‘Becauseshealready has a role andshewould 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.’
