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thin film of sweat had formed on his brow already and he looked like he needed a good cup of tea and some Christmas cookies.

      ‘Alice, can I ask a favour?’ He was breathless and sounded like he’d just finished doing ten marathons back-to-back. ‘I’ve just had a look in the grotto and Frank’s running a bit low on presents. There are some more upstairs in my office; would you mind nipping up and getting some?’

      ‘Sure,’ I said with a smile.

      I headed towards his office, glad of the opportunity to get off the shop floor for even a few minutes. As I walked, customers turned their heads to follow the sound of my jingling shoes.

      ‘Bloody things,’ I muttered. As a group of teenagers sniggered and pointed at me, I could’ve cheerfully shoved them where the sun didn’t shine.

      Gary’s office was located up a set of metal steps at the back of the store. Its big glass windows allowed him to be king of all he surveyed, whilst also keeping him at a safe distance from the staff. Everybody knew he was afraid of them and would give into even the craziest demands. It felt a little surreal being in the manager’s office, like that somehow made me boss of the massive department store I’d found myself working in.

      I jumped a little when I saw Mr Fox, the store’s owner, occupying the huge black leather executive chair. It was so unusual to see his tall, wiry frame around the shop; he hardly ever visited and when he did, it usually meant something bad was about to happen. He had his phone clamped to his ear and his face was set into a dark scowl. The conversation clearly wasn’t going well. I wanted to take a step forward and announce myself, but I didn’t want to intrude on his private phone call.

      ‘Ethan, when are you going to learn to…? This is your inheritance we’re talking about here; you need to start taking it seriously instead of prancing around with your head in the clouds… I won’t tell you again… Damn!’

      Mr Fox hung up and slammed his mobile down on the table, letting out a grunt of frustration and a stream of expletives. As he blew air out from his cheeks, he swung the chair round in my direction and almost jumped out of his skin.

      ‘Sorry, I-I didn’t realise anyone was here.’ Two pops of colour bloomed on his cheeks and he flashed me a sheepish grin. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

      I froze. My mouth moved up and down, making the shapes of words I wanted to say, but no sound came out. The longer it took for me to articulate myself, the redder my face became.

      ‘Um…I-I just came in to get some more presents for the grotto downstairs. A-are they over here?’ I gestured to some cardboard boxes in the corner.

      ‘Yes, yes, take as many as you like.’ Mr Fox waved a hand and picked up his mobile again. ‘Sorry…got to return this phone call…’

      His voice drifted off as he dialled a number and waited for the person on the other end to answer. I heaved one box into my arms and beat as hasty a retreat as I could. The box weighed a ton; they’d obviously splashed the cash on the kids’ Christmas gifts.

      ‘Hello?’ I heard him say as I nudged the office door open with my foot. ‘Oh, Ethan’s in a meeting is he? Well, tell him to give his father a ring when he’s out of his meeting. If he can spare a few minutes, that is!’

      I winced. Ethan was in some pretty hot water!

      *

      Making my way back downstairs was a dangerous business. I almost toppled over twice, thanks to the weight of the box. I had half a mind to ask Gary for danger money.

      ‘Here are some more presents for the kids,’ I said, heaving the box behind Frank’s red velvet throne. ‘Just so you don’t run out.’

      ‘Oh great,’ he slurred, ‘more crap to give to the ungrateful little shits!’

      I suppressed a smile and pursed my lips. Luckily, we were experiencing a lull in visitors to the grotto, so nobody was around to hear him or see him with his beard pulled down.

      I screwed my nose up as the acrid tang of stale sweat and alcohol stung my nostrils. ‘Are you…feeling OK today, Frank? You know, after yesterday.’

      He turned to look at me and I noticed for the first time just how unkempt he looked. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept properly for weeks, and his chin was covered in grey and white stubble. Not exactly the image of a jolly department store Santa.

      ‘Oh I’m just dandy.’ His mouth twisted into a scowl and he let out a loud burp. ‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year, isn’t it?’

      There was a sadness in his voice that struck me. Instead of being swept up in the festive spirit, he seemed to be every bit as uncomfortable with it as I was.

      ‘Well, that’s what they say!’ I plastered a bright grin to my face, determined to keep a cheerful atmosphere for the hordes of kids who’d be along as soon as school finished. ‘Anyway, don’t forget about the presents in the cardboard box behind you.’

      I mumbled some excuse about Gary needing me elsewhere and legged it before Frank could engage me in any awkward conversation. As I stood outside, willing finishing time to come round so I could get back to my own little corner of Christmas-free bliss, I wondered what it was that made Frank hate this time of year so much.

      Had he lost someone he loved too?

       Chapter Three

      I spent the rest of the day welcoming children to the grotto and pretending that Christmas really was the most wonderful time of the year. Like any good actress, I threw myself into my role and made it my job to spread festive magic to every little visitor who was counting the days until Santa’s arrival.

      Until later that afternoon, when things went horribly wrong.

      It started with a giggle. Innocent enough, you may think, but not when ‘MAISIE, PUT THAT DOWN!’ and Frank yelling at the top of his voice immediately followed it. I rushed inside the grotto to see what was going on and found a little girl holding what looked like a pair of edible knickers.

      ‘What kind of store is this?!’ a red-faced woman yelled. ‘Giving erotic products to little kids; you should be ashamed of yourselves!’

      ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped. ‘There must be some mistake; I’ll get another present for you.’

      Before I could rush round to get a replacement gift, a voice from outside erupted ‘WHO THE HELL IS IN CHARGE HERE?!’

      ‘I’d better go and deal with that,’ I said, panic rising in my voice. ‘I’ll leave you in Fr… I mean, Santa’s capable hands.’ I turned to Frank, who was puce with rage. ‘Why don’t you get Maisie a lovely new gift while I go and see to that customer?’

      I threw back the curtain, dreading what I was about to be confronted with. It turned out to be a woman with a face like thunder, trying to keep a small grubby child under control and trying to wrestle something from his sticky grip.

      ‘How can I help?’ I plastered on my sunniest smile and ignored the nerves brewing in my stomach.

      From the furious look on her face, the woman didn’t appreciate my attempt at a pleasant greeting. In fact, she looked like she wanted to strangle me.

      ‘And just what…’ she paused for a second as she managed to snatch away whatever her child had been holding ‘…do you call this?!’

      She brandished a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs, hooking them over one finger and tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for my explanation.

      ‘This is supposed to be a Santa’s grotto for kids, not a sordid sex shop! Where’s the manager? I want to put a complaint in!’

      She was soon followed by another angry parent, who was keen to find out why her child had been given a cocktail-making kit

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