‘It’s the Grinch,’ shouted someone, and for a moment Sam looked wrong-footed.
‘Wow, he’s gorgeous,’ said a lady on Vicky’s table. ‘He can rummage in my Christmas box any time!’ There was a hoot of laughter from those around her.
‘Come on, let’s clear away while they’re doing this,’ said Blythe, as the Santas began repeating their little routine. Vicky reluctantly stopped watching Owen wiggling his peachy little bum at the crowd and hastily collected up the plates from her table and ferried them into the kitchen, where the caterers were ready with main meals. A cheer went up from inside the hall, followed by a round of applause and whistles before a bevy of Santas descended on the kitchen with more plates.
‘Did you like my moves?’ asked Owen, his eyebrows dancing.
Vicky had planned to play it cool. Stick to all her reasons why resurrecting something with Owen was a really bad idea, but the sight of him in that bow tie and cuffs was too much. She grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him towards her. He didn’t resist and a whoop went up from the packed kitchen as they kissed.
‘Oh my,’ said Phyllis. ‘Do we all get one of those?’
Blythe tapped Vicky on the shoulder and thrust some plates of turkey into her hands. Owen gave her a little wave as she was bustled back out into the hall. It had been a brief kiss but it had been exactly what she needed. Whatever her head was telling her, it was wrong. She still loved Owen and she really wanted to show him just how much but another five plates of turkey needed to be delivered to the next table along.
As everyone settled down to their main courses Blythe took to the floor. ‘Just a quick announcement from me. Your entry ticket was also a raffle ticket and the raffle will be drawn by two of our sexiest Santas…’ she paused for the inevitable whoops, which came on cue, ‘…between your main course and dessert. And please remember no touching,’ she said, giving Vicky and Phyllis hard stares. Phyllis tried to look innocent.
Given how many meals the caterers had had to produce, the main meal was exceptionally good. But then, Vicky reasoned, you couldn’t go far wrong with a turkey dinner, pigs in blankets and a shitload of wine. Everyone on her table was clearly having a great evening and a quick look around the hall showed her that was replicated twelve times over. Blythe gave her an anxious look. Vicky responded with a double thumbs up, which made her smile.
More music announced round two of the Santas and the same routine although they seemed to be growing in confidence and were definitely more polished and, if she wasn’t mistaken, even more suggestive this time. When Owen thrust his hips in Vicky’s direction she almost lost her sausage. More hooting, clapping and general merriment ensued until the music ended, the Santas took a bow and left Fraser and Greg to draw the raffle, while the others cleared away the plates.
The kitchen was a hive of activity and Vicky was working out where best to stand so she was out of the way while she waited for the Christmas pudding slices to be put into bowls when someone grabbed her hand and bustled her out the back of the kitchen and into the car park.
*
Blythe thought she could finally relax when everyone was tucking into pudding but someone on Arthur’s table started a chant of ‘One more time!’ She glanced around but the Santas were already getting to their feet to the delight of the audience. Seb’s brother took his bowl of Christmas pudding with him to the back of the hall while Christmas Carol scuttled through the tables to restart the music. ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ blared out much louder this time and the Santas trooped down to the front. It may have been the wine but they were definitely embracing their roles now. She couldn’t look at Greg – there were some things you could never unsee and your stepdad twerking to Christmas songs was one of them. Blythe did a quick Santa count. There was one missing. As she scanned them again she caught Sam’s eye. ‘Sorry, last time I promise,’ she mouthed at him.
‘It’d better be,’ he mouthed back. The happy faces, empty plates and ear-splitting shrieks told her the evening had been a success. They rowed up at the front in time to the music and she realised Owen was the missing Santa. Oh well, he’d been there for most of it. Missing the impromptu encore was allowed. For the other performances she had been fretting that everything was going to plan, worrying about the two dads at the back bumping into each other and whether the plates were hot enough. But now the meal had been devoured and the evening was drawing to a close she could sit back, sip some wine and enjoy the entertainment.
The Santas all appeared to be enjoying themselves this time around. Even Sam seemed to be finding his groove. His thrusting was subtle but compulsive viewing. She would have liked to have put the sensations she was experiencing down to the wine but given she’d barely touched hers she knew it wasn’t the alcohol causing her giddiness. The routine ended and the Santas took a bow. The women were on their feet. Across the room Sam locked her in a stare. A twitch of a smile on his lips, he gave her the briefest of nods. He’d done her proud – they all had.
Seb waved his arms to try to get the crowd to lower their volume. ‘The guys have all agreed to photos if you’d like to take some selfies with us. Arthur will be taking donations for charity.’ Arthur appeared with his trusty collecting bucket and there was a great deal of rummaging in purses.
‘I want a picture with the Grinch!’ shouted one lady, and a queue quickly formed next to Sam.
*
Blythe finally waved off the caterers and surveyed the mess. The evening had been a huge success and the sexy Santas a definite hit but now the clean-up operation started. Arthur, Phyllis and a few others had volunteered to help and were diligently putting rubbish into black sacks. There was no sign of Vicky but then she would have to get back for Eden. The Santas had got changed while she had been restacking the dishwashers; only Seb and Fraser had put their heads around the door to say they were leaving and to sign up for next year as they’d had a ball. Blythe was disappointed not to see Sam but he had kept his side of the bargain and she was grateful to him for that. It was likely the sight of him in his sexy Santa outfit would stay with her for a lot longer than it should – Greg’s too, for completely different reasons. Arthur poured each of the helpers a glass of wine from a bottle he’d kept back and that spurred them on to finish.
‘My, my, that was a night. Wasn’t it?’ said Phyllis, putting on her coat.
‘We raised a lot,’ said Arthur, rattling his bucket.
‘Leonora will be over the moon,’ said Phyllis.
‘Bum, I was meant to text her,’ said Blythe. ‘You guys go and I’ll lock up here.’
‘If you’re sure,’ said Arthur, ushering Phyllis to the door.
Phyllis diverted to whisper in Blythe’s ear. ‘If you’ve got any of those bow ties and cuffs spare…’
‘I’ll drop a set through your door,’ said Blythe.
Phyllis’s face lit up. ‘Happy Christmas.’ Blythe had a feeling it would be for Phyllis but she feared for poor Norman.
Blythe locked the back door and sat on a chair in the kitchen while she whizzed off a text to Leonora. She grabbed a bow tie and cuffs for Phyllis, along with her coat, and began switching off lights as she made her way to the main doors. She opened them to leave and almost bumped straight into Sam.
‘Thank goodness you’re still here. Turpin’s gone AWOL.’
‘He can go out, Sam. The vet said it was okay.’ She shooed him out into the cold and locked the door.
