After being bored solid for an entire hour - Who knew anyone could write an entire chapter on medieval building materials?- I was still fuming about the elf incident. I never could have guessed someone who selflessly gave a strange girl their scrambled eggs could be so grumpy. I heard the jingle of my earrings and smiled, sod the Scrooge! I wasn’t going to let him ruin my Christmas spirit.

You may wonder why, as Claire puts it, I’m Christmas-crackers. When I was eight, I was told Santa wasn’t real. This was a shattering blow to me, I’d always believed the jolly bearded- man delivered my presents on Christmas eve, and no, I don’t mean my granddad in a cotton wool beard and a tatty red hat. When Christmas came around that year, I couldn’t care less. What was the point? Where was the magic if there wasn’t any flying reindeer and hard-working elves. My grandfather was distraught, he’d been my guardian ever since my parents were killed in a car accident, as I prestigious lawyer he was an extremely busy man. However, when the festive period came around he would always make a special effort to spend time with me when I returned for the school holidays. All he ever wanted was to make sure I had the best Christmas I could.

It was the night before Christmas and instead of being tucked up in bed dreaming about presents, I was sulkily lounging on the sofa with my Tamagotchi, purposely ignoring my grandfathers’ pleas to put out a carrot for Rudolph.

Carrot for Rudolph? Yeah right! More like waking up to find grandpa had taken a chunk out of it with a potato peeler, and was claiming he heard Santa’s sleigh last night. Pull the other one!

It was just after midnight, and I was still awake. I heard Granddad tip-toe past my door, no doubt coming back from putting my presents under the tree. It was safe to go.

I had only just realised my beloved Tamagotchi was still in the living-room, and it broke my heart to think my cyber-puppy could be going hungry. Creeping into the hallway, I stealthily made my way downstairs and into the darkened living-room. Just as I found my digital pet stuffed down the side of the sofa, I realised I’d been rumbled. There was my grandfather, stuffing his face with cookies over by the Georgian fireplace, I must have imagined hearing him earlier. As usual, he was dressed in a Santa suit, trying to keep up the charade.

“Sorry Grandpa, I just came downstairs to find this-” I waved my Tamagotchi at him. “Maybe you should lay off the cookies?” I laughed, punching him in his padded belly.

“Ouch.” He cried, dropping his biscuit in surprise.

“Oops.” He must have put on weight, his belly didn’t feel like the old pillowcase I assumed it was. My grandfather turned to face me, only for me to realise this wasn’t my granddad at all. “Who the heck are you?

“Take a guess.” The cookie-thief muttered, rubbing his stomach in pain.

“Someone who dresses up like Santa and breaks into people’s homes to steal cookies?” The bearded intruder stared at me with a look of astonishment.

“Holly Palmer isn’t it?”

“Um yeah?” I replied, noticing his snow-covered beard was surprisingly realistic.

“When were you told I didn’t exist?” I raised an eyebrow, did this burglar really think he was St. Nick?

“A few months ago.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Patrick Clement told you this one lunchtime did he not?” I nodded, he had actually announced the lack of Santa to my entire class. “Little tyke, I knew he was on the naughty list for some reason.” I stared at him dumbstruck, how did this guy know about Patrick? “Have you been suffering from a lack of festive cheer since then?”

“I suppose so?” I mumbled, knowing full well this was the case. The old man looked thoughtful, he put his hand into a green velvet sack near the Christmas tree and pulled out a small golden box.

“Merry Christmas.” I gingerly took the box from him and slowly unravelled the burgundy ribbon. Inside was a tiny, silver snowflake, so intricate It could have been mistaken for the real thing, however this one was attached to a delicate chain.

“Cool.” I breathed, lifting it up with my fingers. “This is really for me?” He nodded.

“Anytime you feel yourself doubting the magic of Christmas, just remember you have to listen to your heart rather than what everyone else is telling you.” Though it was probably the most saccharine thing I had ever heard, I didn’t feel like laughing.

“Well, I have to get back to my deliveries, have a very merry Christmas Holly and give my regards to your grandfather.” He smiled warmly and tossed the velvet sack over his shoulder. Without another word he strolled over to the chimney and disappeared in a puff of glitter.

I had actually met Santa Claus.

Ok, I admit looking back it was probably a hallucination caused by eating an entire bag of marshmallows before bed. Although, the next morning, my grandfather couldn’t disguise his bewildered expression when I thanked him for the snowflake necklace.

“Hey Palmer, is it ready?” I was just leaving class, when I heard someone whisper in my ear. I looked out the corner of my eye to see Vincent Gilmore was standing right beside me.

“I need one more night, spread the word.” I replied, securing my long auburn hair into a ponytail.

“Still on for that slow-dance?” He grinned, winking roguishly at me.

“We’ll see.” I gave a noncommittal shrug, mentally planning to avoid him. I was probably the only girl left in year twelve to reject his advances, this only seemed to further fuel his interest in me. He smirked and turned to walk down another corridor, my friends all bounded over as soon as he left.

“Ooh Vince still after you I see?” Kate smiled, looking after Sharpes’ resident lothario.

“Sadly yes.” I groaned, hearing Claire giggle.

“You know, he’s quite a good kisser.” She commented. “Probably a seven and a half.” I shook my head and sighed.

“I have absolutely no intention of smooching him under the mistletoe! Anyway, I’ll see you guys later, I still have stuff to do for tomorrow.” I waved and set off down the stone staircase which led to the dorms. Tomorrow was my annual secret Christmas party, I’d been organising it ever since I’d come across the abandoned room as a thirteen year old. Now, four years later, it was the hottest event in the student calendar, and this years party was going to be my best yet.