The grounds of The Rose Gardens were vast and beautiful. In the centre of the estate sat a large manor house, its balustrades, towers and turrets harking back to a grander time. Intricately carved grotesques guarded each corner of the old stone building. Inside was accessible by the wide, wooden door, currently being guarded by a National Trust volunteer who was shivering despite her thick woollen coat.
The endless blue sky and the light dusting of snow that coated the herbaceous borders and manicured lawns lent the scene a postcard quality, which pleased Adam enormously. It was the perfect scene to describe when answering the ‘How did he propose?’ question.
Adam and his unsuspecting wife-to-be took an easy stroll through the famous rose gardens. Of course, because it was winter, the vibrancy and definition of the flowers were not at peak beauty, but there was still something wonderful about the colours and the shapes.
There were other people milling about, scarves knotted around necks and coffees in hand, though Adam was trying his best to zone everyone else out.
While Helena was reading an information board about the formation of the gardens and how the owner nearly went bankrupt while trying to fulfil his dream, Adam patted his pocket and pulled the ring box out. With tears in his eyes, he lowered himself down on the grass behind her, the life-changing words on his lips. Something soft and wet squelched under his knee.
The stench of dog dirt reached his nose and made him retch. Thankfully, he had the presence of mind to stow the ring in his pocket before he choked audibly.
Helena turned around to find Adam on the ground, checking the soggy mess on his best trousers.
‘What’s up?’ she asked, nose wrinkled.
‘I was tying my bloody shoelace and I landed in this pile of…’ Adam motioned to the immense stain. ‘What a nightmare.’
‘It’s okay, we can go to the café and get you cleaned up. You can splash some soap onto it.’
More like set fire to them, he thought, though didn’t argue. He needed to propose today, and if it meant doing it with slightly dirty trousers, that would have to do. Maybe it would be funny in those future retellings, though he didn’t think so.
They walked back towards the more modern building which housed the café, and went in. The exposed metal work and glass walls allowed uninterrupted views of the landscape. Helena ordered a hot chocolate and settled in the corner, while Adam excused himself.
In the toilets, he pumped what felt like gallons of soap onto the desecrated area and wiped at it with a thick wad of cloth. Instead of coming off, the soap simply made the mess runnier and—if possible—smellier. Now it smelt like poo with top notes of harsh chemical.
Cursing, he held his knee to the air dryer for a while, spreading the stench of the muck around the confined space. He apologised to the other guy at the sink, who wrinkled his nose and left.
Helena grimaced as he sat down, and offered him a sip of her drink. He suggested they continue their walk, and she nodded. They walked outside, the stink following them, and bumped into Colin, who wasn’t alone.
‘What have we here, then?’ Adam asked, introducing Helena to Lauren.
‘He was very persistent,’ Lauren said, rolling her eyes comically. Colin gave her a playful shove. It seemed they’d already become comfortable with one another.
‘Thought we’d come for a wee walk,’ Colin said. ‘What happened to your knee?’
‘He fell foul of dog excrement,’ Helena answered.
‘Nasty.’ Colin pulled a face. ‘You going home now?’
‘We we’re going to go for a walk too.’ Helena said.
‘We could make up a foursome?’ Colin suggested.
Adam moved slightly behind Helena and shook his head, holding up his ring finger. Before Colin could reply, Lauren spoke.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be in work today, Adam?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Adam said.
‘The rota got changed. Didn’t you get the email? Shirley was sick and Freddie jacked it in, so you were needed today, I think.’ She pulled out her phone and scrolled through some emails, before holding it up to him. ‘You’re supposed to start at 1.’
‘Balls,’ he said, checking his watch. He only had an hour to get home, get changed and get to Baldwin’s. Lauren apologised for being the bearer of bad news.
‘Sorry,’ he said to Helena, before bidding goodbye to Lauren and Colin and hightailing it back to the car.
Heavy traffic and slow walkers combined to make Adam late for work. He’d checked his watch nervously as he’d tried to shuffle his way past the walking dead of Stonebridge, and had decided that if he was going to be late, which he was, he’d simply slope onto the shop floor and pretend that he wasn’t late at all—that’d he’d been here for a while and had forgotten to sign in.
Sadly, that plan was highjacked by Kyle, who was standing by the escalator looking at his own, much more expensive watch. Adam tried to glide past him on the moving stairs, but Kyle beckoned him back, causing Adam to have to walk backwards one step each time the stairs moved to keep stationary.
‘What time do you call this?’ he asked, as Adam lapsed into a sort of mechanical moonwalk.
‘1:03pm.’
‘And what time am I paying you from?’
‘1pm.’
‘Hmmm, that leaves me in a quandary,’ Kyle said, adopting a pensive look. ‘What to do? What to do?’
‘Don’t pay me for those three minutes,’ Adam suggested.
‘No, no. I’m an honest man and I’d rather give you the money than not.’
‘There’s no problem, then, is there?’ Adam said, his mood darkening. He stopped treading the steps and let them sweep him up to the next floor. He stored his stuff in his locker and made his way to ladieswear, where he began mindlessly folding and hanging the clothes that had been abandoned after being tried on in the changing rooms.
He didn’t have to be here. The job was a cover to get information about Kyle’s involvement with Gerald Agnew, and he could jack it in right now. Tell the boss where to stick his job and his precious three minutes.
But, upon reflection, he felt like he hadn’t made the most of the opportunities he’d been handed to their full potential. He had a wealth of workers here who knew Kyle better than most, and he’d barely spoken to any of them. Most employees had some sort of gripe against their boss, and it was time to exploit that.
For the rest of his shift, he broke the mould. He walked around, doing what he needed to do, but had a couple of insightful chats at the same time.
Tina in cookery implied Kyle had a temper.
Alison in home electronics conceded that, once, she’d heard Kyle scream at an employee in his office because his coffee was delivered cold.
Konrad in gardening cast a few furtive glances around, before telling Adam that Kyle was a straight-up… four letter word. Adam blushed as he thanked him for his insight.
It was helpful stuff, but then something occurred to him. Lauren would surely be a fount of knowledge—everyone bitched about their boss. He made a beeline for the back room, but Lauren’s desk was empty. He made a mental note to catch her at some stage, and headed back to the shop floor.
And, as time ticked toward his shift ending, Adam felt a bit better. He had a background now, and he fully believed that Kyle had something to do with Gerald’s death. It was too suspicious that the year he got picked to be Santa for the store, something bad happened to him. Especially when taking his chequered history into consideration.
Now, he just needed hard evidence.
On his way out, Kyle stopped him and apologised for being pedantic that afternoon. Stress, he said. This time of year always got to him. Adam held up a placating hand and told him he knew how it was, and not to worry, and that he was sorry for his tardiness. He started towards the door, before turning back.
‘I’m assuming the Santa position is up for grabs now?’
‘You’re a bit young, son,’ Kyle laughed, and Adam joined in, though it was a feeble attempt at humour.
‘My granda said he might be interested, depending on the moolah.’
‘Ah, sadly, we don’t pay. Tom did it for two decades and was glad to do it for the pride of saying he was the Baldwin Santa.’
‘Grand. It’s just, I heard Gerald was getting some money for it.’
‘Who told you that?’ Kyle asked, tersely.
‘Can’t remember.’
‘Look,’ he said, softening. ‘We didn’t want it getting out, but we were paying Gerald to see if we could get him off the street. You know what they say about charity?’
‘It begins at home?’
‘Well, that, too. But I meant, if you broadcast it, it ain’t charity. That’s why we kept it quiet.’
He slapped Adam’s face, twice. The first was light and playful and the second had a bit of venom behind it, or so it seemed. Perhaps Adam imagined it, but his cheek certainly stung as he made his way out into the darkening street.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Adam said.