‘No idea,’ he replies, grinning. ‘I’m only interested in Z-listers who bother my friends. Speaking of Nick’s exes, before I forget, I can’t go to Greta’s wedding anymore. Work are sending me to Washington for four days. Some acquisition bullshit. In fact, I’ll be on the flight home while you’re all getting drunk.’
‘Oh bugger,’ Sarah says, not quite managing to hide her disappointment. ‘That’s a pity.’
‘You’re joking? Wait . . . Washington DC or Washington Newcastle?’ I ask.
‘There’s a Washington in Newcastle?’
‘So, DC then,’ I reply. ‘That sucks. You know that Harriet isn’t going either, but she has her pregnancy as an excuse. Greta will murder you, you realise that.’
‘Yeah. I feel bad. I’m actually pretty gutted to be missing it, but there’s nothing I can do.’
‘You should feel bad,’ I insist. ‘Now I’m going to have to hang out with people I hardly know, and Sarah here won’t get to steal something from Claridge’s.’
Sarah laughs, but I can tell she’s disappointed.
‘So, take Sarah as your plus-one,’ Matt suggests. ‘Everyone’s a winner.’
Sarah and I look at each other and then back at Matt.
‘Won’t that be a bit . . . weird?’ she asks. I nod in agreement. Taking your friend’s girlfriend as your date isn’t exactly normal wedding etiquette.
‘Why? I don’t want to be the reason my two best people miss out on free food and wine. Go and have fun.’
‘But—’
Adamant that he won’t take no for an answer, Sarah and I both finally say yes to Matt’s plan. I can tell that Sarah feels awkward, but probably not for the same reason I do.
‘Shall we go?’ Matt asks. ‘Film starts in forty.’
‘What are you seeing?’
‘There’s a special screening of The Babadook showing,’ Sarah informs me. ‘Who doesn’t love some horror in the afternoon, right?’
The look on Matt’s face tells me that the answer is him.
Sarah hands Alfie his snack and settles him down on the couch. He’s brought over the Lego set his grandparents gave him for Christmas and I know I’ll be stepping on one before the afternoon is through.
‘Be good,’ she says, kissing him on the top of the head. ‘Matt and I will only be a couple of hours.’
She’s changed her hair over Christmas. It’s slightly shorter, just above her shoulders, and it’s all straight and glossy. I like it but it’s not quite the repulsive, tentacle-clad metamorphosis I’d hoped for. I’m starting to realise that Sarah could turn up with a Mohawk and face tattoos and I’d still be smitten the moment she smiled.
I say goodbye and dive into helping Alfie build his masterpiece, which he tells me is a truck but looks more like a skip on wheels. It makes me nostalgic for my childhood – me playing with Lego in my bedroom while Mum busied herself with housework for an hour before I inevitably messed up the flat again. I was never lonely as an only child, but I often wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. Someone on hand to play with or fight with or just vent to when Mum was being unreasonable by asking me to put my dirty washing in the machine.
‘I wish I was going to the cinema,’ Alfie states. ‘But Mum says I can’t see scary movies until I’m eighteen.’
‘Your mum’s right,’ I reply. ‘You don’t need that stuff in your head.’
‘But I already know who Chucky is.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You do, huh?’
‘Yep. Darren told me. He’s a doll who will stab you if you’re not his friend and he said that Chucky can hide in your wardrobe and jump out while you sleep.’
Darren sounds like an asshole.
‘Well, I’m very glad that Chucky is just a made-up character, then,’ I reply. ‘His movie was boring anyway; you’re not missing much.’
Alfie turns back to his Lego, obviously not convinced. Nothing worse than an adult trying to convince you that something which is clearly fun, isn’t.
‘I’ll tell you a secret. Matt hates scary films and even he wasn’t scared of Chucky,’ I inform him. ‘I’m surprised he agreed to see one with your mum. He’ll be hiding behind her the whole time.’
Alfie giggles. ‘That’s silly. Mum loves scary films. Do you like them?’
‘Not really,’ I reply. ‘It’s hard to be scared of things that aren’t real, you know? I’d much rather watch a cool animation, or see someone save the world!’
Complete lie. I adore horror movies. Having the bejesus scared out of me distracts me from how mind-numbing real life can sometimes be, and the fact that Sarah loves them too makes me like her even more. I once made Angela sit through The Fog and she was so horrified she didn’t speak to me for three days after. Maybe if I dress like a murderous pirate and vape outside her window, she’ll finally stop calling me.
Sarah and Matt return three hours later to find the best fleet of Lego trucks the world has ever seen.
‘Wow, you two have been busy!’ she remarks. ‘I wish I had stayed here to play. The film was so boring.’
Alfie looks delighted by this news, while Sarah mimes that it was fucking awesome. Matt declines to comment but he’s definitely a shade lighter than when he left.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Happy New Job, Nick!!’
Behind an assortment of oversized balloons, I see Alfie beaming at me, while Sarah clutches a bottle of champagne, her hair wet from the persistent February showers we’ve been having.
‘Wow!’ I reply, ushering them in. ‘Thank you! It’s perfect timing, I’ve just this second run out of giant inflatables.’
Alfie heads straight for the PlayStation as Sarah hands me the wine, yelling at him to take off his shoes.
‘Every time,’ she mumbles under her breath as she removes her coat. ‘I don’t know why he thinks the shoes rule doesn’t apply here.’
‘Probably because Matt doesn’t take his off either,’ I reply, putting the bottle into the fridge. ‘But he’s emotionally younger than Alfie, so he has an excuse.’
Sarah pulls out her usual seat at the table. ‘So, Mr I’ve Just Been Hired, you must be feeling very pleased with yourself! I was saving that champagne for Valentine’s Day, by the way, but this is a far worthier occasion.’
I laugh. ‘I’m more relieved than pleased to be honest. It’s been touch-and-go, but Greta finally came through for me. I mean, it’s temporary to cover maternity leave, but it’s better than nothing.’
Relieved is an understatement. When Greta called this morning to say I’d be offered the position at Portman Brown LLP, I’d shouted fuck over and over for about a solid five minutes and punched the air repeatedly.
‘However,’ I continue, ‘I’d like to state for the record that I don’t regret the eight months of humiliating rejection it took me to get here.’
She grins. ‘It’s character-building, right?’
‘Something like that.’
I bring Alfie some apple juice as Matt arrives home, carrying a bag full of ingredients which will soon be used to create my celebratory meal. He says hi to Alfie before kissing Sarah hello.
‘Glad you could make it,’ he says, placing the bag on the kitchen worktop. ‘Bit of wine and risotto to celebrate our boy’s good news!’
‘Yep,’ she replies. ‘You’ll be happy to finally have him back in that posh-boy, wanky lawyers club, I’m sure, sweetheart. You can all get together and talk about cricket and totty again.’
She sticks her tongue out at me as I fake a gasp of offence.
‘Only place he belongs,’ Matt replies, laughing. ‘He’s much happier when he has private health insurance and a superiority complex.’
‘You both see me standing here, right?’ I ask while they continue talking about me.
Sarah moves from the table and stands besid
e Matt to help chop the onions. ‘Actually, I could see Nick doing something far more noble. Humanitarian work, saving old ladies from burning buildings, performing risky surgeries to remove brain tumours or . . . a teacher, perhaps? He’s so good with Alfie, I could totally see him shaping young minds.’
Matt turns to look at me. ‘Weirdly, I see where you’re coming from, Sarah,’ he remarks, squinting at me. ‘Fancy swapping boardrooms for classrooms, buddy?’
‘I appreciate the career advice, but I’ll pass,’ I reply. ‘I have zero interest in anyone else’s kids. Alfie is the exception.’
Matt’s chicken risotto is a big hit, and everyone properly toasts my new position – even Alfie, who holds his tumbler high. Eventually he gets bored of the adult chat and Sarah lets him take his dessert to the living room to watch a movie, making him promise not to spill. I whisper that he’s only allowed to spill over the stains I’ve already made, and he chuckles before vanishing with a bowl full of warm apple pie and ice cream.
‘I’m too full for apple pie,’ Sarah insists as she starts to clear away the dinner plates. ‘Shall I make some coffee?’
Matt takes the plates from her and frowns. ‘You clear tables and make coffee all day. Besides, you’re the guest here.’
‘True, but you make coffee at my house.’
‘I know. You’re a terrible host.’
As they playfully bicker over beverage duties, I slip off to the living room and check on Alfie, who has wolfed down his dessert, his eyes glued to the movie channel.
‘What’re you watching, bud?’
‘Aladdin,’ he replies. ‘It’s my favourite!’
‘Nice! I’m just going to sort a few things—’
‘I have it on DVD. My mum knows the songs, but she doesn’t have time to watch it with me that much. Will you watch it with me?’
Ugh, the emotional pull is strong with this one. How can I say no? Even though I have a million things to do, I tell Alfie to scooch up, and join him on the couch. He snuggles in and begins telling me the plot, while I nod along, pretending this is new information.
When Sarah appears half an hour later, Aladdin and Jasmine are flying high over Agrabah on a carpet and Alfie is fast asleep.
‘Well, that’s adorable,’ she remarks quietly, staring down at us. ‘He looks so comfy. You’re like his human pillow.’
‘Post-Christmas weight,’ I reply, pointing to my belly. ‘Once I hit the gym again, I’ll be far too ripped to cuddle. It’ll be like snuggling up on a steel washboard.’
She snorts as I pretend to flex the arm that’s not wrapped around Alfie.
‘Good for you,’ she replies. ‘You’ll have the gym bunnies clean-eating out of your hand in no time.’
Sarah wakens Alfie and helps him put his jacket on while I try to remember where I put those weights that I ordered from Amazon last year.
‘Penny for them?’ Sarah says, redirecting my attention. ‘You look concerned.’
‘I’m good,’ I reply. ‘Just thinking about getting my shit together, you know. New job, new me, lose a few—’
‘Uber is here,’ Matt interrupts. ‘I’ll carry Alfie down, he’s dead on his feet.’
‘Night, Alfie, see you soon,’ I say as he nestles into Matt’s shoulder. Sarah picks up her bag and leans in to hug me.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ she says softly. ‘You’re wonderful just the way you are.’
I watch her leave and continue to stare at the door once she’s gone. I miss them already.
I drag my infatuated arse into my room and lay out my clothes for the morning. I’m not particularly nervous about tomorrow – in fact, I’m looking forward to getting back to the real world, with a real job, where I can use my training. Then again, the significant salary drop, and their huge staff turnover, makes me question this company’s legitimacy.
Even Greta was reluctant for me to take the position, but understood that having no money was completely untenable, so working for a firm which is notorious for playing hardball with everyone, especially its staff, was still better than remaining unemployed. Plus, judging from the job spec, I should be able to do this with my eyes closed. This might be exactly what I need to take my mind off Sarah and focus on building my career again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Portman Brown LLP boasts an impressive postcode near Bond Street station in the heart of the city, but from the outside, it doesn’t quite match the imposing exterior of Kensington Fox or any of the other magic-circle law firms in London.
The right-hand side of the street is undeniably charming with converted, clotted-cream-coloured Victorian townhouses, which wouldn’t look out of place in a Richard Curtis film, but the left side, my side, is half building site, half purpose-built office space in a fetching shade of prison grey.
My heart sinks as it dawns on me that my days of working in a bazillion-square-foot, glass-structured modern office, complete with restaurant, gym and rooftop terrace are well and truly over. Shit, are those actual bars on the windows? What the hell have I let myself in for?
I take a deep breath and pull open the heavy brown doors, which lead into the small IKEA-inspired lobby, where a receptionist calls ahead to the second floor to let them know I’m on my way up.
‘You Nick?’
The lift doors have barely had time to close behind me when I’m ambushed by a frowning woman in black hipster glasses who’s clutching a pile of manila envelopes.
‘Um, yes, that’s me. I’m due to—’
‘This way.’
I follow her along the side of a large open-plan office painted in shades of blue and lighter blue, which looks more like a call centre than a law firm. It smells like fifty different types of takeaway breakfasts and even at 9am, the place has clearly been buzzing for hours. At the back of the room I see four private offices overlooking the floor and a large boardroom to the top right which is currently occupied by three men, all with folded arms and the same glazed expression.
‘Your desk,’ hipster lady informs me, stopping beside a vacant workspace at the end of the room. She reaches down and snatches up a solo photo frame, featuring a bride and groom which was obviously left by the last occupier.
‘Dump your stuff and I’ll take you to see Sophia.’
‘Um, my agency told me to report to Marion Thomas. I thought you were—’
‘Marion no longer works here.’
‘Oh.’ I get the feeling some poor sod is now missing a wedding photo. We march over to the offices at the back.
‘I’m Kim, by the way,’ she finally offers, knocking on the third door. ‘Office manager.’
‘Nice to meet you, Kim. So, who is Sophia?’
‘For fuck’s sake, WHAT DO YOU WANT, KIM? I haven’t even had my coffee yet!’
I glance through the office window to see a woman with poker-straight black hair, manically waving us in.
Opening the door, Kim smirks. ‘Sophia, this is Nick, Rachel’s maternity replacement. I’ll be at my desk.’
I enter and take a seat in front of a woman in her late forties who clearly has no idea who I am and would prefer to keep it that way.
‘Christ, I didn’t even know Rachel was pregnant, never mind on maternity leave.’ She picks up her phone and angry-dials an extension. ‘What agency are you from?’
‘GL Recruitment. Greta arranged everything with—’
She holds up a hand to shush me. Her fingers are very long, with unnervingly sharp nails emerging from them like a manicured shiv. ‘Kim, can you come back in here and just deal with this?’
Sophia places the receiver back, opens a drawer and takes out a tub of coffee sweeteners, while Kim enters the room again.
‘I’ll leave it to Kim to run through everything with you, but we don’t hand-hold here. Everything we deal with is business critical, so we expect you
to hit the ground running.’
‘No problem.’
‘Good.’ She opens her laptop and begins typing, while Kim subtly motions for me to follow her. I feel a little stunned; not quite the welcome I had hoped for. At Kensington Fox, they’d have taken me to lunch.
Kim expertly throws some files on to a desk to her right while I tag along behind her like a lost puppy. I draw looks from the rest of the staff who try to size me up as I pass.
‘I’m sure you’ve done your research,’ she begins, ‘but to recap, we deal with four main areas here: Corporate, Commercial, Property – all on this floor – and of course, our lovely Personal Injury lawyers, who are all based on the first floor when they’re not out chasing ambulances during their lunch breaks. Ground floor has eight client meeting rooms – book those through me. The coffee machine here sucks and the Nespresso machine is for partners only, but there’s a Starbucks on the corner.’
‘Who’s on the floors above us?’
‘An advertising agency has the top three; above them, some tech company. If you smoke, you’ll no doubt bump into most of them in the back courtyard. I try to avoid that area, it’s like a fucking meat market for the morally challenged.’
We reach the far end of the office where she opens a door into a large room filled with endless boxes of files and cabinets. She bangs the side of a stalled printer which whirrs back into action.
‘Closed cases from the past three years are stored here; anything older is off-site but can be brought over within the hour. Everything must be signed out.’
She closes the door and leads me back to my desk, lifting paperwork from completed filing trays as she goes. I’m exhausted just watching her. She sees my slightly uneasy look.
‘You worked at KF, right?’
‘Yeah, five years.’
She nods. ‘I used to work at Clifford Allen . . . damn, I miss their canteen. Look, this place is like karma for whatever sins you committed in your past employment, and God knows, most of us have. My advice? Buckle down, put the hours in and don’t piss off Sophia.’
All I Want for Christmas: a hilarious and heart-warming romance Page 13
