Page 78 of Five Gold Rings
Josie’s dad is Santa every time we hold this event, mainly because he has the big voice and laugh but he also seems to have a lot of costumes in his locker that I suspect he and his wife wear for different types of festive fun. I love watching how he works a room, double air kisses all the older ladies and poses for photos. However, he is also fond of breakdancing when he comes out on the dancefloor. Not real breakdancing – they are body popping, robot moves, all intended to make the crowd roar with laughter. I stand there and clap and chant as he does his thing, laying his sack to one side.
‘God, he’s so drunk,’ Josie says as she filters past with more bottles of champagne but also filming on her phone, capturing all the action.
‘But a complete ledge. My hero,’ Lucy tells us as she goads him on. She’d join in but I don’t think her dress is made for that sort of movement or it might catch alight. Lucy is someone I know by association. She went to school with the wonderful Josie. Every three months, Lucy would come visit us at university and the girl taught us how to party and not just party, she would raise the merriest of hells. I don’t remember any of it, I just remember the aftermath of some of those epic benders, including one where I actually phoned Noel and gave him my last will and testament via voicemail. She takes my hand and we half dance, half twerk inappropriately to the music.
‘Josie told me about Chris. Can I egg his house?’ she tells me.
I laugh. ‘Tonight?’
‘It can be arranged. Josie, we can get eggs, right?’
Josie nods. ‘I can get ones past their sell by date, too?’ The problem is they probably would do this, all in my honour and for that I grab them in a collective hug.
'So where to after this, girls?’ Lucy tells us. ‘I can get us into a club in Mayfair with Christmas drag bingo, all-night buffet and trance DJ?’
Josie and I look at her in confused horror.
'So dull. I’m going to ask your turkey friend, I bet he’ll be up for it.’
‘His name is Joe. Actually, he won’t be around tonight. He’s headed home,’ I inform her, slightly sad to say that out loud, to know that the end of our adventures is just around the corner. That said, I stop for a moment at the mention of his name. Joe and I have been here for a while, such is the lure of these parties, but it’s been longer than intended and I’ve realised we’ve stayed a moment too long. There’s another ring we need to deliver this evening and then we can come back here. I say, we. I really hope Joe may come back, for a drink, so we can celebrate Christmas properly together and raise a mince pie to all we’ve done in the last three days and pat ourselves on the backs. I owe him that much. More, to be honest, than a crumby Christmas pastry but it’s a start.
I look around and realise I can’t see him anywhere. ‘Do you know where he is?’ I ask them. Both girls shrug as Santa gets down on the floor and Josie rushes over to stop him doing the Worm and possibly breaking his back. Where is Joe? I scan the room and the people coming in and out of the kitchen. Noel comes out of the doors, platters of pigs in blankets in his hands. I see Meg, I see Dad’s figure still standing in the kitchen, carving fork held in the air, possibly dancing.
I walk over to Noel. ‘Hey, have you seen Joe? We’d better make a move.’
He peers around the room. ‘Kitchen? Last thing I saw he was chatting to Dad.’
I head into the kitchen, waving to a few familiar faces and see Dad hacking away at some turkey thighs, his bottom half moving to the Christmas music. I can’t help but laugh because I know how much this man is Christmas people, through and through.
‘That’s some jumper, by the way.’
He looks up and grins. ‘That’s all your brother. I think he may have got one for you, too. How’s it going in there?’ he asks.
‘Oh, it’s all good fun as usual.’
He pauses for a moment to study my face.
‘You alright?’
I nod.
‘So, this may have been a bit presumptuous but when Noel told me what happened, I cleaned up your room. Just in case you wanted to hang out with us for a bit over Christmas? I didn’t know. No pressure.’
My heart glows to hear him ask, as if I’d consider going anywhere else. ‘Only place I want to be.’
He puts a hand to my arm and grabs it. I’ll overlook the turkey juice. ‘Your new mate is welcome, too,’ he says, smirking.
I shake my head at him. ‘He’s a friend.’
‘He’s a handsome friend.’
‘Stop stirring. Stir your gravy instead.’
‘He likes you.’
‘No, he doesn’t…’
Dad shrugs his shoulders, sniggering to himself, and I frown for a moment, wondering why.