Page 29 of Big Nick Energy
‘That’s someone who’s anal, who can’t let go. The sort who won’t dance at parties and pairs his socks.’ I nod, wondering howpairing socks became a bad thing. ‘So are we thinking rebound? I could hook you up possibly?’
‘Lucy, no. He’s lovely to look at but I don’t do grumpy,’ I say, memories of my sub-standard date disaster before coming into view. Perhaps the festive message here is to give Nicks a wide berth for now.
She pouts. ‘Well, at least let me fill you in on him. I find him intriguing, but for me, there’s a few red flags,’ she says, as drinks and a bowl of warm nuts arrive at the table. Lucy sits up and takes a few in her hand, the white paper tablecloth rustling under her as she arranges herself. ‘Lives at home, very family orientated. Nate the elf is his youngest brother and there’s another called Noah who’s got a zillion kids and a sister called Nell who calls the shots. In fact, all the women in that family do. Mum is Italian and they listen to their mum. They do everything together to the point where I thought I was working for a cult because they do those group-photo shoots where they’re all wearing white.’
I nod and take it all in. Head to toe in white, that man would look like fit Jesus. Still festive.
‘I’ve never seen him wear trainers,’ she continues.
‘OK.’
‘That means he isn’t cool. I’ve never seen him date or mention a girlfriend. It’s all about work. That could make him gay or asexual but the likelihood is that there’s a story there, an ex who broke him which implies crushing emotional damage.’
‘And what is he? Does he do anything else except Christmas trees? That’s a very seasonal career?’ I ask, pouring out a small cup of Chinese tea.
‘Oh, they have this beautiful farm shop and café that does well all year round. The fresh pasta is off the chain; I think it’s won foodie awards. And then they have this nursery, fruit picking in the summer, they grow flowers… it’s all very fuckingwholesome,’ Lucy says sneeringly. Lucy, since I’ve known her, has never really bought into the idea of wholesome. She prefers a life of adventure and experiences, so I can see how someone like Nick doesn’t really appeal. ‘And Nick makes furniture or something. I don’t know. I’m only ever there in December.’
‘To get your free turkey…’
‘Exactly.’ She studies my face as Jin brings a plate of extremely crispy-looking dumplings to the table. I tap my chopstick to the underside of one and a happy feeling runs up my spine. ‘How you met is a meet-cute for the ages though. He cut me out of a Christmas tree netting funnel. He was dressed as Santa. We could play the video at your wedding reception,’ she says, laughing.
I hit her with my napkin, telling her to help herself to a dumpling before they get cold. ‘They make them fresh, they’ve got chives and prawn in them.’
She reaches over, looking me in the eye. ‘I can make that happen you know, if you want to go there?’
‘I don’t,’ I say.
‘Or if you’re into Nicks this season, my mate, Eve, has a dad called Nick. You could make it a thing.’
‘Is he fit?’
‘He’s in his sixties. Cracking paunch.’
I choke on a bit of ginger as she draws a heart in the misted window of the restaurant and writes the name Nick in it. I spy it there curiously. She then draws a cock and balls because that’s what Lucy does.
As my jumpsuit is ripped and my thigh is starting to throb with pain, I call it a night after noodles, leaving Lucy to call herself an Uber to take her to a party in Peckham. It’s been an eventful evening that I think calls for a bath and a cup of herbal tea tocleanse my system of alcohol. I also have Christmas Lindt that was meant for someone else that I can jump into. I don’t know what it means when the prospect of getting cosy under a duvet with chocolate and pyjamas is exciting. I may break open the fluffy socks, a hot-water bottle and a film.Home Alone. If it’s good enough for Santa…
I’ve been living in Nana’s maisonette since she left, and I’ve grown to love this little terrace off the main road, cobbled and made up of different-coloured doors. The maisonettes inside are small but have enough character to make up for it, and at Christmas, we all put in the effort to ensure the exterior lights are all hanging from pillar to lamppost to make this little corner of London all the more magical. As I walk up to my red front door though, I see something outside, a round shadow. I walk up to it curiously and notice it’s a large bouquet of roses, sitting there with a note addressed to me. I go and pick it up, opening the envelope.
I’m sorry x.
I sigh deeply, my breath clouding the cold air. There are at least thirty red roses here.
‘I really am sorry,’ a voice says from the shadows.
‘MUUAGRH!’ I scream, and Nick emerges from the darkness. Museum Nick. ‘We are in London. You don’t do that, I could have…’
Nick stands there laughing. ‘Made a very funny guttural noise?’
‘Attacked you with my front door key? Like a ninja,’ I say. I stand there for a moment as my panic dies down. ‘What are you doing here, Nick?’ I ask, a slightly pained expression on my face to see him, his bow tie loose around his collar.
‘I wanted to apologise in person for tonight,’ he says, walking towards me. ‘After you went to the bathroom, I got caught up with the senior execs. I had to go and help a colleague who was crazy drunk and got very ill. I had to call a driver, get him home which is why I went MIA.’
I listen to his explanations quietly. It’s a reasonable excuse, I guess, and I start to feel guilt that, in his perceived abandonment, I walked away thinking the worst of him.
‘I’m sorry I left. I had waited and walked around for an hour. You didn’t reply to my texts,’ I say, and he scrunches up his face, letting me know he feels bad about the situation. ‘It was also not really my scene. There’s only so many shares and investments a girl can handle, you know.’
He laughs again, heartily.You see, this Nick understands your comedic value. ‘I know. Finance people are not very good at partying. It did get better as the night went on.’
