Page 20 of Five Gold Rings

‘The happiest… If you open my glove compartment, you’ll also see a very healthy supply of condiments that I’ve acquired from these places, so I won’t have a bad word said about them… It’s really what London is missing. I could take you to one now and we could roll into Burger King and…’

‘I could have a bite of your Whopper?’ I add. That came out wrong. I freeze. ‘Oh, my life, that was rude. I don’t know where that came from. I’m not a biter…’ I can feel myself blushing and glance over at Joe to see he’s blushing, too. ‘I mean, we don’t have to share. But yeah… We could share chips, nuggets and other stuff.’

He nods, looking a little worried about how he should have answered that. Please don’t think I’m weird.

‘We can do that. But seriously, I can drop you home now? We can reconvene in the morning?’ he suggests.

I think about what’s waiting for me at home and think about how it’s the last place where I want to go. ‘Can I ask… kind of a favour? I took my bed apart…’

Joe turns to look at me briefly, in shock. ‘Like with an axe?’

‘Oh no, with a power drill… Can we go to yours? I know you rent a room and your landlord might not be happy, but I can take a sofa. Or go to a Premier Inn. I just don’t want to be in my flat…’

He pauses for a moment. This is overstepping, isn’t it? At best, I’m a work colleague. I see him twice a week. Maybe he doesn’t know enough about me or doesn’t want to get further tangled up in my drama.

‘My landlord will be fine, but I don’t have stuff for you though. Toothbrush. Clothes.’

‘We could go to a supermarket? The big one near Earl’s Court should still be open.’

Because that’s a really exciting prospect two nights before Christmas. However, there is a small part of me that just wants to cling to him for that bit longer. Just so I won’t be alone tonight.

Joe negotiates the junction in front of us then glances over at me. ‘You’re in luck then.’

‘I am?’

‘I have a supply of reusable shopping bags in my boot,’ he says, a little too proudly.

‘For occasions such as these?’

‘Obviously,’ he says, smiling.

Joe

So, things to know about me. No, I can’t sing. I remember performing in my grandparents’ front room once, alongside a red plastic keyboard I got that year from Santa. Halfway through my song, their dog died from a stroke and it’s a longstanding family joke that it was my singing that caused it.

There are so many thoughts running through my head right now, I can’t quite think straight. Firstly, we spoke about my calves in the car and I’m not sure if she was appreciative or mocking them. Then I told her how much I love a motorway services. Motorway services are where weirdoes meet to hook up, and families have to stop their cars so little travel-sick toddlers can change their clothes and have a wee. There is no romanticism there. Neither is telling her how much you love a Burger King and then blushing hard when she makes a slightly inappropriate joke about a Whopper. Nor telling her about your shopping bags. Now she thinks I’m both dull and a little bit odd.

But I guess the most important thing in all of that is that Eve is coming to my house. Definitely just to crash. But it still means I need to change the sheets and kick my dirty pants under the bed and maybe give the toilet a bleach and take the five different mugs by my bedside downstairs. If I had known this was happening, then I would have planned this so differently and with a lot more class. Obviously, I will take the sofa, I will be a pure gentleman about all of this and give her space, but I can’t have her going off me for life because of my poor housekeeping.

‘Big trolley?’ Eve asks me as she stands outside the supermarket.

I nod. We’re going shopping together, with a trolley. Is it ridiculous that I’m mildly excited by this? Just ambling alongside her doing something that’s steeped in normality, like a normal couple. Stop it, Joe. However, I also realise that I am still an elf, out in public again; there will be heckling, there will be the assumption, in this very crowded supermarket, that this is all for attention or that I am staff. I need to make a note to put a change of clothes in the boot next time I do an agency job.

‘Put it away, mate, you’re putting us all to shame,’ a security man tells me, clocking me at the door. Oh good, it’s already started.

‘Come on,’ Eve says, hooking an arm through mine as I push the trolley. I try my best not to trip, blush and look like an idiot. As it’s Christmas the usual festive anthems are blasting out at us, and the aisles are an utter madness. People on the hunt for last minute gifts, root vegetables stacked high, a manic look in the eyes of the customers; this is one of the last days to shop, to make Christmas Day perfect, to physically fight people for that last turkey. Eve looks a little wide-eyed to see all the people charging around and holds on tightly to me. I’d like to say I want to protect her but frankly, this is Christmas Armageddon. I don’t know how to fight old people over yule logs.

‘So, tell me… I don’t even know who you’re spending Christmas with? I didn’t even ask,’ Eve asks me as we see people grabbing at discounted boxes of mince pies. If I sound like I’m judging, I grab at a box, too. We will need fuel for our adventure.

‘Family. I’ll drive down on Christmas Day when we’re all done. I just need to tell my sisters.’

‘You have sisters?’

‘I have three. I’m the youngest.’

‘Wow. How did I not know this?’

I shrug. I’m not a huge discloser of personal information but it’s also a big thing to tell someone your life is dominated by so many women. Sometimes it scares people off, and if you met them, you’d understand why.

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