As the farm starts to empty, we pay one last visit to see the ponies before walking back to Matt’s car, all thoroughly exhausted. Matt picks up Alfie and carries him over his shoulder.
‘We can drop you off,’ Matt says to me, as Alfie rubs his eyes. ‘Jump in.’
‘No, it’s cool,’ I reply. ‘Your drive home is long enough. I’ll catch a cab.’
I lean in and give Alfie a cuddle. ‘Happy birthday, buddy; I’ll see you soon.’
‘Promise?’
‘Of course. I’ll be back in London before you know it.’
‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mate,’ Matt says, unlocking the car. ‘Really good to see you.’
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘Speak soon.’
‘Bye, Nick,’ Sarah says, while Matt gets Alfie settled into the car. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘You too.’
She hesitates before leaning in to hug me.
I hold her tightly, just a fraction too long. She pulls back and slides into the car. Our eyes lock briefly through the glass, and I see them beginning to well up before she looks away.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Four Months Later
I’ll be out of the office from December 22nd to January 3rd and will not be checking email. For urgent enquiries, please contact [email protected].
Merry Christmas!
Nick Harris
I power down my laptop and slip it into my bag, eager to get going and start my holidays. Even though I no longer live with Matt, his parents have insisted I join them all for Christmas dinner as usual. Spending Christmas alone in Oxford is apparently not an option. I’m not complaining though. A couple of days catching up with Matt in London, followed by a feast in Surrey before I return home sounds like a perfect Christmas.
As I slide out my chair, I hear a small gruff from under my desk.
‘Come on, boy,’ I tell Spot, the three-legged spaniel who’s now sniffing my foot, ‘time to go.’ I stand up and grab my suitcase. ‘I’m off, everyone. Have a brilliant Christmas!’
‘You too, Nick,’ yells Briony, her flashing reindeer antlers bobbing frantically on her head. ‘I’ve left a bag of dog treats for Spot by the door!’
Compared to every other office I’ve worked in, this place is a breath of fresh air. I love it here. There’s no pretention, no bitching, no competitive bullshit and everyone’s role is important and valued, regardless of status. For the first time in maybe forever, I leave work feeling like I’ve made a difference. I mean, playing Santa gave me a warm fuzzy feeling sometimes, but I technically wasn’t responsible for the gifts under the tree. They also let me bring my dog to work here, which is only fair considering they emotionally manipulated me into adopting him after his owner passed away. I let Yvette in accounting rub Spot’s belly while I grab my coat and the little festive pack of chicken-flavoured treats from Briony that he will devour later, hearing jolly Christmas wishes from the rest of the staff as I leave.
With forty minutes before the 2pm train departs for London, I take Spot for a quick walk and let him poo – the only part of being a dog owner that I’m not entirely enamoured with. The rest is pretty sweet. It turns out I do like dogs after all. Suck it, Debbie, I would have been a total asset to your stupid dog grooming business.
Living alone for the first time ever has certainly been an eye-opener. My quest to become an independent man has highlighted the fact that I’m not actually that great at being alone, but Spot has made it less solitary. I’ve only had him for four months, but he’s been a brilliant roommate. He’s also an excellent woman magnet, wagging his tail profusely at any female who stops to say hello to his dumb little face.
Slowly but surely, I’ve made a few friends. Most Fridays the office gang go for drinks at one of the nearby pubs. Plus my supervisor Joe and his wife Clare have basically adopted me, and I have a standing invite to their monthly dinner parties, where they’ll try and pair me off with a variety of oblivious singletons. So far, I have met Sheila, the bank manager; Deborah, the actress; Amber, the insurance underwriter; Imogen, the artisan baker; Charlie, the police officer; and Maggie, the History of Feminism professor. I’ve managed to ward off their advances with my dignity mostly intact. My head just isn’t in the right place for dating at the minute. It might be months since I last saw Sarah, but my heart still aches a little every time I think about her.
The train ride to Euston is quick and Spot is incredibly well behaved, sitting at my feet and happily allowing everyone to fuss over him and his three legs.
Matt picks us up at the station in his new company car. Promotion certainly has its perks. Spot bounds towards him, pulling me behind.
‘Hello, boy!’ he says, as Spot excitedly jumps up to greet him. ‘You’re looking well-fed.’
‘Don’t fat-shame my dog,’ I respond, laughing and leaning in for a hug. ‘How are you, mate? Feels like ages since I’ve seen you.’
Matt opens the door and lets Spot jump into the back seat. ‘I’m good,’ he replies. ‘When did we last see you? August?’
