couldn’t the skeleton go to the party? Because he had no body to go with. No body! See? What’s a human child’s favourite king? A stocking . . .’ And these terrible jokes went on for quite some time. Until eventually both Father Christmas and Mary were laughing – not because the jokes were so funny, but because they were so bad. And it was at that moment – that exact moment of laughing-at-the-same-time-ness – that Father Topo said, ‘I now pronounce you MARRIED!’ Because that is how people get married in Elfhelm. By laughing together at the same time in the middle of a wedding service.
Mary became Mother Christmas automatically because Father Christmas was the Leader of the Elf Council. And Mary became a member of the Elf Council, too. That was why some people were called Mother Something or Father Something. They were members of the Elf Council, which meant they could attend meetings and help to decide things to do with Elfhelm and elf life. Anyone, in theory, could be a member of the Elf Council. It just so happened that a lot of elves never wanted to be, because meetings were known to be boring and to give them rashes. And very itchy rashes at that.
After the talking part of the wedding, there was the food part (a lot of food), and more music, and even more spickle dancing.
Towards the end of the party a grumpy-looking elf with a black beard appeared and wandered through the crowd, scowling at Father Christmas and Mary – or Mother Christmas – and at anyone who seemed to be happy. Which was absolutely everybody in the room apart from the Truth Pixie, who seemed to want Father Christmas to stay on his own (I knew this because I overheard her saying ‘I wish Father Christmas would stay on his own’), so this was a bit of a difficult day for her.
‘Are you having a good time?’ I asked the Truth Pixie innocently.
‘I am having the worst day of my life,’ she responded, before stuffing her face with wedding cake.
The scowling elf was Father Vodol. When Father Christmas raised his glass to make a toast at the end, I watched Father Vodol staring intently at Father Christmas’s cup of cloudberry juice.
‘Dear elves, pixies, humans, reindeer, troll – oh, and you Tomtegubb – thank you all for coming. Today has been very special for me. Like a million Christmas Days all at once. Because I have married the kindest, warmest and funniest person I have ever known – that’s you, Mother Christmas – and I am surrounded by all of you. I would also like to mention someone else in the room.’ That was when he pointed at me. ‘That person there. Amelia Wishart. The girl who saved Christmas. She has taught me a lot. Mostly she has taught me the power of hope. As you know, hope is a kind of magic. And it is now my great hope and belief that Elfhelm will continue to welcome her – and my dear Mary – into our village, as you have done already. Like me, they may look a little different, but I assure you they will add much to life here in Elfhelm.’
‘Here, here,’ said Noosh, now standing next to her great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, Father Topo, and holding her son, Little Mim, in her arms.
‘Absolutely,’ said Father Topo. ‘Elfhelm is more fun if it welcomes everyone. A village full of only elves is as boring as a stocking filled with the same presents.’
‘Well, I am very happy to be here,’ said Mary. ‘And I know Amelia is too. Aren’t you, Amelia?’
The whole hall turned to look at me.
‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘I am very happy. It certainly beats a workhouse, I can tell you.’
The elves smiled at me but there was a look of confusion or perhaps it was amusement in their faces. I guess it was because I was different. I was different even to Mary and Father Christmas. There was no drimwickery inside me. Drimwickery is elf magic. A magic that had been used to save the life of Father Christmas when he was a boy, and which he in turn had used to save Mary’s life last Christmas. I couldn’t do the things that elves and Father Christmas and Mary – once she’d completed her drimwick classes – could do. But I didn’t care. Not yet, anyway. I quite liked being different. All my life, in London, I had been invisible. Just another poor scruffy sooty-faced child. It was nice to be looked at. It made me feel a bit special, and I had never felt special before.
And Father Christmas helped me out by saying, ‘So let’s raise our glasses to happiness and friendship! It doesn’t matter who anyone is, or where they have come from, they are here in Elfhelm and we will welcome them.’
Father Vodol, I realised, was still staring at the goblet in Father Christmas’s hand. And, as he stared at it, I saw that goblet begin to tremble and shake, and Father Christmas seemed shocked as he tried to keep hold of it. But it was no good. The goblet whooshed across the room and landed with a loud clank near my feet. I looked down to see pink-orange cloudberry juice spill out.
No one realised it had been Father Vodol, because no one had been watching how intensely he had been staring at Father Christmas.
‘What happened there?’ Mary asked.
‘I have no idea,’ said Father Christmas.
‘It was him,’ I said and pointed to the black-bearded culprit.
The whole hall suddenly went very quiet. Everyone looked a bit worried, including Father Christmas. And then, I started to feel a little worried too. ‘It was Father V—’
But I couldn’t finish my sentence as my mouth was jammed shut. My lips were forced together yet no one was touching them.
It was then I realised: he was doing it.
‘I have no idea what the human girl is talking about,’ said Father Vodol, with a smile. ‘She is clearly mistaken.’
I tried to speak but I couldn’t. I looked at Father Christmas’s and Mary’s troubled faces. I didn’t want to ruin their special day, so I just shrugged and gave a tight-lipped smile.
Father Christmas looked at his now empty hand and at the puddle on the floor beside my feet. He pushed out his bottom lip. ‘Well let’s not cry about spilled juice. We are here to celebrate.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Sleigh Belles, play us another tune.’
The music began again, and elves filled the dancefloor, and there was some rather competitive spickle dancing going on. And I danced too, in a rather unmagical human way, until Father Vodol came and stood right in front of me.
I was a little bit frightened but was determined not to show it. So I said, ‘Do you like dancing?’
And he said, ‘No, I don’t. You see, the trouble is you have to watch your step. And if you put a foot wrong there can be consequences.’
I laughed. ‘I don’t think dancing has to be so serious.’
But then I realised he wasn’t talking about dancing, because he said, ‘I’m not talking about dancing.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m talking about you.’
‘Why do I have to watch my step?’
‘Because your feet are too big.’
‘What? This is precisely how my feet are meant to be. I’m a human.’
‘Exactly.’ His eyes widened. He looked quite mad. ‘You are a human. You do not belong here.’
‘Father Christmas is a human. Mary is a human. Don’t they belong here? All the other elves seem to think so.’
He leaned in closer, so he could speak quietly but still be heard above the music. ‘Oh, you don’t understand the mind of elves. You see, they are very changeable. You take one wrong step and they’ll turn against you. You’ll see. I’ll make sure