A Donkey Called Mistletoe Read online

  “Manu! Ben!” called Ms. Denby. “Stop that right now! Stand still!”

  She tried to catch the donkey, but it wheeled around and galloped between the tables, sending chairs crashing to the floor. Its head now turned at an unnatural angle, and it no longer seemed to have any idea where it was going.

  Mrs. Cowan, her mouth open in horror, wove her way between the tables toward the donkey. It turned and galloped off in the other direction. Mrs. Cowan followed it, shouting, “Stop! Manu! Ben! Stop!”

  The donkey turned and crashed into the huddle of shepherds. Children dodged out of the way as it galumphed around the room, scattering sandwiches and sending jugs of juice pouring onto the floor.

  Two of the catering staff appeared in the kitchen doorway. Their mouths opened in horror. Mrs. Cowan desperately battled through the sea of children to block the donkey’s way. Just as it was about to crash into her, its back legs slipped in a puddle of juice. Its front legs skidded on a soggy sandwich and the donkey toppled sideways into a table. The cake stand clattered to the floor and the donkey collapsed in a tangle of hooves, landing facedown with its head in a heap of scones.

  There was a terrible silence. The donkey struggled to its feet. Its face was covered in clotted cream. Chunks of squashed scone stuck to the cream like huge lumps. Its juice-soaked body and legs were dotted with soggy bits of broken cookies and squished chips.

  The donkey slowly removed its head. And there, for the whole room to see, was the tousled hair and sweaty face of Jasmine’s little brother.

  Jasmine couldn’t bear to watch. She walked back to the bushes and told Tom what she’d seen.

  “They’re going to be in so much trouble,” she said. “And those poor cooks. What a waste of a lovely tea.”

  “Do you think they’ll cancel the play?” asked Tom.

  Jasmine stared at him. It hadn’t occurred to her that the play would be canceled.

  “If they do,” said Tom, “then we can just take Mistletoe in to see the residents now, and I bet the head of the home will be really happy we brought him.”

  “I’ll go and see what’s happening,” said Jasmine.

  She took up her position beside the doors again. All the children except Manu and Ben had been herded to the end of the room nearest the lounge. One of the catering staff carried the donkey costume into the kitchen. Manu and Ben stood on their own in the middle of the room, looking very subdued. The two card-playing ladies in the corner had their heads turned, apparently talking to somebody behind them. Jasmine craned her neck to see.

  Harrison was crouched behind the table with his hands over his ears. The old ladies were clearly trying to comfort him, but Harrison was shaking his head from side to side and shrinking farther into the corner. Ms. Denby, who normally helped him, was sponging juice off the Angel Gabriel on the other side of the room.

  Poor Harrison, thought Jasmine. He must have hated all that chaos.

  Ms. Denby finished with the Angel Gabriel and straightened up. She turned and spotted Harrison behind the table. With a look of concern, she hurried over to a chair by the wall, fished Harrison’s headphones out of a bag, and took them to him. Harrison put them on, but he shook his head and stayed crouched in the corner when Ms. Denby held out her hand to encourage him to stand up.

  Suddenly, Jasmine had an idea. It might not work, but it was worth a try. She pushed down the door handle and slipped inside the room.

  The teachers had their backs to Jasmine, but one of the shepherds recognized her and waved. Jasmine put her finger to her lips and crept in an exaggerated tiptoe toward Harrison. The children took the hint and said nothing. Some of them even put their fingers to their lips, too.

  Manu was pleading with Mrs. Cowan. He sounded close to tears.

  “Please,” he begged. “We’ll be so good, I promise. We’ll do everything you tell us, won’t we, Ben? Please, Mrs. Cowan. We’ll do anything.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Mrs. Cowan. “I just can’t trust you. You were given very clear instructions and you did exactly what you were told not to do.”

  Jasmine squeezed behind the corner table and crouched beside Harrison. His eyes were screwed shut and he was rocking backward and forward.

  “Harrison,” she whispered. “It’s me, Jasmine.”

  He kept rocking.

  “Harrison,” whispered Jasmine. “Mistletoe is here.”

  His rocking slowed a little.

  “Mistletoe is right outside,” said Jasmine. “Do you want to come and see him?”

  He hovered his hands slightly away from his ears and opened his eyes.

  “Mistletoe,” he murmured.

  “Come and see him. Come and see Mistletoe.”

  “Mistletoe,” said Harrison. He lowered his hands.

  “He’s in the garden, just outside that door.”

  She held out her hand. Without looking at her, he took it and got to his feet. The old ladies smiled at her as she led him toward the patio doors.

  Mrs. Cowan was giving instructions to Manu and Ben.

  “You will sit on the floor at the front and watch the play. I’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire time, so do not move a muscle.”

  “But who’s going to be the donkey?” asked Ben.

  “Nobody is going to be the donkey.”

  “But what about when everyone sings ‘Little Donkey,’” said Manu. “It won’t make sense if there isn’t a donkey.”

  As Jasmine glimpsed her brother’s crestfallen face, she felt a pang of sympathy. Poor Manu. He had been so looking forward to playing the donkey. She and Harrison slipped outside and Jasmine closed the door behind them, shuddering as the freezing air hit her. Harrison smiled in delight as he saw the donkey grazing on the lawn.

  “Mistletoe,” he said. The donkey raised his head and swiveled his ears toward him. Harrison put his arms around Mistletoe’s neck and leaned his head against the donkey’s mane.

  “What’s happening in there?” Tom asked Jasmine.

  “Manu and Ben aren’t allowed to be the donkey anymore.”

  “So who is?”

  “No one. They’re not having a donkey.”

  “That’s a shame. It won’t be as good without a donkey.”

  Harrison raised his head and looked at Jasmine.

  “Mistletoe,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Jasmine absently.

  “Mistletoe,” repeated Harrison, and the urgency of his tone made Jasmine take notice.

  “Oh!” she breathed. “Mistletoe. Of course!”

  Tom stared at her, and then at Harrison.

  “Do you mean Mistletoe should be the donkey in the play?”

  Harrison nodded.

  Jasmine and Tom looked at each other, and their faces broke into smiles.

  “That’s a great idea,” said Tom. “Of course it should be Mistletoe. Imagine how pleased Mr. Hobson will be to see him in the play!”

  “But how are we going to do it?” asked Jasmine. “The play’s about to start.”

  “Harrison will need to lead him,” said Tom. “Will you do that, Harrison?”

  Harrison nodded.

  “Right,” said Jasmine. “Let’s make a plan.”

  From the lounge drifted the sound of “O Come All Ye Faithful,” played softly on a piano. Jasmine looked through the glass doors. Dozens of children were crowded at this end of the room, all facing the stage at the front. The boy and girl playing Mary and Joseph stood at the back of the crowd, just on the other side of the door from Jasmine.

  She noticed with gratitude that there was a window open in this room, too, so she would be able to hear what was happening.

  Over the heads of the costumed children, Jasmine saw the residents of Holly Tree House waiting for the play to begin. They sat in armchairs and wheelchairs, with a central aisle between the chairs for the performers to walk down. The front of the room had been left clear as a stage. A dark-blue backdrop, painted with a scene of Bethlehem by night under a starry sky, hung on the wall behind the stage.

  Mr. Hobson was sitting on his own at the side of the room. He looked tired from his move and his cold. It was sad to see him here instead of out in his field with Mistletoe. There he had been busy running a farm. Jasmine hoped Holly Tree House had fun activities.

  Jasmine walked back to the others.

  “It looks like they’re about to start. Let’s wait on the terrace until it’s time for Mary and Joseph to come on. Then we’ll open the doors and Harrison and Mistletoe can walk down the aisle with them.”

  “Shouldn’t we warn Mary and Joseph?” said Tom. “They might get a bit of a shock if a donkey suddenly appears beside them with no warning.”

  “Good point,” said Jasmine. “I’ll creep in and tell them.”

  The angels were processing up the aisle, singing “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” accompanied by the piano. Jasmine inched open the door. The children at the back turned as the cold air hit them. One of the Wise Men gave a little scream, which luckily was drowned out by the piano and the appreciative murmurs of the audience as the angels approached the stage.

  Mrs. Cowan stood at the side of the stage, smiling encouragingly at the angels. Ms. Denby was at the back of the room, facing away from Jasmine, lining up the shepherds.

  Jasmine beckoned to Mary and Joseph. They looked bemused, but they knew she was Manu’s big sister and they followed her without questioning.

  Outside, Jasmine shut the door behind them and pointed across the lawn, where Harrison was leading Mistletoe toward the terrace.

  The children gasped. “A donkey!” said Joseph.

  “He’s so cute!” said Mary.

  “He’s going to be in the play with you,” said Jasmine. “He’s called Mistletoe and he’s my donkey. Harrison’s go
ing to lead him up the aisle, and you can walk with him, exactly like you were going to walk with the pretend donkey. Is that OK?”

  Mary and Joseph beamed.

  “Can I pet him?” asked Mary.

  “Sure,” said Jasmine. “Harrison will show you where he likes being petted.”

  “What if he poops?” asked Joseph.

  “He probably won’t, but we’ve got a bucket just in case. Actually, can you carry it? Stand it under his back end when he gets onstage. If he moves, move the bucket, too.”

  “Oh!” gasped Tom. “It’s snowing!”

  Jasmine looked up. Fat white snowflakes drifted like magic from the winter sky.

  “Yay!” she exclaimed. “Snow!”

  Mary and Joseph laughed and clapped in delight. “Snow!”

  “Look, Mistletoe, snow!” said Harrison, throwing back his head and opening his mouth to catch the falling flakes, laughing as they melted on his tongue.

  They led Mistletoe onto the terrace, Mary and Joseph running with their hands held out wide to catch snowflakes.

  As they reached the doors, the angels finished singing. Four children who Jasmine guessed were narrators walked up the aisle. They wore Christmas sweaters instead of costumes, and each clutched a clipboard with a script attached to it.

  The first narrator, a very confident-looking boy in a snowman sweater, yelled, “WELCOME TO OUR NATIVITY PLAY!”

  The audience jumped as though they had been given electric shocks. A few people started laughing.

  Jasmine turned to check on Harrison. He stood beside Mistletoe, murmuring the donkey’s name over and over again. And while Mistletoe’s left ear was swiveling around, listening to the noises from inside, his right ear was fixed on Harrison.

  The second narrator said, “The Angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city called Nazareth, to a young woman named Mary, who was engaged to a man called Joseph.”

  The Angel Gabriel stepped forward and said, “Do not be afraid, Mary. God is with you. You will have a baby and you will call him Jesus, and he will be the Son of God.”

  One of the angels was picking her nose and inspecting the results with intense interest. One had sat down with her legs crossed and appeared to be taking a nap. Another was looking around the audience anxiously. Suddenly her face broke into a beaming smile and she ran off down the aisle calling, “Nana! Nana!”

  Mrs. Cowan whispered to the third narrator, who lifted his clipboard and held it directly in front of his face. In one breathless outpouring, he gabbled, “In those days, Caesar Augustus ordered that everyone must go to be registered in their own town. So Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem.”

  The piano started to play “Little Donkey.” Mary and Joseph looked at Jasmine expectantly.

  Until this moment, Jasmine had been so caught up in the excitement of their plan that she hadn’t considered the possible consequences. Now her stomach twisted into knots.

  Feeling queasy, she opened the double doors wide.

  “Ready, Harrison?” she whispered.

  “Walk on,” said Harrison.

  He began to lead Mistletoe up the aisle beside Mary and Joseph. Mistletoe kept his right ear trained on Harrison, and Jasmine could tell that Harrison was murmuring the donkey’s name. Mrs. Cowan stared, openmouthed and speechless. Jasmine and Tom hastily ducked behind the Wise Men.

  A wave of gasps and murmurs rose around the room as the little procession made its way up the aisle.

  “Ahh!”

  “Oh, look!”

  “A real donkey!”

  “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Look at that, George, a real donkey.”

  “What a sweet little creature.”

  “Look at his dear little face.”

  Jasmine couldn’t resist standing up to look at Mr. Hobson. He was gazing at Mistletoe as though he was in a trance.

  Most of the angels had stopped singing “Little Donkey” and were staring openmouthed at Mistletoe as he walked calmly up the aisle, one ear swiveling and the other trained on Harrison. Jasmine noticed Manu and Ben grinning in delight at Harrison and Mistletoe.

  They reached the stage and turned to face the audience. The music stopped and there was an expectant hush. Then, just as the fourth narrator opened his mouth to speak, a voice came from the side of the room.

  “Mistletoe,” said Mr. Hobson hoarsely. “It’s my Mistletoe.”

  The donkey’s ears swiveled toward him. Mr. Hobson tried to heave himself out of his wheelchair, but he seemed too tired and sank down again.

  “Mistletoe,” he said croakily.

  Mistletoe lifted his head and brayed. Then he trotted off the stage and over to Mr. Hobson, with Harrison beside him. He laid his head in the old man’s lap. Mr. Hobson’s face lit up in a huge smile. He rested his head against the donkey’s and scratched his ears.

  “Mistletoe,” he murmured. “My Mistletoe.”

  Jasmine beckoned to Tom to follow her, and they crawled on their hands and knees around the back of the audience until they were just behind Mr. Hobson. He hadn’t seen them yet, and they kept quiet. Jasmine didn’t want to cause any more commotion. Harrison held Mistletoe’s lead rope loosely, while Mistletoe rested his head in Mr. Hobson’s lap and Mr. Hobson scratched him behind the ears.

  At the end of the play, as the final verse of “Away in a Manger” finished, applause broke out around the room. Everyone was smiling.

  A woman who had been sitting at the front stood up and walked to the stage.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name’s Katy Bright, and I’m the manager of Holly Tree House. On behalf of all of us here, I want to say a huge thank you to all of you, children and teachers, for coming here and performing your play for us. We’re so grateful to you for giving us this lovely Christmas treat. And we certainly didn’t expect to have a real donkey in our midst. Thank you so much, Mrs. Cowan, for organizing that fantastic surprise.”

  She smiled at Mrs. Cowan, who looked rather flustered.

  “Now, even though we had a little mishap before the show, our wonderful kitchen staff have performed a Christmas miracle and there’s a beautiful tea ready in the dining room. Children, if you could just stay in here for a tiny bit longer while we get all the residents seated next door, then I’ll ask you to come and join us.”

  Mrs. Cowan sat the children in rows on the stage while the staff helped the residents into the dining room. When a man came over to Mr. Hobson, though, he shook his head.

  “I’ll stay here,” he said. “With my donkey, and my helper here.” He smiled at Harrison.

  “You must be Harrison,” he said when the caregiver left. “Is that right?”

  Harrison nodded.

  “Jasmine told me how good you are with Mistletoe. You handled him beautifully there. With all those people around, he might have panicked, but you kept him completely calm. He really trusts you.”

  Harrison leaned his head against the donkey’s flank.

  “How did you get him here?” asked Mr. Hobson. “Did you bring him yourself?”

  Harrison shook his head and pointed at Jasmine.

  Jasmine jumped to her feet and stood in front of Mr. Hobson. “We brought him,” she said. “Me and Tom.”

  Tom stood up, grinning.

  “We were sad that you couldn’t come see Mistletoe today,” said Jasmine, “so we thought we’d bring him here, as a surprise for you after the play. And then Manu and Ben went wild in the donkey costume so they weren’t allowed to be in the play, and Harrison had the idea of Mistletoe being in it instead.”

  Mr. Hobson beamed at them all. “You’re a wonderful bunch of children,” he said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Mistletoe walk up that aisle. I honestly thought I was seeing things for a moment. It’s the best Christmas surprise I’ve ever had.”

  Jasmine fetched Mr. Hobson a plate of food, but he didn’t have a chance to eat anything because a steady stream of people kept coming up to pet Mistletoe and ask him about the donkey. After half an hour, he could barely speak, and a concerned-looking caregiver asked him if he wanted to go rest in his room.