Once in a Blue Christmas

CHAPTER FIVE

OCTOBER

SKY

For the whole of August I didn't see him once. Not even a glimpse of him during a morning rush hour or a late evening which are apparently his favourite times to come in. I was beginning to fear that he might have moved away and I'd never see him again.

Then at some point in September I finally spotted him. He strolled in with not one but two women on his arms. He also had a glowing orange tan and a look of post-holiday bliss about him. It must be nice to afford to go abroad to a sun-soaked country. I'd looked into taking a Mediterranean holiday this summer but in the end couldn't afford the time off work.

I don't know why it bothered me so much though, since we have plenty of other customers who have gone on envious destination holidays this summer and I'm not jealous of them. Although I can't say I've paid much attention to them or their tan lines. It's only Kyle who I seem to be taking a special interest in.

Regardless of his summer break, it's business as usual again for him. He was in his smart work clothes and he was clearly making up for lost time with his duplicate friends. As the three of them neared the front of the queue I noticed that the two women had a striking resemblance; they must have been sisters. Typical.

That was last month and now we're nearing the end of October he must have come in with about eight different women since his return. Not that I'm counting.

Today we've got an array of Halloween themed confectionery on sale, which have been very well-received by all the kids on half-term break. I've been rushed off my feet all day because there's been no ebb and flow of customers like there normally is; instead there's been a constant stream of customers that hasn't quelled all day. There's a bunch of seasonal events being held in the nearby park which has resulted in a lot of passing families stopping by.

What doesn't help is the fact I'm already rather sleep-deprived. My brother turned up on my doorstep back in July asking for a place to stay and I couldn't exactly turn him down. His girlfriend caught him cheating, turfed him out of their house, and he's been crashing on my living room sofa ever since. I live in a houseshare with three other strangers so it's not exactly ideal or private.

For the past three months his belongings have been taking up space in my bedroom, and we've been battling for space and fighting for peace. Clay works as a trainee police officer with gruelling shift hours, meaning we don't see each other much but we definitely hear each other when we accidentally wake one another up.

I love having my little brother around but I do wish he'd get his arse into gear and find a place of his own now. I took him in out of pity because he'd just been kicked out of his home and he didn't have any money saved to get a place of his own. Yes it was his fault for cheating on his girlfriend, but I couldn't not take my own brother in.

Part of me thinks he's not putting much effort into searching for a new place because he's holding out hope he'll get back together with his ex. I somehow doubt that will be happening - I've never forgiven any of the men who have cheated on me. However, the sharp advice I've given him on the topic has fallen on deaf ears.

I had the early morning shift this morning, starting at seven AM and finishing at two PM. Now my shift has finished I am shattered, so much so that I can picture myself collapsing into bed when I get home. Too many sleepless nights are catching up with me.

The days are getting colder so I slip a chunky ivory jumper on and wind a wool scarf around my neck. It's not quite coat weather yet and I'll resist wearing one as long as possible, mostly because I'm waiting on pay day to be able to afford a nice puffa one I've had my eye on. With a brisk pace, I walk out of the staff area, out into the main café and give a brief wave to Robin who's taken over as barista.

In my sleepless state I'm not looking where I'm going and that's when I bump into him. His ash brown hair is tousled and his sharp jawline is lined with fuzzy stubble, as if he's just woken up from a night out. It wouldn't surprise me if that drink he's holding contains a drop or two of whisky. But all in all, he still looks hot as hell.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there," I stutter. I look around to see if there's a lady friend I should also try to avoid bumping into too, but he's here alone. Shocking.

"Don't be silly, that was my fault." He opens the café door and invites me to step out before him. "I've only had about four hours sleep so please excuse me and my clumsiness."

I make to walk towards the station, expecting him to go in the other direction back to his flat, but instead he walks in step with me. I guess now's as good a time as any to strike up a decent conversation with him.

"Four hours? It sounds like you could do with a good night's sleep."

"Yes, that's the understatement of the century," he says with a wry smile. "Unfortunately my workplace doesn't share the same sentiment. I just came off a night shift but I also have an important appointment at three thirty in the city centre. What's a man to do?"

"Oh, where do you work exactly?"

Out comes that wry smile again. "We've known each other for a few months. What kind of work do you think I do?"

It takes a lot for me to not say exactly what's on my mind. My initial impression was a man who lives off family money, maybe clocks in a few hours at the family firm, but no more than is necessary. The days and times he comes into the café are always so varied, there's no way that would be allowed in a standard job. And the sheer number of women he brings home must surely require a lot of time and effort to entertain.

But sometimes he does work regular hours, so then I thought he might be a part-time banker or something. Part-time because he doesn't exactly need to work for money. His posh accent and the way he carries himself scream privileged.

But now he's mentioned a night shift it has thrown my previous assumptions out the window.

"I have no idea," I laugh quietly. "Do you work in an office?"

"Most definitely not. I don't think I have the patience to sit in the same seat for eight hours a day. It might even drive me insane after a while."

"I know what you mean," I agree. "When I was in my final year of school and the careers advisor asked me what I wanted to do, I said absolutely not work in an office."

"You're a woman after my own heart, Sky. I admire anyone who can hack it, but it's not something I could do. What did you want to become when you were younger, then?"

"An archeologist. Discovering ancient artefacts and investigating their history sounded like a dream to teenage Sky. However, being outdoors in all weathers and getting down and dirty did not appeal to me, so I settled for anthropology at uni instead. It seemed like a decent compromise at the time."

I stop myself, wondering why I feel so comfortable revealing all this about myself to him. And it probably all sounds pathetic to him, considering I'm clearly not working in my chosen career path these days.

Before he can probe me any further about my failures, I ask him a direct question that's been bugging me for ages. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what you do for work?"