When the enchanted animals of Hexwood discover they soon won't be magical anymore, they have to concoct an unlikely plan to save their village and themselves.
'Last Christmas in Hexwood' is a seasonal story of witches, enchanted animals and a series of unlikely plans to save Christmas.
Chapter 18
In the normal run of things in this kind of story, with magic and talking animals and adventures, when children are lured to a witch’s house in the dark woods, no good comes of it. Sometimes no good comes of it for the children, who end up being turned into things or put to sleep for hundreds of years or baked into pies; but more often no good comes of it for the witch, who gets tricked by the children and punished. This may seem unlikely -- she is a witch, and they are just children -- but these are made-up stories, and their whole job is to be unlikely.
In this completely true story the witch, fortunately for her, had moved out of her house. The children, for their part, were getting to meet Father Christmas.
This wasn’t quite as fun as it might sound, however. This wasn’t any ordinary meeting with Father Christmas. Not that any meeting with Father Christmas is ordinary, you understand; but this was not hearing the sound of hooves on the roof and scrambling in the chimney, and sneaking downstairs to find the man himself rummaging around under the tree. This was an operation being run with military precision.
Greta had had the conservatory at the witch’s house cleared and filled with an assortment of benches and chairs. They were all facing one end where she had set up a blackboard from the laboratory, now filled with lists. As the new children Reynard and the others had gathered in the churchyard arrived, she had them brought round the back of the house and sat in the chairs. She had found a bit of stick that she was now referring to as her ‘wand’ and was now pointing at things on the board with it and lecturing them.
“There’s a number on a piece of paper on every seat. That matches one of the numbers on this list. That’s the present you have to ask him for.
“Yes, it's really him. Can we save questions? Or, better still, not ask them at all? See this? This is a spellbook. That means I know spells. That also means there will be no more questions.
“That also means you will ask for a present from this list. You can ask for anything else you like, that’s up to you; but you have to ask for one of these, and you have to make him think it's what you really want. Say it. Say ‘I really, really want.’”
The children repeated it.
“You in the front: say it like you mean it. If you can’t think of anything else to ask for, just pick something else from this list. Anything we get extra of I’ll share, promise.
“So, I’m going to go down the line and ask you what you’re asking for and you’re going to tell me something from this list. Right?”
Buck and Reynard were standing at the back, watching. Buck shook his head wearily at Greta’s planning and stepped back out through the conservatory door into the garden. Reynard followed him.
“Fox, you know I have a lot of respect for your ideas and the way you have so many of them. Goodness knows I don’t have many of my own,” said Buck. "But this one: this one, I’m beginning to think, is not one of the good ones.”
“Buck, old man, I, in return, respect your judgement,” said Reynard. "I begin to have a notion that I have too many notions and I don’t think all of them through very thoroughly.”
“You do have a tendency to get carried away, it’s true,” said Buck. "But then so do other people, and they carry your ideas away and do unexpected things with them.”
“But that’s what I mean,” said Reynard. "Perhaps I ought to do a little less having ideas and a little more expecting. Perhaps I ought to think a little more about what those ideas might mean and what people might do with them.”
“That is what I’m for,” said Buck. "You have an idea, I tell you it's silly and we forget all about it and everyone’s the happier for it.”
“What if it’s a good idea?” said Reynard.
“Everything’s a bad idea in the long run,” said Buck.
They were walking as they talked and came round the corner of the house into the front garden, where the sleigh was still standing.
“Merry Christmas fox,” said a voice. "Merry Christmas, rabbit.”
“Why, it’s our friend Rudolph,” said Reynard, brightening. "Merry Christmas, Rudolph, and how are you?”
“On edge,” said Rudolph. "I would go far as to say increasingly not merry.”
“Merciful heavens,” said Reynard. "On Christmas Eve too.”
“Because it's Christmas Eve,” said Rudolph. "Time grows short. What’s going on in there?”
“Nonsense,” said Buck.
“There’s no time for that,” said Rudolph. "Go and fetch Father Christmas, we need to be getting on.”
“Not allowed,” said Buck.
“And he probably wouldn’t come,” said Reynard. "He’s talking to children.”
“Then he wouldn’t,” Rudolph sighed. "He can’t be stopped from doing that, not even on Christmas Eve. Especially on Christmas Eve, when we need it least of all. I’m surprised at the witch allowing this in the first place, she knows how busy today is.”
“Oh, she’s not there,” said Buck. "She moved out.”
“She moved out?” said Rudolph. "Then who’s in charge here?”
“Another witch,” said Buck. "Leastways she says she is. This is all her plan.”
“Well, then,” said Rudolph. "She must be stopped.”
“By who?” said Buck. "Us? Us animals stop a witch?”
“Well, perhaps not,” said Reynard. "But I have a notion I can think of someone who might.”
“Oh,” said Buck. "Oh, hold onto your antlers, Mr Reindeer, because this clever old fox is having an idea. Let’s hope this is one of the good ones.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Reynard. "But you’ve just reminded me, the witch has moved out.”
“Have you only just noticed?” said Buck.
“But not all the way out,” said Reynard. "Didn’t Martin say they weren’t going back to the University until the New Year? Didn’t he say they were staying somewhere in the town for Christmas?”
“The Railway Hotel, he called it,” said Buck. "You’re right. Madame Befana is in Stone Magna. Just up the road.”
“And who better to stop a witch,” said Reynard.
“Than another witch,” said Buck. "It’s a good one! It’s a good one, Reynard, my friend.”
“It is,” said Rudolph. "Madame Befana is a very sensible witch in my experience, always has an admirable selection of carrots. She’ll sort all this out.”
“We still have to get to her, though,” said Reynard. "It’s almost three miles from here to Stone Magna, that’s a long way for small animals such as we.”
“Why, what’s this?” said Buck, gesturing at the reindeer. "It’s a magical sleigh that can travel all round the world in one night.”
“It’s a magical sleigh that’s not going anywhere without its owner,” said Rudolph.
“Time is running out,” said Buck.
“Then you better hurry,” said Rudolph.
“Sounds like it's down to us, fox,” said Buck. "We better get a move on, it’s already getting dark.”
Reynard followed Buck out of the witch’s garden and onto the Walk.
“Buck,” he said. "Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Have you got any better ones?” said Buck.
“Ah,” said Reynard. "No. Although one’s bound to come to me soon enough.”
“Then, at the moment,” said Buck. "It's the best idea we’ve got.”
They continued on down the path, making fresh prints in the newly fallen snow.
“Alright, fox,” said Buck. "I give up. You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. What’s brewing?”
“Well,” said Reynard. "I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know anything about Stone Magna. I don’t know anything about towns, I don’t really know anything about anything beyond our wood. I don’t even know how to get to Stone Magna, I won’t know what to do if we get there and I certainly don’t have any idea what a railway hotel might be.”
“And neither do I,” said Buck. "But what I do know is this: we have a dependable rabbit and an inventive fox and between us, we’ll figure something out. We always do.”
They had come to the edge of the wood and stood looking at the blank white of the snow-covered village green and the stone black of the iced over pond.
“I don’t know, rabbit,” said Reynard. "I have a bad feeling about this one.”
“Oh, so do I, fox, so do I,” said Buck. "But I have a worse feeling about everything else.”
Reynard sighed.
“Come on, then.”
And on they went, into the dark, sparkling night, and little rabbit and a slightly larger fox, off alone into the wide, mysterious world.
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