Mrs Claus saw my look of uncertainty and quickly reassured me, ‘They’re Class Two reindeer; some low-level raw magic and power. Don’t worry; they’ll get us there without difficulty.’
Magic: I knew there’d be magic involved somewhere. I didn’t share her confidence. Magic and me just didn’t mix. If something was going to go wrong with this craft, chances were it would be when I was travelling in it.
Slowly and with a large degree of caution I approached the sleigh. As I did, a door in the side slid quietly open, revealing a luxurious interior. Large, comfortable-looking seats lined the walls and a plush carpet covered the floor. No prizes for guessing the colour scheme. Hey, maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.
One of the ground crew approached. ‘Everyone inside please, we depart in five minutes.’
We all entered and quickly strapped ourselves into the seats. I sank into mine and it surrounded me like I was in a hot bath. This was the life. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought I was in someone’s living room. Across from me Basili struggled with his seat belt and looked anxiously at me. I gave him a reassuring smile, but he didn’t seem too convinced. Maybe he didn’t like flying either – which was strange, considering he used to be a genie and spent most of the time when he popped out of his lamp hanging in the air with smoke for legs. I hoped for his sake we’d have an uneventful flight.
Behind me Mrs Claus was talking to our in-flight steward and asking him to organise drinks and something to eat as soon as we were airborne. As he walked back to the galley, there was a sudden jolt and the sleigh began to move forward along the ramp. As we began to pick up speed, I noticed – somewhat nervously – that we were racing up the ramp towards the ceiling I’d seen earlier. The sleigh got faster and faster as we approached the blank wall ahead.
‘Shouldn’t there be a door or something?’ I shouted over my shoulder to Mrs Claus, who was lying back with her eyes closed, seemingly blissfully unaware of our imminent collision.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Pigg. I’m sure the pilot knows what he’s doing.’
Outside, the scenery was passing by in a blur as the reindeer picked up speed, apparently oblivious to their impending doom.
The ceiling got closer and closer and I got more and more scared. ‘Ohmigod, we’re all gonna die; we’re all gonna die; WE’RE ALL GONNA DIIIIAAAARGH.’ As I screamed in terror at our imminent collision with the ceiling, it suddenly split in two and the sleigh shot out through the opening. Through the window I got a blurred glimpse of the swimming pool parting on either side as we came up through it. Seconds later we’d left the ground behind us and hurtled into the night sky.
‘There,’ came a sleepy voice from behind me. ‘I told you he knew what he was doing.’
I sank back in my seat, sweating … well, um, like a pig actually. I was close to hyperventilating and tried to get my breathing under control before I passed out. Across the aisle Basili was studying me with interest, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.
‘You are well, Mr Harry?’ he asked.
‘I’ll live,’ I gasped. ‘But I don’t think I’ll be able to cope with any more scares like that.’
Behind me, a gentle snoring sound suggested Mrs Claus was far less worried than either of us.
‘I am sure there will be no more incidents until after we are arriving at our destination.’ Basili unfastened his belt – which was clearly making him uncomfortable – let his seat back and closed his eyes. Seconds later he too was snoring, but much louder than the ladylike trilling from Mrs Claus. Great: snoring in stereo for the rest of the trip! I wondered if there was an in-flight movie; I could certainly do with some distraction.
Unfortunately, it looked as though the nearest I was going to get to in-flight entertainment was looking out of the window. Mind you, judging by the speed at which the clouds passed by it seemed that the reindeer were moving at quite a clip. Maybe there was some germ of truth in what Mrs Claus had told me. If these were Class Two animals, I wondered how fast Class One reindeer could go. Idly musing on thoughts like this (and because I had nothing else to do – the current case proving to be completely devoid of any leads), I eventually sank into a light doze.
A loud blaring brought me to my senses. The captain was shouting at us through the intercom. ‘Attention, passengers. Ground control has detected another craft approaching us at speed. We have as yet been unable to make contact with them. Please return to your seats and ensure your seat belts are securely fastened while we establish what is going on. Thank you.’
Just as he finished there was a loud thud on the side of the sleigh as something made heavy contact. The impact caused the sleigh to lurch wildly and turn on its side. Before I could grab on to anything, I slid across the floor and smashed into the cabin door. Showing scant regard for safety regulations and quality construction, it swung open and I dropped out of the sleigh into the freezing night.
I felt a trotter bang off something as I fell. Using whatever innate survival instincts I possessed (I certainly wasn’t doing this by design – trust me), my other trotter swung around and clung desperately to one of the sleigh’s landing skis. The sleigh careened wildly as it was hit again and I just managed to keep my grip. Almost immediately, Basili’s semi-conscious body fell out of the cabin above and plummeted past me. Using the same innate sense of self-preservation I’d used, his arms were stretched out trying to grab on to anything that might save him. Unfortunately for me, he wasn’t quite as good at it as I was. Instead of grabbing the ski, he wrapped an arm around my legs and clutched them tightly.
I tried to look down at the ex-genie dangling from my legs. ‘Basili,’ I shouted, trying to be heard over the wind, ‘can you climb up my body and grab on to a ski?’
‘I do not think so, Mr Harry. I am barely feeling my hands. It is a most unusual and unpleasant sensation. Perhaps if I am letting go, you may be able to climb back in.’
‘Not an option, Basili,’ I muttered through gritted teeth. ‘We need to come up with something else – and quickly.’
‘Trust me, Mr Harry,’ came the strained voice from below. ‘I am thinking as fast as I can.’
As I gamely struggled for inspiration, there came a voice from above asking what was, in the circumstances, possibly the most idiotic question I’d ever heard.
‘Are you two gentlemen OK?’ asked Mrs Claus, peering down from the open door.
‘Not really. Now if you would be so kind as to find something we can grab on to before we end up trying to fly of our own accord, we’d be really grateful.’
‘One moment, I’ll see what I can do.’ Her head disappeared back into the sleigh before I could point out that we really didn’t have the luxury of a moment to spare.
‘Hold on, Basili,’ I roared down to the genie. ‘Help may be on its way.’ As I did so, my trotters began to slip away from the skis. Frantically, I tried to hold on, but the strain was too much. My trotters protested at what they were being asked to do – they didn’t seem to think it was fair. Inch by inch they began to slide apart. I wasn’t going to manage it.
Just as I was about to give way, Mrs Claus shouted down at us again. ‘Here, grab on to this.’ Something snaked past my shoulder and I grabbed on to a thick rope and held on to it as if my life depended on it (which it did).
I was just thanking my lucky stars, lucky rabbit’s foot, lucky anything-else-lucky-I-had-in-my-possession when the big, ugly, hob-nailed boot of fate stamped down on me