Page 49 of Big Nick Energy
‘Nana!’ I retort in shock.
‘We’re always happy when we’re together,’ she says, resting her head on my shoulder. I curl my body into hers. Am I happy? Who knows? At this moment, I want to snuggle up on her bed, read out trashy magazine articles together and then watch a bit of a TV show while she makes fun of everyone’s clothes. That will always be my definition of happy. But Old Nick is showing me that he cares, and I feel looked after, and that is a good thing. A knock on the door suddenly gets our attention and we both glance up.
‘Hi. Yeah, the woman at reception told me you’d be here. They’re ready in the day room,’ Nick says. ‘They all thought I was a stripper. They all wanted to come and sit on my knee. I thought I’d best come and find you.’
I laugh as Nana leans into me. ‘Kay, I’m not going completely doolally, right. That’s Santa at the door, yeah?’
I nod. I don’t think I have the energy to tell her how he fits into the story though. Four-foot-eleven Nana stands and looks up at six-foot Santa. ‘You’re a big fella, eh?’
I smirk and look down to the floor. ‘Santa, this is my nana. Nana, this is Santa.’
Nick looks at me. ‘Your grandmother.’
I nod. I wasn’t entirely clear with him why we were coming to this particular nursing home, but he knows now.
‘I know you,’ Nana says. ‘I’m sure I know you.’ I see her searching through her memories, a pained expression on her face. I exhale because I don’t want to confuse her any further.
I put an arm around her immediately. ‘Nana, remember you got a Christmas tree delivered once to your house. That big one? This was the fella who delivered it.’
Nana seems relieved that her mind isn’t playing tricks on her but Nick looks confused that I haven’t mentioned this connection before now.
‘Oh, that was a lovely tree. How are you, young man?’ she says, her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m very well…’
‘How have you forgotten my name? I’m supposed to be the one with dementia. I’m Doris.’ As soon as Nick hears that she has dementia, he looks over at me, studying my face. ‘I guess I only remember the naughty ones. You’re far too good.’
‘Then you don’t know me very well at all,’ Nana says, cackling. ‘How come you two know each other then? Did I miss something?’
‘I went to his farm one day and got stuck choosing a tree and Nick helped me.’
Nick smirks to hear the word ‘stuck’. But Nana looks at me for a moment. Yes, you heard that right. This is another Nick.She shifts her gaze between the both of us trying to work us out, a cheekier glint in her eye than I would like to see.
‘Can I walk you over to the day room, Doris? It would be my pleasure,’ Nick says, offering her an arm.
‘A polite Santa too,’ she says, her eyes widening at me. ‘Can I offer you something to eat before we head over? I’ve got truffles from Harrods.’
Nick takes one look at the box and pulls a face. ‘Oh, that’s far too fancy for me. Save those for your important visitors. I see you’ve got those teeth sweets though. I’ll take one of them.’
Nana leans over to her bedside table and opens a packet. ‘Here you go.’
‘Thank you kindly,’ Nick says. He puts the teeth sweet in his mouth, then grins. ‘Do you like my new veneers?’
I stay quiet and watch both of them laughing together. Nana does the same thing with her sweet.
‘Did you get those in Turkey? They’re beautiful,’ Nick says. Still chuckling, Nana turns back to me. She just winked at me, didn’t she?
TWENTY-TWO
‘And that was the end of that story, as the sun set amber on the horizon and the sky shone as blue as it ever did,’ Nick says, as he finishes the chapter of the book he’s been reading out in this super-festive day room. I like the fact that Nick sits in a high wingback chair so it vaguely looks like a throne. He reads very well. There’s good diction there, a wonderful tone to his voice. In another life, he could make a good living out of doing radio ads. ‘He looked into my eyes, searching for a counterpoint to his own soul, to see if the sun could rise with me, for a lifetime.’
There’s a small crowd of about thirty residents sitting here listening, and I swear we all sigh at the same time to hear him, his tone making us all swoon, even the men. I cock my head to one side at how he grins at that last line.Who even are you?He closes the book and then rubs his hand over the cover, almost as if he’s thanking it. An old lady in the front row in a pink cardigan sits up, as though the magic of his words may have cured all of her ills. That said, the man next to her in his tartan slippers is asleep, but there was something about that reading that was a little bit magical. Nick glances over at me and smiles. Yeah, that’s not allowed when you’re dressed as Santa. This is plain wrong for him to transform himself into someone so alluringand attractive. I don’t know what to do with the intensity of his look so I just put my thumbs up at him.
‘Now take off your clothes!’ someone shouts, and I sincerely hope it isn’t my grandmother.
However, I am grateful that this means Nick isn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, he puts his hands in the air to calm down the furore and blushes deeply. I don’t get this new New Nick. It turns out that when he’s around anyone aged sixty or above he transforms, and all his jolly spills out, he shares jokes, laughs and well, one of these ladies has him up and dancing, pressing herself up against him. He gives her a little twirl and everyone claps again. OK, calm down, Fred Astaire. I guess I should feel something – this is mildly endearing – but the fact is,Idid this. I came into this room and set up all the books, I laid out mince pies and teacups and now I’m sitting here working the tea urn, watching as he gets all the limelight in his Santa suit and kindly flair. He is usually the most serious man I’ve ever met and now he’s dipping a lady in slipper shoes. I take one of my mince pies, peel back the foil liner and take a confused crumbly bite.
‘Where on earth did you find him?’ Janey asks me, sipping on a mug of tea, not able to avert her gaze. He’s done dancing now. We watch as he sits down at the day-room piano and starts playing. Of course. Now he’s Elton John. Next he’s going to show us he can do magic tricks and paint us a picture. A few start singing along, their arms linked as he conducts them in this makeshift singalong.
