Chapter 30

THIRTY

‘Now then. Pint of Northern Wit for me and she'll have a…'

‘Gin and tonic,' I tell the man behind the bar.

‘Sorry, love. We don't do cocktails,' the landlord tells me in a serious broad accent before breaking into a smile and a laugh. ‘I'm just playing with you. Hendricks? Gordon's? Any sort of tonic?'

‘Surprise me.'

There is something so laidback and cosy about this Christmas up North. When we got back from our walk, we all engaged in saucepans of scented mulled wine, the most extraordinary cheeseboard I've ever seen and it was a late afternoon of board games and sitting by the fire, trying to wind the excitement down for the kids and listening to Uncle Rich serenade us with his singing and subsequent snoring. And once the house had settled and people were starting to snooze, it was time to take the rest of our Christmas Day to the Goldings' local pub, The Crown. As I'm used to boozers in the city with sticky tables, gormless commuters and beer gardens overlooking train stations, there is something quaint and gorgeous about the low wooden beams decorated in garlands and fairy lights, the fragrant tree in the corner covered in red velvet bows, and the various tables and stools organised around the open fire. In the background, there's some instrumental Christmas music and the buzz of the locals who've all dropped in to greet each other and share a jar. Leo turns to me and smiles, a look which is also proud, content, and I will admit to feeling the same.

‘As I live and breathe, King Leo!' a voice suddenly bellows from the end of the bar.

We look down and quite bizarrely, it seems to be a Northern version of Santa at the end of the bar. Not just one of them, a small gang, all drinking and being merry. Their costumes vary in authenticity. One of them has made an effort with a fake belly and boots, another opts for a hat and red hoodie. Leo shakes his head at the one who shouted. ‘Bollocks.'

I give him the side-eye. ‘Are you not a fan of a collective of Santas then?' I ask.

‘Just this collective. Are they coming over?' he asks me, sipping at his pint.

I gaze over. ‘Yes.'

‘Double bollocks.'

I look on curiously as this sleigh of Santas approach to hug him, ruffling his hair and I'm instantly intrigued at why Leo is less impressed to have them around. ‘Big Leo, back from the city,' says the one who initially shouted, patting his back heavily. ‘Season's greetings to you, my friend. You didn't tell us you were back?'

‘Literally rocked up last night.'

He nods then scans over to me, taking my hand. ‘A pleasure, completely.' He kisses my hand and then lets it go, an especially cheeky grin to his face as Leo relents, realising he has to make some introductions.

‘Maggie, this is Stuart. He's a mate. Of sorts. Stuart, this is…

‘Maggie the boss. Well then, come here, that deserves a hug,' he says jubilantly, thinking I can't tell he's winking at his friend over my shoulder. I smile at Leo in shock to be getting such a warm welcome. ‘And "of sorts?" I'm insulted. We went to school together, thick as thieves. Actually, we all went to school together, played football…'

‘Went camping in the quarry?' I enquire.

‘She already knows too much,' Stuart laughs.

The selected Santas all wave and introduce themselves, taking a look at who Leo has brought back home and whispering amongst themselves.

‘Am I allowed to ask about the Santa thing here? It's giving me stag-do vibes? Or have you all been part of a fun run?'

Stuart bellows with laughter. ‘Only running our Kev does is to the pub,' he says pointing at one of the Santas whose belly I suspect isn't fake. He responds with a rude gesture that makes me giggle.

‘Oh, Leo hasn't told you about the tradition?' Stuart continues.

‘In all honesty, I'd thought you'd have done it by now and I wouldn't have to be involved,' Leo pipes up.

‘Well, I'm disappointed, mate,' Stuart says, laughing. ‘Snow has held everything up. Half the roads are closed but we got here, we're ready,' he says, lunging to show us that much.

The circle of Santas close in on me so I can be party to this secret event. I huddle in, intrigued but realising that, for Leo's sake, I need to look interested. ‘So every Christmas, once we've seen our families and had our turkey, it is tradition to meet in Kendal and start our honorary Christmas Day pub crawl.'

They all let out some sort of primal roar at that point, Leo shaking his head.

‘It never ends well,' Leo mentions.

‘Au contraire. Some of my best Christmas memories have involved this pub crawl. Leo got arrested once for it.'

I turn to him, shocked. ‘This was not on your CV, Mr Golding. '

‘I'm not sure what the charge is for peeing against the town Christmas tree and shorting the lights,' Stuart adds and I crease over with laughter, Leo not so much blushing but resigned to the fact that if his sisters hadn't done some damage before, all his remaining secrets will now come out in this pub.

‘So this is the last stop, one drink before…'

Leo shakes his head, trying to prevent Stuart from telling me. ‘Lads, we're nearly thirty. Are we seriously still doing this?' I can't work out if Leo is being the voice of reason because I'm here and he's trying to look sensible, but I'm definitely intrigued now.

‘We steal a donkey.'

I open my eyes widely as he loud-whispers this to the group, hoping this isn't a penis joke.

‘A what now?'

‘We end the night by sneaking onto Travers Farm down the road and kidnap the donkey.'

They all snigger like naughty schoolboys, Leo even managing an especially cheeky smile.

‘And what do you do with the donkey?' I ask hesitantly. I rescue foxes now, I'm one with the animals and I'm not sure I'm keen on what could happen here.

‘Oh, we don't take him far. We take comedy pictures with him. We walk him down the high street shouting out if anyone's got any room in their inn,' Stuart tells me.

I will admit to laughing to this.

‘We are very kind to the donkey. We also bring him gifts,' another Santa tells me, showing me a shopping bag full of carrots and apples.

‘Any reason it's that specific donkey?' I ask.

‘Matthew Travers,' Leo tells me. There's a loud scowl as his name is mentioned, some suck air through their teeth, others grimace.

‘I'll take it the man has done something wrong?' I ask .

‘His old man owns the farm,' Stuart explains. ‘Matt was just an A-grade tosser at school. He broke my nose on a football pitch.'

‘Bullied me for three years,' one voice says.

‘Trashed the front of my nan's shop…'

‘Stole my new BMX…'

‘And possibly slept with my sister and broke her heart,' Leo says, putting his hand into the air.

I look around at all of them, all in their late twenties with too much Christmas spirit in their souls, quite literally, but obviously they feel a need to do this annually to get their own back at a school wanker. I was a numbers geek at school; I get where they're coming from.

‘So to get one over on this Matthew Travers, you steal his family farm donkey for shits, giggles and selfies, and then you…'

‘Put the donkey back. We keep the selfies for posterity and then sometimes write notes to Matt from the donkey telling him he's a complete helmet.'

I laugh, looking at Leo who I think is desperately hoping I don't think this completely juvenile. I take a long sip of my drink.

‘Well, then. Do you need a hand?'

I'm not quite sure what I agreed to here but given my experience with the foxes a few days ago, I think I need to reconsider my outdoorwear situation in more detail. Luckily, there is enough alcohol in my system to keep me warm, but the Lakeland night air is bitterly cold, ice and snow still on the ground, making this country lane especially slippery. The sky is unlike anything I've ever seen though; the stars feel that much closer given how clear they are, and it seems to extend for miles. I walk slowly to take it all in. We've already walked what feels like half a mile at least, leaving our cars behind to avoid getting caught. I feel a blanket go over my shoulders and look around to see that it's Leo.

‘Here, have an extra layer,' he offers, putting his arms around me then kissing me on the forehead. Some of his friends rib him but he doesn't seem to care. ‘I am so sorry about this. We were supposed to be having a quiet drink. We can leave if you want…'

‘Don't be silly. I like this insight into you with your friends. You never struck me as a rebel.'

He laughs. ‘A rebel would properly steal the donkey. We take pictures with him. Like naughty elves.'

‘But dressed as Santa instead. Any reason for the costumes?' I ask, peering at the Santa hat he's been given and its fluffy bobble.

‘Because we have beards to disguise ourselves, obviously,' he tells me, tapping his nose like this group of men have thought of everything. As inappropriate as it is, the hat is a bit of a turn-on.

‘Isn't it good to be back up North?' Stuart asks Leo, approaching him from the back, putting both hands on his shoulders.

‘I'd rather be drinking.'

‘Boring! City life has made you boring, Leonard.'

‘Says Stuart who lives a life in the Lakes now. Any ladies on the scene, young man?'

‘A gentleman never tells. But remember Holly Murs who was two years above us, the one with the giant hoo-hahs?'

Leo nods slowly.

‘That's a story for when your lass ain't about, mate…' he says, laughing, but slowly ambling off-track until he comes to a fence and starts to climb over it, some of the Santas following as they disappear into a pitch-black field, attaching torches to their heads. My trainers are not going to like this. I head over as Leo expertly climbs the fence too and then offers me a hand.

‘Still time to walk back to the pub?' he asks me.

I've come too far though. I guess if these are all his closest childhood acquaintances then I need to make some sort of impression too. I climb over to the other side where I feel my feet sink into the untouched snow, glancing at a sign that says all trespassers will be prosecuted. Unlike CCTV-heavy London, I think we might be OK. I hear a sound. I think that was an owl. Possibly a wolf? I stay close to Leo but do my best to keep up with the rest of them as we cross the field towards a barn of sorts. In the background, there's a well-decorated farmhouse where all the lights stay off. I feel my breath heavy in the cold night air, feel the crunch of the icy floor underfoot. As someone who has been truly law-abiding and sensible her whole life, I will admit to feeling strangely buoyed by the energy of the group, the sneaking about. As we get to the barn doors though, there's a small murmur of voices that tells me our plans may have taken a turn.

‘Bugger, he's put a padlock on the door,' Stuart tells us and I see the looks of disappointment on their faces. It's quite a thing to see a group of Santas, normally so jolly, look so dejected. It's like the opposite of what this day should be.

‘1234,' I suddenly whisper amongst the silence, my breath fogging the air.

‘What now?' Stuart asks me.

‘Passwords and pin codes. 1234 is usually the most common pin code people opt for. We in the city are boring but we know our cyber security,' I jest.

‘She's got a point,' Leo tells the group.

Stuart tries it and the lock pops open and we would rejoice if weren't stealing a donkey. Instead, Stuart comes over and gives me a massive kiss on the cheek. ‘Lads, mission Donkey Kong is go-go-go.'

I can't lie, I'm pretty psyched from the adrenalin but as the barn doors open, next to the very pungent smell, we are greeted by a welcome chorus of Old McDonald sounds. I look around at the metallic walls, the hay lining the ground, a rather large horse's face staring at me from behind a metal gate. Hello. I come in peace. The Santas all disperse, going over to pet animals and give them handfuls of feed to keep them quiet. Stuart heads to one of the stalls with Grinch-like movements and a few seconds later exits. With a donkey in tow. He walks him over slowly towards us. Hello to you, too. I'm not sure what a donkey would look like but for some reason I expect him to talk to me like Eddie Murphy and talk to me about parfait. But he has soft eyes, and he's especially grey with soft downy fur.

Leo puts a hand to his muzzle to pet him. ‘Hello, old mate. Good to see you again.'

I smile. But before I have a chance to make my acquaintance too, a sudden flash of light comes on in the farmhouse, filtering through into the barn. Leo's eyes open widely. All the Santas stand very, very still. Fuck. Don't most farmers have guns? I stand there realising I may have been stupid to have agreed to this. Some of the Santas start to leave the barn. We hear a door open.

‘Shit,' Leo mouths to Stuart, all of our faces panicked.

We see the flash of a torch, weaving in patterns outside. ‘Is anyone there?' we hear a loud, deep voice echo through the barnyard. ‘Who's running there? Have you been pissing about with Declan again?'

I point to the donkey. He has a name? That's such a nice name. This really shouldn't be on my mind but we hear footsteps and Stuart leads Declan back to his stall, pushing Leo and me inside with him and closing the door. The barn door swings open and a flashlight swings up, blinding him. Leo and I creep to the corner of that stall, watching through the cracks in the door.

‘Stuart? Stuart Morton? Is that you?' I will assume this is the Matthew that none of them like very much, unfortunately, in a woman's dressing gown and slippers .

‘No, it's Santa. Ho-ho-ho,' Stuart says, disguising his voice. I try hard not to laugh. ‘You've been very naughty, Matthew.'

‘How'd you get in here?' he retorts angrily.

‘Well, only a really stupid twat would have 1234 as their passcode.'

‘I'm calling police. This is theft.'

‘I've stolen nothing. I'm simply Santa and I've lost my reindeer,' he continues in his festive tones.

‘Pathetic. Come here, I'll beat the shit out of you.'

‘Have to catch me first, you bastard.'

And we suddenly hear the footsteps of Stuart sprinting away, other Santas jeering and Leo pulling me away from the door to hide amongst the hay bales. I feel strangely exhilarated by the experience though am very conscious that, over my shoulder, Declan the donkey is looking at us both very strangely. I don't think there's room for three in here, guys. I put my hand over my mouth to hold in my laughter.

‘What are we going to do?' I ask Leo.

‘Sit tight here for a bit, creep away when it's quiet? I know a secret back way that will lead us out on to the road again,' he says, shrugging. Some of the light from the farmhouse illuminates his face and I love the way it catches his features and shows me every crease and line of his smile. I lean over, putting a hand to his face and steal a kiss from him. He kisses me back and we get lost in the moment as he backs me on to a hay bale, his hands searching around my waist, and we stop and look at each other, sharing a smile at the fact that this is the only time we've had alone since we got here. Yet, as we kiss again and the kiss gets more intense, the moment is interrupted by a long bray from our good friend, Declan here. We stop and look over at him. Can donkeys smile? I think that was him voicing his approval.

‘Sssh!' Leo tells him. He looks over at me and gives me a final peck on the cheek.

Outside, we can still hear shouting further out on to the fields.

‘We better try and get out of here.'

Do we though? I quite like being close to him like this, fumbling around with him in the dark. I think I might be having fun.

‘Hold up though, the lads will never forgive me if I don't do this,' Leo tells me, getting out his phone. ‘Find a good spot,' he says, tilting his phone towards us.

I realise what needs to be done. I get around Declan, putting an arm around him and stroking his ears. He likes that and nuzzles into me. Leo takes a picture and then positions himself in for a selfie.

‘Everyone say DONKEY!'

‘DONKEY!'