Page 31 of Big Nick Energy
‘Oh dear, rugrats approaching,’ Olga says, and we turn to see a crowd of toddlers race through the door. We often see the same faces at the moment as Lucy appears to be a big selling point – the kids are starting to come dressed up in onesies and Disney costumes. I’ll admit, it brings a bit of life to this old building and turns this library into the community centre it deserves to be.
A woman comes up to the counter with a huge pile of baby books. ‘For your drive?’ she says.
‘That is so kind, thank you.’ I slip the bag underneath the counter and then look to the clock, realising an important element of our story-time session is missing. Lucy is many things but she’s usually punctual, so she has time to get changed and get into character. She only has ten minutes to get through the door. I go to my bag and get out my phone.
Lovely, I am sorry. I’ve got a fever and feel crappy so won’t be able to make today. Sending someone else to take my place
Why is she winking at me? Will I know this person? She works in the theatre so I assume any replacement can do the whole character thing and come in costume. I only hope they’ll let me pay them in kebabs. I mean, this isn’t a complete disaster. If no one turns up then I can read. I am wearing Christmas themed clothing, I can attempt reasonable accents. Or we can wheel out a television and show themFrozen. Helen can sing.
‘Holy mother-of-pearl,’ I suddenly hear a voice mutter. I look over at Helen whose face is a deep blush. Has someone been graffitiing in Lee Child again? But I follow her gaze to the front door, to the person standing in the foyer, reading signs.Hold up. I know you.He opens the door and looks around the place. It’s Nick. Christmas-tree Nick. Dressed as Santa. He sees me and waves, walking over as Olga and Helen look at me, wide-eyed. I don’t know why but I straighten out my Christmas-themed pinafore dress and check the corners of my mouth for remnants of chocolate pralines.
‘Kay, isn’t it? Hi,’ he says, standing at the counter. A woman looking to borrow a book goes in her bag and retrieves her glasses to get a better look.
‘Nick.’
‘YOU’RE NICK!’ Olga shrieks, and I look over to her mortified expression. The problem is they only know about the other Nick. It’s early, I’ve not had time to fill them in about the events of that night and this Nick presently stood in front of us. This Nick looks at me curiously, assuming that he’s become the subject of Christmas office gossip.
‘This is another Nick,’ I whisper, before turning to him. ‘He works with Lucy. I assume you’re the person she sent to help us out,’ I say, turning to him and trying not to smile. I know Lucy and I am calling bullshit on her fever story. She still thinks old Nick dumped me in a museum. She doesn’t know he came back and had his reasons for leaving me at that party. So this is Lucy in her infinite wisdom trying to set me up with a new Nick. She’s probably somewhere outside, hiding in a bush, rubbing her hands together that her plan is coming together. I look at Nick’s outfit; he has a hat, his robe is tied up with a black belt and he’s wearing black leather gloves that in my mind look a tad kinky. That is so wrong. This is Santa.
‘If I am a suitable replacement. She rang in ill at work and explained the situation. I thought it would also be an opportunity to return this.’ I look down at his hands to see a black cashmere scarf, my name written in the label, one that I obviously left at the farm that evening. ‘Does your mum still label your things then?’
Helen and Olga can barely talk because they’re trying to work out why studmuffin Santa has my scarf and why he isn’t the other Nick.
‘I lose things,’ I say. ‘Lucy didn’t say you did this sort of thing. I thought you were a farmer.’
‘I’m not a farmer,’ he says a little grumpily.Yes, you’re good looking but we still need to work on that snappiness.‘But I have nieces, nephews. I’ve read many a bedtime story.’ Olga lets out a little noise at this point, like air squeaking out of a balloon. ‘Lucy said this was important. She was crying on the phone. She didn’t want to let the children down.’
Give that girl her awards already. The children would have coped. ‘This is really out of your way.’
‘Not really. I had to deliver some trees in town. It fit in with my schedule.’
I swear Olga and Helen are holding hands, watching this entire interaction.
‘I also can’t pay you. I normally pay Lucy in kebabs.’
‘Then I’ll do it for free,’ he shrugs. ‘Glad to see you got all the greenery out of your hair,’ he says, his eyes tracing my curls again. I realise I’m also wearing very fetching antlers on the top of my head.
Helen swings her head around, as if she’s wondering if this man found me in a tree, or whether I did something with him in a bush? She seems comically angry that I failed to mention any of this, and instead wasted time telling her boring stories of roses and people I once went out with at university.
‘How do you deal with being around all those trees? I swear I had pine needles everywhere when I got home.’
‘Everywhere?’ he says, with his head tilted curiously. Well, in enough places for the other Nick to ask me how exactly I fell into that Christmas tree. ‘Hazard of the job.’ I suddenly get what Lucy means when she says there’s a serious streak there. That should have been a joke.
‘I smelt lovely though,’ I continue.
‘That’ll be the pine.’
I nod, smiling. I know. A little girl in a reindeer onesie runs through the doors and immediately sees Nick standing there at the counter, her eyes following his tall six-foot figure up to the ceiling. She stares at him open mouthed for a moment. ‘Who are you?’
He bends down. ‘I’m Santa.’ I notice Helen angling her head to take a better look at his arse as he does so.
‘You don’t look like Santa. Why’s your beard brown?’ she asks, reaching out to him without hesitation.
‘I had it dyed.’
‘The Santa at the shopping centre is old and fat. You’re not fat.’
‘I went on a diet,’ he says.
