Page 81 of The Winter We Met
‘He doesn’t live far from Krish and insisted on fetching me this to change into.’
‘Oliver’s just been telling me about the fine time he had last night,’ said Alf and he pulled a face. ‘Bloody miss it I do, going out on the razz. Maisie and I used to love meals out, always followed by pudding and custard – until I had my heart scare. And Saturday afternoons were spent dancing at a hotel near us… bowling too and…’
The waiter came over and we ordered three Sunday roasts although I wasn’t feeling very hungry. Alf sipped his lager and it inspired him to chat fondly about the old days, as if it were the elixir of youth, years falling away from him.
‘Right, Alf,’ I said when he drew breath. ‘Don’t keep us in suspense any longer. What’s this theory of yours about Nik?’
His thick duffle coat was draped over the back of his chair and Alf reached into one of the pockets and drew out his notebook. He opened it.
‘I’ve just got a few more things to find out before I have an open and shut case – but after hearing what I’ve got to say, I think you’ll agree there’s a lot of evidence. I’ve certainly done a blasted lot of research, but first… Oliver, Jess, do either of you believe in aliens?’
‘I knew it. You think Nik comes from outer space – or that he’s a scientologist.’
‘Please, young lady, just answer the question.’
‘Okay… well, not the scary green type with antennae and big eyes, but yes.’
‘Agreed,’ said Oliver. ‘I think it would be arrogant of humans to think we were the only form of intelligent life in the whole of the universe.’
‘So you both believe in something that can’t fully be explained.’
‘I guess so,’ said Oliver.
I shrugged. Where could this be going?
He pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘Just to confirm, you first met Nik on an aeroplane?’
‘Yes.’ Why was that relevant?
Alf looked pleased and drew a tick in his notebook.
‘Nik likes helping people and you mentioned some scheme he does to get presents to disadvantaged children. In fact, his whole life is dedicated to cheering up young ’uns, with toys.’
Oliver shot me a baffled look.
‘It’s as if he’s come out of nowhere and brightened up everyone’s lives at this festive time, just when that was needed this year. Selflessly he’s worked to make our Christmas party happen, coming up with the theme ofIt’s a Wonderful Lifeand having it early. He’s been a welcome distraction from the serious business of moving and he’s transformed Glenda into this new smiling, more tolerant sort of person. He came up with perfect idea of painting stones for our time at Willow Court to be remembered by. He always seems to have the right answer and more than once us residents have commented on how they feel as if they’ve known him for years.’
‘I felt like that the first moment I met him,’ I said.
‘Well – what if wehad?’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Oliver.
Alf sat more upright. ‘Consider these more simple bullet points. Nik is older than his years – he doesn’t like social media. He has a basic phone and still carries around a camera. He has a gentlemanly-like manner that some might call old-fashioned.’ He leant forward and his voice lowered. ‘Nik is from Scandinavia. He has white hair. He always wears red. His favourite drink is sherry. Jess first met him flying through the sky. Can’t you see the obvious?’
‘You’ve got me, Alf,’ said Oliver.
‘Me too.’
‘My Willow Court friends are always calling him a saint and I couldn’t agree more.’ Alf thumped his fist on the table. ‘Nik said he had Greek heritage way back, as well as Scandinavian. I present to you Saint Niklaus – born in a Greek seaport. His mother’s name was Joanna, just like our Australian’s. Jess, Oliver, I know it must be one damn shock, but there’s no doubt about it – Santa Claus does exist and we’ve been spending the last few weeks with him.’
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We walked into the lounge, an hour late, Oliver and me in stunned silence. I hadn’t wanted to laugh at Alf’s announcement so I’d rambled at first, questioning all of his points, listening to his arguments. Oliver said lots of people liked red. Alf asked him to name one person he knew who wore it so often. Alf said he knew it was a lot to take in – that he’d not believed it himself but, as days passed, the evidence for his theory mounted up. He explained the research he’d done into Saint Niklaus and immortality – that cells not ageing due to a genetic mutation was being studied by scientists and who was to say some humans didn’t already have that. I’d give him this – Alf was thorough. Before we knew it a couple of hours had passed. We’d walked back as quickly as we could, Alf’s breathlessness allowing.
A smug looked crossed Alf’s face as Nik strode over to us, wearing a red jumper, his hair seeming whiter than ever as he sang ‘let it snow, let it snow’ to that festive tune playing in the background.
‘Sorry,’ Nik said, and grinned before bending down to stroke Buddy. ‘I’m just looking forward to the party – I can’t believe it’s just one week from today. I haven’t seen snow in such a long time that even the prospect of a manmade version takes me back to being a little boy visiting relatives in Lapland.’
