All I Want for Christmas: a funny and sexy festive novella

by Keris Stainton

I nod.

  ‘Have you decided what you're doing yet?’ Amy says, deliberately not looking at me.

  ‘Don't start this again. You know I have.’

  Amy kneels up on the sofa and almost shouts, ‘You can't stay here on your own!’

  I shake my head. ‘I can. That's what I want.’

  ‘But it's CHRISTMAS!’

  ‘I KNOW!’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Lee says, joining us. ‘I thought there was a fire.’

  ‘Ella says she's staying here for Christmas. On her own.’

  ‘I know,’ Lee says, putting the coffee machine on. ‘She's already told us that, hasn't she?’

  ‘Yes,’ Amy says. ‘But we're not actually going to let her, are we?’

  ‘I thought so,’ Lee says. ‘She's an adult after all.’

  Amy huffs and throws herself back onto the sofa.

  ‘Thanks,’ I tell Lee.

  He nods. ‘But are you really sure, El'?’ he says, quietly. ‘I mean. The first Christmas without your parents –’

  ‘Patrick's got a job for us today,’ I interrupt. I'm not having this conversation again.

  ‘Okay.’ He reaches over and awkwardly pats my shoulder. ‘Just... if you change your mind.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

  ***

  ‘This is unbelievable,’ Lee says, shaking his head.

  I don't even think I can speak. The theme of the party is Festival! There are children everywhere – hundreds of them, I'd guess – along with donkeys, a petting zoo, trampolines, a burger van, an ice cream van.

  ‘Summer in December,’ Amy says. ‘Of course.’

  ‘It was inevitable after that winter party we did in June.’

  We really did. Another footballer whose toddler daughter hadn't seen snow in the two years she'd been on earth, so they had tons of it dumped in their garden along with a dry ski slope and an ice rink.

  ‘Rich people are really weird,’ Lee observes.

  ‘You're on donkeys,’ Patrick tells me and I groan. First the costume – I’ve got fake freckles painted on top of my real freckles, red circles on my cheeks, a front tooth blacked out and I’m wearing dungarees and a straw hat – and now this. Donkeys? Really?

  It's one of those perfect winter days when the sun's shining, but it's freezing cold (heaters are placed around the garden to keep up the illusion of summer). I love days like this. They make me feel alive. Which then makes me feel guilty in a few different ways, but luckily I've got the smell of the donkeys to take my mind off it. We walk up and down and up and down, stopping at each end of the garden to drop off and pick up small children. From the donkey ride, they can go on a bouncy castle or bungee trampoline at one end or a sandpit or inflatable boat ride at the other. I'm halfway up the garden on what seems like the hundredth trip when I see Joe and feel myself blush.

  He's crouched down, smiling and talking to a tiny child. And he's dressed as Super Mario, fake moustache and everything. On the return journey, I realise he's making balloon animals. Good ones, as far as I can tell. Huh.

  On my break, I find Amy hiding behind the bouncy castle. She's dressed as Alice in Wonderland, but she's taken the blue ribbon out of her hair and is twisting it in her hands.

  ‘Do you think you could kill me with this?’ she says, holding it out to me.

  I sit down next to her. ‘Having fun?’

  ‘One little snot asked me if I “do sex” and then loads of them joined in saying, “Do sex! Do sex! Do sex!”’

  I snort. ‘Did it give you a school flashback?’

  ‘Don't make me use this ribbon on you.’

  ‘Did you see Joe?’ I ask.

  Amy grins. ‘I knew you liked him.’

  I snort again. ‘I hardly even know him.’

  ‘Fancy him then?’

  ‘You know, he's good-looking, obviously –’

  ‘Pfft. He's a total fox.’

  ‘Talking of foxes, he's doing balloon animals.’

  Amy raises one eyebrow. ‘Go and talk to him. Get him to show you how to do a poodle.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I won't be doing that.’

  ‘Just go and say hi. You know, like a normal person.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I'd better get on with this.’ I gesture at the donkeys. 'And you'd better get back to... What are you doing, anyway?’

  ‘Croquet. My shins are basically splinters held together by my tights.’

  I pull a sympathetic face. ‘Think of it as character building. And if that doesn't work, think of the money.’

  ‘I'm just going to carry on fantasising about throttling the kids, if it's all the same to you.’

  ‘That works too,’ I say.

  ‘How much for a ride?’ the man asks me. He's incredibly good-looking – deep brown eyes, tanned skin, dark blond hair, white teeth. He's clearly rich, probably one of the footballer father's teammates.

  ‘Oh, there's no charge. Which donkey would your child like?’

  ‘I didn't mean the donkeys,’ he says and smirks.

  My mouth drops open but before I have a chance to say anything, Joe is there.

  ‘What did you say to her?’ he says. He's a few inches taller than the other guy and making the most of it by standing right up close to him.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ the footballer says.

  Joe doesn't bother to answer. ‘Apologise,’ he says. He hasn't looked at me or taken his eyes off the other guy's face. ‘Now.’

  The footballer laughs. ‘Do one, Mario.’

  ‘Didn't I read that you're on probation?’ Joe says, his voice suddenly calm.

  The footballer's face sags a little. ‘Wanker.’

  ‘Apologise.’

  He turns to me and his face is twisted and I can see what he would have looked like without the tan and the expensive teeth and hair. ‘Sorry, love.’ He walks away.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ I say to Joe.

  Confusion flickers across his face. ‘I –’

  ‘I didn't need rescuing.’.

  ‘I didn't even think. I just –’

  ‘Thanks, but I don't remember employing you as a bodyguard, so...’

  He shakes his head. ‘You're right. I just can't stand guys like that.’

  ‘Me neither, but it's not as if I haven't heard it all before. I work in a service industry. Plenty of men think I'm offering the service. I don't need you to defend my honour.’

  He frowns and absent-mindedly reaches out and scratches the nose of the donkey I'm holding. ‘I'm sorry.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ I say and start walking again. I'm halfway up the garden before I realise there are no children on the donkeys.

  We're starting to pack up when Joe comes over. He’s got his hands behind his back and then he presents me with a flower. A balloon flower.

  ‘I made this for that little girl, but I don’t think she wants it.’ He points at a small child who is face down on the floor, screaming and flailing her arms while her mortified mother tries to pick her up.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘I really am sorry.’

  ‘I know. Thanks.’

  ‘And is it okay to hope that idiot picks up some sort of itchy infection?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. I've been hoping the same. One with boils. Or possibly pustules.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he says. ‘No more than he deserves.’ He grins at me and even with the little hat and the fake moustache, he's gorgeous. I feel a flickering in the base of my stomach.

  ‘I'd better sort these donkeys out...’

  ‘Yeah. And I need to go and get changed.’

  ‘Oh, those aren't your real clothes?’

  He grins. ‘Funny.’

  I grin back.

  ‘How's your...?’ He nods in the direction of my arse and I'm annoyed to feel my face heating up.

  ‘Big bruise,’ I say. ‘Huge.’

  We stand in silence. I'm thinking about my arse and I wouldn't be surprised if he is too.
But not in a good way.

  ‘Are you getting the tram back to town?’ he says.

  I nod. ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah. I'll wait for you, okay?’

  Walking to the tram stop, Joe chats with Lee and I walk behind with Amy.

  ‘I'd like to say I enjoyed that,’ Amy says. ‘But I need at least a bottle of wine before I can process my feelings.’

  ‘It wasn't so bad,’ I say. ‘Winter-in-summer was worse.’

  Amy shudders. ‘You know I started to forget it was actually winter? I was idly wondering about sunbathing tomorrow.’

  The sun's gone in – almost as if the footballer paid for it just to last as long as the party – so now it's just properly freezing.

  The tram's at the platform when we get to the station, so we all do an undignified half-run and fling ourselves onboard. Lee and Amy sit down first, leaving me and Joe to sit together.

  ‘Those kids were brutal,’ Lee says. ‘I feel like I've been beaten up. I can’t even feel my genitals.’

  ‘That’s a first,’ Amy and I say together.

  ‘I don’t know what it is with kids,’ Joe says. ‘Every time I’ve done the balloon thing, there’s kids that see me, look really excited, run up and punch me in the nuts.’

  I glance down at his crotch and then drag my eyes back up to his face. ‘How did you get into it?’ I ask, my cheeks burning. ‘The balloons, I mean.’

  ‘Well, after university, I went travelling and I met this guy in New York who holds the world record for fastest balloon modelling – seriously, like, he can do a poodle in ten seconds –’

  ‘There's something you don’t hear every day,’ Lee says.

  Joe grins. These double seats are so cramped that his leg is pressed against mine, but if I move, my sore bum cheek will be off the edge of the seat.

  ‘You'd be surprised how useful it is.’

  ‘Where else did you go?’ I ask. I have to half turn my upper body to talk to him, which presses our legs together more firmly.

  ‘All over. I was in the States for a few months, then Australia and New Zealand, Asia.’

  ‘Wow,’ Lee says. ‘That's what I was planning to do.’

  ‘You wouldn't have made it out of Manchester,’ Amy says. ‘You can't even work out how to get the bus to the Trafford Centre.’

  ‘If they'd just put a tram on...’ Lee says.

  I hear Amy snort. She's got a thing about backpackers. In that she thinks they're wankers. I can't stand it when people say 'the States' but I'll let Joe off. Because he's gorgeous.

  ‘Oh wow,’ I say, ignoring her. ‘So how come you're home?’

  He pulls a face. ‘Family Christmas. I didn't come back last year – I've been away eighteen months – and they guilted me into it this year. I was planning to be in Thailand.’

  I shuffle in my seat, wincing as my bruised bum catches the edge of the seat.

  ‘What are you all doing for Christmas?’ Joe asks. Which is exactly what I was dreading.

  ‘I'm staying in the flat,’ I say. And then practically bare my teeth at Amy and Lee to try to will them to answer Joe before he can ask any follow-up questions.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ he says. ‘All three of you?’

  ‘No,’ I say, brightly. ‘Just me.’

  He frowns. ‘On your own?’

  I nod.

  ‘At Christmas?’

  ‘Yes. On my own at Christmas. My parents died earlier this year and I'm an only child, so there's just me.’

  He looks absolutely mortified and I feel bad for snapping. But, God, wasn't it clear that I didn't want to talk about it?

  ‘I'm so sorry,’ he says, his voice low. He's looking right into my eyes and I feel mine fill with tears. ‘Oh GOD!’ he says. ‘Now I've made you cry!’

  I shake my head. ‘No, it's okay.’

  It was the way he looked at me. Usually when I tell people about my parents – which I try to avoid as much as possible – they look uncomfortable and shifty and try to change the subject immediately. Which is fine by me since I don't want to talk about it anyway. But Joe looked at me like he understood. He looked at me with real sympathy rather than pity or fear.

  When the tram doors open at Piccadilly Gardens, the freezing air hits me immediately and I'm glad of it. My face was uncomfortably hot in the tram and the coldness is a relief. From the platform, we start to walk through the gardens, which have, this year, been transformed into a Winter Wonderland.

  ‘Want to get a drink?’ Lee asks.

  I nod, mutely.

  Joe says, ‘Hell yes.’

  Amy doesn't even dignify it with an answer. Lee and Amy stride on ahead and Joe drops into step next to me.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ he says again.

  ‘No problem. Honestly.’

  ‘I keep putting my foot in it today.’

  I smile at him. ‘It's not your fault. I mean... it was earlier. But you weren't to know about... you know. You're spending Christmas with your family?’ I say, before he can ask me anything else.

  When people find out my parents are dead, that they died together, in an accident, they're always desperate to know how. I understand the impulse – I'm the same with stuff in the news – you want to know it can't happen to you. Oh, they were abroad? Mine never go abroad, so that's okay. They were riding a scooter? Mine would never do that, so I don't need to worry. Of course, it's totally false reassurance, but everyone wants it.

  ‘I am,’ Joe says. And then stops.

  ‘It's okay. You can talk about it. I don't resent other people's families. Much.’

  He actually stops walking for a second, he's looking at me so intently. We're standing in front of one of the log cabins that fill the Manchester squares at this time of year. It's lit by fairy lights and I can hear 'Winter Wonderland' playing. I can't think of anything to say that's not parent-related, so we walk on in silence

  ‘How long’ve they been together?’ Joe asks.

  ‘Who?’ For a second I think he means my parents.

  ‘Lee and Amy.’

  I laugh. ‘Oh, they’re not together.’

  ‘Huh,’ Joe says. ‘They seem really good together.’

  ‘Well, we've all been friends for a long time,’ I say.

  We walk on a bit further and then I stop dead.

  ‘What's that smell?’ I'm sniffing the air like a dog.

  Joe immediately frowns and sniffs as well. ‘Cheese? Something with cheese?’

  I look around and realise it's coming from the stall a couple down. Some sort of Swiss crêpe that smells amazing. My stomach rumbles.

  ‘Was that you?’ Joe says, laughing.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Earthquake.’

  I walk past him and buy myself one of the cheese crêpes with added bacon. Joe scans the menu and buys the same. The steam rises and heats my face.

  ‘Know what would go well with this?’ Joe says.

  ‘Gluhwein,’ I say.

  He grins. We make our way over to the gluhwein stand and there, of course, we find Amy and Lee.

  ‘What d'ya get?’ Amy asks.

  They taste our crêpes and we both taste their hog roast rolls, and then we go and sit at one of the tables with our food. I feel suddenly happy. The smell of the wine and the melted cheese, the Christmas music and fairy lights, my smiling friends and my freezing feet wiggling in my boots makes me want to laugh out loud.

  Chapter 3

  By our third gluhwein Joe's leg is pressed up against mine again, and this time it's not because there's not enough room. I feel a clench in the base of my stomach and shift slightly on the seat so my leg rubs against his. He glances at me and I smile then take another sip of my drink.

  ‘What is this stuff?’ I say. ‘I always forget.’

  ‘It's like mulled wine, isn't it?’ Amy says. ‘Spices? Hot wine?’

  Something about the words 'hot wine' makes me laugh and I snort a bit. Nice.

  ‘Who cares anyway?’ Amy says. ‘When it's so good.’


  It really is. Every sip warms me from the inside and makes me more relaxed than I can remember being for a long time.

  We move on to beers in steins and the evening becomes a bit blurry with lots of laughing and some singing. I'm hyper-aware of Joe next to me on the bench. Every time his leg brushes mine or he bumps me with his shoulder, I shiver, even though it's actually pretty warm sitting under a heater. It makes it hard to concentrate on what he's saying.

  He tells us about travelling – how he went to work at a summer camp in California during his second year at university and decided not to go back.

  ‘I never really wanted to go to uni anyway, but I told myself I'd give it a go because my parents were so determined I'd get a degree.’

  ‘What were you studying?’ Lee asks.

  Joe pulls a face. ‘Business.’

  The rest of us wince.

  ‘Why?’ I say.

  ‘My dad. He runs his own business and he's very Alan Sugar about it, you know? Self-made man, bootstraps, all that crap. And he's determined that me and my brothers join him.’

  ‘But you don't want to?’ I say.

  He shakes his head. ‘I've never been interested and I don't really want to work with my family either. I mean, they're great, but in small doses, you know? Helping Patrick out tonight was a laugh, but I wouldn't want to do it full time.’

  He looks at the three of us. ‘Er. No offence.’

  ‘None taken,’ I say.

  ‘I've taken a bit...’ Lee says.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ I ask.

  ‘I'm going to Botswana. At least, I think I am. It hasn't been finalised yet. But I'm going to do some work with a charity out there. Actually, my brother Alex is thinking about coming with me, so that'll piss my dad off even more.’

  ‘How many brothers have you got?’ Amy asks Joe.

  ‘Two brothers, one sister.’

  ‘Does your sister work in the business?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Nope. My dad wants it to be “Nicholls & Sons”, if you can believe that. He's living in the past. I mean, my sister's not interested either – she's started her own business online – but that's not the point.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Amy says.

  ‘I know,’ Joe says. ‘Families, eh?’ He gulps down some beer and then says, ‘Shit.’ And turns towards me.