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He seems doubtful of that and turns away with a deep, “You need to be. Good luck.”
As I smooth down my insanely large skirt, I hate the fact it pops right back up again, and I don’t miss the appreciative gaze of a father holding his daughter’s hand nearby.
Furious at his blatant interest, I pity whoever married that creep and turn away with a despairing huff.
Men. Flash them a pair of legs and the promise of what lies at the end of them, and they act like a dog on heat.
I pointedly ignore him as I stomp past and only when I get to the front of the line do I whisper to Sonia, “The cavalry’s arrived.”
The relief on her face speaks volumes, and she says gratefully, “Thank God. I’ll head back at lunchtime to relieve you. Enjoy.”
As she scurries away, I take a deep breath and glance down at the expectant face of a small girl who appears to be around four years old, dancing on the spot, appearing to need the toilet.
“Perhaps your daughter needs a bathroom break?”
Her mother throws me a worried glance. “She’s fine. Just excited.”
I’m not convinced, but as the door opens to the grotto, I take that as my cue to get the child in and away before she wets herself.
Opening the door with a flourish, I say grandly, “Santa’s waiting, make sure you’re good and whatever happens, don’t sit on his knee.”
The mother looks worried as I fix her with my best safeguarding expression and say sternly, “Rule number one. Never sit on a strange man’s knee.”
Her child appears worried and looks as if she’s about to cry and her mother says with a nervous laugh, “Santa’s not a man, darling, he’s magical. You can trust him.”
I roll my eyes and wonder when common sense was abolished and turn my attention to the child instead. “Word of advice from a fairy. Trust nobody until they have earned that trust, no matter who they say they are.”
The line is now impatiently shifting behind us and the mother glares at me as if she wants to drive my fairy wand through my heart. Sighing, I fling the door open and see the red suited Santa residing on a velvet throne and say loudly, “Here he is. Santa is waiting, so hurry up, he doesn’t have long.”
They edge inside the room, and I hear a loud, “Ho. Ho. Ho. Who do we have here?”
The little girl starts to cry and with a sigh, I close the door and stare into the startled eyes of his next victim.
After ten minutes of what appears to be a repeat performance every time, Dusty Bennett arrives by my side and says quickly, “Gloria will take over from you. Perhaps you would be happier refilling the shelves.”
If anything, I’m grateful about that because the sound of crying children is seriously beginning to grate on my nerves and as I follow him to the storage room out the back, he says with a sigh. “Remember you’re in fairyland, Jessica. Normal rules don’t apply here and it’s your job to keep the fantasy alive, not crush it to dust underneath your golden shoe.”
“What do you mean?”
I’m incensed at his criticism, and he sighs, “Just stock the shelves and observe how things work around here, for all our sakes.”
As I push a silver cart laden with boxes of beautifully dressed china dolls, I wonder about the decadence all around me. These dolls alone cost over one hundred pounds each and I’m guessing the recipient would be just as happy, even more so, with a much cheaper version.
I locate their shelves and start filling them and wonder how I can possibly find anything out working like a servant disguised as the Trojan horse.
By the end of the day, I’m so frustrated I could cry. I’ve come up with absolutely zero. All I’ve discovered is that retail is not a career option, for me, anyway. It’s seriously hard work dealing with disgruntled mums who never planned ahead and left their child’s Christmas to the last minute. Angry voices fill the department as their desperate pleas go unanswered and I even had to tackle one mother to the ground after she entered into a tug of war with a woman who grabbed the last toy off a shelf. Apparently, it was the ‘must have’ of the season and she saw it first. A police record shouldn’t be on anyone’s Christmas list, and this department should pay danger money to its staff.
Dusty was suitably impressed with my quick action, and I even got a pat on my back for my trouble.
“Well done, Jessica, although a quiet but stern word may have traumatised the watching children a little less when they experienced a fist fight in the sparkle kingdom.”
“If you say so, Mr Bennett, but quite frankly, you should never shield children from the realities of life. They won’t thank you for it in the long run.”
As the department empties and the lights dim, I make my way to the exit sensing I just experienced a challenge I will never recover from. I am exhausted and mentally drained, which causes me to make a decision that is completely alien to my usual calm and rational thinking. The fact I was too exhausted to even change my outfit shows how scrambled my mind is because now in the cold winter’s night, I’m aware how ridiculous I look, and the journey home could be an extremely mortifying one.
I shiver and pull my coat as far around me as possible but due to the insanely padded skirt, I only succeed in covering half of my body and a sudden gust of wind lifts the front of my skirt so high I’m glad it’s dark out here. Apparently, streetlights do a good job though, because the hoots from the passing traffic and the jeers from a crowd of guys heading out for the evening cause my cheeks to flame.
“How much, darlin’? I’ve got a twenty with your name on it.”
