Page 51 of Big Nick Energy
Next time. I’ve agreed to all of this, haven’t I? We’re likely spending all this time together and we haven’t really defined the parameters of our acquaintance yet. ‘That would be lovely,’ I say.
‘You never mentioned that thing about your nana’s Christmas tree. That we’ve spoken before on the phone?’ he says, curious.
I smile to myself. ‘You know what, I only worked it out myself a few days ago. When I was in your truck. Do you remember it?’
‘Unfortunately no. Was I rude?’ I nod that he’s at least self-aware. ‘I’m not a phone person,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I think I do remember your nana though. Cobbled mews address?’
‘That’s her. She’s not someone you forget, my nana.’
I glance over at her fondly and I see his gaze following mine. ‘Your grandmother has some stories about you,’ he says, cradling his teacup in the palm of his hand.
‘Is it the one where I saved all those cats from a storm drain?’ I ask.
‘You did that?’
‘No.’ I was just trying to sound brave and hilarious.
‘She told me about how you once got your head stuck in the railings outside the chip shop and they managed to free you with a giant tub of frying oil.’
I now refuse to believe my grandmother has dementia. She’s lying to us all. ‘Her memory isn’t what it used to be. She must be thinking of someone else,’ I say.
He pauses for a moment, taking a sip of his tea. ‘You should have said she was here,’ he says.
I look up at him, struck by the concern and empathy in his tone. I don’t know what to say. Because to tell him about Nana would divulge something sad, which means this is more than just being casual acquaintances. It’s the kind of thing you share with friends, people who mean something to you so they can lend you support, advice. And there are times when I don’t want to talk about her, I don’t want to face the truth that her being here means she is moving further away from me.
‘I meant, so I could prepare, put on more aftershave. I could have brought her a gift,’ he suggests, reading my pause.
‘That makes it sound as if you want to chat up my nana and that’s slightly inappropriate.’
He laughs and it softens that stony exterior I’m so used to, that deep throaty sound that he rarely engages in. He pauses to take another sip of tea. I see how he still avoids my mince pies though. ‘By the way, you know those letters you found the other day in the library? I hope you don’t mind but I did some digging, went on some community sites and put the feelers outto see if anyone recognised them.’ Behind him people are still dancing and singing as he says this, one of them being my nana. She looks over intently at our interaction and smiles broadly. ‘Because I read through all those letters and it’s quite the story.’
‘You read the letters? There were about fifty of them, you read them all?’ I ask, surprised.
‘I did.’ I can still see Nana watching. Is she pulling smoochy faces? ‘I’m enjoying the mystery of piecing together their love.’ I turn to him as he says this, exhaling slowly. ‘And if they’ve lost pieces of their story then I think it’s nice for them to have them back, to have reminders of that love.’ He holds my gaze as he says that, before turning back to glance at my nana and then back at me, his expression full of compassion. He read all those letters. He knows.
I cough to cover up my emotion. ‘Any joy?’
‘Not really. I’ll let you know if anyone gets in touch. It would be nice for that story to have a happy ending.’
‘We all love a happy ending,’ I say, trying hard not to smirk. He doesn’t even flinch.
‘K and N,’ he mutters.
‘That’s quite a coincidence, eh?’ I say, trying to downplay it all. It’s then he looks me straight in the eye, a gaze so steady and soft I feel the rest of the room slow down, quieten around me. ‘Karen and… Neil,’ I say, suddenly trying to break up the tension. ‘Or Kevin and Nigel. We have made assumptions. Maybe they’re both men.’
‘K is definitely a woman,’ he says. ‘N describes parts of her intimately that tells me she’s a woman.’
‘Oh.’ I fidget in my seat, trying to not catch his eye.
‘Or who knows? He could be a Nick,’ he says. ‘Maybe there’s a second Nick out there.’ And I’m suddenly snapped into the room. That’s the problem. There already is.
TWENTY-THREE
‘I feel like I’m in a cage and people are watching me eat,’ I say to Old Nick as I peer out of this igloo on to the water, passers-by looking over curiously from the docks.
‘They’re just focused on me, don’t worry,’ he says, smiling and giving a regal wave to the people looking on.
I giggle and he reaches under the table to hold my hand, kissing my shoulder and cuddling me in close. This is the problem with this Nick, it’s how he pulls me in with big romantic gestures like these.Let’s go for dinner, he said.Something on the water.So we walked down to Canary Wharf and I thought we were going to get tacos but suddenly we were on a floating igloo, decorated in fairy lights, a cute ceramic fondue pot at the centre of the table. It’s romance, and let’s be frank, it’s super cheesy.
