Page 76 of Big Nick Energy
‘A lifetime of wrapping books. Here, let me sort that for you,’ I say, reaching over. He seems reticent to hand the gift over, but I take the box and open it to see a pretty pendant in the middle.
‘For my sister,’ he says. ‘That’s her birthstone. Garnet.’
‘The man has an excellent eye,’ I say, though I am curious if birthstones are the only gift he knows to give.
‘Well,’ he says, gesturing in my direction. I blow him a kiss. I fold down the edges and then wrap the box in twine to make it look presentable. He watches me and then balances the box on his hand. ‘You’re amazing, thank you.’
He gets up to get another bag of gifts as I sit back, looking out at the river. Nick hadn’t really bothered with making this place too Christmassy so I got him some decorations, lights and a small potted tree (not from the other Nick’s farm obviously). Out across the way, the scene shows a scattering of coloured lights from other flats and houseboats in the twilight landscape to let us know Christmas is here, the river is still, the sky clouded over with snow expected in the next few days.
‘More wine, madam?’ he asks me.
‘Always,’ I tell him. He pours me a glass and clinks my glass. Tonight, it’s another casual version of Nick. He’s not in a suit but jeans and a t-shirt with bare feet, and this whole set-up feels like a grown-up version of us from eight years ago except we’re not watching films on a laptop, sharing a large bottle of cider. I quite like how there’s still a tube of Pringles on the coffee table though, along with some posh charcuterie and a large box of Celebrations. I’m also sitting here as myself, in leggings and a jumper, no make-up on and my hair bundled on top of my head. There are throws on the sofa, a fake fireplace fired up along the wall. He lines up a selection of toys along the sofa, ready to wrap them for his nephews.
‘Hey, I’m sorry I never followed up on the book-drive thing, by the way. I did mention it at work and they said it was toosmall a venture to invest in, even for charity. I did try though,’ Nick says, as he works out the best way to wrap the football in front of him. ‘Did it go well?’
I shrug my shoulders, trying to push the other Nick out of my mind. The Nick who went the extra mile to help me wrap those books, deliver them and then ended up buying multiple copies of my own. It’s not a comparisons game, it can’t be. ‘It was fine. Remember Lucy, my friend from school? She works at a Christmas-tree farm and they lent me someone to help.’ Look at me, super vague but also imparting some truth there.
‘Lucy works on a Christmas-tree farm? Is she the angel on top of the trees, shouting obscenities at everyone?’ he says, chuckling at his own joke.
‘She’s doing meet and greet stuff in costume, it’s a fun place,’ I say.
‘This is why Christmas is becoming more and more ridiculous. Next there’ll be farms where you can name and kill your own turkeys but they’ll turn it into an “experience”.’
I try and summon up a laugh but inside I feel slightly protective about the North Christmas Tree Farm and their very special brand of family magic. I take a large sip of wine to try and remove them from my mind, to bring myself back into the room.
‘So, I just need to ask about this whole Christmas Eve thing. If you think it’s too much then I can stay away, I know your dad almost invited me out of obligation,’ I say frankly.
Nick pulls a face telling me he thinks otherwise. ‘Don’t overthink it, hun. Just come along, grab some food. You’ll know a lot of them. It’s not a big thing.’
‘It isn’t?’ I say, an eyebrow raised.
‘You’ll actually be doing me a favour. It’ll save me from my family asking questions about my love life. Then I can point to you.’
‘So really I’m just a cover to avoid awkward questions then?’
‘The prettiest cover there ever was,’ he says, a sparkle in his eye. I’m charmed, but also curious what this party has in store.
‘Well, if you’re free on Christmas Day itself, I’ll be at my place with Nana if you wanted to pop in. I know you’ll be busy but you’re welcome to come for mince pies.’
He’s distracted by the television at this point but turns to me, nodding. I don’t quite know what that means but if this Nick is my choice then it makes sense to firm this up, to understand what all this fun might lead to. ‘And I thought that maybe after Christmas, in the break, you and I could possibly go somewhere for the weekend? Surely the next stage of fun is a mini-break?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah? I may have to go to New York on the twenty-seventh though, for a few days. Work are doing a thing and New Year’s Eve in New York is mega.’
Was that an invitation or an excuse? ‘Oh, yeah…’
‘We could do something when I get back. Maybe Paris?’
‘Yeah. You can get good deals in January.’
‘I could take you up the Eiffel Tower?’ he mentions.
‘Oi oi,’ I say, and he laughs loudly. ‘There’s fun and there’s fun.’ He looks me in the eye, grinning, and I’m transported back to a bar in Bath just before Christmas where a boy tried to chat me up, giving me a look that told me he was serious, that he wanted to take this further. ‘Can I ask you a question, Nick?’
‘Uh-huh,’ he says, gliding scissors through the wrapping paper. That piece is far too small for what he has planned but I won’t say anything.
‘What do you remember about us at university? I keep having flashbacks to it, moments, trying to piece it all together. It was so long ago that I can’t remember all of it.’
‘It was good, no?’ I’m not sure how he’s managed to qualify that year with a single word. ‘We had fun back then too. Youeducated me on films. Before I met you, I’d never seenThe Shawshank Redemption.’
