Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

User 5639.Male. 47.

Help me, please. I’ve got a Christmas party with people at work today, and nobody to take with me. I’ve got nobody here, in London. No friends, no family, no anything, and I can’t face turning up there alone.

I’ve got practically no money, and I’m sorry about that. I really am.

I just need some help if you can give it to me. Just a little bit of time to help me out. Nothing more than a few hours at a party. Call it charity. Please.

Proposal price – £30.

Duration – 3 hours.

I almost wishI’d said no when the bleep of the alarm starts ringing out. My eyes will barely open, I’m so bloody tired, but I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, putting as much effort into User 5639 as any other proposal, the payout irrelevant.

I wear a posh black satin number which comes just shy of my knees, and a dainty little garnet pendant around my neck – the same colour as my lipstick. I re-curl my hair, and choose some mid heel shoes to make a good work party impression. Yeah, that should do it. One final twirl in the mirror, and I’m off.

I get a cab to Central Parade shopping centre, and whoa, the street outside is heaving with shoppers, bustling like mad. But amidst the Christmas chaos, almost everyone ignoresthe people sitting in the entrance, begging for cash in sleeping bags. I watch as the security guards start to move them on, and I wish I could get involved. It breaks my heart to see. But I have a charity engagement of my own to get to, and the clock is ticking fast. I’ll help these people on the way out, I promise myself. I’ll withdraw more cash if I use all mine at the proposal event.

Arrived,I click when I’m in through the main entrance.

Santa’s grotto, the reply comes. Wait there. Don’t worry. I’ll recognise you.

Santa’s grotto… I look for the signs, and there is one up ahead. A snowman with a twig arm as a pointer. Cute. I look at him with a smile, with his carrot nose and his coal eyes. I used to love snowmen when I was a kid. I’m looking at his bright blue buttons when I see the placard underneath. A charity logo. The grotto is a charity event, offering free presents in exchange for donations, all given to homeless families. I get a prickle of tears, thinking back to the helpless people outside, and try to banish the pain in my stomach. I have to get myself together. I have a date to attend to, and Holly needs to be at her best.

I’m glad when I see an ATM between a few shops. I take out a decent wedge of cash for a Santa’s grotto donation of my own, as well as some money for the people outside. It’s the least I can do.

Santa’s little home has a cute path leading up to it with artificial grass and snow. I have to let out a laugh as I see a big plastic Rudolph standing proudly outside, wrapped up in twinkling Christmas lights. I beam as I think of Josh snaring me in a similar set last night and kissing me under the mistletoe. I can’t wait to see him again when I get back from Australia. He’s a dream come true.

But for now, it’s time for User 5639…

I look around the place, trying to find him. Santa’s little house is just closing – the last few kids coming out and racing up to their parents, proudly showing off their new reindeer toys. I hand my donation to the woman dressed as an elf as she’s closing the fake gates, and she starts as she sees how much I’m giving her.

“There’s two hundred here! Are you sure?” she asks, and I nod, most definitely sure. I wish I’d have taken out a whole lot more when I see how her eyes light up. “Thank you. This kind of generosity makes so much difference to so many families.”

“I’m just glad I can help.”

She squeezes my arm. “So will the families that receive it be, I promise you that.”

Now for my next charity event of the day. I scan around the place as she carries on working, but there is no sign of anyone looking for me. I do a loop of the grotto and catch sight of Santa getting ready to leave, setting up his fake cabin room ready for a new round of activity tomorrow.

How amazing, and how generous. He really is a ho ho ho figure. His costume is awesome.

But, where the hell is User 5639?

I look up at the escalator, and back at the main shopping corridor, but nobody comes up to introduce themselves. I’m getting concerned I’ve got the venue wrong, all set to call up the app when a voice sounds out.

“Holly. Lovely to see you!”

I do a one-eighty, and no way. I have to blink. I stand open mouthed as the guy before me offers me a red and white gloved hand.

User 5639 is Santa. For real. He’s the guy in the grotto. I look him up and down, and his outfit is mega convincing. The white fur around his red coat looks so realistic, and his huge black belt is classic. Not to mention his beard. It covers half his face and trails all the way down to his chest.

He points to the toilet sign opposite.

“Give me a few minutes, will you, please? I’d better take my beard off, at least.”

I can barely see his face, but his eyes are rich, warm and dark, and his voice is deep and friendly. He’s sure in the mode of Santa Claus.

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Great, thank you.”

I don’t say anything to the woman still closing up the grotto, of course, but I do ask her if I can help as she switches the lights off on Rudolph. I help her re-align the blankets in Santa’s cabin, wondering what the hell is going on here.

I’m going out on a work date with Santa…

Except when Santa comes back, he’s definitely not Santa. He puts his outfit under the chair, out of sight, along with the pillows he must have stuffed under his jacket. His dark eyes are owned by a guy in a suit, clean shaven with dark grey side-parted hair, and he looks like he owns the whole damn shopping centre, rather than dressing up as Santa in it.

“Please to meet you, Holly. I can’t thank you enough for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, and shake his extended hand again, no gloves this time.

“Come along with me, please. There is a very good restaurant upstairs.”

“Is that where your work party is?” I ask him, and he looks down at me with a smile as we reach the escalator.

“Something like that.” He stands at my side as we ascend. “Do you know how many people I reached out to this morning?”

“No, I have no idea.”

His eyes are so bold on mine. “One hundred and fifty-seven.”

“One hundred and fifty-seven entertainers? Really?”

“Yes. And you’re the only one who accepted my proposal. Some people sent vulgar messages in response, in fact, and said they would report me to the agency.”

I don’t know what to say, so just stumble over an apology.

“I, um… I’m sorry about that. People are… busy sometimes.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says. “And people are selfish sometimes, not just busy. I was very keen to see who would accept such a last-minute cry for help.”

I look up at him. “I knew what you’d be going through. I’ve been there myself. Broke, with nobody to help. It’s a horrible feeling.”

“Humility and empathy are both beautiful qualities, Holly. Please don’t lose them, no matter how much you earn from your job role.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

He smiles as we step off the escalator on the next floor. “I saw you gave my little helper a very generous donation.”

“Not generous enough. I just didn’t have any more cash from the ATM. I need to grab another round, actually. There were people outside who need help.”

“Yes, there are. I told the security guards explicitly to leave them alone, but something must have gone wrong down the chain. They won’t be shoving people in need out of the way again.”

This is crazy. My eyes fix on his. My stupid observation must have been right – call it intuition, I guess.

“Yes, I own the shopping centre,” he says, clocking my expression. “The work party here is always my work party, so to speak. I own the restaurant I’m taking you to.”

I’m trying to make sense of things.

“So you don’t need help?”

“No, I don’t. But plenty of people do. Plenty of people are crying out for people with good souls, willing to help at short notice, no matter what the circumstances.”

I stay quiet, still unsure what the hell is going on as he directs me through to the restaurant Firenzo – it looks very grand. He directs me to a table, and I take a seat on one of the Chesterfield style stools, still mute as he hands me a menu.

“Time to be upfront. I’m going to do something for you, Holly,” he says, then laughs. “Call me kind of eccentric, but I like to channel my charity through many different outlets. Some outlets are like Santa’s grotto, some direct charity donations, some more time based. And some of my charity situations are completely off the wall. Which is why I sent so many of you a proposal this morning.”

“Ok,” I say. “And I responded. But I didn’t expect this, genuinely. I really thought you were a guy who needed my help.”

“Exactly, which is why I trust you’ll stay humble, and think carefully about what you do with the outcome.”

“The outcome?”

“I saw you are a new member of the agency.”

“Quite new, yes.”

“So, you’re still a fledgling. You said you know how it feels to need help.”

“Yeah, I do. Very much so. I was in a horrible situation when I came to London. Working long hours, with barely enough to live on. At least I had a room in a house, though. No matter how crappy it is. A lot of people in need don’t have that luxury.”

The waiter comes over, and User 5639 gestures me to order a drink. I go for an orange juice with a thank you. He chooses mineral water.

He leans towards me across the table.

“I’d like you to do me another favour,” he says, once the waiter is out of earshot. “I’ll be giving the agency plenty of money in fees over the coming months, but I’d rather you didn’t lose the twenty percent on this particular one.”

“On thirty pounds?” I say, and wave it aside. “Don’t worry, I don’t need payment for this at all, we can put it down as cancelled.”

“No, no. The agency are welcome to the fee on the thirty pounds. That’s not the money I’m talking about.”

I’m so confused now, it’s crazy.

“I’m not just giving you thirty pounds,” he answers. “I’m giving you thirty thousand.”

I drop my menu in shock.

“Sorry, what?!”

“Thirty thousand pounds,” he says casually. “That’s the reward I’ll be giving you for your generosity today. Please, choose to do with it as you will, but take it with my warm thanks.”

“But I don’t–”

“Need it?” he says, and smiles. “No, I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure the clients are flooding in, but from me to you, please, call it a thank you. For your help.” He gives me back my menu from the tabletop. “But as I requested, please don’t tell the agency of this. They will be having plenty in fees from me. We all have our personal tastes and hobbies, don’t we? I do allow myself some little privileges.”

“Ok,” I tell him, in a bluster. “Um, I don’t know quite what to say.”

“It must be a lot to process, maybe focus on the menu for the time being.”

How can I focus on the menu? I look him right in the eyes.

“You’re giving me thirty thousand pounds? Just for turning up here today?”

“Straight in your bank account, if you’ll let me.”

“But I don’t deserve that. I only came to help.”

“And that says a lot.”

“Not enough for thirty grand!”

He looks over at the waiting staff, and I curse myself. I need to keep my volume down.

“Plenty enough for thirty grand,” he says. “But please, do keep this between us. This has nothing to do with the agency. I’m a newbie myself. I only joined last week.”

I stumble through giving him my bank details once we’ve ordered dinner, but my stomach is churning so bad, I feel sick. He’s going to give me thirty grand, just like that. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, but he helps with that. He asks about me and my life, and my journey here, and how I made the transition to being an entertainer. He tells me about himself, and his own journey through life in London, and how he was in the same situation as I’d been, many years ago, struggling until he found his route into commercial retail.

User 5639 is quite something. He’s one hell of a man.

We finish up our meal at the allotted time, once we’ve finished talking. I’ve been with him three hours and I’ve barely even noticed the hours flash by.

He stands up and kisses my cheek as we say our farewell.

“Please do keep being yourself, Holly,” he says. “Who knows? Maybe we will meet again under different circumstances.”

I stumble away, with a stream of thank yous – checking my account on the escalator down, and sure enough, my balance has changed. Thirty grand extra, right there.

I just can’t…

I go to the nearest ATM, and withdraw everything I can, hundreds after hundreds after hundreds in different transactions until I reach my take out limit, and then I race outside, up and down the street, handing out wedges of cash to the people who need it. I see a woman collecting for charity across the road, and I stuff a load of notes in her collection tin, and I look for more people struggling, handing money out to everyone I can. Women, men, people standing in crappy coats, some on the floor wrapped up in sleeping bags, it doesn’t matter – I give some to everyone, and it hits me in the heart to see the joy on people’s faces. I hand out the cash until it’s all gone. And I’ll do it again. I know I will. I’ll keep being generous, keep being kind, keep doing my best to help other people, just like User 5639 does. Maybe it’ll be me helping him in the grotto next year. It would be an honour to be his little helper.

When I’m done with giving out the cash, I stand with my back to the wall beside a general store with tears in my eyes and such in joy my heart that I’ve never felt before.

When I look up, I see that the store offers cashback on purchases, and I’m grinning like crazy, realising that I’m not done just yet. So, in I go. I load up on purchases. Sandwiches, chocolates, pastries, anything that will fit in my shopping basket.

Then fuck it, I walk down more streets, dishing out sandwiches, chocolates, pastries and cash to the people who need help.

Thank you, Santa, and thank heaven for my good fortune.

Merry Christmas, everyone!