It's the early hours of St Nicholas's Eve here in Lapland, so I thought I'd post some of this now and the rest tomorrow. Hope it's OK
.“Ah Jack – perfect timing!” Joey Maynard said with a wicked grin, as her husband walked into the Saal where she was sitting chatting to Hilda Annersley. “Anna’s just about to serve the tea and lemon biscuits – and Hilda’s got a nice little job that she’d like to ask you to do.”
Jack groaned. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this? The job, I mean, not the tea and biscuits! No offence, Hilda, but I know from years of experience that when Joey grins like that it's time to start worrying!”
“Well, I like that!” his wife retorted, an injured expression on her face. “And how do you know that it’s something you won’t like? For all you know she might be going to ask you to sample a whole load of mince pies or Yule logs and judge which are the best.”
“Who’s “she” – the cat’s mother, as my pupils say when there’s no-one around to fine them for it?” the Chalet School headmistress demanded. “Now, unfortunately, it’s got nothing to do with cakes or pies, Jack; but if you would be willing to help us out we’d all be very grateful indeed. We – the staff - are planning a party for the girls for St Nicholas’s Day. The idea’s to mention a few of their “sins” – we’ll have plenty of choice there in certain cases! – and to give them each a little present; and we’re hoping that you’ll agree to play St Nicholas for us.”
Jack certainly hadn’t thought of that. He was usually happy to help out at the School whenever he was asked to do so – not that Joey ever gave him any opportunity to say no! – but there were limits. He had an awful vision of himself appearing in fancy dress in front of hordes of giggling schoolgirls, not to mention all the staff, and cringed with embarrassment at the mere thought of it. “Oh, come on, Hilda!” he protested. “I don’t mind being an umpire at Sports Day and that sort of thing, but you can’t expect me to do that, surely. I’d feel like a complete fool! And it’s not really a very dignified thing for the Head of the San to do, is it, and …” – he grasped around wildly for a reasonable-sounding excuse - “er, well, suppose there was an emergency with one of the patients whilst I wasn’t there to deal with it.”
“You wouldn’t be gone for long, and if there was an emergency then Phil Graves or somebody else could deal with it - and if they really needed you then they could send somebody to fetch you, like they do if there’s a problem when you’re at home,” Joey told him firmly. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Jack! Think of all the fun you’ll be doing your daughters and nieces and all the other kids out of if you say no: who’s Hilda supposed to ask if you won’t do it? Can you imagine Herr Laubach all dressed up as a bishop? Or Tristan Denny?” She had to suppress a giggle at that last thought.
“I suppose not,” Jack conceded. “Ah, thank you, Anna - just what I needed!” The Maynards’ housekeeper, who’d been pouring out the tea whilst this conversation had been going on, had just placed a steaming cup in front of him.
“I think you’d make an excellent St Nicholas, Herr Doktor,” she murmured. “In fact, I know that you would … because I know that you did once before. Oh, don’t worry: very few people knew that it was you. But I did. You did a very important thing that day. I’ve never forgotten it.”
Jack’s face was suddenly solemn. “Nor have I,” he said quietly. “It was that which made me realise what the true spirit of St Nicholas’s Day was really all about. I’ve never forgotten it; and I’ll never let myself forget it.”
He thought back. To his first winter in the Austrian Tyrol. It had been an icy-cold Sunday towards the end of November.
