Frosty Wind Made Moan

9

9

Toby knew the continent, he remembered it from Geography class. The old man guided the winds to carry them down towards South America and Toby wondered what this could have to do with Christmas. They floated down and down and, below, Toby started to see the sprawl of a huge city, as big, or bigger even, than London. The closer they came, the more certain Toby felt that it was, indeed, wider spread.

On a hill, they passed a tall, white statue, its arms outspread as though gathering people towards it. Toby recognised that, too. He couldn't remember the proper name, but he knew it was Jesus and he knew that the statue was in Brazil. Still they descended, until Toby could see individual houses and streets, where little, ramshackle buildings clung to the slopes of hills. Towards these, the old man guided them with a wave of the wand and a gust of wind.

They stopped and dropped gently to the ground and Toby began to sweat. It felt far hotter than Summer back in England, and he didn't know which was worse, the cold from the snow, before, or this stifling, prickling heat. The old man, in his thick green dress with fur edges, didn't seem to notice how hot it was. He didn't have a single bead of sweat on his face.

With Toby's hand in his, the old man began to walk through the mingling crowds. A mixture of people wearing expensive, fashionable clothes and others, bent-backed, wearing little more than rags. All around, he could see evidence of Christmas. Lights in windows, little Christmas trees and smiling pictures of red-suited Santa. None of the pictures looked like the old man. They weren't pictures of Father Christmas.

After a short walk, the old man stopped and pointed towards a string of children huddled against the buildings. Some were barefoot, in little more than shorts and vests. They all looked hungry. They all looked dirty and they all stared at the adults passing them by. The old man seemed interested in two of them more than the others and led Toby to stand before them.

"Alright. I get it. There are people that want more than me." It felt a little heavy handed, but, then, so was showing him Leopold's life and that of the servant girl. "So I'm selfish. I'm not the only selfish person in the world, am I?"

"No. Far from it." The old man pointed towards the two children and then crouched, tilting his head as looked at them. "These two are the same age as you. What do you think they are here for?"

Toby didn't crouch with the old man. He looked at the two kids and tried to think why the old man showed him these two. One had a box in front of him. It looked like a badly wrapped present, with a bow and a slit of a hole in the top. The other boy had a wooden box with a wide handle and, tucked into the box, Toby could see brushes and cloths and little circular tins of things.

"Caixinha, senhor?" The first boy called to everyone he could that passed by without looking at him, hand held palm upwards, pleading. "Caixinha, senhora?"

"I don't understand Brazilian." Frowning, he looked towards the old man. "What's he saying?"

The old man stood once again and placed his hand on top of Toby's head and suddenly everything changed. In the sounds, at least. Instead of hearing dozens, hundreds of people talking in a language he didn't understand, he began to hear English instead. As though a switch had flipped in his mind. Now he could hear what they said, it didn't sound so strange.

People talked about almost the same things they did back in England. They talked about food and about friends and family. They talked of what they were going to do for Christmas Eve. About love and work and about football and other sports. It all sounded almost normal. Now he could understand properly, he turned his attention back to the boy.

"Little box, sir?" He sounded like any other little boy, now. Though Toby could hear a tint of desperation in his words. "Madam? Little box?"

"What's this 'Little Box' he's on about?" Toby felt like reaching down and picking up the box, the present, and giving it a shake. "It looks like he's begging."