Page 33 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
‘Ta! Yeah, unlike Tom, I didn’t get much luck in the ageing department – he’s truly Scarnbrook’s very own Paul Rudd.’
I laughed at the reference but… Ryan was totally right. Tom really didn’t seem to have aged a bit. Apart from those dashes of greying hair around his temples, and some laughter lines around those mesmeric eyes, it was almost as if the last two decades had skimmed right over him.
We removed my shopping from my boot before attaching Dad’s beloved car to Ryan’s truck.
‘Right, then, I’ll give you a call in the morning once I’ve had a gander at the damage. Tom said you didn’t start your engine after the misfuel?’
‘Thankfully not.’
‘Yeah, if that petrol had worked its way through the system it could’ve caused a right old mess in there. Hopefully I can give the tank a straightforward flush and that’ll be that.’
‘Phew, thanks so much, Ryan.’
‘Not a problem, not a problem at all. Need a lift anywhere?’
Tom spoke quickly again before I could answer. ‘It’s fine, Ryan, I’ve got this.’
‘I bet you do, Brinton.’
The blotches crept ever-so-slightly further up Tom’s neck.
Ryan climbed back into the truck and fastened his seatbelt. As he started the engine, he leant out of the window once more and said, ‘See ya, Tomelia!’ before driving away.
‘Tomelia?!’
Tom shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Just one of his less funny puns, I guess. Anyway, where can I take you?’
Pretty much anywhere, Tom Brinton.
‘I’m staying in Scarnbrook, believe it or not. I’ve got the address on my phone; let me just find it…’
I followed Tom to his car, which was still connected to the now-dormant tyre pressure pump. As I searched through my emails to dig out the postcode, one thought kept running through my head: Tom Brinton had remembered me. But it didn’t mean anything, of course. Because, for the grimmest reason,everyonein Scarnbrook would remember me.
Chapter 9
?Decorating a Christmas tree
I opened the passenger door, only to find the seat was alreadyoccupied… by an enormous frozen bird.
‘Umm, shall I sit in the back?’
‘Huh? Why would you… fuck, the turkey!’ He lifted it up to reveal a conspicuous puddle on the passenger seat.
‘Shit!’
‘Is it… melting?’
‘Yup. Fuck! I totally forgot about my heated seats. I’m going to have to get this to my mum’s ASAP before it starts gobbling again.’
‘Your mum’s?’
‘Yeah, I do her food shop every Sunday. I keep trying to set her up with online shopping but she’s convinced they’ll try and fob her off with sub-par veg and fresh food that hasn’t come from the very back of the shelf.’
‘I agree with your mum.’
‘Ha. Do you mind if we swing by hers before I drop you off? That’s if you don’t have your own deceased and defrosting poultry in the boot?’
I thought about my Super Noodles and selection of sugary cereals. ‘Nah, I’m good.’
