Hogfather

AH.

Death's head disappeared. Albert stamped his feet and watched his breath cloud in the air while he listened to the pathetic scrabbling on the other side of the door.

Death's head appeared again.

ER …

‘It's the latch, master,’ said Albert wearily.

RIGHT. RIGHT.

‘You put your thumb on it and push it down.’

RIGHT.

The head disappeared. Albert jumped up and down a bit, and waited.

The head appeared.

ER… I WAS WITH YOU UP TO THE THUMB…

Albert sighed. ‘And then you press down and pull, master.’

AH. RIGHT. GOT YOU.

The head disappeared.

Oh dear, thought Albert. He just can't get the hang of them, can he …?

The door jerked open. Death stood behind it, beaming proudly, as Albert staggered in, snow blowing in with him.

‘Blimey, it's getting really parky,’ said Albert. ‘Any sherry?’ he added hopefully.

IT APPEARS NOT.

Death looked at the sock hooked on to the side of the stove. It had a hole in it.

A letter, in erratic handwriting, was attached to it. Death picked it up.

THE BOY WANTS A PAIR OF TROUSERS THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE TO SHARE, A HUGE MEAT PIE, A SUGAR MOUSE, “A LOT OF TOYS” AND A PUPPY CALLED SCRUFF.

‘Ah, sweet,’ said Albert. ‘I shall wipe away a tear, 'cos what he's gettin', see, is this little wooden toy and an apple.’ He held them out.

BUT THE LETTER CLEARLY—

‘Yes, well, it's socio-economic factors again, right?’ said Albert. ‘The world'd be in a right mess if everyone got what they asked for, eh?’

I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY WANTED IN THE STORE …

‘Yeah, and that's gonna cause a lot of trouble, master. All them “toy pigs that really work”. I didn't say nothing 'cos it was getting the job done but you can't go on like that. What good's a god who gives you everything you want?’

YOU HAVE ME THERE.

‘It's the hope that's important. Big part of belief, hope. Give people jam today and they'll just sit and eat it. Jam tomorrow, now — that'll keep them going for ever.’

AND YOU MEAN THAT BECAUSE OF THIS THE POOR GET POOR THINGS AND THE RICH GET RICH THINGS?

‘'s right,’ said Albert. ‘That's the meaning of Hogswatch.’

Death nearly wailed.

BUT I'M THE HOGFATHER! He looked embarrassed. AT THE MOMENT, I MEAN.

‘Makes no difference,’ said Albert, shrugging. ‘I remember when I was a nipper, one Hogswatch I had my heart set on this huge model horse they had in the shop…’ His face creased for a moment in a grim smile of recollection. ‘I remember I spent hours one day, cold as charity the weather was, I spent hours with my nose pressed up against the window… until they heard me callin', and unfroze me. I saw them take it out of the window, someone was in there buying it, and, y'know, just for a second I thought it really was going to be for me… Oh. I dreamed of that toy horse. It were red and white with a real saddle and everything. And rockers. I'd've killed for that horse.’ He shrugged again. ‘Not a chance, of course, 'cos we didn't have a pot to piss in and we even 'ad to spit on the bread to make it soft enough to eat—’

PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME. WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT ABOUT HAVING A POT TO PISS IN?

‘It's… it's more like a figure of speech, master. It means you're as poor as a church mouse.’

ARE THEY POOR?

‘Well… yeah.’

BUT SURELY NOT MORE POOR THAN ANY OTHER MOUSE? AND, AFTER ALL, THERE TEND TO BE LOTS OF CANDLES AND THINGS THEY COULD EAT.

‘Figure of speech again, master. It doesn't have to make sense.’

OH. I SEE. DO CARRY ON.

‘O' course, I still hung up my stocking on Hogswatch Eve, and in the morning, you know, you know what? Our dad had put in this little horse he'd carved his very own self…’

AH, said Death. AND THAT WAS WORTH MORE THAN ALL THE EXPENSIVE TOY HORSES IN THE WORLD, EH?

Albert gave him a beady look. ‘No!’ he said. ‘It weren't. All I could think of was it wasn't the big horse in the window.’

Death looked shocked.

BUT HOW MUCH BETTER TO HAVE A TOY CARVED WITH—

‘No. Only grown-ups think like that,’ said Albert. ‘You're a selfish little bugger when you're seven. Anyway, Dad got ratted after lunch and trod on it.’

LUNCH?

‘All right, mebbe we had a bit of pork chipping for the bread…’

EVEN SO, THE SPIRIT OF HOGSWATCH—

Albert sighed. ‘If you like, master. If you like.’

Death looked perturbed.

BUT SUPPOSING THE HOGFATHER HAD BROUGHT YOU THE WONDERFUL HORSE—

‘Oh, Dad would've flogged it for a couple of bottles,’ said Albert.

BUT WE HAVE BEEN INTO HOUSES WHERE THE CHILDREN HAD MANY TOYS AND BROUGHT THEM EVEN MORE TOYS, AND IN HOUSES LIKE THIS THE CHILDREN GET PRACTICALLY NOTHING.

‘Huh, we'd have given anything to get practically nothing when I were a lad,’ said Albert.

BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT, IS THAT THE IDEA?

‘That's about the size of it, master. A good god line, that. Don't give 'em too much and tell 'em to be happy with it. Jam tomorrow, see.’

THIS IS WRONG. Death hesitated. I MEAN… IT'S RIGHT TO BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT. BUT YOU'VE GOT TO HAVE SOMETHING TO BE HAPPY ABOUT HAVING. THERE'S NO POINT IN BEING HAPPY ABOUT HAVING NOTHING.

Albert felt a bit out of his depth in this new tide of social philosophy.

‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘I suppose people'd say they've got the moon and the stars and suchlike.’

I'M SURE THEY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO PRODUCE THE PAPERWORK.

‘All I know is, if Dad'd caught us with a big bag of pricey toys we'd just have got a ding round the earhole for nicking 'em.’

IT IS… UNFAIR.

‘That's life, master.’

BUT I'M NOT.

‘I meant this is how it's supposed to go, master,’ said Albert.

NO. YOU MEAN THIS IS HOW IT GOES.

Albert leaned against the stove and rolled himself one of his horrible thin cigarettes. It was best to let the master work his own way through these things. He got over them eventually. It was like that business with the violin. For three days there was nothing but twangs and broken strings, and then he'd never touched the thing again. That was the trouble, really. Everything the master did was a bit like that. When things got into his head you