Page 10 of Five Gold Rings

‘That bottle of rum you keep out the back. We can hit that, yes?’

They both nod. ‘Why, it’s also Christmas, too,’ Mrs Caspar says, smiling.

I think that might be what hurts the most.

Joe

There’s an undeniable glow about London at Christmas that I don’t normally take in via car. Usually, I’m on a Tube or a crowded bus, or running between jobs so, for a moment, it feels a bit magical to be sat on Oxford Street at these traffic lights. It’s a dusky winter’s afternoon, the sort London does so well – where the cold can freeze your features but the faint sunlight brings them a rosy glow. Shoppers weave in and around my car, the lights festooning the streets, as far as the eye can see. A fierce tapping on the bonnet takes me away from the moment.

‘Mate, bus lane. You absolute plank!’

The man glares aggressively at me on a food delivery bike, and I am reminded why I don’t drive in London. I don’t know how to respond so put a thumb up in the air to almost thank him for the insult, secretly hoping the pizza on the back of his bike ends up in a gutter. I’m going to get a fine, aren’t I? That’ll be my sexy elf money down the pan. I try to navigate my car around a theatre-bound family all wearing antlers and apologise to everyone as I’m doing so. I think even that five-year-old is chuckling at me, or maybe my car? Who knows anymore? I’m not sure what I’m doing. Mr Caspar was very vague on the phone. Eve is at the shop. She’s not well. I thought she had plans with her boyfriend so I’m not sure why she’s even there. I’m all too aware I do quite a bit of heavy lifting in that shop so maybe I’m being called to move boxes. But Eve is there. Her name carries me to that place, that’s all I know.

As my car pulls up to the back of the shop, Mrs Caspar keeps watch at the door and waves at me with both hands as she sees me. When I step out of the car, though, there is the inevitable laughter as she sees my outfit.

‘Joe! What have you come as?’

I give her a mandatory twirl. ‘This is my casual Christmas look, Mrs C. Don’t hurt yourself laughing,’ I tell her, wondering if it’s the cold or the comedy making her dentures clatter together. ‘I have other jobs, too.’

‘Involving that outfit? Traitor,’ she tells me, narrowing her eyes.

I took on the weekend job at Caspar & Sons to fill a gap during the days when I’m not being a semi-naked butler. I went through so many job ads online and it was all telemarketing, sales and estate agents. So, when I saw a handwritten note in a corner shop one morning looking for a reliable, well-spoken person to work for a family business in Hatton Garden, to make the world sparkle, it intrigued me.

‘You look skinny. Have you eaten?’ Mrs Caspar asks me, reaching up for a hug. Such is the warmth of the Caspars that they treat all their employees as if they’re family. Mrs Caspar hates that all my family are down by the coast and has taken on the role of surrogate mother, asking me about my nutrition and commenting on my haircuts.

‘I’ll eat later. Eve? You said Eve was ill? Is everyone OK?’

Mrs Caspar blocks the door for a moment which isn’t great as I am quite cold.

‘Eve is single,’ she says in a loud whisper. ‘She’s not with her boyfriend anymore. He cheated on her. In the shower. He’s an absolute shit.’

I take a sharp inhalation of breath. It’s a lot of information to process at once. Plus, Mrs Caspar never swears. She’s not with the boyfriend? Eve is single? ‘What did she find in the shower?’ I ask, thinking she may have found an earring or a strand of hair. The plot thickens.

‘Him. And a girl…’

‘That’s awful,’ I mumble, stepping back for a moment to take in the horror and magnitude of an event like that.

‘Well, it’s not awful. For you,’ she says, with a knowing grin, moving her shoulders from side to side in excitement.

‘I have no idea what…’

‘Joe,’ she says, smirking.

I stand there, mouth agape. Is she hinting at what I think she’s hinting at? I was too obvious in how I crushed, wasn’t I? We’ve worked together in this shop for about eighteen months and over that time, a person reveals their true self to you in a number of ways. They show you how kind they are with people, that they’re self-deprecating, funny, intelligent and they suddenly become the most flawless thing in that shop. That’s cheesy. I can never tell her that. I never have. Instead, I just stand across from her in that shop and pretend I’m not crushing.

‘Mrs Caspar, what are you insinuating?’ I say, trying to act casual.

‘Oh, Eve – I bought you a coffee and a pastry,’ she says, mimicking my voice.

‘That’s not what I sound like… I’m just nice.’

‘You never buy me a bloody coffee.’

‘Because Mr Caspar says it gives you palpitations…’

She beams at me. ‘Don’t be coy, young man. It’s the little things you do for her. It’s very sweet. Like you don’t just buy the coffee. You make the coffee man put random names on the cups to make her giggle, you walk her to the Tube station if we’re in late, the looks. I know those looks. I’ve been around to know when someone has a crush. We all seem to know except Eve. You’re gorgeous but you’re not subtle, Joe.’

My face starts to scrunch up in horror. I just wanted her to know I was nice, not some lusting schoolboy loser.

---