by Helen Allan
“But that’s just it, he’s not a person,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I should have thought of that, it might kill an elf.”
I roll my eyes.
“Just go get your stuff, stay at the Monroes’ and have fun,” I laugh, “I’ll take Kris home with me, he’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
As she leaves to join the family waiting for her in the car outside, I walk to the bathroom and knock again.
“Kris, I’m going to lock the shop up early and take you home with me.”
“No. I’m fine, Holly,” he groans, “you need the money, stay open.”
“No,” I shake my head, “there’s only a week until Christmas, and already our takings have doubled from this time last year; closing a few hours early won’t hurt.”
There is no answer for a time, then retching, but eventually he comes out, his brow beaded with sweat.
“Sapphire feels terrible,” I try not to laugh as I contemplate his sorry expression. “She’s worried you might die.”
He raises an eyebrow and snorts.
“She got me good, and now I have to up my game.”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” I roll my eyes, “c’mon.”
“We might have to stop on the way if I feel like throwing up,” he warns as we reach the front door and I lock the shop for the day.
“I know.” I keep my back to him as I check the locks, trying to master a straight face before I turn around. But obviously, not succeeding.
“Are you laughing at me, Holly?” he narrows his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I burst out laughing, “but if you could have heard the noises coming from that bathroom…”
“Woman, don’t make me put you on my naughty list,” he growls, turning for the car.
“And just what would that entail?” I laugh.
“I’m tempted to show you,” he grumbles as he gets into the passenger seat and grips his stomach, “but I’m not up to the task at this point.”
“Something to look forward to then,” I quip, as I pull off the kerb and into the slow traffic.
“Indeed,” he murmurs.
The way he says it makes my knees tremble.
“Don’t be silly,” I remonstrate him for the hundredth time, “the master suite is the only one with an en suite, and given you are basically living on the toilet,” I control my smirk, as he reluctantly sits down on the bed, “you need to sleep here tonight. Now I’m going downstairs to get you some water and dry crackers, so just rest.”
Spent from a day of vomiting and diarrhoea, he nods his head and, argument over, lays down on the bed.
I can’t help but admire his physique, even in this condition, as I turn to give him a quick look before leaving the room.
‘Imagine waking up to something like that in your bed, whooee. Tracy Upshot, I’ve never envied you more.’
I shake my head as I make my way to the kitchen. Tracy was just one of dozens of women who had probably woken up with Kris in their bed in the past few weeks.
‘I suppose I better ask him when I get back upstairs if there’s anyone he’d like to call. Maybe he would prefer being nursed by one of his lady friends.’
The thought annoys me, but I know it shouldn’t.
Standing in the kitchen, I prepare a small bowl of plain crackers and pour a cold glass of water. I know he would want sugar sprinkled on the crackers usually, the strange man, but I don’t think that is the best thing for a stomach upset. Seeing the food, I realise I haven’t eaten all day either, the sound of his retching having put me off placing anything near my mouth. Now though, I am hungry, so I prepare another bowl of crackers for me, with a little cheese, and another glass of water.
Placing the whole lot on a tray, I turn to make my way back upstairs, just as the front doorbell rings.
Frowning, I place the tray down and make for the door. I’m not expecting anyone, but my parents’ friends have been stopping by of late for updates on how they are going and when they might return.
But it’s not a friend of my parents standing on the doorstep.
“Louis!” I bound into his arms, all thoughts of arguments forgotten, as I squeeze him tight.
“I went by the shop,” he says, hugging me back, “and found it closed.”
“Oh, yeah,” I release him, but clasp his hand to drag him inside, as I try to think of a reason for closing early, one that doesn’t entail starting a fight about a certain employee. “I just needed a little time,” I shrug, “but,” I turn and hug him again as he drops his backpack onto the carpet, “what are you doing here? You still have another three weeks left of your holiday?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he sighs. “I could do with a drink by the way.”
“Oh, uh, sorry,” I turn and make my way to the kitchen with him trailing behind. His tone is demanding, cold, or maybe I just remember him differently, “obvious why?” I ask as I stand in front of the fridge, my back to him.
‘Is this where he tells me he missed me too much? That Europe wasn’t the same without me? That he loves me more than anything?”
“I had to come back to sort this elf problem out before you got your parents’ business into hot water.”
‘Guess not.’
I turn slowly, but notice he is not looking at me, he is staring at the tray on the bench, the tray with two portions of food, two drinks.
“Is someone staying here with you?” he asks quietly.
“Of course,” I shrug, ‘oh shit’ “I told you Sapphire was with me.”
“I’d like to see her, I haven’t seen her since last Christmas,” he says, taking the drink from me and looking me in the eye.
‘He’s giving me that lawyer, cross-examine look. Play it cool, play it cool.’
“She’s just ducked up the road to the Monroes’ house,” I say quietly, “I think she’s likely to spend the night there.”
“And the tray,” he nods to it.
“Habit,” I shrug, looking to put an end to the conversation by wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Holly,” he shakes his head. But whatever he is going to say is interrupted by a bump from upstairs. Without another word, he pulls my arms from him and strides from the kitchen.
“Louis, wait, it’s not what you think,” I shout after him, but he’s taking the stairs two at a time, and I have to rush to catch up. I reach the landing seconds too late, as I hear shouts and the sound of a crash from my parents’ room, the suite I had been staying in, the suite I had put Kris in. Rushing into the room, I see Kris holding his jaw, his eyes dark with rage, and Louis sagged against the wall opposite, shaking his head to clear it, his nose streaming blood.
“Oh, Jesus, Louis, you idiot. It’s not what you think,” I shout, running to him.
“Save it,” he sneers, pushing me away and rising with difficulty, “you’ve lied to me enough.”
“One more word,” Kris growls, wiggling his jaw back and forth to loosen it where Louis had obviously punched him.
“Shut your mouth,” Louis mutters, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his nose.
“Louis, that’s enough,” I snap, hands on hips, “you’re behaving like a jealous child. How dare you assault my friend?”
“Friend? Friend? You said he was an employee. Now I find him here, in your bedroom – what is this Holly, employees with benefits? I flew down here to help you, but you obviously don’t need any help.”
“Louis please, if you will let me explain.”
“Save it,” he shoulders past me and takes a wide berth around Kris as he makes for the door. “It’s over, we’re over.”
“What?” my voice breaks in anguish.
“I met someone in Paris,” he says, turning to look at me from the doorway, “I was going to spare you the news until after Christmas, but you obviously don’t deserve that courtesy. I’ll see myself out.”
I stand rooted to the spot, tears streaming down my face as he leaves, the front door slamming behind him. My heart feels like it’s breaking. I’m shocked, appalled even, at the violence and the coldness in Louis’ eyes. Standing like a statue, Kris by my side, I look down at my feet and try to process what just happened.
Kris reaches his hand out to me, but groans suddenly, lurching for the bathroom.
Sniffing, I wipe my eyes on my arm and walk on autopilot back down to the kitchen, still too stunned to speak. Like a robot, I step to the freezer and add a packet of frozen peas to the tray I had prepared earlier, before making my way back upstairs.
The bathroom door is still open when I get back, and I find him sitting on the floor, back against the cool tiles, eyes closed.
“I’m so sorry, Kris,” I sigh as I sit down beside him, putting the tray on the floor nearby and pressing the bag of frozen peas to his jaw.
“Not at all,” he says, putting his hand over mine, “I should be the one apologising.”
“No,” I shake my head, “but you have to believe me, I had no idea Louis would act so crazy, flying back here, hitting you. He’s never done anything like this before, I can’t understand what got into him.”
“Can’t you?” he murmurs, opening his eyes and noticing the tray. “I imagine a man would go a long way to keep you by his side, Holly.”
He takes a long drink of water and carefully places the empty glass back on the tray.
“He could have been by my side,” I mutter, “he could have made the decision to stay and help me, here, when I needed him the most...” I stop, ashamed that I’d voiced such a selfish thought, one that I only allowed to circulate in my head late at night, when I was alone and upset.
“Yes, he could have,” he nods, “and he should have.”
“No, I’m just,” I blush, look down at my feet, embarrassed that I’d said too much.
He raises my chin with his finger, searches my eyes.
“Never be embarrassed to ask for what you need, Holly, for what you want.”
I notice his eyes darken as he speaks, and my breath hitches.
“Kris…” I stare into his eyes, so warm, so close. Without realising what I’m doing, I lean into him as he slowly slides his hand behind my neck and pulls me towards him, kissing me oh-so-gently on the lips. It’s a sweet kiss, just a peck, really, but his lips are soft and warm, and it’s a kiss I’d like to take further. All of me wants to be comforted, to find some salve to all my stress and hurt in his arms. But I know that’s not right. I need time, time to consider what just happened, mourn what I have lost, time to readjust.
“It’s too soon,” I murmur, drawing away from him, tears again springing to my eyes. “Louis and I were together for two years. I can’t believe he cheated on me, he knows how I feel about being faithful, it’s like, the very worst thing he could ever do. I can’t believe we are over…”
“It’s better to find out now, surely,” he murmurs as he releases me and turns so that we are sitting side by side, our hips and arms still touching, “than to be like your sister.”
“How did you..?”
“Sapphire told me,” he says quietly.
“God, no wonder Stacey always liked Louis,” I sob, leaning my head against his shoulder, “she probably didn’t even consciously recognise that he was just like Roger, her cheating bastard husband.”
“Louis might have been bluffing,” he says quietly, “he was hurt seeing me here and reacted accordingly. He may have felt he needed to say there was someone else, to wound you.”
“Well, it worked,” I sniff, “and regardless, like he said, we are over.”
“Take some time, think it over,” he sighs. “Now, come on.” Rising, he takes my hand, drawing me from the bathroom, into the bedroom. “Rest. You’ve had a long, long day and you need to sleep, you’re dead on your feet.”
“So are you,” I laugh half-heartedly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone vomiting as much as you have today.”
“And let’s not forget the diarrhoea,” he mutters, shaking his head as he leads me to the bed. “Lay down, close your eyes, forget about it all. I have a feeling I won’t need the bed. If you don’t mind, I’ll spend a little longer in the bathroom.”
“Sure, of course,” I nod, laying down as I am told. “I’ll have a little rest. I’ll stay close, so if you need anything, you can just wake me.”
“I won’t wake you, Holly,” he says gently, “if I need something, I’ll get it myself. Stop putting others ahead of yourself.”
“Of my elf, you mean,” I laugh quietly, emotional exhaustion and the long day at work finally taking its toll.
“Yes,” he sighs, “your elf.’
It isn’t long before sleep claims me. But my sleep is restless.
I live through long rambling scenarios where I run and run, chasing after Louis, calling for him, my eyes blinded by tears, only to find, when he eventually turns, that it is not Louis at all that I was chasing, but Kris, or my mother, or Sapphire. It’s as though all my fears and stress rolls into one big, long nightmare, broken here and there by strong arms that wrap around me, the steady feel of a heartbeat beneath my cheek, and a deep, smooth voice that tells me to calm, that it’s only a dream, as cool lips press to my forehead. Then I dream of walking hand-in-hand with a man, touring art galleries, of bowls of candy, and a happy family surrounding a Christmas tree. And there’s Kris making everyone laugh.
In the morning, I wake and lie for a long time, staring at the ceiling, bone-tired and wrung out like an old dishcloth, remembering my nightmares, and the interspersed dreams. It’s only later as I make the bed and find a stray pompom, that I realise not all of it might have been a dream.
11
KRIS
I lean on the wall of the shower as the hot water pelts down my back and shake my head.
This woman, this human woman, has worked her way under my skin to the point where I feel like she’s with me, even when she’s not. It’s like I can sense her all around me, smell her, feel her.
And last night, kissing her, holding her as she slept… I shake my head to dispel the memory, and turn off the taps. It had felt more right than anything else had since I’d plummeted down to this realm, or even, I realise as I dry myself, anything back home.
“Christ,” I swear, thumping the tiled wall and grimacing as I aggravate knuckles already sore from punching her dickhead of a boyfriend, “if she’d never put on that fucking elf suit.”
The sprites giggle.
“Shut up,” I groan, “and yes, I know it was before that. But that suit…Jesus, she is everything and more than I could ever want, more than I ever asked for. But,” I growl, “she could cost me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I look in the mirror, working my jaw left and right where a dark bruise is forming.
“I’m going home,” I say out loud, to convince myself more than anything, “I’m going to take on the top job, marry Aurora, forget this ever happened.”
One of the sprites spits out a wad of gum and throws it at me, hitting me on the side of the head.
“You are a little asshole,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at the one responsible, and seeing it is pregnant. “And when we get back to the pole, you all need to go your own ways. I’ve had a gutful.”
Several look at me with big, solemn eyes, others with sly grins, and I shake my head. We all know if they want to stay, they stay. And Christ knows I’m one of the unlucky few who seem to attract the little bastards.
“Why do you stay with me?” I frown, “why are you so loyal? I’ve told you half a hundred times you should have stayed on the pole and not followed me here. And why did you throw that at me, you disgusting little prick?” I growl as I attempt to pull the gum from my hair.
But I don’t need an answer, I know. They like Holly. They like Sapphire, and they like it down here among the humans.
As do I.
<
br /> But what of her? Sure, she’d returned my kiss, but she was upset and on the rebound. And that kiss, her sweet, soft lips. She tasted so fantastic, Jesus, I’d had to control every urge not to take her there on the bathroom floor as she gazed at me with her soft blue eyes. And she’s single now…’
“Shit,” I run my hands through my hair roughly, my emotions warring with my intellect, and realise I’m going to have to cut the gum out of my hair.
The sprites continue to giggle.
“Shit.”
12
HOLLY
I sit on the sofa and take a deep breath before returning the call, it’s been a long, long day at the shop, my feet are aching, and I am three glasses down and into the start of a second bottle of white.
Tonight is my first night by myself in months. Sapphire’s next door staying with the Monroe cousins again, and I am doing what Kris said, and ‘loving myself’ – giving myself permission to just take a break and try to consider my future as a single woman.
Well, I had been.
I’m not now, because Stacey had phoned while I was in the bath soaking and sipping wine and crying a little, and now, PJ’d and liquored up, I’m calling her back – and I’m planning on giving her a piece of my mind about this whole custody bullshit-shemozzle Sapphire had overheard.
“Oh, thank God,” she says by way of hello, “I’ve rung like three times.”
“You’ve rung once, Stace,” I sigh, putting my feet up on the chaise and picturing a certain man at the other end, my feet in his hands, “the phone registers any missed calls.”
“Well,” she huffs, “it felt like three. Where are you?”
“What do you mean where am I? I’m at home looking after the shop and your kid, which is what I want to talk to you about.”
“Good, good,” she sighs, “I thought for a moment that Sapphire hadn’t given you my message.”
“What message?” I frown.
“Oh, for the love of…” she huffs, “the message that I won’t be coming home to spend Christmas with her because I’m going to New York for Mum’s operation.”