December 12

Jigger's Journal, Part 11

I looked stunned. Kate looked stunned. Even Leroy looked surprised.

“Does that mean no mince pies to steal?” he asked.

“It will mean I will be stuck in the North Pole with more toys than you could shake a stick at, and nothing to do with them. Mrs Claus will be annoyed – she liked the place tidy. The children will be annoyed because they get no gifts. You can be good all year and nobody cares. It's a disaster.”

Leroy threw in a silly suggestion.

“You could just give a gift to every child in the world. Then the good children get what they deserve, and the bad children see what comes to good children and they might change for the better.”

I felt like hitting him over the head with a banana, but Santa didn't find the suggestion half a ludicrous.

“That could be a good Plan B,” he said softly. “But let's go with Plan A first. Jiggers, your mission is to recover the missing memory stick.”

“Yes Sir!” I stood up and saluted.

Then I began to think about the huge problem that presented.

“How? Who stole it?”

Santa looked at me.

“We all know what the black feathers mean.”

Leroy stood up on Santa's lap and put both his front paws on Santa's shoulders.

“For the four thousandth time, I don't know what the black feathers mean.”

So Santa explained.

“It's Krampus,” he began.

Santa looked at Kate and Leroy.

“Do you know how old I am?” he asked.

“Four hundred years,” said Kate.

“Older than Kate's dad's smelly socks,” said Leroy.

“1,700 years young,” said Santa. “I grew up in Turkey, and when I was a young man I used to make toys for all the children in the village. Then I made toys for all the people in the surrounding villages. But after a number of years it became clear that I was not going to die for a long time, and more and more children wanted toys. So I decided to move to somewhere I would have the peace and space to make toys for everyone. I picked Lapland because of the elves, who could help me, and the North Pole for my home because I was tired of the sun and beaches. So I walked all across Europe to reach there.”

“You could have flown,” said Leroy.

“I did think of that,” admitted Santa. “But no one had invented the airplane so I didn't see that working. Instead we put everything we owned on a big cart and we took our favourite horse to tow it. We walked from Turkey through Greece and up along the coast to Italy. All the time I was making maps so that I would be able to find the children every year. It took two years to get to Italy, and then we had to cross the Alps, a fearsome mountain range. It was in the Alps we first met Krampus.”

“I've never heard of Krampus,” said Kate.

“That's because you've been a good girl for so many years,” he said. “Krampus is a very bad creature. I'll start with what he looks like. He is bigger than a person but not quite a giant. His face is very dark, like he's been underground for a long time digging in the dirt. His teeth are sharp and yellow, and his eyes glow with red fire. He is covered in hair from head to foot like a big ugly bear, but that might be a coat. And his feet are hooves.”

“Wow,” said Kate. “I bet he doesn't have a girlfriend.”

“The most scary thing about Krampus is his horns. He has two huge horns sticking out of his forehead, making him look a bit like a goat with a human face. And his breath stinks of rotten eggs or smelly socks.

“Both very good smells,” said Leroy. But dogs are odd like that.

“It is wrong to judge people by their appearance,” said Santa. “Some very ugly people have beautiful souls and generous hearts. And some beautiful people are mean and withered up inside. Our true character is not on the outside. It is inside of us. So when I saw Krampus first I didn't recoil. I thought he was a nice man.”

“You think everyone is nice,” said Leroy.

“And I am usually right,” said Santa. “But not always. When I heard Krampus had been alive for thousands of years I was very excited. I thought I had found someone like me. But I was very wrong, as I found out when they told me what he did.”

Kate looked up, breathless with excitement.

“On one night every year, in the darkets depths of winter, Krampus travelled all over Europe looking for children. But he wasn't looking for good children. He was looking for the bad ones. And you didn't have to be very bad for Krampus to come looking for you. Even small things could get him on your case. Forgetting to tidy your room, or not doing your homework on time, or not brushing your teeth when you tell your mum they are brushed, small things like that were enough. Just one small black mark against you and he could call to your house.”

“Did he leave a lump of coal?” asked Kate.

“No. He left a single black feather. So now you know what the feathers mean.”

Leroy nodded.

“That's not so bad,” said Kate. “You could throw it away.”

“It gets worse,” said Santa. “He would leave the feather but he would take the child. He stole the children away, putting them in big sacks and throwing them on the back of his cart. And when he had enough of the baddest children gathered he would take them away to his cave high in the mountains, and he would cook them and have them for his supper. Krampus eats naughty children.”

December 11

Jigger's Journal, Part 10

Santa looked so sad. I wanted to stand up and give him a big hug. But if you're an elf you can't really hug Santa. It's not that its against the rules. Santa loves hugs. It's just that we are far smaller than him. If we try to hug him we just end up hugging his knee and tripping him up. Sometimes we do high-fives, but I didn't think a high-five was the right response to the news that the list was missing.

“Are you sure it's stolen?” I asked.

“Yes. No doubt at all. I went to check on it four days ago. You know how we keep it in a memory stick disguised as one of Rudolph's bells? Well, I tried to hook it up to my computer.”

Kate's eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Yes, Kate. I have a computer,” he smiled. “There's a lot of children in the world and I don't want to make a mistake and miss one of them. So we gave a nice young boy an electronics kit sixty years ago and he grew up and invented the computer. And he gave the first one to me.”

Santa went back to his story.

“I went out to the forest looking for Rudolph. He was rooting around in the snow for berries, and he came when I whistled. I took the bell off his collar and went back to my study and fitted it to the computer. At first I thought that there was something wrong with the computer. The bell fitted in perfectly, then the list came up. But straight away I knew something was wrong. The list normally flickers, because thousands of notes are being added to it every minute from my elves all around the world. And this time there was no flicker. The list wasn't moving, wasn't being updated and changed all the time. So I called in one of the computer elves.

“He thought that the computer was frozen, so he put it on the fire for a few minutes. But that didn't help. It still didn't work, and the bottom was beginning to melt. So he took the computer and the memory stick away. He couldn't do a thing with it. None of my computer experts could.”

Kate looked shocked.

“So what did you do?” she asked in a hushed tone.

“I had to do something I haven't done in more than two hundred years. I had to call in a human to help.”

Santa turned to me.

“Do you remember young Billy?”

“I thought back over the years. There were nine hundred and seven thousand four hundred and sixty eight Billys, so it took me a moment.

“Ah yes”, I said. “The American. Billy Doors.”

“Gates,” Santa corrected me. “Billy Gates. But he calls himself Bill now. I called Bill.”

“On the phone?” said Kate.

“No. I sent the sledge. He was at some meeting in Boston and we landed on the roof. When he came out for a break we threw him in a sack and whisked him up here. I don't think he was too happy about that. I had said to the elves to be discrete, and I thought they would explain things properly to him, but they thought it was too secret for that so they used the sack instead. But he was alright when I explained what the problem was. He got straight down to business.

“First he explained to the elves that you don't fix frozen computers by putting them on the fire. Apparently you switch them off and then switch them on again. We were delighted with that tip. It will save us a fortune. We had to replace too many burnt computers last year.

“Then he explained something called hacking. He said someone can put a virus on a memory stick, and it when it gets into the computer it breaks the software inside. I don't know what software is, but if it's broken the computer doesn't run right. That's what happened to us.”

“Your computer is sick?” asked Kate.

“That's a stupid question,” said Leroy.

I was glad Kate had asked it, because it was the same thing I was thinking.

“A computer virus is not like a person virus. It doesn't make the computer sick. It just makes it run wrong,” said Santa. “Bill told us that someone had switched the right memory stick for a fake one, and the fake one had the virus that got into our computer. Now our computer won't update the naughty and nice list, and I have no idea of who has been good this year.”

“That's bad,” I said.

“It get's worse,” said Santa. “All the names are turning naughty one by one. By Christmas Day all the names on the list will be naughty, which means no toys this year. Unless we can fix the problem, Christmas is cancelled.”

December 9

Jiggers Journal, Part 9

It was a small cosy room, the sort that the real Santa loves. At least the non-Santa had got that right. In the corner was a fire burning logs of pine, and beside the fire was a comfortable rocking chair. Opposite the rocking chair was a bench where the children could sit and chat. So far all looked as it should look.

There was a small tree with some nice tasteful decorations, and some strands of tinsel and bunting dangled from walls and shelves. It looked a bit untidy, just the way that Santa's real study looks. The lighting was soft, and the floor was covered in letters and cards. They were everywhere. Mrs Claus will be annoyed at him I thought. Then I remembered it was a non-Santa.

I looked at him closely. He looked real enough. He was short and fat, and he had a big bushy beard of snow white. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were merry. He was dressed in the usual red suit with white trimmings. His hat was off and he was scratching the bald patch on top of his head. I looked down at his feet and I was a bit surprised to see that he had one dark blue sock and one black sock. That was funny, because the real Santa often does that, and it drives Mrs Claus bonkers. He just reaches into the drawer and takes out the first two socks he finds, and doesn't even check the colour. When she gives out he just says that it is because she insists on candlelight in the bedroom, and he can't see in the poor light. But the truth is that he doesn't care about socks. He has bigger things to worry about.

The non-Santa looked up and smiled. He had a huge smile.

“Hi Kate,” he said. “You've grown a lot since I saw you last. That must help when you play hockey.”

“It does,” she agreed. “And I'm faster than ever. I'd show you but the room is too small to run around in.”

Then he spotted Leroy, and he frowned.

“You ate my mince pie last year,” he said.

“And the year before,” agreed Leroy. “I'm a dog. If you leave a mince pie on a table of course I am going to eat it. But I left you the glass of milk. And I left a doggy treat.”

“I don't eat doggy treats,” said non-Santa.

“Neither do I,” said Leroy. :But humans seem to think that I love them just because I am a dog. I would prefer a cheese burger.”

“I gave the doggy treat to Rudolph,” said Santa.

“Good call.”

Then non-Santa looked at me.

“Hello Jiggers,” he said.

“Hello whoever you are,” I said. My voice sounded grumpy.

Non-Santa waved a hand towards the bench opposite his rocking chair, and we went over and sat down. Then Leroy jumped off the bench and jumped onto non-Santa's lap. Non-Santa began to stroke him.

“You've very wet and dirty,” he said.

“I've been running through puddles,” said Leroy.

“And dragging Jiggers? He normally looks cleaner and happier than he does today.”

I scowled.

I looked at Kate's parents, who were standing there with vacant smiles on their faces, almost as if they couldn't hear what was being said, or see their family pet chatting to the guy in the red suit. Then I realized that they couldn't see what was going on. They were only seeing a sort of outline of what was going on, and couldn't hear either Leroy or me. There must be some sort of magic in the room.

As I realized this non-Santa looked at me and smiled – and I saw at once that he was the real Santa. Kate was wrong. The man in the garden centre with the real beard wasn't here in the room. Santa himself had come all the way from the North Pole to meet us. I straightened up and tried to look my best, and he winked at me.

“Let's get down to business,” he said. “Kate, what would you like this year.”

She put a hand under her chin and gazed dreamily into the distance as if she was thinking hard. But it fooled none of us. She knew exactly what she wanted.

“A black BMX bike,” she finally said. “And some books. And a red scarf. And a spy kit. And something nice for my best friend Rachel, and mum wants a new handbag, and dad wants a Ferrari. Oh, and a surprise would be nice.”

“I'm sure it would be,” said Santa. “The biggest surprise would be if I could remember everything on such a long list.”

“Then just some books, and something nice for my friend. And a surprise,” said Kate.

“And what about you, Leroy?” asked Santa.

The dog looked up from his lap.

“I'll be happy just to take your mince pies again,” he said.

“I'm sure you would,” said Santa. Then he turned to me.

“What's next, Jiggers?”

I smiled. I knew the answer.

“You check whether she's been naughty or nice,” I answered.

Santa smiled. “And what do you think?”

“I've only known her for a few days, but she has been very nice all that time. She's helped me a lot. But she cheats at cards. So does Leroy. But they both know the other is cheating and that seems to be the game, so maybe that's not so bad,” I concluded. “On balance she's nice. Very nice. But what does the list say?”

Santa frowned.

“That's the problem. I no longer have the list. We don't have any record this year of who's been naughty or nice, because someone stole the list.”

December 8

Jigger's Journal, Part 8

Five minutes later we were at the top of the queue, and Leroy was back on all fours, pretending to be a regular dog. I was sitting very quietly in Kate's arms, pretending to be a doll and not very happy about it. Kate had a grin on her face wide enough to drive a sledge through.

“What's Santa like?” she asked.

“Fat,” I replied. I wasn't in the mood for chatting, what with pretending to be a doll and all.

Finally it was our turn and an elf opened the door for us. She was a very tall elf, and her ears were so ugly – all round like a person. Then I looked more closely. It was a person. Just a person dressed as an elf.

“You're not an elf!” I hissed at her.

“What did you say, dear?” she smiled at Kate.

“I didn't say anything,” said Kate.

“Oh dear. I thought I heard you say I wasn't an elf.”

“I said that, you... you... you not elf,” I shouted.

“There, you said it again,” she said.

“No I didn't,” said Kate. “I heard nothing.”

“I think I need a break,” said the non-elf.

“You need to stop pretending to be an elf,” I hissed.

“What was that, dear?” said the non-elf. But we were through the door by that stage and didn't answer her.

We walked down a long dark corridor to a small hallway, where another non-elf was standing with a book. The book was bright red with a gold embossed title: Naughty or Nice List. What a cheek. The real book looks nothing like that. In fact, it isn't a book at all. It's been a computer file for the past fifteen years, stored on a memory stick kept in a bell around Rudolph's neck. Only Santa, Mrs Claus, and a few key elves have access to it. Other elves can make changes but they can't read the list. If Jack has been a bad lad and left his room in a mess, one of my elves can make a note, and I can approve the note, and Mrs Claus can add it to the list. Or if Emma has been a good girl and eaten all her fish heads, or whatever children eat today, then we can make a note that Mrs Claus adds – you get the idea. But no book. I was disgusted. I snorted.

The non-elf looked at Kate, who said: “It wasn't me.”

The non-elf smiled uncertainly, then said to someone in the inner room: “Family of three.”

“Five,” I said, but I was ignored.

“I'm so excited,” said Kate. “I've never seen Santa. Well, not since last year.”

“Believe me, you get used to it when you see him every day.”

“I don't think I could ever get used to seeing Santa,” gushed Kate, her eyes brimming with excitement. “He's the most special man in the world.”

Part of me agreed. But part of me remembered that the reason I was here in Bunratty being dragged through puddles by a mad dog was that I was on a mission for Santa, and if I didn't work for him, life would be a lot simpler. Elves like sitting around log fires in the snow, eating mince pies and drinking hot berry juice. We don't normally like hanging off the wing mirrors of speeding trucks or being clutched by little girls and having to pretend we are dolls. But I said nothing.

“Of course, it's not the real Santa,” said Kate. “It's only a man dressed up.”

I was shocked. I couldn't believe what my big pointy ears were hearing.

“Of course Santa is real,” I said indignantly. “Don't you believe?”

“Of course I believe, silly,” said Kate. “But this isn't Santa. Santa is too busy to go to every shopping centre and castle and petting farm in the world to meet all the children. That's why he gets helpers to do it for him. We'll be meeting one of his helpers.”

This shocked me. I hadn't thought about it before, but of course she was right. Santa has super magical powers. We all know that. He can drop down chimneys and get into houses with no chimneys and all the doors locked. He can fly around the world in a few hours. He can cram a million toys into one sac. But he can't be everywhere at once. And every time I had seen him he had been at the North Pole, or his big toy factory hidden in the snowy dales of Lapland. So he couldn't be here in Bunratty. That didn't make sense.

I felt a pang of disappointment. There was another black feather poking out of my boot. I took it out and flung it on the floor in disgust.

Leroy looked at it, then looked at me.

“We all know what that means,” he said wisely. Though by now I was beginning to feel that he didn't actually know what that meant.

Kate was still talking.

“Santa's helper today is an old man who works in a garden centre near me. He has his own beard and all, so that he looks real. Some of them have fake beards, that come off when you pull them hard enough. Wait till you see – when we get in with him I will pull it real hard to show you.”

“Doesn't he mind?” I asked.

“I never thought of that,” she said. “I'll pull it anyway.”

I wasn't sure of that. Pulling beards sounded suspiciously like the sort of stuff that got someone on the naughty list – not the naughty book! - and it was a bit close to Christmas for that. But I said nothing. I was beginning to see that Kate did what Kate wanted. I didn't think I could change her mind.

Then the door opened and the not-elf waved her hand and ushered us through. Leroy dropped to all fours, and I lay limp, pretending to be a doll. Then Kate picked me up and we followed the not-elf into the room to meet the not-Santa.

December 7

Jiggers Journal, Part 7

“Santa!” we screamed.

We joined hands – actually hands joined paws – and we began to dance around excitedly. We had found him at last. My mission was back on. Leroy got so excited he began to sing Jingle Bells, so I joined in. I sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I hate the way humans feel they all should sing the same song when they join in. Much more fun to sing your own song as loud as you can, and not sing the other person's song at all. The words jumbled, the notes jumbled, and it sounded great. To an elf, at least.

We jumped while we danced, and we danced while we jumped, and then my leg landed on nothing, and I nearly fell off the turret and into the air. Leroy steadied me and we both laughed. It was a close escape, so we had to celebrate the fact that I hadn't fallen off the high wall to my death. So we jumped and danced some more, then danced and jumped some more. Then Leroy almost fell off the wall, and this time we thought it might be a good idea to jump down from the wall to the safe floor and do our dance there.

When we had done enough dancing to give us both sore feet we decided it was time to climb down the stairs and go off in search of Santa. So off we set.

“I think I can carry you,” said Leroy.

He got down on all fours, and I jumped onto his back.

“You're heavy,” he said. “I don't think I can carry you.”

But he tried. He began bounding down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, sometimes jumping over people who were trying to come up to the top. I held on for dear life, gripping the back of his collar so that I wouldn't fall off and go bouncing down the stairs. Leroy barked the whole time, and we made a delightfully mad spectacle.

We ran right out the big wooden door and down the stairs to the street and Leroy just kept running. Then suddenly he stopped and sat down, right in the middle of a big puddle. But he stopped so suddenly that I went flying, landing upside down in a small tree. At least I think I was upside down, because my head was pointing towards the ground and my feet were stretching down towards the clouds. Then I began to slip.

I hit a branch and spun until I was right way around. I had my eyes closed for the fall – always a good idea. When I opened them I was staring right into the dark beady eyes of a big black bird – a raven. And there was another black feather sticking out of my boot.

“One of yours I presume,” I said to the bird.

“Not mine,” he answered. “It's a feather all right, but not from a bird.”

“It's from you-know-who,” I whispered.

“It must be,” he agreed.

“Who's you-know-who?” asked Leroy, still sitting in the puddle, wagging his silly tail.

“You know,” said the bird enigmatically. Then he turned to me.

“Would you like a hand down?”

“That's very kind of you,” I said.

“Well, you did give me a fine hat yesterday,” he replied.

I looked at him more carefully. It was the bird that had caught my hat when I was hanging off the wing mirror of the truck. I was glad to see him again. I looked up, and there was my hat, stuck in the branch of the tree and stuffed with twigs and moss.

“It makes a fine nest,” I said.

He grabbed me by my collar and opened his wings so suddenly I got a fright. Then he flapped his wings and we were flying. But he knew what he was doing, so I relaxed and enjoyed the brief flight. He let me down gently beside Leroy. Leroy growled softly, but I frowned at him and he stopped.

“This is a friend,” I explained.

The raven looked at Leroy and said: “No time for tarrying. You better get on your way. You-know-who might be closer than you think.”

Leroy growled properly this time.

“For the one hundred and twenty seventh time, I don't know who you-know-who is.”

“That's right,” said the raven. “Never let on you know. Secrecy is important for the Santa Elf Service.”

“That's true,” I agreed. “Secrecy is the key to everything. I keep things so secret I don't even know who works for me.”

“Then how can you run the service?” asked Leroy.

“The dog makes a good point, for a dog,” said the raven.

And then we were off, bounding through the park. Faster and faster, and before you could shake a stick at a butterfly we were right in the middle of the village, at the long low stone building. There was still a big queue of people outside, most of them children with their parents. And there, near the front of the queue, was Kate with her mum and dad.

We raced up.

“Leroy,” she yelled. The dog leaped up and began to lick her face.

“You like me,” she said with delight.

“You've got chocolate sauce on your chin,” he replied.

They both laughed.

She bent down and picked me up. I didn't like it, but I was getting used to it.

“We're near the top of the queue,” she whispered to me. “In a few minutes it will be my turn, and you can come in with me and get your super secret instructions, or whatever you are here for.”

Just then her dad looked at her, then looked at me.

“I thought you said you had left that doll by the ticket counter?” he said.

“Oh daddy. You've got to keep up,” she replied with exasperation.

December 6

Jiggers Journal, Part 6

Now we were inside Bunratty and it was time to find the big man himself. I was a bit worried because another black feather had fallen out of my boot.

“And you know what that means,” I said to Leroy.

“No I don't,” he said. But he agreed to help me search the castle anyway.

The only problem was, we weren't in the castle. We were in a street in a small village beside the castle.

Kate couldn't help. She had to stay with her parents. She was on a mission of her own, to find Santa. We were on our own mission, to report to Santa. So we went our separate ways. Kate seemed surprised. I don't know why she expected us to stay with her. She seemed to be reluctant to let me go and I had to wiggle out of her arms in a most undignified manner.

“You should stay with me,” she said. “It would be simpler.”

But we were moving away. As we ran I could hear her father scolding her: “Have you lost your doll already?” But she fobbed him off by saying she had left it at the ticket counter and would pick it up later. For a moment I wondered what doll they were talking about, then I remembered; I was the doll. Not cool.

Leroy and I ran quickly. He stayed on all fours, which looked strange because by now I was so used to seeing him on two legs. And he was fast. I struggled to keep up.

“Hold on,” I bellowed. “I have only two legs.”

I did think of riding on his back, but he wasn't that big a dog. Then I got a great idea. He was meant to be on a lead, and Kate had given me the lead. So when he stopped to let me to catch up I managed to slip the lead around his collar. He wasn't expecting that!

I wasn't expecting what came next. He took off like a ball out of a cannon, and I was still holding tightly to the lead. So it yanked me off my feet. Suddenly I was being dragged along the ground at a terrible speed. Families had to jump out of the way or be knocked over. He dragged me through puddles and mud, along the edge of hedges and through wet grass. We hit off a dustbin and a tree, then he began running up the steps of the castle to the big wooden entrance door. And of course I bounced on every step.

By the time we finished our wild ride we were inside the first room of the castle, and he stopped very suddenly. I kept flying and bumped right into his back. He fell over and hit the leg of an American tourist, who turned around to shout at someone, but couldn't see anyone to shout at. He should have looked down. Leroy and I were on the ground laughing at him.

Leroy got his breath back while I surveyed the damage. I was as dirty and wet as I had been yesterday, and my medieval costume was destroyed.

“Did you have to run so fast?” I asked.

“I didn't have to,” he said. “But I wanted to. It's no fun to run slowly.”

I had nothing to say to that, so we began our search of the castle. We searched high and low, then low and high. No luck. So we searched here and there, then there and here. We still couldn't find Santa. It was a bit strange. He's normally very easy to find. You just follow the line of children and there he is at the top of the line, sitting down and chatting with everyone, giving them presents. I hate that. I am an elf, and we make the presents. Not me, because I am the head of the Secret Elf Service. But my mates make them. And when Santa gives out presents, we have to make more. Busy, busy, busy. I keep telling him to give out lumps of coal, but he prefers the toys and games.

So when we couldn't find Santa, we searched for children. Again we went high and low, then low and high. Again we went here and there, then there and here. Finally we went too and fro, then fro and too, then over and back, then back and over. No children.

We sat near at the very top of the castle and considered our options. No Santa, no children. And another black feather in my boot.

“You know what that means,” I said.

“For the hundredth time, I don't know what that means,” said Leroy. “I am not an elf. I know nothing about these things. I know about chasing cats and burying bones, and chewing the heads off Barbie dolls, and other dog things. Black feathers are not a dog thing.”

I nodded wisely.

“We both know what that feather means,” I said.

Leroy got up and began to walk around. Then he jumped onto the low wall that surrounded the roof of the castle. Now he had a great view, just so long as he didn't fall down the three hundred feet to the courtyard below.

“Can dogs fly?” I asked. I knew the answer.

“Of course not,” he said.

“Then get down from the wall.”

“You sound just like Kate.”

Since he wasn't going to get down, I got up. I stood on the edge of the turret and looked out across the village below.

“What are we looking for?” he asked.

“Big dude in a red suit. I keep telling him to get with the times and buy some new threads. But do you think he listens?”

“I wonder that all those kids are doing?” said Leroy.

I looked in the direction he was pointing, and saw about forty kids in a queue outside a long low stone building in the middle of the village. It was like they were taking turns to go inside for something.

“They might be looking for extra homework,” I said doubtfully.

“For an elf you really don't know children. They never queue for extra homework,” he said. “Not even Kate, and she's one of the best.”

“I wonder what it is then,” I said.

“Probably Santa,” he replied nonchalantly.

Then we looked at one another, and at the same time, we shouted: “Santa!”

December 5

Jigger's Journal, Day Five

I had fun during the night. I snored louder than usual, and I know it kept the mum and dad up all night, wondering where the noise was coming from. They probably thought the house was haunted.

In the morning I changed out of my dress back into my medieval tunic. Unknown to me Kate had cleaned it, so it didn't look too bad, especially with the three bell hat gone. But as I was pulling on my boot a black feather fell out onto the floor.

“Oh dear,” I muttered.

“It's only a feather,” said Kate.

“But it's a black feather,” I said.

She looked at me in exasperation.

“Didn't a black crow steal your hat?”

“I gave it to him,” I corrected her. “I didn't want it.”

“Well maybe that's where the feather came from.”

It was possible, I supposed. But I wasn't sure.

“Black feather's are often a sigh that you-know-who has been around,” I reminded her.

“Who's you-know-who?” she asked.

“You know,” I said.

But she didn't. And I didn't want to talk about him, so we let the matter drop and had breakfast instead.

For breakfast Kate got me some tinned tuna fish which I had with beans and custard. It was delicious, and I may have it when I go back home, instead of cloud berry porridge. Then I outlined my plan to get to Bunratty.

It was simple, really. I was delighted with it. It would begin with Kate strapping me to the top of the water rocket. Then as Kate fired me into the air I would begin whistling. When I tumbled from the rocket the crow that had my hat would swoop down and pluck me out of the air before I fell to my death. He would deposit me safely on the roof of a car heading towards the castle, and fly after us. Once we got there he would pluck me off the car and drop me in over the castle walls.

“There is a problem,” said Kate. “What if the crow is not around?”

There would be other crows, or other birds. But then I began to think of other birds – what if a robin tried to rescue me? I'm small, but a robin wouldn't hold me.

“There is a second problem,” she said. “Even if the crow rescued you, he wouldn't be able to fly fast enough to get to the castle on time to get you in. You could go all the way to Galway before you could get off the car, and then you would be even further away.”

She was right, and I hate it when other people are right. It means I am wrong.

“I suppose you have a better plan?” I asked sarcastically.

As it turns out, she had.

“I told you yesterday, my mum and dad are bringing me out to Bunratty to visit Santa this afternoon. Just come in the car with us.

I didn't like the plan. It had no danger, no adventure, and no madness. But it had two advantages. It was safe, and it would work.

“I'm coming too,” said Leroy. “We can finish our card game in the back of the car.”

You couldn't play cards while a crow was dragging you through the air. Leroy made a good point. I decided to go with Kate's plan.

“I've come up with a new plan,” I announced eagerly. “I will come in the car with Leroy and you.”

“That's my plan,” said Kate.

“Don't try to claim other people's glory,” I admonished her. “Maybe you'll come up with some useful ideas of your own later.”

She scowled, then pulled a straw hat with pink ribbons over my head.

“You'll need to wear a hat if you are going to pretend you are one of my toys on the drive out,” she snarled.

After lunch – a beefburger with marmalade – we bundled into the back of the car. I froze like a statue and let Kate carry me as if I was a rag doll. Leroy walked on all fours and allowed Kate to put a lead on his collar. He still wore the red check shirt and khaki trousers, but the sunglasses were in his pocket. I was getting used to the sunglasses. He looked a bit strange without them, rather like an ordinary dog.

On the drive Kate's dad concentrated on the road, and her mother kept up a constant chatter about the new extension to their house that the neighbours were building, so neither of them were looking at us. So we took out the cards and continued our game. By the end the floor and back seat of the car were covered in extra cards. Finally we got to the car park.

Leroy jumped out of the car and began running wildly around, barking all the time.

“Get that dog under control,” snapped her dad.

Kate called: “Leroy!” but the dog ignored her. He kept yapping and running. Eventually her dad had to chase him, and Leroy led him through every puddle and spot of mud in the car park before allowing himself to be caught. Kate's dad plucked him up and came back to the car, a look of grim determination on his face. Leroy was grinning from ear to ear.

Kate got the lead back on his collar, then she picked me up and held me in her arms.

“You can leave the doll in the car until later,” said her mum with a smile. “You don't want to be carrying him all day.”

“I like carrying him,” said Kate.

“Just don't expect me to carry him for you when you get tired,” said her father. He was a grumpy man.

We walked to the entrance of the castle. There was a shop we had to walk through, where they sold the tickets. Her dad went up and asked for two adults and one child.

“There are five of us here,” I said. “Can't you count?”

He turned around in mild surprise.

“Did you say something, Kate?”

She smiled sweetly, and replied: “I think Leroy barked.”

Her dad scowled briefly, then marched right into the castle grounds. We followed him. I was in – and I didn't even have to pay. Kate's plan had worked like a dream. I was a bit worried about the not paying thing. Would that count as a black mark when Santa found out? It wasn't my fault, but you never know how the big guy takes these things.