Page 76 of Five Gold Rings

‘Well, I hope he gets a severe case of knobrot.’

‘I think we can both agree on that much.’

He looks at me, and I feel as though we’ve bonded instantly in that moment.

‘And she didn’t think to tell us?’ he says despondently.

‘She didn’t want to ruin your Christmas,’ I say.

‘That sounds like something my Eve would do. Poor girl. When I met him, I knew he wasn’t the one for her, but I thought she’d work that out for herself eventually. Just a shame it took her three years.’

‘You weren’t keen on him?’

‘He looked down his nose at me, shifty looking eyes. I could tell. Her mother would have probably told her sooner, but I never had the heart… She always deserved better. Her mother always knew what to say.’

‘What was your wife’s name?’ I ask.

‘Angela.’ He gets out his phone to show me a picture of the family as a screensaver. ‘Isn’t Eve the spit of her?’

‘It’s the way her smile hits her eyes,’ I say, studying the photo. That was a bit much. ‘Hold up… Angela, Nick, Noel and Eve. Those are some proper Christmas names. I applaud the theming.’

He laughs, exuding a jolliness and warmth that feels familiar. ‘She bloody loved Christmas. I liked it less before she came along. She helped me believe in the magic of it all. The fact that anything could happen, seeing the surprise etched in the kids’ faces, she just went above and beyond to make it special, you know?’

‘So Eve is like her in a lot of ways then,’ I mention.

He stops to study my face, to watch my gaze that keeps dipping out into the restaurant.

‘Remind me how you know my Eve again?’ he asks me.

‘We work at Caspar & Sons. The jewellers’, where she works at the weekend. We’ve just been doing some last-minute deliveries for them for Christmas. It’s been good, I think, taken her mind off things.’

‘Noel mentioned the rings. Well, thank you for looking after her,’ he tells me, putting a hand to my arm. ‘I’ve been told there’s one more ring to go out tonight?’

‘One more ring and then I’ll get your girl back to you,’ I tell him. ‘Is that OK?’

‘More than OK. Just a shame you have to shoot off again. Here, before you bounce, how are you with carving? Give me a hand?’ he tells me, handing me a carving fork. I do as I’m told. I did a surgery rotation at medical school, so my carving is not awful. I place slices of turkey and ham on the festive themed plates, looking around the kitchen at everyone busying around trying to make Christmas great for others. I don’t know, having played Joseph literally an hour ago and now with all this good energy in the air, this finally feels like Christmas. Suddenly, someone storms into the kitchen, reindeer antlers on her head.

‘No one’s dentures can deal with the roast potatoes. I think we need to whip up some mash,’ she declares, eyeballing me. ‘You? Who are you?’ she barks.

‘I’m Joe.’

She looks me up and down. ‘I have a nephew called Joe. I’m Meg. Seeing as you look the part, grab those plates, will you?’ she tells me.

I shrug my shoulders. Hell, why not? Meg leads the way out into the dining room, and people cheer as food is served and placed in front of people. Eve and Noel are chatting, but she puts a thumbs up to me and asks if I’m OK. Given my hands are otherwise occupied, I wink. That was a dodgy move, possibly a little mis-aimed too as an older woman winks back at me from across the room.

‘Merry Christmas,’ I tell a man as I place his dinner in front of him. He holds on to my arm.

‘Did you cook this?’

‘Yes, I did,’ I say, pushing the gravy boat in his direction.

He tucks in and I absorb some of that glow and energy from the room. This is a good thing, a collection of people just doing something charitable and community minded for Christmas and it’s lovely to contribute but also see Eve in her natural habitat. I go back into the kitchen watching through those glass panels as an older gentleman asks Eve for a dance and she agrees, sashaying with him next to one of the trestles.

‘Here boy, you got a free hand? Just help me with my belt.’ I turn to someone behind the door, bent over, trying to adjust a cushion that should be a paunch.

‘Santa?’

‘Or Mr Claus. I also go by Father C.’