Page 33 of Big Nick Energy
‘I’m glad you brought a change of clothes,’ I say, looking over at him as the winter sun catches the angles of his face.
‘Thank you for letting me change in the staff room, I’m not sure I could have done this dressed as Santa,’ he says.
It wasn’t me who let him change. That was all Olga who was excited about him being half naked in the library. ‘You’d have fit right in, there’s another Santa over there,’ I say, nodding towards one with a charity bucket outside a pub whose glasses are his own and whose beard looks highly flammable. He may also be drunk but it’s Christmas so I don’t judge. Nick looks unimpressed by my attempts to be slightly comical and glances over at me, forcing a smile. ‘You were excellent by the way, a very good Santa. I am so grateful.’
He nods sheepishly. ‘I have a big family. I’m used to kids.’
‘Do you have kids of your own?’ I ask.
‘No. I have a cat.’
‘You fathered a cat? You’re a miracle of science then…’
‘Well, no, I rescued her.’
He didn’t get the joke. I choke with a sense of embarrassment. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Kay.’ My eyes move from side to side. I have the same name as his cat? ‘It was a joke. Her name is Bonnie.’
I don’t laugh. ‘Does she have a brother named Clyde?’ I ask.
‘That’s the dog’s name,’ he says. OK, the jokes are getting through. Maybe? This feels slightly less painful. I wrap my checked woollen overcoat over me and try and hide my smile inthe scarf wrapped around my neck. ‘So how do you know Lucy then?’ he asks.
‘University. Same drama society. Have you met her sisters?’ I ask.
‘I think Beth and Emma have dropped by the farm?’ he says. ‘So you’re also an actress?’
‘Oh God no. I was a backstage, scriptwriter sort. I did English Lit at university and now I…’
‘Work at the library…’ he says. Is that a dig at where my degree took me?
‘I also… that third book you read today. The one about the bears…’
‘A Beary Merry Christmas. Yeah, I didn’t get the rhyme scheme on that title…’
‘I wrote that.’
I see his mouth round in shock. ‘Oh, that’s not to say the rest of the book wasn’t excellent. You wrote that?’
I nod. I did. ‘Yeah, that Christmas rhyming was to capitalise on the season, but I work with an illustrator and we’ve written a series of books about those bears.’
‘So you’re famous?’
‘Naturally, paps are waiting around the corner,’ I joke.
He looks at me almost quizzically. ‘Well, I think that’s pretty cool. Do you write under your own name? Kay Redman, right?’
I pause for a moment to hear him say my whole name, the way the growl of his voice almost whispers it. ‘I write under a pseudonym. K. M. Barrett. The idea was that if I ever wanted to diversify into erotica then it wouldn’t sully my reputation.’
‘Is that what you were thinking?’ he asks. ‘You’d write erotica?’
My cheeks glow a little at the thought. ‘No, it was hypothetical. I’ll stick with families of bears in bow ties for now.’
He smiles. I bite my lip because you can sense it’s not a natural stance for him, to let go, to be free with his emotions, and I think back to what Lucy said about him being anal. Given we’ve just spoken about erotica, this, of course, makes me giggle to myself. I hide my mouth in my scarf again. He looks over at me curiously. ‘Well, let me at least support you. I’ll buy copies for my nieces and nephews.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, surprised by the gesture. ‘Did you say your friend’s van was up here?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ he says. It turns out I don’t have to buy Nick a kebab, as he knows one of the food vans up here in this market and suggested we pay it a visit. ‘He does stints on the farm, we got him in for autumn events. I provide him with his pork.’ Don’t laugh. He’s talking about produce. He works on a farm. Don’t be juvenile. Plus, I don’t think he gets me. Whatever this is, if I compare it to the other Nick, the chemistry and the banter is really not flowing as well as it should. ‘And this is it.’
