Page 4 of Snowed In with You

‘NO bitching about Fran,’ interrupted Jonno. ‘You’ll get me started. But you’re right – literally everyone in the agency thinks we’re doing the dirty.’

‘Why?’ said Lucy, tipping half the crisps into her mouth at once, then washing them down with a swig of wine. It was a source of much irritation amongst her female colleagues that Lucy appeared to have some kind of superhuman metabolism that magically cancelled out her workaholic single woman junk food diet, meaning she could live on crisps and wine and coffee and seemingly never put on any weight. ‘Because men and women can’t possibly just be mates?’

Jonno shrugged. ‘Probably because you’re beautiful, I’m charismatic, and we have at least one date a week in this pub.’

‘It’s not a date, and we’ve done some of our best work in this pub,’ replied Lucy, folding her arms and looking wistfully at the decor. Mostly old black-and-white photos from back in the day when this part of the city was a little more genteel and home to fewer students puking up spicy margaritas.

‘I don’t dispute that. And anyway, whilst I am happy to acknowledge that you are an unattainably hot woman, I don’t fancy you.’

‘That’s helpful,’ said Lucy, acknowledging the compliment with a soft smile. ‘Because I don’t fancy you either.’

Jonno’s eyes widened in fake outrage. ‘Why not?’

‘You’re too old, for a start.’ This kind of conversation was familiar Friday pub territory for Lucy and Jonno, who had started at LUNA on the same day over ten years previously and bonded over a week-long induction in the London office. They’d formed a powerhouse creative team that had delivered some of the agency’s most successful and award-winning work. For different reasons, they’d both turned down offers to spread their wings elsewhere, and stuck together.

‘Shit, Luce. I’m forty-four.’

‘I know. Twelve years older than me. When you were twenty-one, I was nine.’

‘OK, that sounds really wrong.’

‘It IS wrong. But it’s the undeniable truth. Also, you are the most happily married person I know.’

‘That’s also true,’ said Jonno, nodding furiously. ‘Can we drink these outside? I need to smoke.’

‘No,’ replied Lucy. ‘It’s January. And anyway, I thought you’d given up?’

‘I tried, but vaping is awful,’ said Jonno helplessly. ‘I need all that glorious tar in my blood to function. My creativity is fuelled by poison.’

‘Talking of poison,’ muttered Lucy. ‘We need to talk about how we’re going to manage Fran on this trip.’

Jonno shook his head and gave Lucy a stern look. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Come on. You’re a strong man, you can do it.’

‘I can’t. It’s easy for you, you’re a nice person. But I’ve only managed . . .’ he checked his watch, ‘. . . six whole days into 2023, and I’m struggling.’

‘Maybe you need to accept that hating Fran is the other poison that fuels your creativity.’

Jonno frowned. ‘No. We made a vow we would make it to the end of the month without being mean about Fran, and I need you to help me get through it. It’s our Dry January, remember?’

‘What about when we’re stuck in the mountains with her?’

Jonno pulled a face. ‘I reckon it’s OK if we’re on foreign soil. I was really hoping she’d do the magnanimous thing and let French Exit come.’

Lucy snorted with laughter. ‘Have you met Fran? She’s a fu—’

‘NO,’ said Jonno, holding up his hand. ‘We must resist.’

‘Anyway, why would we want Nate there? He barely ever speaks.’

‘Exactly. He’s human wallpaper, and unlikely to create distraction. Which reminds me, does he pronounce his surname Lam-butt, or the French way? Like Lom-berrr?’ He rolled the r from the corner of his mouth, like a bad impression of a Frenchman.

‘I have no idea. I’ve always gone for bog standard Lam-butt.’

‘Me too, because he’s too beige for anything more exotic than the arse of a sheep. But on the upside, he’ll blend into the background of our weekend adventure.’

‘Unlike Olly and Maya.’