Page 23 of Big Nick Energy
‘And many photos,’ she giggles.
‘Then it was all worth it,’ I say, taking my phone back. I laugh at one of the photos and the fact I’m really going for it. I send it to Lucy and then put it back in my clutch.
Leo returns to us and I nod to thank him for his stellar work. ‘Are you going to find him?’ he asks me. ‘I think he knows he’s effed up.’
I shrug my shoulders, thinking of my options, knowing that Nick has returned to the party and all those bores. ‘Oh, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one evening. I reckon I’m going to call it a night. Thank you all though. That was quite a moment.’
Maggie comes to give me a hug and Jasper puts his arm out to offer me the half-drunk bottle of vodka. ‘Bye, Kay with the nice hair.’
‘Bye, Jasper with the Vans,’ I say, blowing him a kiss.
‘SEE! They do go with this suit!’ he says to the group, and they all wave, wishing me a merry Christmas. I turn back to look at them, grinning widely, glad that they were there to save my evening, happy to see the friendship and joy they obviously share as a work family.
I walk back into the bustle of the main hall, looking out across the large crowd and see Nick deep in conversation with a group of silver-haired men. It doesn’t look as though I’m missed or would add anything to their chat. I think I’m going to go. There was something in me that thought this wasn’t the best idea, and maybe tonight proves as much. We are from very different worlds. I go out into the foyer of the building, handing my cloakroom ticket to a waiter, loitering as he goes to fetch my coat.
‘Are you the management then? It’s been awful service all night, I hope you do investigate that. Our company has spent a lot of money on tonight.’ The lady’s complaints seem to carry louder given the high ceilings and tiled floors of this place, so I have no choice but to eavesdrop. I turn slightly to see her frosty blonde hair, long and sleek, a face that looks vaguely familiar. She turns to look at me for a moment and then storms off. I suppose she didn’t get one of the wagyu sliders.
‘Your coat, madam…’ a waiter says.
‘Thank you.’ Do I check my name tag inside too? Of course I do. As I put my coat on, I walk over to the person who was on the receiving end of that woman’s harsh complaints. ‘Hi…’
‘Evening, madam.’
‘I wanted to say I had a lovely night. The service was exceptional, well done,’ I say warmly, hoping they haven’t noticed the half-drunk bottle of Grey Goose under my coat.
Her shoulders drop, she stands a little bit straighter for the feedback. ‘That is very kind, madam. Thank you. Have a lovely Christmas.’
‘You too.’
I turn to leave, exiting through the large wooden doors, not even looking back. I’d assumed the chill outside would be unbearable but the alcohol in my system tells me otherwise. Am I a tad disappointed? Maybe. But it’s still reasonably early and Iknow there’s a matcha café in South Kensington, so my evening might be saved. My phone suddenly pings. And a message pops up from Nick. Perhaps there was no signal inside.
Where are you? Have you left? I’m so sorry. Can I find you? Make it up to you?
I stand there for a moment looking at the message. I could go back. Do I dare go back? But then my phone starts to ring. I smile and answer it.
‘WHAT THE ACTUAL?’ Lucy shrieks, and I hold the phone back from my ear. ‘Are you still there? Can I come?’
‘I’m actually leaving. Where are you? Do you want to grab something to eat?’ I ask her.
‘Urgh, I can’t. I’ve got another hour left on this gig. Come to me? I’ll ping you the location. We can do something after?’
‘Will it be fun?’
I hear sleigh bells in the background. ‘Have we not met before? Of course it will.’
ELEVEN
The one thing about London is that it is very green. Unlike most cities, it is punctuated by beautiful parks, large spectacular trees and a winding river that’s like its spine. I love walking through it at Christmas, taking in all the lights wrapped around every building, the inkiness of the sky, the puddles on the ground reflecting all that light and making everything glow amber, watching people wrapped up, scurrying across streets to get inside to the warmth of the buildings. And then getting to the outskirts of the city on the Tube, to see more green spaces, more trees, the quiet night of the streets. It is lovely but I am starting to get a little worried that Lucy gave me the wrong location here. I’ve grabbed an Uber from the station and we’re driving into darkness. This is when I find out she’s leading me to a warehouse rave on an industrial estate. We drive down this winding road where the trees are a little taller, the shadows a little darker.
‘Are we sure it’s down here?’ I ask Egon, my Uber driver.
‘It’s what the map is saying, my love. I can turn around to the main town if you want,’ he says, a worried look in his eyes that I’m assuming the worst of him and where he may be taking me.Don’t worry, Egon. I’ve got my keys out ready to attack you if this is the case.
‘Well, maybe a bit further.’
However, the location then seems to jump out at us from the darkness. A carved wooden sign is lit by fairy lights to mark the entrance, and long lines of wooden fenceposts show rows and rows of Christmas trees, all illuminated, standing there proudly. I read the sign:The North Christmas Tree Farm.
Egon rolls the car to a stop at the top of the driveway and looks up at the lights, his mouth agape. ‘This is like the movies. I thought they only had these sorts of places in America,’ he says, amazed. ‘I bought my Christmas tree from the back of a pub.’
