Page 118 of The Naughty List

How amazing, and how generous. He really is aho ho hofigure. His costume is awesome.

But, where the hell is User 5639?

I look up at the escalator, and back at the main shopping corridor, but nobody comes up to introduce themselves. I’m getting concerned I’ve got the venue wrong, all set to call up the app when a voice sounds out.

“Holly. Lovely to see you!”

I do a one-eighty, and no way. I have to blink. I stand open mouthed as the guy before me offers me a red and white gloved hand.

User 5639 is Santa. For real. He’s the guy in the grotto. I look him up and down, and his outfit is mega convincing. The white fur around his red coat looks so realistic, and his huge black belt is classic. Not to mention his beard. It covers half his face and trails all the way down to his chest.

He points to the toilet sign opposite.

“Give me a few minutes, will you, please? I’d better take my beard off, at least.”

I can barely see his face, but his eyes are rich, warm and dark, and his voice is deep and friendly. He’s sure in the mode of Santa Claus.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Great, thank you.”

I don’t say anything to the woman still closing up the grotto, of course, but I do ask her if I can help as she switches the lights off on Rudolph. I help her re-align the blankets in Santa’s cabin, wondering what the hell is going on here.

I’m going out on a work date with Santa…

Except when Santa comes back, he’s definitely not Santa. He puts his outfit under the chair, out of sight, along with the pillows he must have stuffed under his jacket. His dark eyes are owned by a guy in a suit, clean shaven with dark grey side-parted hair, and he looks like he owns the whole damn shopping centre, rather than dressing up as Santa in it.

“Please to meet you, Holly. I can’t thank you enough for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, and shake his extended hand again, no gloves this time.

“Come along with me, please. There is a very good restaurant upstairs.”

“Is that where your work party is?” I ask him, and he looks down at me with a smile as we reach the escalator.

“Something like that.” He stands at my side as we ascend. “Do you know how many people I reached out to this morning?”

“No, I have no idea.”

His eyes are so bold on mine. “One hundred and fifty-seven.”

“One hundred and fifty-seven entertainers? Really?”

“Yes. And you’re the only one who accepted my proposal. Some people sent vulgar messages in response, in fact, and said they would report me to the agency.”

I don’t know what to say, so just stumble over an apology.

“I, um… I’m sorry about that. People are… busy sometimes.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says. “And people areselfishsometimes, not just busy. I was very keen to see who would accept such a last-minute cry for help.”

I look up at him. “I knew what you’d be going through. I’ve been there myself. Broke, with nobody to help. It’s a horrible feeling.”

“Humility and empathy are both beautiful qualities, Holly. Please don’t lose them, no matter how much you earn from your job role.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

He smiles as we step off the escalator on the next floor. “I saw you gave my little helper a very generous donation.”

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