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And we both laugh because it’s true.
TWENTY-FOUR
Frank and I say our goodbyes in the middle of Westfield, amidst crowds of frantic shoppers and Christmas music, clutching on to our rubber ducks and well, I was in the middle of a mall, so I also got a bubble tea and a pretzel. ’Twas a short shopping trip, the day before Christmas, but it was good to see Frank, to catch up, to have his input on the Leo situation and hear how things were progressing with Norah.
After we parted ways, I jumped on the Tube, suddenly knackered from having slept on a sofa last night. I went home to my small maisonette flat and I collapsed into my own bed, starting to feel the effects of my Christmas adventures a little too much.
I remember when I first bought this flat. I was so very proud because it was the result of saving for the best part of five years. It wasn’t the grandest of places, a garden flat in an art deco building right in the heart of Shepherd’s Bush. I remembered the kitchen being in the living room and trying to convince my parents it was open plan, the pinnacle of modern living. My dad thought otherwise. How would you be able to hear the telly with the microwave going in the background? Yet they stillhelped me move into this place, helping me paint it and put up the curtains. I bought patio furniture for the super tiny patio to the back by the bins. I remember buying very specific things when I moved in that make me incredibly proud. Like a colander. I have my own colander.
As I sit on the edge of my bed, packing the last of my things, I see through to the living room at my five-foot tree in the corner of the living space and the lengths of string that hold up all my Christmas cards. Leo will bring my other bag but I’ve packed another with more clothes and gifts for his family. I sit there and wonder if I should perhaps pack some nicer knickers, though I am conscious we are visiting his family home. Is that appropriate? By that measure, I should really pack condoms too, eh? I lie back, consumed by some strange fatigue, putting a hand to my forehead. My dad would say that’s what Christmas shopping will do to you, but I really hope I’m not coming down with something. That would be awful over Christmas, and when I’m supposed to be someone’s house guest. I’ve been on a lot of public transport, that’s likely what’s done it, but I’ve spent a lot of nights partying, drinking and not taking care of myself. When I got back from the shops, I curled up in bed and literally passed out, waking up with a start an hour later to jump in the shower and try and make myself look presentable. Do I look presentable? I stand up to look in my vanity. My hair isn’t styled, it’s living off a decent conditioner but it’s nothing a woolly hat won’t hide. That said, I do look incredibly ruddy. Like I’ve been in the country perhaps, taking in fresh air. At least I don’t need to put on more blusher. I get up and head through to my small galley kitchen off my living room to find some vitamins. B12 and a pint of water will do me right. I better eat a satsuma too.
My phone pings and I look down to see a message from my mum and dad. I arch over my phone to have a look and see there’s a picture attached. I open it and it’s a selfieof both of them looking incredibly well-dressed and fancy, Dad in his tux and Mum in a sequinned red gown.
Look at us fancy twats! We’ve seen huskies! And Santa! Love you gorgeous girl xx
I smile to see them enjoying the season, glasses of champagne in their hands, but will admit as the big day approaches that there is something a little sad to not be near them. I only realised a week ago that this is the first time I’ve spent Christmas without them. There are things I will miss; my dad’s ability to wear a paper hat for the duration of the day, until the last mince pie has been eaten; my mum always hanging a stocking for me at the mantelpiece, always trying to make me believe Santa had paid us a visit; and my heart feels torn for a moment. Maybe I should have been a fancy twat with them too. But then I think about this alternative reality I’ve been presented with this year. Adventures and events with people who have become family beyond my wonderful mum and dad, and I realise how special that is. I think about the time spent with Leo and that turning into something more – the potential for him to be part of Christmases in the future – and I don’t think I mind that at all.
Proper fancy twats! Love you both. Please tell Santa that I’ve been very good x
I put down my phone, taking in the cold air of my flat, and my eye is drawn to a folder I’d left on my kitchen counter. I’ve been ignoring it since I brought it home last week and not even looked inside but it reminds me that in a week, I need to decide about one of these people I now call family. The thought still sits uneasily in my bones. I pick up the folder and open it to the first page where there is an opening paragraph talking of ‘…regret at how they’ve been selected for redundancy.’ Crikey. That would be my doing, the selection process. ‘We are sure that this is a worrying and unsettling time for you but we will be sure to discuss any of your concerns at your planned exit interview.’And I think about each of them, should I have to be in this interview, and the complete devastation and anger they would have in their faces at my betrayal. I can’t. I don’t think I’ll ever do that, to any of them.
The intercom suddenly gets my attention.
‘Hello?’
‘Package for Maggie Field?’ says the voice on the other side.
I smile. ‘Is it a big package?’
‘That was too much, wasn’t it?’
I laugh and let him in. He’s early. I open the door without hesitation.
‘Hi.’
He stands there in a North Face puffer coat and a new orange beanie, bits of blond hair poking through, the cold making his cheeks glow, rubbing his hands together. ‘Hi, it’s bloody parky out there!’ he tells me in his warm Northern tones. He comes in and gives me a peck on the cheek. ‘You’re warm.’
‘It’s because I’ve been running around getting packed. Come in…’
I urge him to follow, realising this is the first time he’s been at my house. He comes in cautiously, looking around, his eyes scanning photos and Christmas decorations, rocking back on his heels, smiling at me. The intensity that we shared earlier seems to have dissipated at least. I think we both know that the first time we have sex shouldn’t be a quickie before we embark on a six-hour drive together, but there’s still a fizz inside my stomach to see him and know that we’ll be spending the next two days together.
‘It’s a very nice flat. Can I be boring and comment on the flooring? I like the herringbone,’ he tells me.
‘You can,’ I laugh. ‘I’m very proud of it. Would you like tosee my patio?’ He pouts for a moment, looking into space wondering what I’m actually offering in that instance. ‘It’s an actual patio, it’s the size of a postage stamp but…’
He laughs as I head towards the back door and open it up for him to have a look at the five paving slabs and chair I proudly call my garden. ‘Very swish,’ he tells me, going out to take in the very limited view of sky, a singular tree and a fence. However, as he does, something lands on my wooden garden table. We both look down at it.
‘Is that snow?’ We both look into the sky, a pale slate grey, not a cloud in the sky.
‘It wasn’t forecast,’ I tell him, my eyes still gazing up but as I look back at him, I see him standing there next to me in that doorway, smiling. It’s a look that makes the air stand still, one that searches around my face until it finds my gaze. He takes a hand and sweeps some hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear, his fingers tracing down my chin.
‘I’m not joking, Maggie – you are warm. Are you alright?’ he says with concern in his eyes, putting the back of his hand against my cheek.
‘I’ve been running around the flat packing last-minute things. It’s probably because you’re soparky,’ I tell him, mimicking his accent and he laughs at me. ‘I mean, I’m knackered too so I think I’ll just nap in the car, take some paracetamol and I’ll be right as rain.’
‘Sure?’ he asks me. I nod, leading him back into the flat, locking doors and turning off lights before zipping up my bag. He watches my every move. ‘So did you get something for Frank then?’
‘We did. It’s a secret though.’
