I retreat to my room and throw on a T-shirt and jeans while Matt switches on the Roomba and throws dishes into the sink. I can’t remember the last time he had a sober woman back here, let alone one with a child. He must be keen.
‘Nick! Make sure that bathroom isn’t filthy, will you? Women notice that shit.’
‘You’re not my real mum!’
‘Please, mate?’
I sigh and trudge through to the bathroom, cursing Matt under my breath. He gets a girl and I get put on maid duty? Why on earth did I agree to this?
Sarah arrives at 7pm, armed with a bottle of wine and some Ribena for Alfie. Matt ushers them in, kissing Sarah on the cheek and awkwardly ruffling Alfie’s hair like it’s the first time he’s even been near a human child. I wave from the living room.
‘Nice to see you again, come on through!’
Alfie is first to charge ahead, obviously unfazed by any of this.
‘Are we having pizza?’ he asks, immediately plonking himself down on the couch. ‘I like pizza.’
‘Alfie, this is Matt’s friend Nick. Say hello.’
‘Wow, your telly is massive,’ he replies, giving no fucks who any of us are. ‘Is that a PS4? Mum, they have a PS4!’
‘Your flat is really great,’ Sarah remarks as Matt takes her coat. ‘Thanks so much for having us over, I really hope we’re not interrupting your evening, Nick.’
Matt laughs with a touch too much scorn. ‘He can watch Die Hard anytime. The pizza was happening anyway.’
Sarah grins. ‘Ah, my favourite Christmas movie.’
‘Your date has taste,’ I inform Matt. ‘Why don’t you give Sarah the tour? Maybe start with the bathroom . . . Alfie and I have pizza to order.’
Impressed with my smooth transition into giving Matt and Sarah a moment together, while simultaneously entertaining her son, I join Alfie on the couch and open the Domino’s app on my phone.
‘What shall we order?’ I ask, entering my postcode. ‘I get the feeling you’re a pepperoni kind of guy . . .’
‘Mum called her friend Meghan to tell her where we are in case we go missing.’
I stop looking at pizzas.
‘Oh really?’
He nods. ‘I heard her. She was talking about Santa being a cereal or something. Why would Santa be a cereal?’
I do my best not to laugh. ‘No idea, buddy, but it’s good someone knows where you are. Your mum is obviously very smart.’
He nods. ‘Pineapple.’
‘Sorry?’
‘On my pizza. I like pineapple.’
‘Hmm, I won’t hold that against you.’
Pizzas ordered, I turn on the PS4 for Alfie and load up Sonic, much to his delight. Matt and Sarah are now back in the kitchen, pouring wine. They make a handsome couple. Matt is right, I need to move on from Ange now that our break seems to have become a break-up. It’s only been a couple of weeks since she ‘needed some space’, but my texts have gone unanswered and her Instagram story would suggest that she is really enjoying her second date with Pete from Love Island.
When dinner arrives, we all crowd around the small kitchen table, fighting over garlic bread and wishing we’d ordered more dips. The only weird aspect of this situation is how normal it all feels. It’s all so easy. It feels like Sarah and Alfie have been a part of our lives for years instead of weeks.
‘Alfie, why don’t you take those cookies into the living room and beat Nick on the PS4 while me and your mum wash up?’
I see Sarah’s eyes darting towards Alfie and then to me, as if she’s waiting for approval. I wink and then grab the cookies.
‘Last one to the couch is a hairy banana!’
Alfie giggles and propels himself from the table, quickly followed by me, while Sarah and Matt start clearing up.
Our open-plan living area makes it easy to see the kitchen from where I’m perched on the couch and, hard as I try, I can’t help glancing every now and again to see what’s transpiring. Alfie isn’t oblivious to them either.
‘They’re going to kiss, aren’t they?’
I nod and shoot at his car, which is way ahead of mine. ‘Probably. Disgusting, right?’
He laughs and fires back while from the corner of my eye, I see Matt leaning in and Sarah rising on to her tiptoes. I turn away and continue letting Alfie kick my ass at Sonic racing.
An hour later, Alfie is yawning his head off while Matt retrieves their coats from his bedroom.
‘Fun night!’ Sarah proclaims. ‘You certainly have a way with Alfie, Nick. Thanks for keeping him entertained.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ I respond. ‘Helps that he’s such an awesome kid. Matt hates the PlayStation; it’s been nice to have someone around to beat me in such a humiliating fashion.’
‘Can I come back and play Sonic again, Mum?’ Alfie asks, sleepily. ‘Pleeaassee??’
Sarah smiles. ‘Sweetheart, I think Nick probably has—’
‘Absolutely nothing better to do,’ I interject. ‘Listen, seriously. You need a sitter again, I’m here.’ I lean in and whisper, ‘It’ll only cost you an Americano. Unless you still think I’m a serial killer?’
‘He heard me, huh?’
‘Yup. And now we have no secrets.’
Matt strolls back in as we laugh. ‘What did I miss?’ he asks, helping Sarah with her coat.
‘Nick offered to babysit Alfie,’ she responds. ‘I might just take him up on that before he changes his mind.’ She smiles at me before crouching down to Alfie’s level. ‘Come and get your coat on, love, our taxi is here.’
‘See you soon,’ I say as Alfie hugs me goodbye. ‘Next time you can teach me Fortnite.’
‘Bye, Alfie,’ Matt says, leaning in to clumsily hug him. He is a sweet guy, but it is awkward as fuck. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Thanks for the pizza,’ he replies politely and hugs him back, before pausing for a moment.
‘You smell like Santa.’
‘Do I?’
Sarah laughs and takes him by the hand while Matt and I look puzzled, until it clicks that he’s wearing my aftershave.
‘Babysitting, huh?’ Matt says, closing the door behind Sarah. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
‘Just helping you out, bro,’ I reply. ‘Taking one for the team. It means you can see her more often if she doesn’t have to worry about childcare.’
He slaps me on the back and laughs. ‘I appreciate the gesture, though I’m not sure what you’ve just let yourself in for.’
By the time I get to bed, I find myself thinking about Matt and Sarah. I’m almost envious. I’m not a jealous person but it makes me miss being in a relationship. I like being with someone, even if that someone just dumped me for dressing like a mythical Christmas character. I reach down and pick up my phone.
Ange, can we talk? I miss you xx
Chapter Nine
Either all children are starting to look the same or I’m getting return customers at the grotto hoping to bag some extra Christmas gifts. There’s a tiny girl with red curly hair who just sits and stares at me, saying nothing at all. A boy who claims to be nine, but has more facial hair than Matt, who asks for anime figures, and a pair of twins who seem more captivated by Izzy than me. I also recognise the European nannies, making an almost daily trip to the grotto to keep their kids happy while they meet up and have coffee.
However, one kid in particular has visited at least three times, each time asking for an upgrade to his last request. First was an Xbox One, then he added in a games pack. Today he’s back with new demands.
‘Daniel, isn’t it?’
‘I want an Xbox One with Lego Star Wars.’
‘OK, well, I think the elves have already—’
‘And a new headset. A good one.’
‘Gotcha. Anything else? A Tesla? Trip to Mars? T
he Hope Diamond?’
‘My selection box.’
I look to his mum to see if she has anything to add but she’s too busy on her phone to care. I retrieve a gift from the sack and hand it to him, telling him to be a good boy or Izzy the head elf will pay him a visit. The look of alarm on his face tells me this might be his last trip to the grotto.
I see Sarah arrive for her shift at lunchtime, waving to me as she hurries past. She works so close to the grotto, but I wonder if I’d ever have met her had Alfie not decided to come and find me. Probably not.
Geraldine is still appearing from nowhere and surprising the shit out of me whenever possible. I swear, if I see her head emerge round something one more time, I will lose my mind.
‘Quick word, Nick. I’ve had complaints that someone has been using an aerosol deodorant in the staffroom, despite the signs clearly stating that it is prohibited due to setting off our smoke alarms. Know anything about this?’
‘Um, no. Maybe the female staff—’
‘Lynx. Africa.’
‘Sorry?’
‘The aerosol was Lynx Africa. After investigation it was found in the bin. We can therefore rule out any female members of staff.’
I desperately want to ask her if she sealed off the room and dusted for fingerprints, but I also want to keep my job.
‘Lynx Africa? Um, I think you’re looking for a far younger culprit,’ I reply. ‘Maybe try the food court staff?’
As she leans in a little, I notice her nostrils quickly flare in and out. She’s sniffing me. She’s actually sniffing me!
‘Wow, it’s not me, Geraldine. I use a roll-on.’
‘Good to know,’ she says, still suspiciously eyeing me up. ‘Not accusing . . . only asking. Anyway, my daughter Carrie is coming here after school. I can’t leave her alone in my office, so she’ll be helping you out for an hour while I’m in a meeting.’
‘Helping with what?’
‘Around four . . . as you were.’
She skulks off and I just sit there, wondering if my day can get any more surreal. I had no idea Geraldine even had a daughter, never mind one named after a horror movie. What the hell is she going to do with me for an hour?
‘I’m not wearing a bloody hat. I’ll just sit on that bench over there, on my phone or something. This is such bullshit.’
Carrie is a fifteen-year-old nightmare. A moody, Geraldine-resembling, grumpy-faced nightmare. At fifteen, logic dictates that she probably could have moseyed around the mall for an hour on her own, but I’m starting to appreciate why her mum wants an eye kept on her.
‘Your mum says otherwise, I’m afraid,’ I respond. ‘And she’s my boss, so take a hat and just make sure no one steals the stuffed toys or something.’
‘Why can’t she do it?’ Carrie asks, pointing to Izzy. ‘She’s just standing around anyway.’
‘Because she already has a role and she would probably bite your head clean off if you so much as look at her. Trust me.’
‘I don’t care what my mum says, I AM NOT DOING IT. She’s your boss – not mine.’
‘You sure about that?’
Carrie’s eyes nervously dart around, checking to see if anyone overheard her.
‘Look, don’t give me any hassle and there’s a fiver in it for you. How does that sound?’
‘Twenty.’
‘Five.’
‘Fifteen and I don’t wear the hat.’
‘Ten . . . you wear the hat and you tell your mum how great I am. Otherwise it’s zero and you need to deal with the wrath of Geraldine all night.’
‘Deal.’
Carrie snatches the hat from my hand and trudges over to the front of the grotto, while I resume smiling for the marginally more grateful children. Can’t believe I just bought a review from someone wearing Uggs.
As it approaches closing time at the grotto, Geraldine retrieves a now ten-pound richer Carrie, and I decide to go and grab a coffee before I trudge back to the flat. I’m also keen to get my phone from my locker and see if Angela has responded yet. I know it’s only been a couple of days since I texted her but surely she must miss me, even just a little. I have to believe that our relationship meant more to her than just my employment status.
Izzy and I finish up, congratulating each other on making it through another shift. Once in the staffroom, I quickly check my phone, desperate to see Angela’s xoxo or an annoying emoji.
Nothing. Not even a shitty GIF. She used to love sending me GIFs.
I’m tempted to text her again but catching sight of myself in the mirror reminds me of why she isn’t likely to respond anytime soon. Part of me is outraged that she’s being this superficial, but a bigger part understands that I’m hardly a catch right now. This is London, not some remote island with one man to every six women – although if it was, they probably still wouldn’t shag Santa.
I change clothes and nip into the coffee shop, yearning to see a friendly face. I see Sarah behind the counter, arranging the pre-packed sandwiches.
She looks up from behind the glass and smiles.
‘Nick! Nice to see you. You finished for the day?’
‘Yup, my Christmas cheer has been successfully spread. How are you?’
She closes over the little glass panel. ‘I’m well, thanks. Alfie’s a sheep in the nursery nativity though, so I was up all night sticking cotton balls on to his jumper. Latte?’
‘The reindeers asked me to buy something more manly. They felt that the gingerbread was a bit girly.’
‘Well, sir, what masculine beverage can I prepare for you?’
I grin. ‘Just an Americano with milk.’
‘Would you like to try our new Peruvian blend for an extra 50p?’
‘Would I?’
‘I have targets. You would.’
She grabs a cup, fills it with hot water and begins grinding the beans.
‘What’s the difference between your regular blend and this new one?’ I ask, as Sarah starts pressing buttons and pulling levers on the coffee machine. ‘What exactly do I get for my extra 50p?’
‘Basically, the beans are more expensive. Single-origin. Taste-wise, it’s slightly more intense.’
‘Hmm,’ I reply. ‘Sounds plausible, but to be fair you could tell me anything. You could say the beans had been individually licked by kittens and I’d believe you.’
She laughs. ‘True. In fact, there is a coffee bean which is plucked from cat poo. I could have said that, but a) it’s gross and b) we don’t serve it here.’
‘I hate that I’m going to have to google that. I’ll end up on a watch list.’
Sarah glances at her watch. ‘Actually, I was hoping to have a quick word. I’m due a break, if you have time?’
I’m in no hurry to get home. Matt is working late and I’m still a little bit agitated that Angela hasn’t texted me back.
‘Sure, why not.’
‘Great. Let me just make a tea and I’ll be over.’
Sarah eventually joins me, bringing two slices of carrot cake with her. ‘Perks of being the assistant manager,’ she informs me. ‘The official line is that these cakes were dropped and are therefore wastage.’
‘Wastage cake is the best cake,’ I reply. ‘I won’t hear a word against it.’
She hands me a fork and we begin to eat.
‘I hear you and Matt are going out again?’ I say, taking a corner of the cake. ‘That’s a good sign.’
She smiles. ‘It’s a little out of my comfort zone. Don’t get me wrong, Matt’s super nice, but it’s been a while since I dated anyone . . . it’s been hard finding time, with Alfie being so young. I feel completely out of the loop these days. Not sure I’d fare well on a dating site anyway, so this has been a much gentler introduction.’
‘Oh, it’s easy,’ I reply. ‘All you need is an Instagr
am filter and an inspirational quote. Men will swipe for less.’
‘Talking from experience? Matt mentioned you’ve just broken up with someone.’
I squirm. ‘Did he now? What else did he say?’
‘Nothing! Sorry, it’s none of my—’
‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘She broke up with me, but I’m not quite ready to Live Laugh Love with someone else just yet.’
Now she’s cringing. ‘God, I hate all that shit. Pointless platitudes make my brain hurt.’
I nod enthusiastically. ‘My ex, Angela, loves them, though she once posted one on Instagram not realising it was from Attila the Hun.’
Sarah almost chokes on her tea. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry for laughing; I’m sure she’s lovely but . . .’
‘It’s fine. You’re pretty much having the same reaction I did.’
I share a few dating-app horror stories, which I’ve collected from friends – and by friends, I mean myself pre-Angela – and Sarah laughs loudly, snorting unexpectedly, which sets her off again. It’s rather sweet.
‘Sooo, Nick,’ she begins, pausing briefly to attack her cake with her fork while she calms down. ‘I’m glad you came in today. I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night.’
‘You might need to narrow it down. I say a lot of dumb shit.’
‘About the babysitting . . .’
‘Ah, yes!’
‘Well, my sitter can’t do many nights over Christmas and Matt’s asked me to go to that new Italian place tomorrow and—’
‘Of course, I’ll watch Alfie! Matt can just drop me at yours when he picks you up.’
She scrunches up her face. ‘Well . . . you were great with Alfie the other night, but have you ever babysat anyone before? Nieces, nephews?’
‘Well, I’m an only child . . . and so was my mum, but I’m really good with kids! Actually, I’ve literally just looked after my boss’s teenage demon for the past hour, and she survived, so I’m practically an expert.’
‘It’s just a lot to ask of someone,’ she says.
‘No problem, the offer is there if you need it. I’ll let you get back to work; I should probably head home anyway. Thanks for the cake!’
All I Want for Christmas: a hilarious and heart-warming romance Page 5
