Page 47 of Big Nick Energy
‘Indeed. For me it’s usually hoodies.’
‘You women are awful when it comes to hoodies, you really are.’
I sit there, sipping on my wine, waiting for the story of the scrunchie. ‘Scrunchies have amazing other uses, you know? I tend to use them on rolls of wrapping paper to keep them tidy. I sometimes tie off bags of crisps with them.’
‘That is ingenious,’ he says, and I see a sadness return to his eyes, one I’ve certainly seen before.
‘How much did she hurt you?’ I ask him.
‘Unfathomable amounts,’ he says. I can almost feel his hurt, the way it makes him visibly gulp and rub his hands together.
‘I’m sorry. You could also burn the scrunchie.’
That makes him laugh, and it’s a relief to see the sadness dissipate from his face. ‘Maybe not while it’s still attached to your head though,’ he says.
‘Ideally not.’ I don’t push because he’s being lovely and I don’t want to bring up anything that might cause conflict and emotion in him. ‘I feel I’ve been greedy too. Did you want to come in the bath? There is room. Now my hair is tied back.’
‘Food comes in twenty-five minutes.’
‘More than enough time then,’ I say.
I watch as he takes off his hoodie and t-shirt in one fell swoop and then pulls off his trousers and underwear. I am impressed at the speed of action but I tilt my head to the side to admire his naked body, the line of his back down to his arse. He steps over the enamel and entwines his legs around mine, sitting opposite me. He smiles, putting a hand to my much warmer knee, our bodies submerged and entangled below the water line. A hand grazing the inside of my thigh. ‘Top up?’ he says, reaching for the bottle of wine. I nod, sitting up, meeting him halfway so he can kiss me tenderly on the lips.
‘Thank you. For this,’ I say.
‘Never thank me. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much you circled back into my life at just the right time, Kay.’ There’s maybe some hidden meaning there, but I know that atthis point, being here with him feels good, right. ‘But I’ve got an eye on that hoodie. Don’t you even think about stealing it,’ he says, laughing. I laugh back.
TWENTY-ONE
‘Kay, look at the antlers, they are lovely,’ Janey, the lady sitting at the reception desk, says.
‘They jingle and everything,’ I add, shaking my head from side to side.
She laughs. ‘Then that is perfect.’ She pushes the sign-in book in front of me, looking at my festive dress and red Doc Martens with glittery laces. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to make an effort. As this is one of the first events in my book drive, I wanted to pull out all the stops.
‘People are very much looking forward to this book event, you know?’ she tells me. ‘Some of our residents get a little lost at this time of year.’ It’s probably the reason why I made this home my first port of call because I saw it with my own eyes last year when visiting Nana. It wasn’t people who’d been abandoned per se but ones who missed out on the magic that led up to Christmas, because it should be a season, not simply a few days.
‘I’m glad,’ I say, trying to balance the boxes of books near the counter. I gaze up and around at this place. I love the effort they put in to make it look as colourful and homely as they can at Christmas, the fact that every colour is represented in their decorations, the fact none of it really matches. Behind thereception are bits of string holding cards up, tinsel around every door and window frame, and coloured lights flashing hypnotic patterns.
‘Is it just you?’ she asks.
‘Oh, no. I’ve brought Santa,’ I say.
She peers around me until she sees the door of the home open again and, in costume and holding two boxes of books expertly under his arms, in walks Santa himself. Janey stares up at me and then back to him.Yes, I know. He looks more like an underwear model but work with me here.
‘Janey, this is Nick.’
She giggles. ‘Well, I knew that already.’
‘A pleasure, Janey,’ he replies, and she adjusts herself in her seat.
‘Where am I going with these?’ he says, turning to me.
‘Right down that corridor to the day room. It’s signed, you can’t miss it. I’ll join you in a second,’ I say.
He smiles back at me. Since Nick rescued me from that lay-by with his brother, I’ve leant into him offering me help with this book drive but with renewed reservations, now that I remember he’s that idiot I spoke to on the phone when Nana had that massive Christmas tree delivered. I haven’t said this to him, but it’s certainly diluted any attraction I have for him. Anyway, today he picked me up from the library, dressed as Santa, and we drove over in his Christmas-tree van and I’m finding out many things about his driving habits. He changes the radio station when Christmas music comes on, he carries a healthy supply of gum and his truck is very clean. It’s nothing like my beat-up old Renault 5, now to be scrapped because of a fatal oil leak. I think you can also tell a lot of things about a man from the way he drives and what I’ve learned from him is that he’s not a speeder but doesn’t take lightly to bad wazzocky drivers. He’s sensible but will also wave at a child on a zebra crossing. I watch as Janeyleans over the counter and follows his figure down the corridor. ‘You do know where we are, right? Half our lot have pacemakers and are on all sorts of cocktails of drugs. They’ll see him and pass out.’
‘Or maybe he’s exactly what they need to see to cheer them up,’ I joke.
