Alberta Clipper (18 page)

“Okay.  That's great. 
Nina
will be delighted.”

“Tell her thanks.”  Mark was glad to have that particular hazard averted.  “Who else will be there?”

Shay
stood up, looking very like someone who needed to be somewhere else.  “Oh, you know. 
Nina
's sister and whichever poor sucker she's seeing at the time.  Probably a few neighbours.  You know
Nina
.  She'll most likely invite a few single girls from her book club, just to mix it up.” 

Mark suspected
Shay
was avoiding eye contact.
 
“Look,
Shay
, if
Nina
feels the need to play matchmaker for me, that is not a problem.  Just be a mate and vet them first, yeah?”

“No, no Mark.  It's not like that at all, I'm sure.”  The rising colour of
Shay
's cheeks made Mark think otherwise.  “I'll let you get on with things here.  I'll tell
Nina
you're available anyway.”

“Do.  Thanks again.”

When he was gone, Mark sat down at his desk and thought about
Nina
hatching a plan to set him up with someone.  Why not?  He should definitely start dating again.  And who better to set him up than
Nina
?  She knew him well enough.  And she wouldn't introduce him to someone unsuitable.  Yes, this was not a bad thing at all. 
He
stood up
from his chair
and walked over to the window.  The sun was low in the sky.  It reflected on a window pane on the corner of the square, sending an almost blinding light out across the CarltonWachs building.  People walked on the pavement beneath him, wrapped up like presents against the cold.   Across the street, a huge Christmas tree was being levered into place at the gate into the square.  He could see two small children standing with a young woman, staring up at it, dwarfed by it.  Lost in its magic. 

Mark took a deep breath. 
Maybe things weren't so bad after all. 

~

“I just don't see why we can't have partners there.  For once.”  Amanda was ostensibly speaking to Dee, but her raised voice and angry glare were firmly directly at Petra who was sitting with her back to them both.  Petra swung around to face them.  Dee busied herself with her coffee mug. 

“Because, Amanda,” Petra took on the tone of a frustrated mother, “the budget was such this year, that had we included partners, we wouldn't have been able to provide a free bar.  Which, as you know, more people voted for.”

“Here, here,” one of the dealers standing at the back of the crowded coffee room raised his mug to more encouraging cheers.  Petra glanced in his direction, clearly not feeling she needed the support of any louts in her argument.

“Yeah well.”  Amanda drained her coffee.  “It would be nice for once to have something for our husbands.  And wives.  They're the ones that suffer when CarltonWachs wants us to stay on until ten at night.  They never get any acknowledgement.”

“Just cos you want to show off your posh fellah, Mandy,” Craig laughed at her.  “We all know how fantastic he his already.  You tell us every day.”

“I do not.”  Amanda's cheeks burned under the gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.  “Anyway, at least I have a fellah I could bring.”

“Craig probably has a fellah he could bring too
,
”
a
n unidentified male voice from near the coffee maker called, to jeers and whoops from the other dealers present.  Amanda smiled.

“Anyway,” she focused her indignation back at Petra.  “I would have thought you'd love to introduce us all to your fiancée.” 

Now it was Petra's turn to go red.  She stood up, gathering the empty coffee cups from the tables near her.

“It wasn't my decision.”  She sounded very put out.  “It was Mark's.  And it's all arranged now.”  She pushed past the bodies standing between her and the sink, and started running the taps. 

A girl in a white shirt and cheap black trousers rushed in through the door.  “Can one of you come back to reception and help me?”  She looked from Amanda to Dee. 

“I'll go.”  Dee went to stand up.

“No, I'll go.”  Amanda got up and followed the young girl out of the coffee room.  Others followed after her, one by one.

“Thank you all so much.”  A middle-aged woman, one of the receptionists from the ground floor
,
called after them.  “Anyone who still has to make a donation, I have the bag here.  Thank you.  Thanks again.”

Christine looked at Craig.  “C'mon, we'd better go and do some work.”

“I'm not going,” he said quietly.  “The Christmas party.  Not this year.”

Christine looked at him.  Just then she noticed Freddie rush into the room.  He walked over to the woman holding the collection bag. 

“Sorry I missed it, Rosaleen.”  He spoke quietly.  “Here's something anyway.” 

Christine saw him slip a fifty euro note into the bag.  Rosaleen's eyes lit up.  “Thanks, Freddie,” she said.

Freddie l
eft again without a coffee, swip
ing a leftover biscuit from a plate as he went.  Christine watched as Rosaleen collected empty cups and brought them over to Petra at the sink.

“You should go,” she said to Craig, standing up from her seat.  “It has been a crappy year, but all the more reason to go.”  And she handed her cup to Petra and went back to her office.

“So it's lovely to look at, and it has a great feel.  And it's both high-def and Eye-Fi compatible.  It's got image st
abilisation, twelve megapix…
”  T
he young shop assistant's red Santa hat bobbed in concert with his level of enthusiasm for the camera he was handling. 

“I didn
't really
understand a word
you just said,” Christine smiled. 
If she had to guess, she’d say he
had
skate-boarded to work.

The young man considered her for a moment.
 
“If you're looking for a camera for general use, that's easy to operate, and you're not Herb Ritts, then this is the one for you.  The best one in your price range.”

“Okay.  I'll take your word for it.”  Christine took out her credit card.  “And I'll take the camera.”

“Great.”  He looked relieved.  “The bag comes in different colours.  Would you like the pink one?  Or the purple?”

“Eh, no.  It's not for me, and I don't think he likes pink.  Black is fine.”

“Okay, sure, sure, great.”  He proceeded to gather together various paraphernalia that apparently came with the camera
, humming to himself all the while, like he had invisible earphones on
.  The counter got so cluttered with stuff, that Christine could hardly make out the camera itself.  She really hoped
Gavan
would like it.  He had only ever used the camera on his phone in all the time she had known him, so she thought he might appreciate having a proper one.  She had most of her Christmas shopping done now, not that she'd had much to get.  She'd get Emily's next.  She had seen her admiring an expensive sequinned top in a magazine, and after a little research had found out that it was for sale right here in the department store.  Emily would never buy it for herself, it was too extravagant a purchase for her, but Christine could afford it.  Emily had been such a good friend to her.  She wanted to get her something special. 

The store was a wonderland of baubles and lights.  It wasn't even eleven, but the place was heaving with Saturday shoppers, buoyed up by the sparkle, the tinsel, the cheery, twinkly Christmas music.  The pungent aroma of expensive cosmetics and perfumes abated a little as she ascended the escalator, gradually being replaced by the scent of cloves and cinnamon wafting through from the home-wares department.  She made a mental note to return there to buy herself some wine glasses, as she continued on another flight of the stairs to where Emily's top would hopefully be.  The air got cooler as the escalator rose, and the bedlam of the ground floor was replaced by a calmer scene of serious clothes shoppers, many of them seeking out the perfect party dress for the season.  She walked onto the floor, a sea of eye-level rails
of
colourful lacy
garments.  She stopped at one
, and set her bags down at her feet.  As she
carefully slid the
wooden hangers across, examining various beaded chiffon tops, she felt something warm
grab
her leg.

“Mammy.”

Christine's body froze.  She just tilted her head a little and saw the top of a small blonde child, a girl of three or maybe four, her arm wrapped around Christine's thigh.  Her frigid reaction clearly alerted the child.  She looked up at Christine, and her face crumpled like a paper bag.  She started to sob.

“Mammy, Mammy,” she wailed, looking right and left and back up at Christine, as if to check that it definitely wasn't her mother standing there.  Christine stared at her for a second, and then looked around, over the clothes rails.  There was no sight of any
fretting
mother calling, or searching. 

“Mammeee.”  The child suddenly let go of Christine and ran off further into the maze of long black coats and painted silk dresses.  Christine grabbed her bags and took off after her.  She could hear the little girl's voice getting increasingly petrified.

“Wait,” Christine called.  She turned a corner and saw the child standing still between two rails, looking to her right and her left.  Then she watched in
dismay
as the girl sat down on the rough blue carpet, and covered her head in her little arms, tucking her knees under her like a small threatened animal.  The fur-lined hood of her cable kn
it cardigan shook as she
sobbed.  Christine went to her, and crouched down beside her.

“Sweetie, are you lost?”  The little girl kept her head covered.  Christine put her hand gently on her arm.  “Were you with your Mummy?” 

The back of the little blonde head moved up and down.

“Well, why don't we try and find her together?”  Christine looked around for a security guard, or a sales assistant, but all she could see were clothes.  The girl raised her head and looked at Christine.  “What's your name sweetie?”  Christine asked.

“Emily,” came the reply.

“Emily?”  Christine forced a big smile.  “My best friend is called Emily.  How cool is that?”

Little Emily managed a half smile, and wiped her snotty nose on her sleeve.

“Well Emily, where were you last with your Mum?  Can you remember?  Was she looking at clothes?”

“Santy,” Emily said, and her face started to crumple again.  “Going to see Santy.”

Christine felt her chest tighten a little.  “Okay,” she said, taking Emily's hand and standing up.  “Why don't we find Santy, and maybe your Mum will be there, okay?  And we can ask the nice shop lady to call her on the loudspeaker too.  And then she'll know where you are.”

Emily just looked up at Christine.

“Is that okay?”

Emily nodded.

“Well, let's go back to the escalator anyway.”  Christine wanted to move to where there might be more people.  She was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic between the clothes rails.  “This way, sweetie.”

As t
hey walked hand in hand towards the escalators, Christine
kept
looking for any shop employee.
  So typical.  When you didn’t want one, they were all over you like ants.

“So Emily, have you brothers and sisters?”  She could hear the false joviality in her own voice.

“Bruder,” Emily said, staring straight ahead of her.  As they approached the escalator, Christine spotted a guy with an earpiece and a walkie-talkie, and was about to approach him when she felt Emily pull her hand away.

“Mammy!”

“Emily,” a woman in her thirties ran towards them and slid to her knees in front of the child, grabbing her to herself.  “Where were you?  I looked around and you were gone.  What are you doing on this floor?”  The woman looked up at Christine with an uncertain expression. 

“She was wandering through the clothes over there,” Christine pointed back to where they had been.  “Calling for you.  I was bring
ing her over to the security
guard.”  She pointed at the man who hadn't left his post, but was looking over at them with
all the concern
of someone who was about to go on his coffee break.

The mother looked hard at Christine, and must have seen no malice.  “Thank you,” she said into the child's hair.  “We were going up to the top floor to see Santa.  She must have gotten off here without my noticing.”  She pulled away from her daughter, and looked at the phone which had been in her hand all the while.  “I'd better ring Daddy,” she said to Emily.  “He's searching for you
downstairs
.”

Christine decided she was no longer needed, and had an overpowering urge to get away.  The mother was engrossed in her phone, and didn't acknowledge her agai
n as
Christine
started towards the escalator
, all thoughts of shopping gone.  As she stepped onto the first stair, she looked back.  Emily was standing, holding the end of her mother's long cardigan.  She looked straight at Christine, and
wav
ed.  Christine's gaze was glued to her little face, until the stairs carried her away, and she could see her no more.