Page 25 of Never Gonna Happen

Breakfast was a largely silent affair, with a green-tinged Carol chewing her toast like it was the insole from an old trainer and wincing every time the caterers carried off another crate of plates and let the kitchen door slam.

‘Are you OK to drive, Dad?’ Emily asked.

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ he replied. ‘I stopped drinking early doors, unlike your mother.’ Carol gave him the finger and drained her coffee mug.

‘What are your plans today, Moo?’ she asked, trying to battle her way out of her hangover like a zombie hauling itself out of a grave.

‘Not much,’ Emily said. ‘Might go for a swim later, have a nap. Mostly just staying out of the way so I don’t get roped into cleaning up.’

‘Good plan,’ said Carol, covering her mouth to mask a huge burp. She looked like death warmed over, but she’d be telling stories about this party for months. ‘Time to head off,’ she added, taking a banana from the fruit bowl and putting it in her handbag for later. ‘Might have a snooze on the way home.’

‘Sod that, you’re navigating,’ said Martin, who didn’t believe in satellite navigation and refused to give up his spiral-bound AA Road Map from 2008. He’d read too many stories about coaches following the recommended route and ending up dangling off the edge of a cliff.

‘I can’t even see, let alone navigate,’ said Carol.

‘Christ alive,’ muttered Martin, hauling Carol out of the chair and half-carrying her out of the kitchen.

Jamie appeared from the stables just as Emily was walking back to the house after waving her parents off. She briefly entertained the possibility that he’d been watching out for her, then decided that was unlikely. She’d fallen asleep thinking about him, and the sudden memory of the subsequent wine-fuelled dream she’d had made her blush.

‘Did they have a good time?’ he asked, rubbing his hands against the cold. It was a beautiful December day – cold and frosty, but windless under a cornflower-blue sky.

‘They really did, thanks. Mum is absolutely hanging.’

Jamie laughed. ‘I’m off for a ride in a bit. Do you want to come?’

Emily hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea but also acknowledging that she couldn’t avoid Jamie entirely, and riding lessons were about as chaste as it got. ‘I’d love to,’ she replied. ‘I’ll just go and get changed.’

Jamie gave her that smile again, making Emily wonder if she had time to deal with the ache between her legs before she had to sit on a horse and make it FAR worse.

‘So, Moomin,’ said Jamie with a grin. ‘What’s that all about?’

Emily laughed, relaxing into the sway of Rupert’s plod along a bridleway towards a distant windmill. ‘I had a Moomin toy when I was little – you know the white cartoon trolls?’

Jamie nodded. ‘I thought they were hippos.’

‘They look a bit like hippos, but they’re trolls. Swedish or Finnish or something. Anyway, I had this Moomin toy and I carried it everywhere, wouldn’t leave the house without it. My brothers started calling me Moomin and it stuck.’

‘Does that mean I call you Moo?’

Emily gave him a look. ‘Only if I can call you Jimmy.’

‘Yeah, not so much.’

They carried on in comfortable silence for a few minutes, with nothing but the occasional sound of birdsong and the heavy crunch of hooves in the frosty grass. The landscape was flat and endless and vast, punctuated by little stands of trees and the grey tower of a church. Emily couldn’t think of a better way to tackle a hangover, although she definitely wouldn’t say no to an egg and bacon sandwich.

‘Is Louisa joining you for Christmas?’ she asked casually, imagining her in head-to-toe designer ski gear, flame hair blowing in the wind.

‘Ah, no,’ replied Jamie, looking off into the distance. ‘Well, we’re not actually together any more.’

Emily’s stomach gave a swoop that had nothing to do with hunger. She turned to look at him until he met her gaze. ‘What happened?’

Jamie shrugged. ‘Nothing dramatic. I just realised we were never going to want the same things, and it wasn’t fair to let Louisa think I might change my mind.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ lied Emily.

Jamie held her gaze. ‘Are you?’

A hot feeling crept up her neck; this whole conversation had taken an unexpected turn and she felt wildly out of her depth. ‘Yes,’ she said, doubling down on the lie because the alternative was too mortifying. ‘You made a nice couple.’