Sparkle Witch: A Novella (The Lazy Girl's Guide To Magic Book 4)(3)

I shrugged. ‘That was a one off. It’s not my fault Brutus rejected them. And you have to admit the Home Minister does have funny-shaped ears, even for a politician.’

His expression was impassive. ‘Fine. Yesterday then, when you—’

I interrupted him. ‘Okay, okay.’ I blew an imaginary strand of hair out of my eyes. ‘Enough already. I’m not perfect – I can admit that – but I really don’t think that being a grotto elf is using me to the best of my capabilities. You know I’ll be useless at all that running back and forth to get presents. And it’s sexist that the guy in the red suit who gets to sit down all day long and eat mince pies is, well, a guy.’

Maidmont’s expression still didn’t betray so much as a flicker. ‘Are you saying that you’d like to be Santa?’

Of all the grotto positions, it certainly seemed the cushiest. ‘Sure,’ I shot back. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, if you insist, Ivy.’ That was strangely quick. Maidmont reached into a sack placed conveniently behind him and pulled out a Santa suit. He shook it out then passed it to me. Like a fool, I took it. This time, there was a faint twitch at the corner of the librarian’s mouth.

‘What?’

Maidmont blinked innocently. ‘Nothing.’

‘Something’s going on here.’

‘All we’re doing is making some cute little children as happy as possible. What else could be going on?’

A suspicious twinkle remained in his eye. I had the nasty feeling that I’d been manipulated somehow but I couldn’t work out how. Or why.

Maidmont smiled. ‘We’re opening in less than an hour. You should get changed. The grotto’s already set up.’

I hugged the bundle of red and white material to my chest and sniffed. ‘Fine. But I’m only doing this out of the goodness of my heart.’ I turned to head to the restrooms.

‘Just keep all those cherubic faces in your mind, Ivy,’ he called after me. ‘And all the sweet, innocent joy you’ll be bringing to their little hearts.’

***

Two hours later, I’d have happily murdered Maidmont in broad daylight. I’d have used my thumbs to squish his eyeballs and then I’d have strung him up underneath the nearest bunch of mistletoe with a length of twinkly pink tinsel. And I’d have laughed to myself while doing it. From the far corner of the grotto where he was watching the proceedings, he was certainly doing enough laughing of his own.

My first child was a young boy with a pageboy haircut and rosy cheeks. He screamed in my face and almost shattered my eardrums when his present was a toy soldier instead of the train set he wanted. The second was a girl with blonde pigtails and dimples. She threw up a sticky rainbow mess all down my fake beard before I could even say a word. The third child pulled my replacement beard off and demanded to know (with several punches for effect) why I was posing as Santa Claus and what I’d actually done to the real Saint Nick. The fourth was quiet to the point of being mute but his beaming parents spent an extra fifteen minutes demanding photographs in a range of the strangest and most awkward poses. By the time the glitzy grotto curtain swished open for my fifth customer, I was making elaborate plans for my escape. After killing Maidmont, I’d run a marathon to get out of here if I had to. Things were genuinely that bad.

‘Ivy!’ Tarquin’s annoying face was a wreath of smiles as he sauntered in. ‘I mean, Santa. How wonderful to see you!’

No pint-sized child followed him. Tarquin was apparently alone. When he walked up to me and tried to sit on my knee, I sprang to my feet. ‘No! Absolutely not!’

‘I’ve paid my entrance fee, Santa,’ Tarquin drawled. ‘I expect to get what I paid for.’

‘I’ll give you your money back.’

He shook his head. ‘No refunds. That’s what the sign outside said. It works both ways.’

‘I don’t care.’ I pointed. ‘Get out.’

‘But I’ve been a really good boy this year.’ He smiled even more broadly. ‘I even saved the girlfriend of the Ipsissimus by killing a serial killer stone dead.’

‘You got lucky,’ I growled.

‘I still saved you. You owe me.’

I glared over his shoulder at Maidmont. ‘We’re done here. I’m leaving.’

‘You’re doing a really good job,’ the librarian protested. ‘The children love you.’

‘They hate me.’

Tarquin smirked. ‘I love you, Ivy.’

‘You don’t count,’ I snapped. ‘Besides, you don't love me. You only love yourself, Tarquin.’

He arched a look at me, one lock of golden hair falling across his forehead as he did so, and grinned. ‘But that's because I am really so lovable. You know that, Ivy.’

I rolled my eyes. After the morning I had been forced to deal with thus far, the last thing I needed was to be backed into a conversation with Tarquin Villeneuve about his lovability factor. What I needed was to get out of here. And fast. ‘Actually,’ I said, tilting my head to one side, ‘you are looking rather handsome today. I like the way that you've managed to get your hair so shiny and soft looking. You must tell me what conditioner you use.’

From the corner of the grotto, and well behind Tarquin, Maidmont stared at me. His expression was clouded with suspicion but, after a moment or two, he realised what I was up to. He began waving his arms in alarm. My supposed friend, the good ol’ librarian, would rather see me suffer until Boxing Day than have to work with Tarquin himself. My old boyfriend might not be anyone’s first choice for Santa but neither was I. If I left, Tarquin would have to step into the breach and take up the reindeer reins. I’d show Maidmont.