Carmel Harrington - Every Time a Bell Rings

A few minutes later, with my mouth full of sugary mincemeat and shortcrust pastry, I look up to see Tess watching me intently.

‘Would you do something else for me, Belle?’ she asks.

I nod quickly. I would do anything for her right now. I’ve had more fun today than I can remember ever having. I like Tess and I want her to like me too.

‘Can you write a letter to Santa for me? I’ve asked you a few times, but you’ve not done it. I’d really like you to do it for me, even if you don’t want to. I know that Santa is always happy to make a guess as to what you want, but he prefers a letter, you know, if it’s at all possible. I happen to know that he enjoys reading every single one of them,’ Tess says.

She hands me a piece of paper and a pen and moves her chair closer to me at the table.

‘I can write it for you, if you tell me what to say,’ she says kindly.

I shake my head at this suggestion. I can write it by myself. I’ve written lots of letters to my mother. She just doesn’t ever answer me.

It’s just, I don’t know what to ask for. Joan and Daniel always said that we couldn’t ask for anything too big, that Santa didn’t have much money. So I used to just tell them that I wanted a surprise from him and they seemed to like that.

But Tess seems to think that Santa wants me to have a say about what I get. I look at Dee-Dee and ask her for advice on what I should write down.

Another doll? I tease her. She doesn’t find that one bit funny.

‘You know what you want,’ Dee-Dee tells me.

But I can’t ask for that, silly.

‘Why not?’ she replies. ‘Santa is magic, he can get anything you want. Everyone knows that.’

I start to write and concentrate so hard to make sure my writing is in a straight line. Sometimes I make my letters too big and it looks all wrong. I hate making a mess of it. But I’m determined to make this the most perfect letter ever. Because this letter is very important.

There, I’m done.

I fold it up and push it across the table to Tess, feeling shy and unsure of myself.

‘Can I read it?’ she asks me. I shrug and I suppose she takes that as a yes, because she unfolds it carefully.

‘Let’s see, what do we have here?’ She sticks on a pair of her glasses and exclaims, ‘Oh, look how neat your writing is.’

I’m chuffed with her praise and am so pleased I tried my hardest. She starts to read the letter aloud and I mouth along with her. I know it off by heart.

Dear Santa,

My name is Belle and I am eight years old. I live in a new house now with a lady called Tess. I don’t live with Joan and Daniel any more, they are a long way away now. I like Tess, she’s nice and gives me biscuits. Do you like biscuits too? I can ask Tess for some to give you on Christmas Eve.

This year, I would like to have a best friend for my Christmas present, someone to play with me. I don’t mind if it’s a girl or a boy, but I’d prefer a girl. Dee-Dee says she would love a new dress too, her favourite colour is gold.

Thank you,

Belle Bailey

I watch Tess’s face as she reads my letter and my stomach flips in disappointment. Oh no Dee-Dee I’ve done something wrong. Tess looks upset with me.

‘You shouldn’t have asked for a dress for me,’ Dee-Dee scolds me. ‘That was too much.’

‘Is that all you want, Belle?’ Tess asks me, looking down at my letter again, then back up to my face.

I nod. She picks up a magazine from the table and starts to fan herself with it and then blots her face with a tea towel too.

‘Well now. If this isn’t the nicest letter I’ve ever seen in my life … I have no doubt that you’ll find a best friend when you start school after the holidays. No doubt in my mind about that fact at all, a lovely, kind girl like you. But I’m going to have a word with Santa and ask him to put a few surprises in your stocking too. Maybe a few toys and games, what do you think? Because I know you’ve been a very good girl and you deserve to have a stocking full of presents. And I’m sure that he can find some nice new clothes for Dee-Dee and for you too. Oh and we can’t forget about some chocolate. A stocking wouldn’t be complete without some chocolate now, would it?’ Tess asks and when I smile at this, she looks happy and not upset any more.

She stands up and walks to the press and pulls out a plate. It has a picture of Santa on it and he’s smiling, his big blue eyes twinkling, just like the talking Santa in her good sitting room.

‘This is my special plate that I keep just for biscuits for Santa on Christmas Eve,’ she tells me. ‘You can put as many as you like on it this year.’

I trace my finger over Santa’s white beard and the smile on my face just gets bigger and bigger.

‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Dee-Dee says.

If Tess can talk to Santa about adding all of those things onto my list, well then she’ll make sure he knows where we live now too. All my worries about him not finding me vanish.

Maybe this Christmas is going to be special after all.

It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before. ‘Maybe Christmas,’ he thought, ‘doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more.’

Dr Seuss

Christmas Eve, 1988

‘You know there’s only one thing that I really want for Christmas?’ Tess says to me.

We’ve been busy all morning already, making sausage rolls and mince pies. The kitchen smells like a bakery and it’s making me so hungry. A ham is bubbling away on her range cooker too and the turkey is defrosting in the sink.

She places a plate of sausages and toast in front of me at the kitchen table and my stomach rumbles hello to them.

I lick my lips in anticipation, but then as Tess’s words sink in, I look at Dee-Dee in panic. What are we going to do? We don’t have any money. We can’t buy Tess a present. And I have to get her something good. She’s so nice, she deserves something special. I reckon I’ve no more than forty pence in my savings, which would not buy much. I suppose I could get her a bar of chocolate.

‘She loves chocolate, that’s for sure,’ Dee-Dee says. ‘You have that picture you drew too.’

I did take ages and ages to make sure I coloured it all in. But I’m not that good at drawing Christmas trees, I think it looks a bit wonky and more like a Christmas cracker.

‘I’ll let you in on a little secret, Belle. All I want this year is to hear your voice,’ Tess says. ‘I bet it’s just as pretty as you are.’

Oh.

‘You should say something,’ Dee-Dee says.

And I nod. I want to, but I can’t seem to make my mouth co-operate. I don’t want to upset Tess, though.

Yesterday, when we were watching that movie, I wanted to say something to her. I was so cross with Jack Frost trying to take over Christmas, but I couldn’t get the words out.

‘Maybe she’ll throw us out, if you don’t talk,’ Dee-Dee tells me and I start shivering at the thought. Where would we sleep, Dee-Dee? She doesn’t have an answer for that and I hold her in close to me again.

‘Don’t be getting upset,’ Tess says, reading my mind. ‘I have lots of patience for you, my little butterfly. You speak when you are good and ready. I can wait.’ She kisses my head and goes back to the frying pan to plate her own breakfast.

Maybe it’s going to be okay. I think I’ll draw a butterfly on her picture, though. With lots of bright colours on its wings. Because she’s always calling me that. She must really like them.

‘Who’s that on the phone at this ridiculous hour?’ Tess says when the phone rings out, filling the house with its shrill sound. She shuffles in her slippers out to the hall, to answer it.