Chapter Four
Only that morning, the sales assistants of the garden centre were told by their manager that for every item they sold they would receive a ten per cent commission in an attempt to get them to get off their backsides and do more selling, so when the residents of Buttons Court came queuing up at the tills, their trollies piled high with goods the assistants eyes were bulging. They could not believe their rare good fortune. ‘I bet Terry will be like well fed up that she called in sick after her like bender last night,’ one of them would later say in the staffroom.
James was at the back of the queue with just some gold beads, two flat plastic Santa stained-glass effect ornaments and a sign saying ‘Santa Stop Here’ on it for that was all that was left after the recent scavenge. Ahead, right at the front, were Pauline and Bessie, both of their trollies jam packed and he watched as they eagerly handed over their credit cards. It took a good twenty minutes to scan through all of their items and after nearly an hour James was at last handing over his card to pay for his few meagre items. He typed in his pin number and the middle aged woman bagged the goods before handing them over with an ecstatic grin.
Now the residents had packed out the coffee shop. At first it seemed that they were, at last, all on talking terms again but as James neared, he realised that actually they were all just boasting about what they had bought.
‘Four hundred pounds I spent so it looks like it’s going to be me who wins the door competition, sorry you lot but it’s going to be me,’ Pauline bragged.
Yet the others did not give up that easily. They may not have had that amount of money to throw away but Bessie fought back by saying, ‘Well I bet I can present it better than you. You got all that but what will it look like once you’ve put it all outside your door?’
‘It will look better than the Co-op’s grotto,’ Pauline snapped back.
James sat down with Paul, Rose, Phoebe and Marge with a cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake. Marge was sitting next to him, ‘What did you buy?’ she asked. James told her.
‘Yeah, I didn’t get much either but I did get this.’ Bending forward she picked up a carrier bag and lifted it to the table, her bone thin arms clear for all to see and the loose skin that now shivered with the effort. She pulled down the sides of the bag to reveal a small silver reindeer. It was laying on its stomach with its back and antlers covered in a snowflake effect. Marge looked at it admiringly, her eyes sparkling. Clearly she had fallen in love with this creature and couldn’t wait to get it home.
‘That would look lovely outside your door,’ James said.
‘Outside my door?! You must be joking, he’s coming in with me and I know just where I am going to put him. I wouldn’t put him outside, not with all ‘them’ others who come out, ringing doorbells and what for. No, someone might nick him.’
James smiled. ‘Looks like this friend isn’t just for Christmas,’ he said.
‘No, he’s going to sit in front of my telly where I can see him,’ she said beaming at it anew.
James sipped at his tea and ate his cake. Paul and Rose were opposite him and were in the middle of a conversation. Sasha, however, was on the other side of the coffee room with Pauline and Bessie and, if he wasn’t mistaken, appeared to be in a bit of a sulk.
Rose’s mobile phone went off, vibrating against the surface of the table. She picked it up and read the text message. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘What?’ Paul asked.
‘It’s my Dad, he said he can pop in tomorrow morning to judge the doors at about nine or it’ll have to be at about six in the evening because he has a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon.’
James thought for a moment. It would be a good idea to judge the doors in the morning because then it would be done when the building was quiet and there wouldn’t be any arguing.
‘I think the morning is a good idea, and then maybe you could gather everyone together to announce the winner in the evening. Maybe your dad could pop back and announce it?’
Rose texted him back but the reply wasn’t good. ‘He’ll only come up the once, what about, he’ll judge it at nine and then we can see if we can hold him there until about ten, half ten and get everyone up then?’
‘Sounds good but what do you mean by ‘we’? I’m off to Devon this evening; I don’t want to waste any more of my holiday if that’s OK?’
The manager’s face looked disappointed and then she suggested, ‘What if you stay for the announcement and then leave for Devon?’
James felt he could not refuse.
A Shenanigans Tale: War, Tape and Tinsel Page 3