Page 2 of A Winter in Wonderland
Chapter 1
Autumn
~ Now ~
Clickity clackety, clickity clackety. Here I was, super high-powered office exec, typing out reports and living the metropolitan life again. I liked this office, it was one of the swishest I’d worked in this year, with its big, tall windows and faux-leather spinning chairs. There were free drinks and snacks in the kitchen, a chill-out lounge for when work became too stressful, and everybody called me ‘Mylo’ instead of Myla for some reason, but I didn’t mind because it felt like I had a secret, corporate identity.
I’d been here for a little over two weeks now, and I’d just got off the phone to Sophia, my agent at the temping agency, where I’d told her I might just stick this one out.
‘Might?’ she asked me, and I could almost hear her eyes rolling. ‘Myla, it’s a three-month placement. You’re supposed to be there until January … ’
‘Iwillstick it out,’ I confirmed. ‘Of course, I will.’ Besides,this seemed the perfect place to have a job over Christmas. Everybody kept to themselves, it was very serious and joyless, and I could stay as little anonymous ‘Mylo’, under the radar for the whole thing.
‘Good,’ said Sophia. ‘Well, they seem to like you. I had a check-in with your manager earlier today and she was telling me they’ve got a big project they want your help on now you’ve settled in.’
‘Juicy,’ I commented, sipping on one of the four free kombuchas I’d lined up on my desk. ‘What is it?’
‘She didn’t say, only that it would probably take up quite a bit of your time and that it was the perfect job for a temp.’
‘Bet you ten quid it’s digitising old paperwork.’ I didn’t mind doing that, and it usually meant I got to be on my feet a bit more which I liked, more so than being in front of a computer. Even though the spinning chairs were super comfy.
After we’d hung up the phone, I went back to writing my reports, and that’s when an email came through.
‘Hello, project,’ I whispered, spotting my manager’s name at the top. Most emails that I get at work are company-wide newsletters, or HR asking me again to complete the workstation assessment, or HR thanking me for suggesting they provide bean-bag chairs, which I made during said workstation assessment.
They said they would need to come back to me at a later date about it.
I opened the email, and I liked already that my manager, Evangeline, had jazzed up the request with a meme at the bottom, until I noticed what the picture was.
My heart dropped.
Will Ferrell’s face was beaming out at me from my computer. He was dressed as Buddy the Elf. I’d seen the movie; my friend Willow had me watch it three years ago after telling me it was a ‘heartbreaking drama about a man trying to win the attention of his estranged father’. Sneaky.
I read the body of the email, my mind already mentally calculating how many of those free drinks and snacks I could fit into my shoulder bag when I left today.
Hi Myla,
Hope the reports are going well. I have a nice surprise for you. One of the things I’m really keen to have you work on, since you’ll be with us over the whole festive period, is our annual office Christmas party! In fact, I’d like you to organise the whole thing, from the venue to the music right down to the mince pies and mistletoe! I’ll need to approve anything before you book, of course, but otherwise I’d love to leave it all up to you. I’m sure it’ll be a fun job that you’ll have a lot of fun with.
It’s a bit late in the day so let’s get you started ASAP.
Could you begin by finding a date that the directors agree on, and go from there?
Thanks, and Merry Christmas!!!
Evangeline
‘How does that sound?’ came a voice behind me, and I turned to see Evangeline smiling down at my perspiring forehead, her hands on her hips.
‘Um,’ I croaked.
‘Fun, right? Not a bad job. God, I wish I could spend the next couple of months diving into all things Christmas. By the time the party comes around you’ll be the most festive woman in London.’
‘We can swap if you like?’ I asked. I’m sure I could do her job. What was her job again?
Evangeline just chuckled, and plonked a folder on my desk, not so subtly pushing aside the stack of swiped Nakd bars I’d been stockpiling from the kitchen. ‘Here’s some info you might find useful from the last few years’ parties. You need somewhere that can hold a couple of hundred people, and the main requirement is that it’s just as magical as you can make it. We should have got onto the planning of this much sooner so it’s not going to be easy. Just do whatever you have to do to get it proper Christmassy. OK?’
She walked back to her office before I could say another word, so I opened the folder, finding a glossy brochure with a post-it note stuck to the front that read ‘CONFIRMED – Xmas’. The brochure displayed a magical winter wonderland created inside a ballroom, where silver and white decorations, including – wait, were thoserealtrees lining the walls? It was very Narnia. I flicked further into the folder and saw a masquerade ball, a Mariah and Wham! log cabin theme, a shooting stars set-up which seemed to be based around the aurora borealis.
They weren’t messing around; these were proper Christmas parties. They would take work.
A lot of work.
All-consuming work.
Work that I would just absolutely flop at. And someone else out there could, and would, shine at, and love it, and they deserved to be here being paid to do this, not me. Not me.
I guessed I’d better call Sophia back.
