by Karen J Mossman
Christmas Eve. Table was set. Turkey cooking. Presents wrapped. I drank wine to celebrate.
Then I stopped mid flow. Oh my God! What had I done? Or rather what had I not done!
I grabbed my coat, then ran back and grabbed my phone. Ordered a Uber. Shoved my feet into my shoes, purse and phone were shoved in a shopping bag. I ran outside. Didn’t get far as coat was trapped in door. Reopened door, released coat, locked up as the Uber rolled up.
“Where to?” he asked.
Trafford Centre – Christmas Eve? Maybe not. “The Mall, then.” Nodding, he drove off.
Five minutes later, I thanked him, climbed out and rushed inside. The Mall was full of odd-balls. A four-foot man who walked with his right arm outstretched, a woman with the doll in a push chair. Y’know, loopy folks.
People poured around me. Last minute shoppers, like me. “Where’re am I going?” I spoke out loud and a man looked at me oddly. I turned sharply and collided with a mobility scooter.
The owner scowled at me. I limped into a gift shop, dabbing the blood on my knee with tissue at the same time. What was he driving? A spiked chariot!!
The tannoy burst into life. “The Mall will be closing in 10 minutes. Please make your way towards the nearest till.” I groaned.
Marching to the counter my eyes swept left and right at the measly goodies left. “I’ll have one of those, one of those, that and this, please,” I said.
“Do you want them gift wrapped?”
“Yes, please.” I watched as she wrapped them. I waited, trying not to drum my fingers. Anxiously I looked at the door.
“Thank you so much.” Giving her a big smile, I wished her Merry Christmas and left.
Outside, I opened the app to look where Uber I ordered was. Five minutes away, it said. Your driver is Sharif.
I waited – and I waited.
Checking my phone again, I glared at screen. Driver was going in opposite direction. I rang him and directed him back. He was full of apologies. “I’m new,” he explained.
“Don’t you track me? I was tracking you?”
“I was driving,” he said as he rolled his eyes.
I arrived home, the Christmas lights were on and flashing merrily. That meant hubby was back from work. “Hello darling,”he said as I fell head long through door, literally. My parcels scattered across the floor.
“One too many?” His eyes brows raised.
With the presents under the Christmas tree, one smiling husband and a glass of red in my hand.
I sighed, content at last.
“Have we got everything now?” hubby asked.
“Yes,” I replied. It was his present I forgot. I won’t tell him. At least not yet.