by Heidi Swain
‘Oh,’ said Tom, biting his lip. ‘I’m guessing he’s as inattentive at home as he is in the office at the moment then?’
‘Just a bit,’ I sighed. ‘Tom, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘About the market . . .’
‘Ask away.’
I took a deep breath and was just about to take the plunge when Chris’s deep bass rang out across the square.
‘Hey, Tom!’ he hollered. ‘Come and have a look at these cables. Will they have to be taped up again for Thursday night?’
‘Sorry, Ruby,’ he said, ‘I’d better go. Will it keep or do you want me to come back?’
‘Oh it’ll keep,’ I shrugged, ‘don’t worry about it. In fact,’ I added, waving him away, ‘forget I said anything.’
‘Has anyone seen Santa?’
Had the situation not been quite so dire, it would have been hilarious, but as it was, that Thursday evening, the market square was filling up with families, the horses tethered to the sleigh were getting frisky and Tom’s puce complexion suggested he was heading for an embolism or a nervous breakdown or possibly even both.
‘Any joy?’ puffed Steve as we arrived back at the sleigh at the same time.
‘No,’ I panted, bending over to massage the stitch in my side, ‘not so much as a sleigh bell.’
Somehow the pair of us had been roped in to help track down the elusive special guest, but with the minutes ticking by and panic beginning to set in I had no time for an attack of the vapours or more reminiscing about our awe-inspiring last kiss.
Mum had told me that Steve had rung the house a couple of times during the week and I had been doing everything I could to stay out of his way on the market, but when Tom came looking for help when Santa’s absence was first noticed, ironically it was us two who answered his siren call.
‘Would you look at that,’ smiled Bea knowingly, and to my mind a little too smugly, as she took the money belt for the stall, ‘fate seems determined to keep blowing you two back together, doesn’t it?’
Steve rocked back on his heels and didn’t say anything and I gave her what I hoped was a look that would have turned a lesser mortal to stone. The last thing I needed in the middle of this crisis was to be thinking about fate, any of the things Steve had said in the pub or whether his insides really did ‘fall through the floor’, whenever we were in the same vicinity.
‘Just watch the stall until I get back would you, please?’ I scowled. ‘And don’t go eating any more biscuits!’
She stuck out her tongue at me as we hurried off.
‘Well, this is just bloody brilliant!’ shouted Tom as he began pulling his hair so it stuck up in his trademark tufts and clumps. ‘What the fuck are we supposed to do now?’
‘I think we may have lost the Elf as well,’ admitted Steve.
He caught my eye and for a split second I could have sworn he was going to laugh, but I quickly turned away so I didn’t succumb. It wasn’t funny, it really wasn’t.
‘Well, that’s it!’ hollered Tom, throwing his hands up in the air and unsettling the already skittish horses again. ‘I might as well hand my notice in right now.’
‘Shhh,’ said Steve, holding up a hand, ‘listen.’
‘To what?’ said Tom, sounding increasingly manic, ‘the sound of children crying or their parents braying for my blood?’
‘Shut up,’ said Steve, ‘seriously mate, just shut up for a second.’
I cocked my head to one side and listened.
‘What is it?’ I whispered.
‘I dunno,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but it’s coming from over there.’
We crept over to the trade bins which I guessed, assuming I had my bearings right, were at the back of The Mermaid and there, with an empty bottle of whisky and a greasy chip carton balancing on his gargantuan belly, was one snoring Santa and cuddled up at his side was his worse for wear Elf.
‘What the hell’s gone on here?’ muttered Steve under his breath.
‘Oh thank God,’ said Tom, smiling broadly as his shoulders dropped back to where they should be rather than up around his ears, ‘that is a relief.’
‘A relief!’ frowned Steve. ‘Mate, I can smell him from here. You can’t send him, or her for that matter, out there. He’s pissed and he stinks.’
‘Tough,’ shrugged Tom, ‘it’s too late to do anything else. Ruby, just grab his other arm, will you? We need to wake him up.’
‘I’m not touching him,’ I said, taking a step back.
‘So what am I going to do?’ Tom shouted, his desperation escalating again. ‘We can’t say Santa hasn’t come. The kids will be mortified and I’ll be driven out of town.’
We stood staring at the unsavoury slumbering duo. Had I been a parent, I certainly wouldn’t have wanted either of them anywhere near my offspring.
‘You do it,’ said Steve, pointing at Tom. ‘You dress up as Santa.’
‘I can’t,’ said Tom.
He sounded so frantic I thought he was going to cry.
‘My kids are out there! They’ll know it’s me.’
‘He’s got a point,’ I said, biting my lip as the seriousness of the situation began to knock the edge off the farcical hilarity.
This really was fast becoming more of an unmitigated disaster rather than a comic catastrophe.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ shouted Steve, sounding far from happy. ‘Here, help me get his suit off. I’ll have to do it.’
I turned away so he wouldn’t see me laughing.
‘And I don’t see what you’re finding so funny,’ he said, ‘you’re going to have to be the bloody Elf!’
I don’t ever want to have to think again about how absolutely horrid it was to be pulling on clothes, including tights, that were still warm because someone else had just been wearing them. It was vile, worse than vile, but at least the outfit was a decent fit.
A green dress, red stripy tights, a pointy hat and ears, and shoes with bells on, made up the ensemble and thanks to the red lipstick I had in my jeans pocket I even managed to supply Steve and myself with a pair of rosy cheeks apiece. Not that he needed them, mind you, having caught an eyeful of me dithering in my undies on the pavement, he looked hot enough already. I was furious with myself for feeling so pleased that I happened to be wearing matching underwear that day and burgundy lace at that. If there was any chance that he had forgotten what my body looked like in the last four years he was now certainly back up to speed, not that I cared of course.
The couple who had supplied the horses for the sleigh had remained remarkably professional throughout the whole stripping and re-dressing debacle and the man in charge, Philip, offered to stay with the staggering, partially dressed Santa and his sidekick until Tom could find someone to take them home.
‘God help that bloody agency tomorrow,’ said Tom, wiping his sweaty brow, ‘I should have stuck to my guns and asked someone local to do it.’
‘Just shut up moaning,’ said Steve, ‘you’ve got someone local now, haven’t you? Come and give us a leg up, I can’t quite reach the sleigh step. These trousers are a little on the snug side around the crotch.’
With Steve in situ and me precariously balanced at his side we made our slow way towards the market square where we managed one lingering lap around the perimeter, thanks to the horses being led at a snail’s pace by their second trainer, before coming to a halt in the middle of the market to greet the children and get on with handing out the presents.
Whether or not any of the adults guessed that there had been a change of plan I couldn’t be sure, but Steve played his part admirably and towards the end I was pretty sure he was actually beginning to enjoy standing up and ‘shaking his belly like a bowlful of jelly’.
The only moment that I had been slightly panicked by was when it was Ella’s turn to come up to the sleigh with Jemma and Noah. She had been eyeing me suspiciously from her position in the queue and I knew she had guessed something was amiss.<
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‘I know it’s you,’ she said as I bent down to give her a present from Santa’s sack marked ‘G’ and I felt my heart sink. ‘But I also know how these things work. Father Christmas is a very busy guy,’ she said sagely, ‘and he can’t be everywhere at once. Not at this time of year anyway. I won’t tell,’ she added, giving me a secret little smile and doubtless feeling delighted that she was above her younger comrades in the queue and ‘in’ on the big secret.
‘Merry Christmas, clever girl,’ I whispered in her ear.
‘Oh my God,’ said Jemma who was right behind her, holding a very wriggly Noah. ‘Tom said I’d have a surprise when I got up here!’
‘I know,’ I smiled, trying to maintain as elfish a demeanour as possible, ‘just close your mouth, Jemma, before you give the game away completely and don’t ask, just don’t ask.’
By the time she got to Steve she was laughing uncontrollably and Ella, now back with Tom, was looking at her witheringly.
‘Why is Mummy kissing Santa Claus?’ She frowned up at her father who also started to laugh as he watched his wife peck Steve on the cheek.
By the end of our session on the sleigh my face was frozen rigid. My smile felt as though it would be permanently set for the rest of time and I imagined myself going to my grave with rosy cheeks and a grin that didn’t in any way match the expression in my eyes.
‘I think we did it the wrong way round,’ said Steve as he gingerly climbed down and rearranged himself in the uncomfortable trouser department.
‘What do you mean?’ I frowned.
‘Well, the kids are supposed to see Santa before they get a present, aren’t they?’
‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘you’re right.’
‘Did anyone say anything?’
‘No,’ he shrugged, ‘I guess they all thought that the kids around here are all so well behaved and polite that they were guaranteed to get a present and actually,’ he said, reaching so deep inside his trouser pocket I began to blush, ‘I got a couple of presents myself!’
With a flourish he pulled two crumpled-up pieces of paper out from the depths.
‘What have you got there?’
‘Phone numbers,’ he said, smoothing out the creases.
‘Phone numbers?’ I frowned, not really understanding.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘look. This one’s from a woman called Jane. She’s written her name and number on the back of a till receipt.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ I tutted, snatching the paper from his grasp. ‘Oh my God. “I’m Jane, call me”,’ I read. I turned the paper over and laughed even harder. ‘She’s written it on the back of a receipt from the chemist’s for Canesten duo.’
‘What’s Canesten duo?’ Steve asked innocently.
‘Thrush cream,’ I said bluntly.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘nice. You can bin that one then and you might want to wash your hands.’
‘What about that one?’ I said, passing back Jane’s seductive love letter and wiping my hands down my Elf outfit. ‘Any luck there?’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘This one was from a lady who was escorting her grandchildren.’
‘What’s she written?’
‘It says, “Hi, I’m Sandra. I’m looking for a larger man to light up my life”, and she’s put her number as well.’
‘You aren’t serious.’ This one really was too much.
Steve handed it to me as proof that he was undoubtedly irresistible to the older local ladies.
‘When did she write this?’ I frowned. ‘The ink isn’t even smudged.’
‘I have a horrible feeling,’ said Steve with a little shudder, ‘that she already had it with her.’
‘Well, well, well,’ I laughed, trying to pretend that I really didn’t care that even though Mia was out of the picture more women were already queuing up to take her place, ‘Steve Claus, you really are a magnet, aren’t you?’
I handed him back the second note which he crumpled up with the first and shoved back in the trouser pocket.
‘Are you not feeling guilty that I’m trying to get over you with anyone who throws themselves at me?’ he said, sounding almost hopeful. ‘Are you not even the tiniest bit jealous?’ he added.
‘Oh absolutely,’ I said, turning away as he began to strip off again and my heart sank in my chest, ‘I’ll be sobbing into my pillow tonight when I think of you out partying with Jane and Sandra. You can guarantee it!’
Chapter 23
Whether it was down to the skimpy Elf outfit or the fact that I was feeling rundown as a result of all the freezing early morning starts, I couldn’t be sure but by the middle of the following week, when I really needed to be on top of my game at the market, I had been blessed with the cold from hell and a nose that could have rivalled Rudolph himself.
‘You sure you’re all right to be out here?’ frowned Steve as he wandered over for a closer look. ‘You look awful, Ruby, really awful.’
‘Thanks for that,’ I choked, my voice catching in my throat as I began to splutter and cough inelegantly. ‘I bet you’re relieved I didn’t drag you back under Evelyn’s mistletoe now, aren’t you?’
After our Santa special we had ended up in the pub again and I had even managed to remember my purse, however, rather than another round of flirting and soul baring which resulted in a return match of tonsil hockey we’d ended up calmly talking through Steve’s suspicions about Dad’s potentially dodgy dealings and, given Mum’s recent revelation about the possible anniversary cruise, I’d had the sense to just listen this time, rather than retaliate.
It was with a heavy heart that I had inwardly accepted that everything Steve suggested made uncomfortable, but nonetheless perfect sense. Dad had indulged in a brand new car when the Retail Park planning application was approved and now, with Steve’s fears that the market square was up for sale ringing in my ears, there was talk in the Smith household of a global trip of a lifetime. I hadn’t, of course, mentioned that to Steve, but facts were facts and I was beginning to wonder if there could possibly be an element of truth in at least some of what he said.
‘Actually,’ he said now as he dithered on the cobbles in front of me, ‘I’ve been thinking about that whole debacle and I want to say that I’m sorry.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘For kissing you in the pub like that.’ He winced, looking far less like his usual confident self and more like someone riddled with regret, ‘and telling you that I still have feelings for you. I had no excuse, especially as you so rightly pointed out, I had already gone out of my way to tell you that starting up again would be too complicated given everything else that’s going on.’
I could see his cheeks were beginning to redden in spite of the cold.
‘I accept now that we can’t be a couple again, Ruby, and I’m sorry I tried to use a silly kiss to convince you otherwise.’
It had been far from a silly kiss for me.
‘So why didn’t you say anything in the pub last night?’ I asked.
‘Because you looked as if you had enough to think about and I didn’t want to put my foot in it again,’ he said, scuffing the pavement with the toe of his boot. ‘I wanted to be absolutely sure and last night as I lay awake going over it all I realised that even if I couldn’t have you back properly, I couldn’t bear it if we weren’t at least be friends.’
I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting him to say but it wasn’t this. Part of me had been hoping that he would try to kiss me again. I had fully expected him to pull out all the stops to tempt me back into his arms, but I’d read the situation wrong and now I really had lost my chance with him again. Steve Dempster was offering to do the honourable thing. He wanted us to be mates.
‘And I don’t want you thinking this is some kind of trick on my part,’ he carried on when I didn’t say anything. ‘I still like you, you still like me. I get that, but we can cope with settling for friends, can’t we?’
I nodded and blew my nose.
&nb
sp; ‘So please don’t worry,’ he insisted. ‘I won’t be trying to kiss you again, because we’re over, aren’t we? Properly over.’
‘Yes,’ I nodded numbly, ‘I suppose we are.’
‘No more kissing or flirting,’ he reeled off, ‘and definitely no more fighting to win you back. You’ll be gone again in a few weeks anyway, so there’s no point in trying to convince you to stick around when you’ve got your sights set on sunnier climes, is there?’
‘No,’ I croaked. ‘There isn’t.’
So much for wasting endless hours worrying that he had noticed how my body reacted to his when he held me close; so much for thinking that the sight of my shivering body in my best matching undies had driven him wild with desire, cranked up his feelings and been the cause of the snug-fitting Santa trousers!
Now he’d kissed me again and seen me practically naked, he was retracting his previous declaration and offering to settle for ‘friends’.
‘Well,’ I said, with a gargantuan sniff. ‘I’m pleased we’ve got that straight.’
‘Me too,’ he said, unexpectedly pulling me into a platonic brotherly hug and kissing the top of my head. ‘No hard feelings.’
‘Of course not,’ I said, forcing my heart to believe that what he had said was right.
In a few weeks’ time I would be pulling on my backpack and boarding a plane and I certainly didn’t need to be heading off with a broken heart in tow. Not again.
‘And if you’re really lucky,’ I told him, reluctantly pulling myself free from his arms, ‘I’ll even send you a postcard.’
‘I’d like that,’ he smiled, ‘I’d like that a lot.’
‘So have you made up your mind then?’
‘I have,’ I sniffed, blowing my nose for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, ‘I’m heading straight for that beach.’
‘I thought you might say that and with that in mind, I have good news.’
Had it not been for Steve’s insistence that we were ‘properly over’ and always would be, I probably wouldn’t have got my backside in gear that afternoon and headed home to trawl through the online travel agents. Neither would I have found the courage to message Paul Thompson and arrange the Skype call I was now taking, so really I should have been feeling grateful for Steve’s timely apology and attraction retraction, but actually, all things considered, I was feeling pretty miserable.
