Chapter Thirteen Ghosts of Christmas Past

Chapter thirteen

Ghosts of Christmas Past

The week leading up to Christmas Eve flew by in a whirlwind, blowing an unexpected spiral of warmth around Jayden in the middle of winter.

Each day, he’d watched Rick don the padded layers making up his Santa suit while shedding the ones he’d built around his heart. It was mesmerising. Rick had zest . And along with every new child’s laughter sitting on his knee and asking him to please, please bring them this, that or the other, Rick immersed himself more into character. He’d become the festive cheer. Embraced the season to be merry. Along with all the bells and whistles, Rick was Father Christmas. And whilst Jayden suspected he wasn’t doing it all for the twinkling eyes of those he handed out presents to, but more for him, the warmth settling on his heart had become all too addictive to worry about it. Because each time Rick winked at him, it was as if he were asking for his approval . Peacocking for his attention . Seeing if he could make Jayden smile just that little bit more. Indent his dimples to cavernous pits.

Jayden’s jaw ached.

From smiling .

Dirty mind.

And after each long day filled with handing out gifts to eager children, they spent their evenings together. Rick had accompanied Jayden back to his Halls so he could gather up clothes and the dissertation he absolutely would make a start on, then took them back to Rick’s so he would stay the night.

The dissertation remained untouched.

He, however, did not.

For three glorious nights.

It wasn’t all rolling around on a fourposter bed of an evening, though. They’d also decorated Rick’s flat together, given his out-dated Christmas tree a glow up, which, yeah okay, had resulted in Rick wrapping Jayden in glittering tinsel, tying his arms together with it and dragging him into the bedroom. That had been a good night. But they were also sort of…dating.

Rick had taken him ice skating beneath the glimmering backdrop of Somerset House, which, rather surprisingly, Rick was quite good at. Jayden, sadly, wasn’t. He hadn’t been ice skating in, like,…ever. But Rick glided along the ice as graceful as a swan on a lake to the point Jayden asked him if he’d done any Ice Capades in his career. Rick remained tight-lipped on that, but he’d interlaced his hand with his, aiding him to take his first circle on a frozen stage, and Jayden forgot to press for more. Because it was nice. Not nice… romantic . Like when they’d roamed the Christmas market around Trafalgar Square and shared a mulled wine with roasted chestnuts and watched the families buying gifts and trinkets for loved ones. Jayden found another thing to feel sad about then. Not for being there with Rick, but how he’d missed out on so much because he hadn’t had the same childhood experiences everyone else had. Rick seemed intuitive about that. And everything else. As though he understood why Jayden went quiet. Insular. Or overly clingy. Or anything else he unconsciously did because of insecurity.

Rick was beginning to look a lot like… perfection

He also took Jayden shopping . With the pretence he’d needed to buy gifts for his family back home, they left their own shopping mall, detoured past Rick’s flat to wander the parts of London Jayden avoided. Regent Street, Bond Street and onto Knightsbridge, where they “popped into” Harrods for some late night Christmas shopping. Who pops into Harrods as if it’s their local Co-op? Those who didn’t have to check the extortionate price tags before they took whatever it was to the counter. Those who didn’t baulk at the sky-high prices for a bottle of hand lotion.

But beside Rick, Jayden didn’t feel out of place. Or unwanted. Or, what was more the norm, suspicious . The staff looked at him differently when he meandered alongside a thespian in a trench coat. They looked at him like a customer and not a young ruffian ready to swipe the first thing that fit inside his puffer coat and make a run for it.

He felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman .

Without the sex for cash thing.

With Jayden’s assistance, Rick purchased the luxury hand cream set for his mum and a golf gift set for his dad, and it felt almost normal . Like what couples did at Christmas. What conventional people did. Those who had loved ones and not a smattering of people associated by misery and neglect. And the nights spent in Rick’s bed made up for all those things. There, they created their own unique brand of magic. Fighting every instinct he had not to flee, Jayden cocooned himself in Rick’s flat, unravelling himself with every touch Rick honoured him with. They were still in the throes of exploration—discovering their likes and dislikes—and Rick hadn’t tried to take things faster, content to go at a slower pace. Jayden couldn’t lie though, he was getting on the antsy side, wanting nothing more than to have Rick inside him. But so wrapped up in whatever Rick was doing to him—kissing, stroking, licking sucking, teasing —he’d lost the ability to voice what he wanted.

Besides, he’d long since learned that it didn’t matter what he craved. Getting it was always for other people.

So he kept his mouth shut and let Rick decide how their bodies fit together.

Well, not completely shut.

He still cried out Rick’s name when he tongue fucked him.

And right then, nestled in the grotto on the day before Christmas Eve, Jayden watched Rick conversing with a little girl on his knee, ho ho hoing, her asking him to please, please bring her a mermaid art set and Rick’s subtle check with the mother that she’d already wrapped it ready to put under the tree so he could make the promise to her in confidence, with a medley of emotions swirling inside him as if they were the tinsel wrapped around each branch of the fake tree. Because the weight of the unspoken question lingered between them, as potent as the gingerbread and spiced cinnamon from the scented candles sold on the stall opposite.

What happened when the Grotto closed?

What happened once Christmas was all wrapped up? When the cardboard set got put away for another year? What happened to them ? Those were the questions he’d never wanted to think about. Because it was always him who was disappointed on Christmas morning.

But for some stupid, pathetic reason, he’d given himself hope . A word that was never brandished around the care home beyond the age of fourteen. Because hope of finding a forever home vanished once puberty hit.

“Remember to leave a little something out for me tomorrow night.” Rick’s Santa ripped him from his thoughts as he poked the little girl’s nose. “A glass of prosecco, perhaps.” Rick winked at the mother.

“A whole bottle would be nice,” the mother said, steering her little one away from Rick to where Jayden stood by the velvet curtain.

Jayden handed the little girl a candy cane, then draped the curtain shut behind their exit.

“I think you’re getting into this,” Jayden said, moving closer to adjust Rick’s beard that had caught on the little girl’s braids.

“Might be.” Rick ghosted his hands up the back of Jayden’s thighs. “Certainly enjoy getting into this .” He squeezed his arse, fake whiskers tickling Jayden’s ear.

Was it weird to be turned on by a man in a Santa outfit?

Don’t answer that.

“Naughty Santa,” Jayden drawled, and supposed it wasn’t any weirder than getting turned on by a bloke in an all-green elf onesie. “You may get into that later.”

“ May I, now?” Rick raised his eyebrows, which were the only part of actual Rick Jayden could see right then, eyes covered by fake glass spectacles.

Jayden adjusted his hat, flicking the dangling little bell with his thumb and forefinger. “Think it’s about time I got to sit on your lap.”

“It’s free now.” Rick tapped his legs.

“Yeah, but I wanna bounce up and down on your candy cane.”

Rick spluttered. “Well, if that’s the case. How about we ditch the sleigh and you ride me instead?”

Jayden laughed and maybe it was the costume, the beard, wig, the full on ensemble making Rick look like Santa that made him appear so much more playful, cheeky, that it had Jayden momentarily forgetting the rules of dating—never say what you’re feeling.

“S’pose I better get on it before the holiday season is over and the candy canes go away for another year.”

For a moment, everything stalled. The bustle of the shopping mall behind the curtain fading as Jayden’s pulse pounded in his ears. He hadn’t meant to throw that out between them. But he’d needed to. Much like all those other times when he’d asked how long he’d be at his current placement. He knew there wasn’t a definitive answer. Promises couldn’t be made. Because they were always broken. But he needed to know. Know whether to unpack the contents of his bin liner this time.

But in Rick’s hesitation, there were a thousand outcomes, each one threatening to chip away at the fragile connection Jayden had foolishly allowed himself to make. Now he’d had a taste of what he could have, what felt good and right and comfortable, he didn’t want to give it up. He wanted to cling on. Not let go of Rick’s hand, the way he hadn’t let go of his when on the ice. Because if he had, Jayden would have skidded, fallen over and broken a rib.

This time, he might not break a bone, but his heart could be damaged in transit.

Rick didn’t have time to respond as two tiny little voices cooed from behind the curtain. “ Santa! Santa !”

The veil of character draped back over Rick and he returned to playing his role as well as he had any, and Jayden cleared his throat to skip to the curtain, lifting it to reveal two identical bundles of cuteness. Twins. Girls. Around five. Bunches held together in neat red bows, matching red velvet dresses with shiny black buckled shoes. Jayden smiled, inexplicable fondness drowning out the disappointment of Rick’s silence pricking at his heart.

“Hello!” Jayden put his hands on his hips, cocking his head in that elastic, playful Puck he’d perfected. “How did you two get past the barrier?”

“I’m sorry!” A mother, whom he assumed was their mother, rushed up from the grotto entrance to the workshop, exhaustion filtering out from her apology. “They ran ahead of me.”

“No worries!” Jayden smiled. “I expect you two are a little keen to see you know who .” He angled his head toward Rick. Or Santa, as it were.

“Yes, yes!” The girls jumped up and down in excitable glee. “Is he here? Is he here?”

“He is.” Jayden crouched to their height. “Have you been good this year?”

“Yes!” They looked up at their mum for confirmation.

“As good as they’ll ever be.”

Jayden chuckled, stood and opened the curtain. “Then step right this way.”

“My husband will be along in a minute,” the mum said. “The girls left the café in quite a mess. We normally go to see Santa at Winter Wonderland, but I’d heard some great things about this one.”

“Everything you’ve heard is true.” Jayden grinned and ushered her inside. “I’ll keep a lookout for your husband. Shall I assume a bit flustered?”

“Ha! Exactly right.” The woman walked through.

Jayden stood in the entrance to the workshop, back to the curtain so he could see the front of the grotto as the mum rushed over to Rick in a fluster as her girls were already causing havoc by picking up all the gifts and decorations.

“Girls, girls!” she warned as they tore around each other in circles like a tornado. “Don’t pull the place down!”

“Ho ho ho!” Rick did his Santa laugh, white-gloved hands resting on his knees. “You two are full of energy, eh?”

“Tell me about it.” The mum rolled her eyes. “Twins. Double the trouble.”

“Are you the real Santa?” one twin asked.

“Of course I am!” Rick dipped closer, lowering his round rimmed glasses. “The question is, are you the real…?” he glanced up at the mum.

“That one’s Madison,” the mum answered, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck.

“And I’m Morgan.” The other twin said, swishing from side to side so that their bunches tangled together.

“But are you the real Madison and…” Rick froze, blinking back a sudden realisation as Jayden watched the bubble surrounding him burst, him breaking character. “ Morgan ?” He glanced up to the mother, eyes widening beyond the fake lenses of Santa’s specs as if he’d set eyes on a ghost.

Jayden flicked his gaze to the woman. Her smile faded too, confusion spreading over stern features, followed by a flicker of equal recognition. Not a good one.

“Rick?” the mother growled, hands to her chest.

Before Rick could respond, a man joined Jayden at the entranceway.

“I think my girls are in there.” His strained politeness edged a spitefully posh voice as he dipped inside. “Ah, yes, here we are.”

The man smiled, a stunning vision in itself, dressed impeccably and clutching a couple of tatty soft toys in a leather gloved hand. Jayden had a recognition of his own. He knew this bloke, but couldn’t place where. The tendrils of memories were just beyond his reach.

“Georgia?” The man reached for his wife but Georgia, the mother, was already moving, maternal instincts glaring as she yanked her two daughters away from Rick, the cardboard set wobbling around the commotion.

“Get away from him!” She clutched each girl under her arms, voice laced with venom. “How dare you! You pervert !”

Jayden flinched at the ferocity of the accusation. Heavy and horrifying. What the hell was going on? Why was Rick just sitting there, staring, frozen still? And why was the dad now swallowing in dread as he assessed who was behind the Santa suit and the subject of his wife’s abhorrent hatred?

“Is there a problem?” Jayden let the curtain drape back to cut off the rest of the mall. If there was one word people didn’t want to hear coming from Santa’s grotto, it was ‘pervert’.

“Yes, there’s a fucking problem !” Georgia clutched the now sobbing girls, faces buried in their mother’s hips. “This man shouldn’t be anywhere near children !”

“Georgia. Keep your voice down…” her husband tried to temper her wrath but had to stop when she shot her glare at him. Fierce and unrelenting.

“No, Derek . He should not be allowed to do this .” She turned back to Jayden and her voice hit a furious crescendo, bouncing off the cardboard walls and drowning the tinkling, upbeat Christmas songs blasting nonstop since November. “I want to see management. Right now !”

“I’m sure there’s some mistake…” Jayden glanced over at Rick in hope he’d aid his own rescue.

He didn’t.

Sat there, an epitome of defeat, crumpling into the throne as if he’d always known he hadn’t belonged there, Rick sank. As though his layers of padding had burst. Sadness engulfed his dejected eyes, a replica of how they’d been when he’d walked into this grotto for the first time but now mixed with raw, piercing shame. Jayden wanted to reach out. Touch him. Shield him from the hurt and anger that couldn’t really be for him. It couldn’t.

How could it be?

“You should be careful.” Georgia raked her gaze up and down Jayden. “Just his type, you are. Young and vulnerable .” She sneered at Rick. “Does he want to be an actor, too?” She scoffed, then ripped her gaze from Rick as if he were a monster. “Do you even know who you’re working with? A fucking sex pest.”

“I think we should take this outside,” Jayden said, ushering Georgia and the girls out of the workshop. “I’ll call management.” He tried to make eye contact with Rick, to let him know he was on his side, that he’d sort out this mess, that he was there for him, but he refused to look up, training his focus on his boots as the husband, Derek, stared right at him.

“Leave, Derek ,” Rick spoke directly to the floor, a barricade going up and returning him to the man who’d shut the world away with drink and bitterness.

There wasn’t a damn thing Jayden could do about it.

* * * *

Within a few minutes, Emily arrived at the grotto.

In that time, Jayden had to apologise to those in the queue for the unexpected wait and attempt to convince Georgia to keep her voice down. She didn’t. She was on an erratic tirade of abuse to defame Rick. And although her husband tried to intervene, for the sake of the children, he offered no insight into where her accusations stemmed from.

The twins were in fits of sobs. And the queue of children gawped on in various degrees of apprehension. Who wanted to follow into a grotto where the children came out screaming in terror?

Rick didn’t emerge from the workshop either, and the knot of apprehension in Jayden’s chest tightened to suffocating levels.

He remembered where he knew the man from now. The husband. Derek Thompson. A stage actor. Jayden had seen him once or twice. One of those times had been in a play with Rick. He was younger—late twenties, perhaps early thirties. But the hissing and seething between him and his wife was clearly down to something that had happened with Rick during their time in the same company. Jayden couldn’t believe it was as bad as Georgia was making out. Calling him a sex pest just didn’t sit right. Not the Rick Jayden knew.

But her demands to see the management came under the policy of how the customer is always right. Sometimes they were wrong, though. Very, very wrong.

This had to be the case here.

The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Jayden wasn’t privy to the conversation that then occurred between the family and Emily. That happened in a far-off corner of the mall, away from prying ears. Even elf sized ones. So Jayden had to do his best to keep the queue of impatient families contained within their festive spirits, fashioning a few balloon animals and handing out candy canes, while placating the parents with varying degrees of, “This is nothing to worry about. We’ll be up and running again soon.”

He wasn’t sure if he was lying.

Emily saw the family off, out of the mall, her apology face firmly on, then she returned to Jayden, whispering in his ear. “We’re going to have to shut the grotto for the rest of the day.”

“What? Why ?” Jayden kept his voice low despite wanting to scream to the top of the star on the twenty foot Christmas tree how this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true .

“We have to take every complaint seriously. I need to do some digging.” She pulled out her mobile phone, scrolling then pressed it to her ear.

“What do I tell this lot?” Jayden angled his head to the queue.

“Tell them Santa is sick.”

“Is he?”

“He might well be.” She gave a pointed look before moving away, speaking into the phone, “Marianne, glad I caught you.”

Jayden swallowed the thick knot of dread in his throat, then remembered what his old drama teacher had once said: no matter what’s going on inside, the outside must project character! So he reached for his inner elf and gave the families the bad news without letting on about his own fluctuating turmoil.

The crowds dispersed with promises that they’d have a new time slot, and Emily returned as Jayden saw off the last customer. She had a pained look on her face. One that didn’t spell misunderstanding .

“Did you know?” Emily asked, wiping her forehead the way one might if they had a stress headache.

“Know what?”

Emily leaned in, lowering her voice. “That Rick was a… sexual deviant .”

Jayden drew in a breath, absolutely enraged. “Do you mean because he’s gay ?”

“No!” Emily shook her head. “No. God, no.” She squeezed Jayden’s arm. “I know he’s gay. As I know you are. I am, too! What I mean is, he’s a sexual predator .”

“I don’t believe that.”

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can’t have someone like that working with children .”

“What’s he supposed to have done?” Jayden’s voice quaked with fear. This could not be true, but the shred of doubt creeped in, regardless.

“He was caught in a precarious situation with a fellow actor. One much younger and vulnerable. Not even gay . Said he was forced .”

“That’s…that has to be a lie. It can’t be true. Not Rick .”

“Do we really ever know anyone? I just wish Marianne had been honest when she recommended him…” Emily glanced off in her own thoughts.

“He’s not a…he’s not what you think he is. He’s decent .” Jayden couldn’t help but jump to his defence. “He’s kind. Considerate. He wouldn’t force himself on anyone! I know he wouldn’t!”

Emily looked at him. “Has he…have you…? Oh, Jayden, have you and he?”

“It was consensual!” More than consensual. Jayden couldn’t recount how many times Rick had asked for his permission. He’d checked over and over with him if it was okay to touch him, to kiss him, to lick him.

To put his fingers in him.

“Oh, Jayden, you give me no choice now.”

“What? I just said it was consensual .”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s taken advantage of you.”

“No! No, he hasn’t!”

“I can’t let that go, Jayden. I’ve no choice.”

Rick emerged from the workshop, Santa suit shed, along with the light and sparkle switched off as if it were January and engulfing Jayden in those midwinter blues. “No need to make the choice, Emily. I’ll leave.”

Emily slipped out of the way to allow him to exit the grotto.

“Rick?” Jayden’s voice cracked, a plea woven through his urgency. “This can’t be true ?”

“Can’t it?”

“No! I know you.”

“Sometimes the truth isn’t what people want to hear. It doesn’t really matter in the end what’s real and what isn’t. What matters is who has the loudest voice and the higher platform to project it from.” Rick buttoned up his coat, boots clunking on the mall’s freshly cleaned floor as Jayden watched him leave, heart lodged in his throat.

“No.” Jayden shook his head, disbelief raging through him like an inferno. But then more pressing matters hit him. He still needed this job . “What’ll happen now? With the grotto?”

“Unless I can find a new Santa, it’ll close.” Emily squeezed his arm. “Come back in the morning and we’ll sort out the wages.”

Jayden watched Emily leave, heart in as many tatters as the decorations hanging from the dishevelled grotto.