All I Want for Christmas: a hilarious and heart-warming romance Read online

  Chapter Thirteen

  The closer it gets to Christmas, the busier the grotto becomes, with Geraldine employing another elf to help Izzy out. Laura is a pretty, yet annoyingly upbeat PhD student who, unlike Izzy and I, finds this whole experience a hoot. Her desire to be as silly as possible is enchanting for the children but utterly irritating for everyone else. However, I do feel slightly relieved that Izzy’s animosity is now almost entirely directed at her instead of me.

  ‘They don’t have penguins in the North Pole, do they?’ Laura questions, lifting the one stuffed toy which refuses to stay upright. ‘Like, it’s just polar bears, I think.’

  ‘It’s make-believe,’ Izzy snarls. ‘Why you care? Just keep doing the squeaky elf voice and we get along, OK?’

  As she stomps to the front of the grotto, I hear Laura mumble, ‘That’s my real voice.’

  I tell her just to ignore Izzy and she laughs. ‘Oh, she doesn’t bother me,’ she squeaks. ‘Not really. I’m just here for the extra cash. I’m two years from finishing my postgrad in criminology; she’s good practice for the sociopaths I’m bound to encounter after I graduate.’

  While the thought of her squeaking at hardened criminals amuses me, I suddenly feel quite old and useless. She’s just at the start of her career and I’m most certainly at the end of mine, playing Santa for rent money instead of using the degree I slaved for. Seeing my student loan taken out of my Santa pay cheques every week might be the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen. I defeatedly take my place on my throne as Izzy ushers in the first of many kids.

  The growing number of visitors also means that the grotto now opens two hours earlier. Thankfully, to compensate, I’ve been given a lunch break, complete with a twenty per cent food court employee discount. I am officially part of the Southview Shopping Centre family. Yay, me.

  ‘Please don’t wear your uniform during lunch,’ Geraldine insisted, handing me my swipe card. ‘Santa doesn’t stop off for Big Macs or Wagamama while he’s working. You don’t want to be besieged by children while you eat, and I don’t want to be hearing complaints from parents about food stains on your costume. It’s happened before.’

  I agree and go into the staffroom to change into my own clothes before I meet a smiling Sarah, who’s waiting for me by the calendar stand. She picks up one and scans the back cover carefully.

  ‘It’s December. You’re welcome.’

  ‘Photoshopped photos of cows drinking beer,’ she says, her nose wrinkled with loathing. ‘What a time to be alive. Puts me in the mood for burgers though. You ready to eat?’

  Hanging out with Sarah at work has now become a regular occurrence. First it was the odd coffee between shifts but now we’ve progressed to lunch, although I’m pretty sure my employee discount was a deciding factor. She’s not employed directly by Southview so has to pay normal prices like everyone else.

  Yesterday we ate noodles at the slightly grubby Thai place and today it seems we’re getting burgers. It’s nice to be able to hold a decent conversation with the woman Matt is seeing for once. His usual types are sullen, snooty and unlikely to laugh at my jokes, but Sarah is really easy-going. Our lunches make my days here a little more bearable.

  ‘You didn’t have to do the dishes at mine the other night,’ she said, shaking a little packet of salt for her fries. ‘I appreciate it but you’re not the hired help.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Alfie fell asleep pretty early and I was washing my mug anyway.’ This time Sarah and Matt went to the new cocktail and steak place at Piccadilly. Between dating Matt and my food court discount, Sarah’s food bill must be a fraction of what it was when we first met.

  ‘It makes me just a little uncomfortable.’ She laughs. ‘Like you think I’m not keeping a clean house for Alfie or something.’

  Her face looks just a little strained as she says this, and I can tell she isn’t really joking. It’s as if she’s worried that I think she’s a crappy parent. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  ‘My mum raised me by herself,’ I say, nicking one of her chips. ‘She also hated accepting help. It was like she refused to rely on anyone because she knew they’d inevitably let her down.’

  ‘Ah, so you’re a mummy’s boy, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, guilty as charged,’ I reply quickly with a smile, not wanting to get into a discussion about my mum over a lukewarm Burger King. ‘All I’m saying is, I did her dishes too. Sometimes it’s just nice to have a hand.’

  Sarah smiles and pinches the pickle I’ve removed from my burger. ‘You’re a good guy, Nick. I can see why Matt thinks so highly of you. You know, I’m so glad we met.’

  ‘I’m glad you guys met too,’ I reply, my phone vibrating on the table beside me. I swipe it open to see a new message. ‘I knew that you two would—’

  ‘No, you, silly!’ She swats my arm. ‘I’m so glad I met you.’

  As I look up from my phone, our eyes lock and just for a moment, neither of us look away, her smile slowly fading to something more confusing.

  ‘Matt,’ I say, holding up my phone. ‘It’s Matt.’

  As she breaks my gaze, the world begins moving around us again. That was weird.

  ‘Right, yes,’ she says, clearing her throat. ‘Do you need to call him or . . .’

  ‘Nah, it’s just dad stuff. I used the last of the milk apparently and should therefore replace it. And he wants me to use my discount to pick up a few dozen six-packs of beer. How he sees me getting on to the bus with that, I don’t know . . .’

  ‘Ah, for the big birthday bash, right?’ she asks. ‘He mentioned it the other day.’

  ‘Yup. One every year. Can you make it to the party?’

  She scrunches up her face. ‘I mean, I can but . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The thought of meeting all his friends at once is a bit . . . you know . . . yikes.’

  I nod. ‘Understandable. They’re all terrible individuals. Right-wingers, Audi drivers and people who ask to speak to the manager on a daily basis.’

  The look on her face makes me regret my last statement. ‘I’m kidding! They’re great. Mostly. I’ll shut up now.’

  ‘Are you bringing your skater girl? She seemed fun. We could hide in the bathroom together.’

  She doesn’t do shared bathrooms, I think, smiling to myself. ‘Afraid not. I think that was just a one-off. A really fun one-off.’

  Sarah sees my brazen grin and laughs.

  ‘Ah . . . the curse of the one-night stand. Never mind, plenty more fish in the sea . . . or reality stars in the Big Brother house . . .’

  ‘I knew Matt would let that slip,’ I groan. ‘He’s such a bloody gossip.’

  ‘I think it’s brilliant! I had no idea who she was, but Google tells me she’s twenty-five, from Essex, swears by colonics and hates Santa.’

  I start to laugh. ‘That’s nonsense – well, the age part, anyway; she’s twenty-nine. I’d rather not slag her off though . . . she has a decent heart under all that fake tan.’

  ‘A true gentleman,’ Sarah replies, looking at me thoughtfully. She glances at her watch. ‘Shit, I need to get back to work. You can finish my fries.’

  Sarah pushes her chair out and grabs her bag from the floor. ‘Don’t forget the milk!’ she calls over her shoulder.

  The rest of the week flies by, with Izzy in a surprisingly good mood as her boyfriend Antonio is flying over from Madrid for Christmas.

  ‘How long have you been together?’ I ask, fluffing up my beard.

  ‘Two years,’ she replies. ‘He must finish his degree at UCM and then he will live here with me.’

  ‘So, you left him all alone in Spain to come here and be a minimum-wage elf?’

  I feel her eye-daggers pierce my face. ‘I no just elf. I do little jobs like this between gigs.’

  ‘Gigs?’

  ‘Yes, Mi
ster Nosy, I play violin. I am session musician.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to be insulting,’ I reply, feeling more than a little embarrassed. ‘I was trying to be funny. You play violin? That’s amazing.’

  ‘I know,’ she agrees. ‘But musicians are not rich. We must also eat. Just like you . . . well, maybe not so much as you . . .’

  ‘Well, I hope you have a great time when Antonio arrives,’ I say, now feeling like a podgy idiot. ‘You must be excited.’

  ‘Very excited,’ she says, almost breaking into a smile. ‘Christmas is no good alone, you know? You are, how do you say . . . un fracaso . . . a failure.’

  ‘Right,’ I reply, unsure if that’s a dig at my current single status. ‘We should probably open up now . . .’

  She nods and walks over to the front of the queue where a small boy is kicking the shit out of a plastic polar bear.

  I’m happy to see Sarah at lunchtime. We grab a table at the new pancake stack place on her recommendation and I tell her about my faux pas with Izzy.

  ‘I didn’t mean to imply she was just an elf,’ I say as we take our seats. ‘God, she must think I’m a twat. She plays the violin and speaks two languages. I can barely speak one and have no musical ability whatsoever.’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Three what?’

  ‘Languages,’ Sarah replies. ‘We have a Parisian barista. Izzy chats to her in French when she comes in.’

  ‘I’ve never felt less impressive.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Sarah replies, laughing. ‘I hear you do a good Scabby the cat voice. That’s noteworthy.’

  ‘I appreciate the support, but I think I’m just going to eat myself to death. Can you overdose on pancakes?’

  ‘Definitely. I brought Alfie here last week,’ she states, browsing her menu. ‘You’ll be happy to hear the spicy chicken ones are to die for.’

  I frown at the menu. ‘No offence, but who the fuck eats pancakes with chicken? Or steak, for that matter? I think I’ll stick to the sweet ones. Nutella for me.’

  She grins and rolls her eyes. ‘I eat them, and you will try them and like them.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘And in return you’ll give me some of your chocolate ones because it’s only fair.’

  I chuckle. ‘Are you this bossy with Matt? Do you make him eat weird food combinations too?’

  She thinks for a moment. ‘Nope. But he’s a bit of a fussy eater, isn’t he?’

  ‘I know!’ I reply, laughing. ‘He cooks like a professional, but he’ll order a plain burger and then add his own ketchup in case they do it wrong. Or he’ll be personally offended if there’s broccoli anywhere in his meal.’

  She grins widely. ‘See, this is why you’re perfect! You know him so well. You can help me.’

  ‘Help with what?’

  ‘Matt’s birthday present! Alfie is getting dropped off here after work and we’re going shopping. You have to come and help me choose something; I’m at a loss.’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure I’d be that much help,’ I inform her. ‘I mean, we don’t even buy each other presents.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No! It’s just not something that guys do. Same with Christmas presents. We just do food or go out for drinks.’

  Sarah waves over the waitress to let her know we’re ready to order. ‘Well, that’s ridiculous and depressing, but it still doesn’t exempt you. Come on . . . please? You’d be doing me a huge favour.’

  ‘OK, fine. I’ll change after work and meet you at the coffee shop.’

  She gives an excited squeal and orders lunch. Turns out spicy chicken pancakes are delicious.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Southview Shopping Centre in the evening is an entirely different beast to the one I’m used to seeing during the day: very few children, lots of teenagers flirting with each other from twenty feet away and many flustered-looking adults who have obviously just come straight from the office. Everything is still as shiny and festive as ever, with a large pop-up Christmas market running the length of the ground floor which makes the entire area smell of roasted chestnuts.

  After stashing my Santa costume in a locker, I change into my jeans and shirt and head to the café where Alfie and Sarah are already waiting. The thought of sharing my evening with them is a charming one.

  ‘Nick!’ Alfie yells, running directly into my legs. ‘We’re going to get a pretzel!’

  ‘Hey, bud,’ I reply, ‘that sounds like a great idea, I’m starving.’

  ‘Pretzel after shopping, sweetie,’ Sarah reminds him. ‘Hey, Nick. Thanks so much for this – you’re a lifesaver. If I can sort Matt’s birthday present tonight, then I can dash around and do some last-minute shopping for everyone else’s Christmas presents tomorrow.’

  ‘No worries,’ I reply, running my hand through my hair. That hat makes it so damn flat by the end of my shift. ‘Though you know you still have ten days before Christmas . . .’

  ‘Yeah. Well, no; I’m going home to the Cotswolds for Christmas,’ she replies as we walk towards the open market area. ‘But Matt’s doing dinner on the 21st before I go. All of us – present company included. I’m bringing the crackers.’

  ‘Oh really? What if I’m busy?’ I reply. ‘What if I have a hot date that night?’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘No.’

  She smirks. ‘I wish I knew someone I could hook you up with. Sadly, my friends are all taken . . . well, except Tamara but she’s not your type.’

  I snort. ‘How do you know what my type is? I’m a deeply complex and surprising man.’

  She grins. ‘Obviously. But my intuition tells me that gay as fuck isn’t what you’d normally go for.’ She glances at Alfie to make sure he didn’t see her mouth the F-word.

  ‘How long are you away for?’ I ask, feeling strangely sad that I won’t see her over Christmas. I’m getting so used to having her around.

  ‘Back after New Year,’ she replies. ‘Gives Alfie a good break with his grandparents, and well, it gives me a rest too. My bed there has pillows made from clouds.’

  I see her glance at Alfie who is three steps ahead, humming quietly to himself.

  ‘I love him very much, but . . . you know. It’s a lot sometimes.’

  I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like trying to bring up a child who has lost his dad while you’re trying to grieve at the same time. I never knew my dad, but I know my mum struggled, even though she hid it well. I want to tell Sarah that I’m sorry for what she’s going through, but I’m also sure that she doesn’t need my pity.

  ‘A wallet,’ I say, shifting the focus. ‘Matt needs a new wallet.’

  She scrunches up her face at the suggestion.

  ‘Ugh, that’s so boring, no? Like getting socks or something. It’s just so . . . practical.’

  I raise my hand to object. ‘I happen to know that he once received a wallet for his birthday, and he adored it. Showed it off to everyone. He still uses it and it’s falling apart, so therefore he needs a new one. I rest my case.’

  She still doesn’t look convinced. ‘Really?’

  I nod, refraining from telling her that his last wallet was from the only woman alive who has ever broken his heart.

  Alfie stops at the pretzel stand and throws his mum a pleeaassee look with those big puppy dog eyes of his. She smiles. ‘OK, but then we shop. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’

  To his credit, Alfie keeps his word. After wolfing down a cheese pretzel, he happily tags along while Sarah chooses a black leather wallet for Matt and a birthday card which simply reads:

  Congrats on getting a card when I could have just texted you!

  ‘I don’t want to get all mushy,’ she explains before I’ve even mentioned it. ‘Early days . . . you know? Should I get him
some booze as well?’

  I smile. ‘There was no judgement. You are an insufferably good person. Get him some spiced rum, or something else I can steal and demolish when he’s not looking.’

  Sarah stops to buy a hand-knitted scarf for her mum’s Christmas present from Alfie, who is now focused on persuading his mum to buy him hot chocolate.

  ‘Why don’t I take him for one?’ I suggest as she pays the stallholder. ‘You’ll get around the shops faster without us tagging along.’

  ‘What a good hubby,’ the stallholder remarks. ‘I’d hold on to that one, love.’

  Both Sarah and I turn bright red, awkwardly informing her that we’re not a couple, while I take Alfie by the hand and mutter that I’ll meet Sarah at the coffee shop when she’s done.

  As we near the grotto, I feel Alfie pull me to a stop.

  ‘I need to see Santa again,’ he insists with the same look of desperation I saw the first time we met. He looks so adorable in his Rudolph jumper. I wonder if they make it my size.

  ‘Um, the grotto is closed, buddy,’ I reply. ‘Even Santa has to sleep.’

  ‘But I need to thank him,’ he grumbles, shifting from foot to foot. ‘My wish came true. My mum is happy again!’

  I’m not sure my heart can stand any more cuteness from this kid, whose current need to thank Santa is outweighing his obvious need to pee, but I take a second to momentarily bask in my own success. However, a dull pang in my chest quickly begins to chip away at my smugness. I might have brought Matt and Sarah together but I’m still the same . . . still alone, instead of with someone great like—

  I physically give myself a shake before I finish that sentence.

  ‘How about we use the bathroom, get some hot chocolate and then maybe we can buy Santa a card to say thanks. I bet Santa would like that. I’ll even hand-deliver it myself.’

  Alfie agrees and we thankfully reach the bathroom before I have to buy him new trousers and underpants too.

  I sip on my hot chocolate and watch Alfie clumsily write his thank-you card before slipping it into my back pocket, promising to deliver it tomorrow.