Presenting Gary Christmas E-Book

Katrin Zimmermann

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 91

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Thirteen-year-old Jendrik is annoyed - by his parents, his younger sister and the stupid, never-ending and irritating chores he has to do around the house. One day, while taking out the rubbish, he comes across another person who wants to make his life even more difficult. He finds a grandpa - not Jendrik's own - sitting in their shed, claiming to be Father Christmas. Great - that was the only thing missing in Jendrik's life! But it's no good - if he wants to get rid of the strange old man, he'll have to help him … A Christmas story to read to oneself or aloud to grumpy brothers, feisty sisters, and parents who should take out the rubbish themselves once in a while - it could just be worth it! Charming, caring, and cheeky - presenting Gary Christmas!

Leseprobe

For you, Phoebs, and me

Katrin Zimmermann

Presenting Gary Christmas

Translated by Clare McEniery

© 2018 Katrin Zimmermann

Cover, Illustration: Juan Pablo Cornejo Serrano, Katrin Zimmermann

Translation: Clare McEniery

Publisher: tredition GmbH, Hamburg

ISBN

Paperback: 978-3-7469-7043-1

e-Book: 978-3-7469-7045-5

This work, and all parts thereof, is protected by copyright. Any use is prohibited without the consent of the publisher and the author. This applies in particular to electronic or other means of reproduction, translation, distribution, and public dissemination.

‘Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it.’

Annoyed, Jendrik tugged straight his blue down jacket and slammed the door of the wardrobe shut. He pulled his red beanie over his brown hair, which looked scruffy even before putting on the woolly Christmas present from Grandma Christa. He stomped into the kitchen and, huffing, tore at the bin liner to lift the stupid and overfull sack out of the way-too-small bin.

‘For goodness sake, Jendrik. Why don’t you take the rubbish bag out of the bin before putting your boots on?’ His father shook his head in disbelief. ‘Look at the kitchen floor. Now your mother will have to mop it again.’

Joachim Oltmann yawned, scratched the thick hair on the back of his head and – as he did each morning on the weekend – disappeared with a mug of coffee and the newspaper into the living room.

Jendrik stepped outside into the cold and let the door slam shut behind him. He pulled the rubbish bag, which threatened to rip with every step, past the kitchen windows and laundry door to the back of the house. In disgust, he lifted the grey lid of the rubbish bin with the number ‘28’ on it and balanced the plastic bag, through which he could see rinds of cheese, tea bags, and scrunched up tissues, on top of all the other rubbish bags. He pushed the lid down, attempting at least to reduce the gap between it and the bin, which would not close completely. He hated touching the wet handle. It was gross when his fingertips came in contact with the liquid. Was that really just rainwater? Disgusting! It was probably fetid water. In summer, it was even worse. You never knew what was waiting in the grey pit of the bin. From furry mould to maggots of different colours and sizes – everything was possible. Why was he the one who always had to do the dirty chores? He was sick of it. As soon as his sister got through her first day of school, he would see to it that she did her part in the house. Just because she was a few years younger than him, she could wrap her parents around her little finger and get away with anything. And she liked using this abundance of free time to grate Jendrik’s already taut nerves. She left her stupid ponies and dolls lying all over the house, meaning you could be poked in the behind by a doll’s foot or horse’s hoof if you sat down to relax on the sofa with the console. All those Spotties, Brownies, and Black Beauties – he would have liked to throw them in the bin! They all looked the same anyway. He just had to wait until summer and the start of school – then he’d make some changes as the older brother in the Oltmann family.

A quiet bump snapped him out of his thoughts. Had that sound come from the shed? Jendrik looked over at the red wooden door. It was locked. He glanced at the window to the living room. His father was now reading an edition of ‘National Geographic’ about active volcanoes. It couldn’t have been his mother either, as she was up in the attic, from where she had threatened him with a football ban if the stinking bag of rubbish didn’t immediately disappear. And Clara? She was sitting in the bath with her herd of Schleich toy horses.

There it was again! That bumping noise. Probably just a cat … or probably not? How would a cat have got into the shed? They really only used the shed in summer. During winter, all the garden furniture and the lawn mower were stored in there. And an old refrigerator.

Cautiously, Jendrik approached the little window on the side of the shed, next to which the bicycles were stored under a roof. All was dark in the shed. He could hardly make anything out. He moved even closer and peered further inside. Bump! Again, the noise! But there was nothing to see. It was most certainly an animal that had trapped itself inside. Maybe a hedgehog wanting to hibernate for the winter. Or a confused owl searching for an escape. Well, he would help free the poor creature. Jendrik turned around, moved towards the door and – ready to assist – opened it and came face to face with an old man.

‘Whoops,’ said the man and ducked his head quickly between his shoulders. ‘I probably was a little too loud there. Good morning!’ He settled himself back into his deckchair slowly.

Jendrik stared wordlessly at the man in the green coat.

‘Could you close the door, please? There’s a draught.’ The man with the grey-white beard and blue eyes gave Jendrik a friendly smile.

‘What?’ Jendrik held his gaze on what he had expected to be an owl and wasn’t sure whether he should be afraid or annoyed.

‘The door, Jendrik. Please close the door so that it doesn’t get even colder in here.’

Without taking his eyes off the strange fellow, Jendrik closed the door. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘I’m Father Christmas. I know all children by name.’ The old man smiled and motioned to the garden chair next to him. ‘Take a seat. It’s your chair, after all.’

Jendrik took one step closer and stretched his arm out so he could grab the chair by its back and pull it to him. He sat down on the very edge of the seat. ‘What are you doing here?’ he heard himself ask.

‘I’m waiting for my people. Well, for my reindeer. But first, one of my angels has to find me. Or one of my elves. I know I can’t count on the gnomes. They don’t like leaving the North Pole.’

‘Gnomes? Angels? Elves? Aha.’ Jendrik stood up slowly. ‘So, my parents probably wouldn’t be thrilled with you making yourself at home in here. Why don’t you shove off somewhere else?’ He made for the door, without taking his eyes off the old man. Even though the old man was polite, you could never know if someone like this was going to flip out and knock you down from behind. ‘I’ll be going then.’ Jendrik stood with his back to the door, his hand resting on the handle. ‘Alright, well, as I said, see you.’

‘I can’t leave. I’m sorry.’ The unwanted guest shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, and unfortunately neither can he.’ He motioned to the shelf on the wall behind him. Jendrik couldn’t quite make out what was lying on the checked cushion, but it looked like a fluffy, brown pillow and was round like an advent wreath.

‘What the heck is that? Did you bring a giant rat along with you?’

‘No, those things never travel alone. That’s my cat. Before I left, he sneaked into my luggage without my knowledge. He had no idea we’d be stranded here and unable to get back to the North Pole.’

Annoyed, Jendrik rolled his eyes. Today was turning out to be just great. He sighed. ‘Okay, if you really think you’re the funniest joke at the craziest time of the year, then surely you realise today is the eighteenth of December. So, you should get cracking on handing out the presents, okay? As I said, see you later. And take your lice-ball up there with you.’

‘That’s just my problem. Time is slowly running out.’ The old man drew in a breath through clenched teeth, so that it made a hissing noise. Jendrik’s father did the same when things got awkward at the car mechanic because the amount on the bill was not to his liking. ‘But maybe you can help me, Jendrik. Then you’ll be rid of me faster.’

When he spoke, the man didn’t sound as old as he looked. But he was obviously not right in the head.

‘The good thing about helping me is that then I’ll have time to put your new bike under the tree.’ He glanced at Jendrik over the rim of his glasses. ‘By the way, a nice sort of tree you’ve picked out for yourselves. I like it. Especially the colour. Pure green. No blue tones. This year it definitely won’t clash with the green carpet you always lay underneath.’

Jendrik considered a moment. They really had put a green mat under the tree every year to catch the fir needles and candle wax. And last year they really did have a tree that looked more blue than green. Dad had chosen it himself, and Mum could barely contain her anger about the blue tone of the tree. She said the colours clashed – green and blue definitely shouldn’t go together, and the red baubles looked tacky in its blue branches when they were supposed to look traditional. Clara had added fuel to the fire by singing, ‘Green and blue, looks like poo – ’

‘Clara!’ Their father had chided her.

But, as always, Clara had to push it too far. ‘ – Red baubles on it, make me vomi–’

‘I mean it – that’s enough!’ Dad rounded on her, not so much because of the naughty words, but more because he was afraid of Mum’s bad mood.

‘Then we’ll just use the gold stuff and that’ll be the end of it,’ Dad said in an annoyed voice, probably hoping the discussion would end with that.

But the gold baubles wouldn’t work either, in Mum’s opinion. Because of the blue, instead of looking warm and festive, they would look peeyellow. At this, Dad threatened to hack the tree to pieces there and then, if Mum didn’t stop overreacting. Then Clara started to cry and didn’t stop for ages.

No one wanted to go through that again. For that reason, this year, Mum and Dad decided to get the tree together, with Clara, from the local Christmas market. Of course, no one asked Jendrik, as usual. Not that he