presents were invented and new technologies for all the other departments were researched. There was even a faculty where magic was researched, because as humans became cleverer and their technologies more advanced, the organisation had to keep up, to be at least one step ahead, to hide its activity and its existence. The school had one new class each year, and there were approximately two hundred students there at the moment.

  But then Conrad stopped. ‘That’s all I’ll tell you about the village and the school. All the rest you can find out for yourself when you are there. There are only three more things to add. First, don’t forget to send back your acceptance letter in the next few days. You’ll find the address and the details that are requested in your letter. The second thing is how you’ll get to Snowfields. This one is rather easy. On your first day, you’ll get your things together, go out, and look for a street lantern. Just an ordinary street lantern. Stand directly under it and say the following words: “Calling Cloudy’s Transportation Service. Transport required”. You’ll find this also referred to in the letter. And the third and most important thing is that you and your parents have to be really careful not to mention anything to anyone about Snowfields, the organisation, or what you will be learning and doing there. Don’t speak to anybody about it. Not unless you are positive they also belong to the organisation or are connected to it. That’s extremely important!’ He held up his finger in warning while he said this.

  ‘I think I’ve told you everything you need to know for the moment. As I’ve said before, the main details are all mentioned in the letter. If you’ve got any problems, just let us know. There are details in the letter on how to get in touch with us.’

  Will nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s about everything you need to know for now. I’d best be on my way then.’ Conrad grinned. ‘I’ve got to invite another one to the school today. Thanks for the lovely tea. And Will’—he winked at Will again—‘I’ll see you in March at Snowfields then.’ With this Conrad got up, shook hands with Will’s parents, gave Will a friendly slap on the shoulder, and shook his hand too. Will’s father led their visitor out into the garden, and stood there with Will and his mother to watch Conrad leave. Conrad got onto the sleigh, shifted around until he had found a comfortable position, and shook the reins. He took off, flew a last curve above the garden, waved once more, and was gone.

  Will and his parents were left standing in the garden, looking at the tracks the sleigh and the reindeer had left in the snow. These were the only signs that all this had really just happened. That, and the letter Will was holding in his hand. He looked at it again, to reassure himself once more that it was real.

  ***

  Christmas was a never-ending topic in Will’s house until the end of the holidays. Even Lucy seemed enthralled by the idea of a real Father Christmas and there were endless musings about what Will would learn, be allowed to do, and whether he would get to see the Man himself.

  Halfway through the first week of the term, Lucy stood by herself at the railing of the playground. She was finding it hard to come to terms with what she told herself was really too fantastic for a twenty-first century girl to accept completely. Two boys from her class approached her. She saw them coming from out of the corner of her eye. In actual fact, she rather fancied the taller one, Robert. He smiled engagingly.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts, Lucy?’ he said, nudging his friend surreptitiously.

  ‘What? Oh, hmm, I was just thinking about Father Christmas...’ Lucy was flustered. Robert had never spoken to her before although she had tried a number of ways to make it happen.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ said Fats, Robert’s friend.

  ‘Halfway through January and you’re thinking about Father Christmas? He might come again in December if you still believe in him then, you nutcase.’

  He gave her a rude push and she hurt her back against the railing.

  Lucy saw red. ‘There is a Father Christmas,’ she yelled. ‘Will’s going to work for him.’

  Horrified, she clapped her hands over her mouth.

  ‘Wow,’ said Robert. ‘I always knew there was something peculiar about Will. Now you too! What a pathetic family.’

  The bell for lessons intervened. Lucy, in tears, dodged the two boys and ran for her classroom. Still horrified about her lapse she waited for Will after school, but his teacher had dismissed the class early and Will was on his way home.

  Robert and Fats had not wasted much time. Gareth and Jonas, the two boys in Will’s class who had ridiculed him before, had been told the story about Lucy and the looks they directed at Will during the last lesson disconcerted him. He did not particularly like the boys but he could not fathom what their sly looks and nudgings could mean. Out of school, he decided not to wait the next twenty minutes for the bus and began to walk home. The pavement was a bit slippery but Will watched his step and walked quite confidently. There was a sudden shout behind him.

  ‘Hey, Father Christmas boy.’

  Puzzled, he turned to see Robert suddenly sliding full-length along the pavement. Fats bumped into Robert and fell on top of him. Gareth and Jonas collided with each other and ended up on the groaning heap of boys. Will shrugged and went on his way.

  When Lucy got home, she had scared herself into not saying anything to Will, telling herself nothing had really happened. And nothing did. As yet.

  At the beginning of February, it snowed hard. Lucy was relieved nothing had come of her outburst. In the lunch break at school, Robert and Gareth saw a new opportunity to torment Will. He was standing alone in a sheltered alcove trying to learn the verses he had to recite that afternoon. Not that he was putting much effort into it. After all, soon he would be going to a real school, the school and centre of training of Father Christmas himself. While he was rehearsing, he did not see Robert and Gareth beckon over Fats and Jonas. They worked out a plan to bombard Will from four sides with slushy, icy snowballs, at the same time pinching his book and giving him a thorough wetting—and beating—if they could get away with it. They positioned themselves and just as R
obert was getting ready to lob the first snowball, he yelled, ‘Well, lookee here, it’s the little pansy that still believes in Father Christmas. Shall we show him what happens in the real world?’ He drew back his hand but was suddenly smashed in the face by a mass of snow and slush. Half-blinded, he glared at Gareth, who shrugged and immediately pointed at Jonas. Soon all four were engaged in a furious snowball fight, only broken up by a teacher, who narrowly escaped losing his glasses to a badly-aimed snowball. Will gave the whole episode no notice. School was school.

  February was drawing to its end. Word was, Will was leaving the school. Robert and his friends felt thwarted. They were determined to get Will, somehow. They saw their chance when Will was on his way home, walking jauntily, full of anticipation of what lay ahead. There was a shout behind him, ‘Hey, Father Christmas boy.’ He’d heard that one before. He turned, and this time they were very close—Robert and his gang. Will hardly had time to blink before they were on him. Jonas punched him in the eye before Robert tripped him up and Gareth kicked him in the stomach. Fats was about to sit on him and squash the breath out of Will when he suddenly started screaming like a banshee and hurtled off down the road. Jonas and Gareth collided heads and fell down, their eyes rolling upwards. Robert tried to punch Will but somehow ended up punching himself and lay splayed on the pavement, stunned and out of it for a while.

  ‘What the...?’ A figure appeared suddenly before Will, pulling him upright.

  ‘Sorry. My fault, my fault. Unfortunately I’m rather late this time.’

  Bewildered, Will looked up. He knew this figure, clad in green, with a brown waistcoat and a red overcoat.

  ‘You?’ was all he could manage.

  Conrad gave him a wry smile. ‘Yes, me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Will immediately, ‘I didn’t want to be rude. But... what are you doing here?’

  ‘Helping you, of course,’ replied Conrad while he brushed some snow from his clothes.

  Will put a hand to his left temple, that had started to throb.

  ‘Er, thank you,’ he said, still bewildered. ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘Well that’s my job, of course,’ Conrad replied.

  Will could only look at him, not understanding in the slightest what Conrad was talking about.

  ‘Oh,’ Conrad finally said. ‘I didn’t tell you, did I? My fault, my fault. You see, Father Christmas always warns us that faithful believers like you are especially at risk from louts like that bunch.’ He looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘Sorry I was a bit late, but you’ve really been keeping me on the hop so far, and I’ve still got my other duties to fulfil.

  ‘Oh, take this.’ He suddenly offered Will a small piece of steak. ‘Hold it over your eye. It’s supposed to help.’

  Still bemused, Will did as he was told.

  ‘Try not to get into any more trouble before the term starts—my wife gives me grief if I stay away too long and you are quite accident-prone. ’ Wearily Conrad looked up and down the street. ‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said, ‘just in case I missed a bully or two. They won’t get you again.’

  ‘But how... where...?’ Will did not know what to ask first.

  ‘Oh, my fault, my fault. I haven't told you yet.’ Conrad said. ‘It's quite simple. I'm not just acting as an emissary for Snowfields, but my main job is with the security service of Snowfields. I'm a field agent, assigned to watch over members of the White Christmas Organisation who are at higher risks. And as I told you, you've got a rather high risk rating. But here we are.’

  They were approaching Will’s house and as he turned to ask Conrad something more, the emissary—or agent or whatever—just vanished. But somehow Will could still feel his presence. He felt protected and safe, rather honoured in fact, and was glad to have escaped his tormentors so lightly.

  When his mother saw his black eye he had to explain he had been in a bit of a fight. Lucy could not help overhearing and burst into tears.

  ‘That’s all my fault,’ she sobbed and told them what had happened in January.

  ‘Lucy! How could you?’ her mother scolded. ‘You know we must all keep Will’s new life secret.’

  ‘Oh, Mum. It doesn’t really matter,’ said Will.

  ‘Those boys have had it in for me ever since the Christmas breakfast at school. I think I gave myself away a bit then, even before we had ever heard of Snowfields. I’m sure they think I’m a bit loony. Anyway, I’ll be gone in a few days and they’ll find someone else to pick on. And Lucy, just make sure you stay out of their way, and they’ll forget all about you.’

  Will could soothe his mother quite a bit when he told her about Conrad’s intervention and how he seemed to be watching over Will.

  Chapter 3

  Finally the great day arrived. It was the first of March. A couple of days ago Will had already packed all the things he was going to take. Everything fitted into a small suitcase because, as he had been told in the letter, he was going to get most of the things at Snowfields, and he only had to bring personal items.

  The suitcase stood beside his desk, and lying on the desk was the paper with the instructions on how to get to Snowfields. Will had read it well over a hundred times since Christmas, especially in the last few days. He was so excited, and could hardly wait to get started.

  He got up at eight o’clock and went down to have breakfast with his parents for the last time in quite a while. During breakfast he reflected on this, and his excitement was slightly dampened as he thought about going to live in completely new and foreign surroundings without his family for the next several months, until he would see his home and his parents again during the summer holidays. Nonetheless he looked forward to going to Snowfields.

  They did not talk much during breakfast, only the usual things you say in a situation like this: ‘Are you sure you have packed everything?’ ‘You will behave yourself, won’t you?’ ‘And let us know how you’re doing!’ ‘Did you pack everything you’ll need? Not forgotten anything, have you?’

  At a quarter to ten, Will got ready to leave, took his jacket, folded the paper with the instructions for the journey, and put it in his pocket—though by then he knew every word by heart. He picked up the suitcase and went down the stairs, where his parents were waiting for him in the hall. He embraced them one last time.

  ‘I hope you’ll have a good time there,’ his mother said, ‘and I’m very proud that you were chosen to go to this school.’ She turned her head slightly and rubbed her eyes, where a bit of moisture glistened. His father patted him gruffly on the shoulder and gave him a last quick hug. Then he took Will’s suitcase, opened the front door, and went outside. Will took a last look around the hall, turned, and followed his father. His mother came last; she closed the door, and together they went along the path through the front garden, reached the street, and turned left to where the next street lantern was standing.

  Will stood directly under the lantern and looked up and down the street to make sure nobody was watching. His parents took a few steps away from him, for none of them really knew what to expect. Will looked at his watch: 9:58. Time to get on with it, he thought. He took out the paper with the instructions, picked up the suitcase, and waved to his parents one last time.

  ‘Bye then, see you in the holidays,’ he called.

  His parents waved back to him and his mother called, ‘Bye Will, have a great time!’ Then, still looking at them, Will said the spell as it was written in the instructions.

  His mum and dad vanished from his sight. In fact everything vanished from his sight. He felt a slight tingling all over his body. Then it was over—it had not even taken a second—and he could see again. At least he hoped so, for all he saw was white.

  He was in a room with white walls, a white floor, and a blue ceiling. Then he realised it was not a ceiling at all, but he was looking at the clear blue sky. And the whole room was bathed in bright sunlight. The walls and the floor looked a bit uneven. He touched the wall next to him, and it felt quite…wel
l…fluffy. A bit like wadding. He suddenly realised he was not standing in a room at all, and in fact he was not even on the ground any more: he was surrounded by and standing on—a cloud. He actually was inside a bright, fluffy, white cloud!

  But before he could think about this any more, he heard a voice: ‘Ah, yet another one. Hello, there. Hello? Yes, I mean you, Will. Mr Will Burns in fact, if I was informed correctly.’

  Will was completely confused. How could anybody be up here? Well, he was up here, so he supposed somebody else could be, too. But how could that somebody know his name? He turned around—and found it rather difficult to believe what he saw: a rather small figure behind a light-brown desk. The figure was totally green: green arms, green face, green eyes, and even green hair. In contrast to this, it wore a bright red robe, golden gloves, and a golden top hat with a red band. Obviously it was standing on something so it could reach over the desk.

  The strange figure waved at Will: ‘Come on, I don’t bite. And we don’t have the whole day, you know.’

  Will started to walk over to the desk. With each step he felt the ‘ground’ was quite springy under his feet.

  ‘You’re also headed for Snowfields, are you?’ the figure behind the desk went on.

  Will nodded as he reached the desk.

  ‘I thought so—well, of course I also received a memo saying you people would be coming through today.’

  The figure made a face. ‘The memo also said we should behave ourselves and welcome you properly.’ It snorted. ‘As if we were ever impolite to a customer!’

  Then it noticed that Will was staring at it quite blankly. Its eyes narrowed.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m a goblin, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, no, I certainly...’ stuttered Will.