Selby Santa (11 page)

Selby sat next to the Trifles’ Christmas tree, which glimmered with sparkling lights and ornaments. Under the branches were piles of neatly wrapped presents. Selby had read their tags over and over again and had even picked some up and shaken them gently.

‘I wish I had X-ray vision. Then I could see what everyone is getting,’ Selby thought. ‘But what am I thinking? That would spoil the fun.’

There were two presents that Selby didn’t have to see inside. They were wrapped with candy-striped bows and had little cards with angels on
them. One card said, ‘To Mrs Trifle’, and the other, ‘To Dr Trifle’. Both were signed, ‘With love from Santa’. Both were from Selby himself.

‘They’ll never guess who they’re really from. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces.’ Selby glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘When are they going to get up and open their prezzies? Every Christmas they get up later and later. This is torture!’

The night before had been the most exciting night
of Selby’s life and now it was the perfect Christmas morning. But, like most perfect things, it hadn’t just happened by accident. No, there had been clever planning, and Selby had been through stress, heartache, anger, confusion and a huge amount of frustration.

To explain, let’s go back two weeks to when …

Dr Trifle was reaching for a book on the top shelf of the bookcase.

‘You need a footstool,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Why don’t you make one?’

‘I don’t have time,’ Dr Trifle said, nudging the book with one finger. ‘I just wish I was taller.’

‘And I wish I had a lovely scarf like this one,’ Mrs Trifle said, pointing to a picture in her magazine. ‘Before we know it, winter will be here again and I don’t have a scarf.’

Selby lay nearby, watching the Trifles.

‘And I wish I could buy them both some prezzies,’ he thought. ‘I’d buy Dr Trifle a footstool and Mrs Trifle a lovely warm scarf.’

Mrs Trifle picked up a stack of junk mail that had just arrived.

‘We get so much rubbish at this time of year. Bargains. Christmas specials. Free this and free that,’ she said, throwing it all into the wastepaper basket.

‘Did you say free?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘Nothing’s ever free,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘They want you to buy something to get something else free — something that you don’t need. I do love Christmas but I don’t like all the silly mail we get.’

‘Speaking of silly,’ Selby thought, noticing a woman walking her dog outside, ‘that is seriously silly.’

The dog had been dressed in a little red blanket with white trim and on its head was a little Santa cap.

‘Why do people do these things to their dogs?’ Selby thought.

‘Oh look!’ Mrs Trifle said, also catching sight of the dog. ‘A dog in a Santa outfit! Isn’t that funny?’

‘Some people really get into the Christmas spirit,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I guess she wants to get everyone’s attention. She’s certainly got ours. See, even Selby’s looking.’

‘So he is,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Now finish what you’re doing, dear. We’re going to the city to buy presents for Jetty and Willy and Billy, remember?’

‘I really wish I could give the Trifles some presents,’ Selby thought after they were gone. ‘But I’m only a dog and I don’t have any money. Maybe I could make something. Like a scarf for Mrs Trifle and a footstool for Dr Trifle. How hard could it be? Hey, I’m going to do it!’

Selby dashed to the workroom and looked through a pile of books.

‘This is weird,’ he thought. ‘Dr Trifle doesn’t have a nice easy do-it-yourself book that tells you how to make a footstool. All he’s got are books like
Making Thrust-Booster Engines
and
How to Make an Ultra-Light Animal Robot
. Oh well, here’s some bits of timber. Who needs instructions?’

Selby sawed off a piece of board and cut four legs and nailed them to the bottom.

‘A little wobbly,’ he thought as he stood on it. ‘The legs must be different lengths. I’ll soon fix that.’

Selby sawed a bit off the longest leg. But the stool was still wobbly so now he sawed a bit off the new longest leg. He did this over and over again.

‘Perfect,’ he said, standing on the stool. ‘It’s as solid as a rock. The only problem is it’s too short to be any good. Forget the footstool for now. I’ll make Mrs Trifle’s scarf.’

Selby got out Mrs Trifle’s knitting needles and some balls of wool, and then found the scarf chapter in
Knitting For Ninnies
. Two terrible hours later he had wool wound around
all four paws and even around his head — but no scarf.

‘I feel like a sheep!’ he cried. ‘I look like one too! This is worse than making a stool! I give up. I know, I’ll make a Christmas cake for the two of them.’

Selby searched through the cookery books.

‘I can’t believe it,’ he sighed. ‘There are no dessert books. But maybe there’s something in one of those Christmas magazines.’

Selby soon found the recipe he was looking for and, by the time several hours had passed, he’d made the most beautiful Christmas cake ever. Soon it was wrapped in cellophane and was under the Christmas tree. He’d just put a card on it when he heard a voice.

‘Sister, oi
it’s me!’

Selby turned to see the terrible sight of Aunt Jetty. He quickly ducked behind the lounge.

‘They must be out,’ Jetty said. ‘Look at all the lovely prezzies. Oh, I like a Christmas cake.’ She picked it up and read Selby’s tag. ‘Hmm, “To the Trifles, from Santa”. Probably from the Council.’

Selby watched as Jetty slid the ribbon off and undid the wrapping.

‘What’s she doing?!’ Selby thought. ‘That’s not for her!’

‘Just a tiny little crumb to see what it tastes like,’Jetty snickered.

Jetty’s idea of a tiny little crumb was a rather large chunk, which she popped into her mouth.

‘Mmmm, nice,’ she said. ‘Someone’s a very good cook.’

‘And that someone is watching you,’ Selby thought. ‘I hope she doesn’t eat any more.’

Aunt Jetty ate another chunk and then another, until half the Christmas cake was gone.

‘Oh well, I’ve left them half a Christmas cake,’Jetty said. ‘No, that doesn’t look right. But, with all these presents, I’m sure they won’t miss just one.’

With this, Aunt Jetty grabbed the rest of the cake and slipped out the door.

‘She did it again!’
Selby thought. ‘I didn’t even get a bite for myself. And there’s not enough time left to make another one! What am I going to do now?’

The next day, Selby’s problem was solved in an unexpected way. And it was Aunt Jetty who solved it — although she didn’t know it.

Selby was out for a walk, wondering if he could ever find presents for the Trifles, when he noticed a sign in front of Aunt Jetty’s house that said:

Aunt Jetty’s front lawn was packed with tables and boxes full of things for sale. People were crowding around, looking and buying. As Selby walked past, he spotted something in a box. He moved closer and peered inside.

‘A letter-opener,’ he said to himself. ‘It’s all carved out of wood with a swan on it. And it’s beautiful! I wish I could buy something like this for the Trifles. And it’s only a dollar. Oh, I wish I had a dollar.’

Selby looked around to make sure no one was watching, then snatched it in his teeth and ran.

‘Okay, so I nicked it,’ he thought. ‘But she nicked my whole Christmas cake. So we’re even. Besides, she doesn’t want it or she wouldn’t be selling it.’

When Selby got home, he quickly wrapped the letter-opener and slipped it into the branches of the Christmas tree.

Now you must know that this isn’t the end of the story because in the beginning there were
two
presents under the tree. So keep on reading.

The next day, Aunt Jetty came to the Trifles’ house again. She didn’t say anything about eating the Christmas cake.

Mrs Trifle was putting Christmas candles in some holders. ‘I wish I had some lovely tall candlesticks like the ones you were given last year. They’d look beautiful on this table.’

‘Oh, those,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘I chucked them out.’

‘You what? They were a present from Melanie Mildew. How could you do that?’

‘Who cares who gave them to me? I didn’t like them.’

‘But what if she found out?’

‘Too bad. Anyway, they were rubbish, so I got rid of them. What’s wrong with that? Do we have to keep things just because people give them to us?’

‘Well, I guess not,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘But you should at least keep them for … for six months.’

‘What’s the point of that? If I don’t like something, out it goes.’

‘But how would the person who gave it to you feel if they knew?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘I mean, I’d feel terrible if I thought you’d got rid of the quilt with scenes of Bogusville on it we gave you for your birthday. You didn’t throw that away, did you?’

‘Nope,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘I sold it on the internet.’

‘She what?!’ Selby thought. ‘Mrs Trifle spent all winter cutting out bits of cloth and sewing them together!’

‘You what?’ Mrs Trifle exclaimed. ‘I spent ages making it. I thought it was a work of art.’

‘So did the guy who bought it. He paid me five hundred dollars. I made five hundred bucks on the deal. Pretty good, hey?’

‘Do you throw away or sell all the presents you don’t like?’

‘No, I trade some. Remember the blender you gave me two years ago?’

‘That was a very expensive blender. You didn’t trade that, did you?’

‘Actually, I didn’t. I took it to the shop and got my money back.’

‘
Your
money back?! It wasn’t your money. It was
my
money!’

‘Hey, it was mine. You gave it to me. What does it matter as long as everyone’s happy?’

‘That woman is awful!’ Selby thought. ‘She’s got the feelings of a flea.’

‘Okay, how about that letter-opener we gave you last month?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘The one with a swan on it and your initials carved on the back.’

Selby’s ears went up.

‘The letter-opener!’ he thought. ‘That was a
present from the Trifles! And it’s got Jetty’s initials on it! I didn’t even notice!’

‘Oh, that,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘I got rid of it yesterday at my yard sale.’

‘You didn’t!’

‘I did. I don’t like swans, okay?’

‘Well, I think you’re awful!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘My own sister and you’re so thoughtless! If someone gives you a present, it’s because they want you to have it. It doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You should keep it!’