Page 12 of Five Gold Rings

That’s a good line from me. I need more of those. I hold on to the moment but am also quite aware that the fumes from her drunkenness radiate off her and she sways slightly, taking me with her. It does mean my shorts make a noise.

‘Your balls are a-jingling, you should see a doctor about that.’

‘It’s my best party trick.’ I think I hear a tiny giggle and the sound is a complete relief. For some reason, though, I think this is a reason to unleash my own brand of quite awful comedy. ‘What’s a monkey’s favourite Christmas carol?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Jungle Bells.’

‘That’s less funny.’

‘Well, I’ll keep trying.’

‘You should.’ I will.

The sound of the telephone in the shop suddenly bursts into life, preventing me from having to jingle my balls again or attempt to remedy the situation with my bad jokes. We wait for the ringtone to end but when it does, we can hear Mr Caspar in the back room having quite an animated conversation on the other end of the phone. Eve and I look at each other, slightly concerned, and head to the back room to see what the commotion is about.

‘What do you mean? The parcels should be cufflinks. Five sets of mother-of-pearl cufflinks. I checked them myself. There should be no rings in that package.’

We all hear a raised voice on the other end of the phone and I watch Mrs Caspar’s face drop in horror as she wanders out to the shop front checking under the counter for receipts and paperwork, lining it all up on the glass top. She puts a hand to her mouth and I glance at Mr Caspar, who’s watching her carefully.

‘Can you give me a moment to double check the inventory and what went out today? I will call you straight back.’ He hangs up and turns to us all in the shop as Mrs Caspar goes under the counter and retrieves a blue bag.

‘Estelle, that was the bag. With the cufflinks.’

‘No, you told me to give the courier the YELLOW bag, Rudy.’

They both look at each other, confused, angry. Something has happened here which old age, cataracts and I think possible colour-blindness can explain.

‘How on earth can you get yellow and blue wrong?’ Mr Caspar says, mumbling something in his native language under his breath.

‘Don’t you dare, RUDY CASPAR! You told me yellow, you old goat…’ This is the first time I’ve seen them have a domestic and I worry that I may have to hold one of these sweet old fragile people back in a moment.

‘What was in the yellow bag?’ Eve asks slowly.

‘Rings. All sorts of rings. To be delivered straight to venues and addresses because of last minute adjustments. Christmas proposals, festive weddings, all sorts. The cufflinks were for an event, this evening… How?’ Mr Caspar says, confused.

Eve puts a hand to her mouth, slowly recalling events. ‘This was all my fault. I distracted you when I first came in. I was emotional. The courier came in and you were looking through your paperwork… This is all my fault.’

I don’t quite know what to say so stand there shaking my head, putting a hand to Eve’s shoulder. ‘This is not a disaster,’ I say, trying to be calm. ‘I have my car. I can deliver the cufflinks now, get the rings and bring them back to the shop. Is it all London based?’ I ask, trying to provide a solution to the panic.

Mrs Caspar offers me a grin at the suggestion but still manages to sneer at her husband.

‘Could you do that?’ Mrs Caspar asks me. ‘Surely you have plans?’

‘Well, it’s Christmas. I’m an elf. I was obviously sent here for a reason,’ I tell the room, knowing that my plans tonight mainly involved a takeaway in front of my television.

‘We can reimburse you for petrol and pay you for your time,’ Mr Caspar explains, his tone full of relief and gratitude.

I downplay it and watch as Eve looks at the receipts and paperwork on the glass worktop. ‘Mr Caspar, wereyougoing to deliver the rings?’ she says, eyeing up the addresses on the receipts.

‘Well, yes. I sometimes like to deliver the last few rings before Christmas. It’s a nice thing to do, gets me into the season,’ he says boldly. ‘It’s all Central London.’ Given Mrs Caspar has to do Mr Caspar’s shoelaces for him, this feels like a mission. I glance over the receipts with Eve. He has to deliver a ring to a boat?

Eve puts a hand to Mr Caspar’s arm. ‘Look, maybe there’s another solution here? I feel really responsible and I don’t want to mess up anyone’s Christmas. Let me help. I’ll go with Joe to get the cufflinks and then we can ensure all those rings get to their rightful owners. It is Christmas, after all… Joe, that’s alright, yeah?’

I hesitate at the suggestion. Mainly because this did come from her, not me. A suggestion that we spend some time together in my very little car on some sort of Uber rings service. Mrs Caspar takes pause, too, considering her offer, and I see her eyes bulge open to see a plan may be emerging, born from our previous conversation.

‘THAT is a very good, kind but also wonderful idea,’ she says excitedly, unable to mask her joy, elbowing her husband. ‘Rudy, you’re getting far too old to do those deliveries yourself. Joe, does that work for you? Could you do this together?’

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