Dedication
For Richard, Elinor, Ian, Stephanie and Ceri and for all of their children and grandchildren…..Oh, and for Mr. Hawkins, the best dentist in the world.
Thanks Dyfed Davies, my old boss. Thanks for sub-editing this story and the thousands of end-of-year reports that passed through our hands.
Also to Sue Rundle-Hughes for the wonderful front cover art.
The Beginning.
A novel aimed at 9-11 years old children.
“Don’t you mess around with tooth fairies, oh no, not with them,” she whispered harshly. “You give them the respect that they rightly deserve. They take something from you that you don’t need and they give something in return but don’t you mess with them. They can be nasty and they can hold a grudge. Nearly the death of me they were. You listen to me well. Don’t mess with tooth fairies. Pillow your tooth and spend the money on something for yourself and nobody else. If I were you, I’d be careful what you say when you’re near a gnome. I really wouldn’t trust further than I can spit.”
Prologue
There was a large tear in Granny Beth’s eye on the day that I told her that I knew the truth about Santa Clause. She took one of her dainty lace handkerchiefs to wipe it away, then she took my hand and guided me to her garden. We looked out towards the park, a sparkling lake and down the valley towards the family factory. A pair of mallard ducks swooped overhead, turning gently in the distance, making for an elegant splashdown in the calm waters. She turned towards me, looking deeply into my eyes and explained, “Has your mum ever said to you that if you don’t behave yourself, if you are naughty then Santa won’t be coming to visit you?” I nodded gently, starting to get worried. Wiping away the last trace of tear, she added, “Well, that’s true,” and she nodded wisely. “ Parents of naughty, nasty children get sent a letter from The North Pole. Oh yes, they do you know. I’ve seen them. It comes on a deep black paper, black as night it is, and the writing is in a glowing green ink. It tells the parents that all Santa deliveries have been cancelled because of the behaviour of that child.” Squeezing my hand quite hard, she continued, “It even lists all of the naughty things that the child has done. Believe me, sometimes the list is enormous. Sometimes there is only one naughty item on the list, but that can be enough, believe me.” Pausing a while to fold her handkerchief she continued, “ When that happens, most parents are deeply saddened but they know that there is no turning back on the decision. So, from that moment on, they pretend that they are Santa. Some even dress the part. They creep into the child’s bedroom, quiet as mice, to deliver the toys on Christmas morning.”
“Oh stop telling fibs Granny Beth, “ I squealed. “You don’t expect me to believe that do you? You’ll be expecting me to believe in ghosts, pixies and the Loch Ness Monster next.”
“Oh come come,” she nodded, tapping my knee. “You really must try to be more open minded,” and with that, she gave me a smile and whispered to me, “ I was never naughty. Maybe misguided once but no, never was I naughty and because of that, Santa still delivers to me right to this day.” At this, I noticed a delightful sparkle in her now dry eyes.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that? You’ll be expecting me to believe in gnomes and tooth fairies next.”
Suddenly, she took a sharp inward gasp. Her manner changed completely and she stared straight into my eyes. She had turned deathly pale and was starting to shake. “Don’t you mess around with tooth fairies, oh no, not with them,” she whispered harshly. “You give them the respect that they rightly deserve. They take something from you that you don’t need and they give something in return but don’t you mess with them. They can be nasty and they can hold a grudge. Nearly the death of me they were, if it hadn’t been for my mum. You listen to me well. Don’t mess with tooth fairies. Pillow your tooth and spend the money on something for yourself and nobody else. If I were you, I’d be careful what you say when you’re near a gnome. I really wouldn’t trust further than I can spit.”
Grasping my hand firmly, she took me to a garden bench and sat me down. “Let me tell you a story. My story and your grandfather Barnaby’s story. A story from our childhood, when a silver ten pence coin would buy a large bar of chocolate and when fifty pence would keep you in chocolate until you were sick of it.”
She did too. She told me a story that took us back to her childhood, to Grandad Barnaby’s childhood, to the story of two horrible family accidents, gloves, and of a strange little man that kept rats. By the end, with the sun setting over the lake, I was totally spellbound…..and I hope you will be too.
Robin Spruddge.
2016
Chapter 1.
The Darkest of Days.
The day started like the weather, dreary and dark. The long Christmas break was over. Time to get back to school and a new term. The heart and soul of many a schoolboy and girl lay dark with despair this morning. The glittery gloss had long been worn off the festive cheer. Aunts, uncles and grandparents, with their kipper ties, super hero socks and Parisienne bath salts had all returned home to store their unwanted gifts for re-distribution next year. New toys had lost their initial sparkle, batteries had flattened and for Beth Saunders, the only hope for the future was the possibilities offered by Granny Devereaux's Book Token gift.
She lay there, all comfy and cosy under her blankets. She loved the smell of the lavender expelled from her pillowcase and she knew that her fresh clothes and her handkerchief would smell just the same - just as soon as she raised herself to get dressed.
She heard her mother calling from the kitchen.
“Beth, Beth dear. Orange or apple juice?"
"Apple please, Mummy.”
Beth pulled her bedding up under her chin. Just a few more luxurious moments of holiday time to indulge in before 'back to school' misery kicked in. Just a few more lingering moments to share with her Princess Pink wallpaper and matching curtains. Just one deliciously longer warm minute whilst trying to cast away the sound of the wind and the rain outside. And it was a Friday. Who on Earth believed that going back to school on a Friday was a good idea? Just one day at school, then another weekend off! Just crazy! Whose idea was that anyway?
"Beth!!!!! Beth!!! Get up you lazy lump! Breakfast is on the table. Boiled egg, toast for soldiers, fruit juice and some cornflakes.
Slowly, deliberately, enjoying the very last seconds of the freedom that Christmas had given her, she reluctantly folded her legs over the side of the bed. Then all at once, she became far more awake and alert. There was something not quite right in her mouth! It just didn’t feel quite right or the same as normal. Her tongue wheedled around a bit and found the toothy gap that had been created the night before. She'd been sitting near her Christmas tree, reading by fairy-light whilst chewing on a piece of toffee when suddenly she'd felt a sharp pain! She'd spat out the toffee and noticed blood and a small speck of white. A live tooth – that was now dead! That wiggly tooth that had been troubling her for weeks had finally lost its battle with Beth's gums. Without thinking, Beth reached under her pillow and there it was - a sparkling silver coin and a receipt. It read:-
She gazed outside thinking. Were there really tooth fairies, or was it just her mummy playing grown-up tricks? No matter how long she stared though, the
