‘Thank you,’ I reply. ‘I’m hoping to be back in full-time employment by then but. . .’
. . . Aaand she’s already walking away.
‘Does everyone who works here have zero social skills?’ I ask no one in particular, but Laura overhears and laughs.
‘Hey Santa – high five!’ she demands, and I feel obliged to comply, my padded gloves hitting her hand with a dull thud. It’s very anticlimactic.
‘So, what are you doing for Christmas?’ Laura asks, taking off her hat. I’m dying to take mine off but, as much as I want to burn my entire costume, there are still kids around.
‘Quiet one,’ I answer, continuing with gift duty. ‘The usual.’
‘Just you and your girlfriend?’
‘No girlfriend,’ I respond, ripping apart a selection box then openly eating a Snickers. I don’t even care anymore. ‘I’m single.’
As I hand her a Mars Bar, she looks perplexed. ‘Single? But the woman from the coffee place. I thought—’
‘I told you,’ Izzy interjects loudly as she walks past. ‘See! Everybody think this. . . Laura think this. . .’
‘She’s just a friend,’ I say indignantly. ‘And she happens to be dating my best friend.’
‘. . . I think this,’ Izzy continues, waving her hands around and paying no attention to me, ‘Christine thinks this, even the security man Charles with the stupid beard think this. . . oh, and the woman with the bad eye who make the vegan soap, what’s her name—’
‘I’m leaving now,’ I interrupt, but she’s still talking. ‘Have a great Christmas, everyone.’
I march myself back to the staffroom, annoyed and a little embarrassed. Was I that obvious around everyone, or do people just have nothing better to do than gossip? I grab my clothes from the locker and move into the men’s bathrooms to change out of this hot, itchy suit for the last time.
When I return, I bump into Laura, who looks a tad embarrassed.
‘I didn’t mean to offend you or anything,’ she begins, but I stop her, reassuring her that I’m fine and just want to get home.
‘Have a drink with me,’ she suggests. ‘There’s a nice pub around the corner.’
‘Thanks for the offer but honestly, I’m tired and—’
‘Stop being so old! I mean, it’s not like you’re rushing off to meet your girlfriend. . . Live a little, Grandpa.’
I can’t help but laugh. In that squeaky voice, her sassiness is quite charming.
‘Sure, why not,’ I reply. Matt is off picking up the hire car to drive us to his parents’ and then out with his work colleagues until God knows when. Maybe a drink is exactly what I need.
‘A private detective? You’re shitting me. I’m not even sure that’s a real job.’
Laura nods, trying to guide her straw into her mouth, while she props up the wall. We’ve been in the pub for almost three hours and still haven’t found a seat. I’m slightly miffed that she’s far drunker than I am; as hard as I try, I can’t seem to let my hair down.
‘Yep. I want to investigate shit,’ she explains. ‘Like Jessica Jones but without the superpowers.’
‘Right,’ I reply, pretending to know who the hell Jessica Jones is. If she has superpowers, I bet Alfie would know. I wonder how he’s doing. . .
‘And if it all goes tits up, maybe I’ll just be an elf for the rest of my life!’
‘There are worse things to be,’ I respond, swirling the last of the beer in my bottle. ‘Another drink?’
She peers at her glass. ‘Maybe a cocktail,’ she considers. ‘Something strong, I’m not really feeling anything from this gin.’
The fact her eyes are darting in different directions leads me to believe that the gin is, in fact, working just as intended. I smile, thinking about how cute Sarah is when she’s tipsy. She does this thing with her hair where—
‘Earth to Nick. . .’
