Page 3 of The Night Before Christmas
‘No problem,’ said Penguin Man with a nod.
She could feel his eyes still on her as she set up the cat trap with some tuna fish as bait, and she found her hands were shaking, but whether it was with the cold or his presence, it was hard to tell. They retreated a safe distance. Felicity crouched down and Penguin Man attempted to follow suit but his costume was not built for such strenuous activity, as it turned out, and there was a distinct ripping sound.
‘Was that you?’ whispered Felicity, giggling.
‘Um, I’d prefer not to answer that, if you don’t mind,’ came the reply.
‘Fair enough.’
‘So, what happens now?’
‘Now, we wait,’ said Felicity.
And wait they did. In fact, they managed approximately ten minutes before the teeth chattering and shivering really set in.
‘We’ll come back in a while,’ said Felicity. ‘We need to check the little dot back at the ranch. And you should probably getchanged before you catch pneumonia,’ she added, throwing him a sidewards glance as they headed back towards the shelter.
Gamely, he flapped his soggy wings at her.
‘I’m kind of attached to this thing now,’ he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
CHAPTER THREE
Back at the shelter,Felicity found Penguin Man – ‘It’s James, call me James’ – some dry clothes and he dripped off down the corridor to change while Felicity tended to the tiny kitten in the nursery, padding around in a pair of Andrea’s threadbare welly socks while her own dried on the radiator. Their tiny patient had recovered a little body temperature under the heat lamp but was still disturbingly quiet. Felicity mixed up some milk powder, then gathered her up to her chest and began to feed her some droplets from a tiny syringe while she contemplated the strangeness of the night so far. It was only then that she realised something. It was five past midnight.
‘I guess we should say Happy Christmas,’ she said, looking up at Penguin Man – ‘Honestly, call me James’ – as he approached. He was now dressed in a pair of her black tapered-leg running trousers and a white T-shirt that was several sizes too small and certainly enhanced the, well, sheerbroadnessof the man. He ran his fingers through his short, blond still-damp hair and made a face.
‘Do we have to?’ he said.
Hmmm, that’s interesting. I wasn’t expecting blond,thought Felicity.
‘Don’t tell me you were all dressed up with nowhere to go?’ she said, gesturing to the carrier bags that now contained the sodden remnants of his alter ego.
‘Ugh. Not exactly.’
‘Care to expand on that?’
Penguin Man let out a long sigh. ‘Well, let’s just say that when your niece has her birthday on Christmas Eve it becomes very difficult to refuse the invitation. It’s become a ‘Thing’ in our family. If a kid’s birthday party wasn’t bad enough, this year she decided she wanted fancy dress. Only… guess who forgot to tell Uncle James?’
He paused and Felicity found she was listening a little too intently and tried to hide it by focusing on the kitten in her hands. As she did so, it shifted position, clearly wanting some more milk. A good sign.
‘It was so late that this was the only bloody costume they had left in my size. Okay, that’s not quite true, it was Penguin Man or Wonder Woman,’ he said, with a lopsided grin, ‘but I just couldn’t pull off those tiny pants.’
She smiled a little too broadly at this, as a vividly detailed image of pulling off his tiny pants appeared in her mind without so much as a by your leave.
‘I just realised I don’t know your name,’ he went on, studying her face with a faint expression of amusement, as if he had guessed her thoughts.
‘Oh. Ugh, it’s Felicity. I know. It’s awful. People always think I must have grown up in the Pony Club or something. My brother got it worse. He’s Tristan. I think our parents had ideas above their station.’ She was babbling now.Take a breath.
‘I like Felicity,’ said James, still looking at her steadily.
‘Er… thanks, I think. At least someone does. So, um, why all the festive grumpiness?’ she asked, scratching around for a distraction.
‘Because I hate fancy dress. And I bloody hate Christmas. That’s why,’ he said quietly, dropping his eyes to the kitten in Felicity’s hands.
‘I hate Christmas too!’ she exclaimed before she could stop herself. It wasn’t the sort of information she normally divulged to any old person, but to find a fellow Scrooge on Christmas Eve of all nights was just too perfect.
He stared back at her. Eyes wide.
