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Christmas Eve should have been merry and bright, preferably white. Instead, I woke to the sun streaming through the gap between my poor-quality cotton curtains, a blazing yellow hinting at more heat. I’d woken up sweating.
I’d been having a delicious and dirty dream. Christos and I were marooned on a Greek island without any clothes. It was just heating up (so to speak) when I blinked my eyes open. Dreamus interruptus. When I rolled out of bed, I sweated a little more. Seven in the morning and it was sticky already. And I missed Christos.
I pulled on my kimono, which had been hanging on the back of my bedroom door. I’d slept in only a cotton sheet and a hint of my favourite perfume dabbed on my pulse points.
I checked the weather forecast app on my phone. Horror! The temperature was predicted to hit thirty-nine degrees Celsius. Over a hundred degrees in the ‘old money’, as my gran would have said.
Urgh. This day would be the death of me. Well, maybe not death, but torture. I looked at the item of clothing hanging on my wardrobe door and grumble-sighed. It was a short dress of sorts, red velvet with long sleeves, trimmed with white fur. Not only was it a horrid design for my shape, but I’d have to suffer the indignity of dressing up as Sexy Santa, or maybe Mrs Claus with missing pants. It would be stifling to wear today.
The fabulous idea was courtesy of our store manager. He wanted everyone on the cosmetics floor dressed in costume for Christmas Eve. To be extra festive.
I couldn’t wear it walking down the street though. I’d have to take it with me and change when I got to work. I narrowed my eyes at the offending outfit as I stomped out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen.
The open plan kitchen/dining area lead through to the living room. As I stood at the counter, I spied KC standing in the corner of the living room. She was dressed in her more usual gear, denim shorts and a floaty red top. She was hanging shiny baubles on the six-foot-tall plastic fir tree in the corner of the room.
I’d had the Christmas tree up for over a week without actually decorating it. I couldn’t do it after coming home from work. I was nearly done in, mentally and physically. So it was great to see KC taking on the decorating task. It was homey somehow.
Ignoring my need for coffee, for now, I made my way across the living room to my sister’s side. She glanced at me over her shoulder, grinned and continued with her work. Now she was winding an armful of tinsel around the tree in great swathes.
KC waved vaguely around the room. “I thought we needed some Christmas cheer around here.” She turned and grabbed my arm. “What are we doing for Christmas Day? Should we have dinner at home? I can go shopping while you’re at work.”
Oh. I was a horrible person. I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d assumed Bill would be around and we’d do something simple, like lunch at the local pub. Now KC was here, I wanted to do something more special.
Picking up a bauble from the box on the floor, I hung it on the tree. “Let’s do a nice dinner at home. We don’t need a turkey, but maybe seafood, or chicken with salads? And dessert. I think Pavlova is in order.”
KC jumped up and down. “Oh, yes. Pav, and those little chocolate ball things Dad used to make. I’ll make a list!” She dashed off to grab her phone, tapping out reminders in her shopping-list app.
I picked up a shoebox full of ornaments and whipped off the lid, expecting to see more gaudy baubles like the scarlet and emerald glittery ones on the tree. What I found was something else entirely. A treasure. Mum’s ornaments from when we were little—a silver angel figurine and two tiny heart-shaped photo frames holding pictures of both me and KC as babies.
I gulped back a sob as I removed them from the tissue paper inside the box. I placed the angel on the table nearby, and raised the two photos, dangling by the golden threads attached. KC faced me now, her face pale. She reached for her own image and carefully took it from me.
KC’s voice cracked as she spoke. “How did they end up here?”
“I suppose Bill got some of Dad’s stuff when he...” I didn’t say any more. I couldn’t. I shut my eyes tight.
My sister hugged me this time, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be a good Christmas. Don’t worry.”
I nodded against her shoulder, hoping she was right.
––––––––
BEFORE I COULD ENJOY Christmas Day with KC, I had to get through the rest of Christmas Eve. I arrived at work a touch before eight in the morning, and the store was already open. Jingle Bell Rock pumped relentlessly through the store’s speakers.
Lost souls wandered through the aisles like someone had opened the gates of hell. Or forgotten to close the gates last night, more likely. The store had been open for the infamous twenty-four-hour, round-the-clock trade. An extremely drunk couple lolloped past me as I crossed the floor heading for the perfume counter. They looked the worse for wear and I’d lay bets they’d been shopping and drinking through the night. Great for the store’s profits, not so great for the staff.
“Heads up, Santa’s already here!” shouted the woman, pointing at me with a bony finger outstretched. “Nah, it’s one of Santa’s slutty helpers.” She crashed into her boyfriend, slapping his back. They both burst into raucous laughter.
I glanced down at my ridiculous outfit. She was right. The look had veered away from wholesome and verged on Santa’s naughty calendar-girl assistant. I sighed and kept walking. At least my favourite scarlet high heels would give me good-looking legs.
I strode to my counter, keeping my head held high in my Santa hat with the little bell, jingling all the way. Three staff were on deck, all exhausted. Giselle leaned one elbow on the counter. She was also wearing her silly costume. The others, Gillian and a casual girl, Davina, with the greenest cat-like eyes (possibly contacts), were stuck wearing the full-body onesies and reindeer antlers. Honestly, I was one of the lucky ones.
“Good morning,” I chirped in a sing-song voice. I wanted to inject some positivity into the team, jingling as I moved behind the counter.
Giselle snorted. “It is morning, but I would not say it is good. C’est la vie.”
Right. Judging by the bags under the other two women’s eyes, the night shift had been trying. “Who needs a break?” All three women stuck their hands in the air. “Um, Giselle, you’re due to go home at nine. Grab a coffee and come back in fifteen minutes. Then you ladies can take turns.”
Everyone nodded. Giselle slunk away, tearing off her Santa hat from her head as she went.
A rush of customers started and didn’t stop until lunchtime. Another casual staff member joined our team, spritzing a perfume we wanted to sell-out before Christmas. Her name was Xanthe. She was short, dark and bouncy from her black curly hair to her sparkly shoes. She was doing a fabulous job being chatty.
“Experience the warm scent of gardenias and lily of the valley.” Xanthe beamed and passed out pre-sprayed sample cards to passing customers. “I know you’ll love it.”
I was busy serving a mature gentleman who was alarmingly orange. I’m not one to make judgements, but I think he’d either eaten too many carrots or swallowed a bunch of self-tanning pills. In any case, I was afraid he was radioactive.
I ducked below the counter to pull two gift sets out of the glass-fronted cabinet. I stood up and placed them in front of him. “This one is lovely. It’s a sophisticated Parisian scent with a top note of peony and a base note of lavender. The eau de parfum is the concentrate, so it lasts longer on the skin. It’s great value combined with the free gift.”
He nodded, then pointed to the other set. “What about this one?”
“It’s perhaps suited to a younger woman, because it’s a fun, flirty scent with a hint of apple and citrus. The shower gel is a perfect travel size for the holidays too.”
I passed him a sample card of each fragrance, since he didn’t want me spritzing his skin. Once he’d inhaled them both, he broke into a broad grin. “I’ll take them both. One for wifey, one for the girl on the side, if you get my meaning.”
“Haha,” I laughed in a rather forced way, taking the credit card he thrust towards me and turning away.
Spare me from the philandering older men who thought they were Casanovas. I was constantly amazed they thought I’d find them hilarious.
“Wrap ‘em up pretty, would you, sweetheart?”
“Of course, sir.”
I wrapped, sticky-taped and be-ribboned like a professional, and completed the transaction with a smile. Because I only had a few more hours until I could go home.
I handed over the merchandise to the orange-faced adulterer and thankfully he left. Before I had a chance to add up the sales figures for the day, restock the cabinet or do anything else, a piercing screech sounded from all directions.
I slapped my hands over my ears as a blast of static ripped through the PA system. I looked around to find most of the staff and customers doing the same. What was going on?
A burst of scarlet and gold caught my attention from the corner of my vision. In the centre of the main aisle, a gigantic gift box had appeared. It was big enough to hold a person.
Sure enough, the lid opened, as if it was being pulled up by an invisible string, and a woman popped her head up from inside. Music blared from the speakers now, a tune I recognised—You Make It Feel Like Christmas by Gwen Stefani. The woman inside the box rose until she was standing on top of a pedestal. She was wearing an exact copy of my outfit. She was dancing, moving like a robot, arms pistoning up and down.
Next came a flurry of movement from the other side of the floor. A whole procession of spritzer chicks, half dressed in the vile onesies, half in sexy Santa dresses, dancing as they walked. The whole thing reminded me of a music video, the proper old-school choreographed ones starring Pat Benatar or Michael Jackson.
Customers jumped back, out of the way, as the chorus line approached. The women were all smiling like robots too. I couldn’t see who was in charge. I shot a glance at the security entrance and spotted Christos, standing tall, tense, arms crossed. He didn’t appear to know what was happening any more than I did.
Petula was suddenly standing on the other side of my counter. “Hey, what’s all this?” She waved her hands around, encompassing the whole shebang.
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on Christos. “I wish I knew. You’d think the management would tell the floor staff about a flash mob.”
I knew I should keep out of it, whatever ‘it’ was, but I gravitated towards Christos with my eyes, my whole body. “Excuse me, I think I’ll go check-in with security.”
Petula nodded and waved me off. I hotfooted it across the floor, keeping well clear of the main aisle. I rounded the back of the cosmetics area, skirted the evening dresses in women’s fashion and approached Christos from his left-hand side as he was talking into his phone. He ended the call and flicked his gaze to me.
One side of Christos’s full mouth quirked upwards. “Well, hello. I’ve never been attracted to Santa’s elves before, but I’ll make an exception for you.”
I held out my tiny skirt and did a curtsy. “Gee, thanks. Did you know about this performance?”
His face went stony again. “Not exactly. But we were expecting something to happen today.” He shifted closer to me, and spoke in a low commanding tone. “I’d suggest you go back to your counter and stay there. Go!”