by Mandy Baggot
*
What was he doing? Ray had wanted to kiss her on the piano stool at the cocktail bar. Despite the patrons watching, the applause, he had felt like they were in their own sealed bubble, completely alone, totally in the now. But common sense had won out and the moment had gone. But now, here, the feeling was deeper, overwhelming even. Emily was a special person. He didn’t want to hurt her. And he didn’t want to be hurt either. How could he trust this? Or did he need to? They had both been through so much, did it have to be something that was analysed? Could it not just be a kiss?
She reached up then, putting her palm to his face and her touch sent a thousand tiny sparks fizzing under his skin. He moved towards her, centimetre by slow centimetre, his lips almost already tasting hers. He was nervous. This was so special. He saw her shiver and he kissed her then, their mouths meeting, softly, gently, exploring delicately, still a little hesitant. And then more deeply, wider, passion increased, their lips a tangle of sexy, their hands reaching out, holding, desperate for even more of a connection.
And then suddenly Emily broke away, her throat making a sound that ripped through his panting arousal. She shifted, out from underneath him, leaving him, getting to her feet, brushing down her coat with her fingers.
‘I… we… it’s late,’ she said unable to meet his eyes.
He stood up too. He shouldn’t have kissed her. She wasn’t ready. And he wasn’t ready either, despite the physical signs his body was offering up. It was a mistake.
‘Yeah,’ he answered as coolly as he was able. It didn’t sound cool. He sounded like someone who had just experienced the most beautiful kiss of his life and then had a bucket of cold water poured all over him. ‘You’re right. I have a big day in the studio tomorrow and you have…’
‘Shopping,’ Emily answered. ‘Christmas shopping with Jonah.’
‘Well, we should definitely call it a night in that case,’ he said, nodding.
‘We should turn off the heaters and…’ Emily began.
‘I can do that,’ he said, wanting this awkwardness to be over. ‘Why don’t you head in?’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ he answered.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Goodnight, Ray.’
‘Goodnight, Emily.’
He watched her leave, rushing away because she couldn’t face what had happened between them. What had happened? From his point of view what had happened was what always happened. The girl realised that who he was simply wasn’t what she wanted.
Forty-Six
Hyde Park, Winter Wonderland
‘Ooo, we must have a go on the helter-skelter! I haven’t been on one of those in years!’ Allan was already munching on a mustard-covered bratwurst he’d insisted on getting the second they arrived at London’s premier Christmas extravaganza.
Every year Emily and Jonah went out looking for Christmas gifts and ended up here instead. Not that the Winter Wonderland didn’t have plenty to buy. There were cute little Bavarian-style chalets selling gorgeous hand-made gifts from unique jewellery to artisan preserves but Jonah (and now Two L’s) were easily distracted by the fairground attractions and many, many eateries. It was a beautiful, Christmassy arena though, with a big wheel and ice-skating and acrobatic shows to watch, all sitting amid ice white lights and warm, glowing bars offering mulled wine and mince pies or chocolate calzones and beer. It was impossible not to feel the festive spirit in these surroundings, nestling in with other smiling shoppers all partaking in the season of goodwill.
‘I need to get my mum a nutcracker,’ Jonah remarked. He was reading from a gift list on the notes section of his mobile phone.
‘Everyone loves a man in uniform,’ Allan replied, grinning. ‘Or a Christmas jumper.’ He pulled the bright red, green and gold reindeer motif sweater away from his body.
‘I don’t mean the soldier,’ Jonah replied. ‘I mean an actual nutcracker. To crack nuts.’ He turned to Emily as they meandered through the park, bracing themselves against the chill wind as well as the crowds. ‘Every year since I was little, my mum’s borrowed a nutcracker from Hilda at number fourteen. And every year, since I was about ten, I’ve asked her why she doesn’t buy one of her own. And she always says the same thing.’ Jonah took a breath then spoke in a thick West Indies accent. ‘“Jonah, I only have nuts to crack once a year, at Christmas, why would I buy something I’ll only use once a year?”’
‘I’m always so impressed by that excellent impression,’ Allan said, biting into his sausage.
‘I want to finally get her one,’ Jonah said. ‘So, I don’t have to have the same conversation for the next twenty or so years. A nice one, silver maybe.’
Emily nodded, her gloved hands in the pockets of her coat. It was really cold today. Even colder than the icy atmosphere in her apartment that morning. The heating wasn’t on the blink again, it was how things were with her and Ray. She felt the absolute epitome of awkward after their kiss on the roof terrace but, in the shower, she had also closed her eyes as the water sprinkled all over her bare body and relived every stomach-turning sultry second of it. They bumped into each other over making breakfast, literally. Ray had stepped towards the fridge just as she had wanted to get something from the top cupboard and his face had all but ended up in her armpit… luckily after her shower. Things were now so stilted, they were both behaving like a divorced couple forced to move back in with each other and not remembering anything they used to have in common. It was eating her up. She couldn’t concentrate. She had no notes about gifts like Jonah. She was even considering buying her mother the cheapest gin she could find on Amazon to make a point…
‘Emily, what do you think?’ Jonah asked her.
Oh God. She hadn’t been listening properly. Had the conversation moved on from silver nutcrackers? She could hazard a guess or she could…
‘Ray kissed me,’ she blurted out.
Allan made a horrendous noise like a cross between someone choking and a hiccupping camel.
‘Allan, are you OK?’ Jonah asked, thumping his partner on the back as his eyes began to bulge and he attempted to catch his breath.
‘Fine!’ Allan inhaled, clutching at his throat. ‘Not the first time I’ve had too much sausage down my throat… but that’s a conversation for another time. Emily! Wow! I’m so thrilled for you!’
‘Hang on a second,’ Jonah interrupted. ‘She just said Ray kissed her. Was it something you didn’t want? Because if he did that then…’
Emily shook her head, drawing their walking to a halt and putting fingers to her fringe that was being crucified by the slightly too-tight yellow woollen hat she was wearing. Not all vintage was worn-in enough. ‘No, it wasn’t like that. Of course, it wasn’t like that.’ Ray wasn’t like that.
‘Then what was it like?’ Jonah wanted to know.
‘Yes,’ Allan carried on. ‘Tell us what it was like, all the details, don’t leave anything out. Was it all hot and steamy… did you walk in on him in the shower again? Did your eyes meet amid a cloud of sexy condensation—?’
‘Did you just ask if she walked in on him the shower again? Why don’t I know about the first time?’ Jonah wailed.
‘I think we need mulled wine for this,’ Allan said, gobbling the last of the bratwurst then linking arms with Emily. ‘Come on, let’s go and settle in one of those little huts and get comfortable.’
‘A non-alcoholic version for me,’ Emily reminded, letting herself be tugged forward.
*
The oompah music rose above the excited chatter of patrons indulging in huge glasses of beer and Emily was glad of the lively atmosphere here in this Oktoberfest-style marquee. The roof was illuminated by strings of lights and the bench seating, together with the German tunes, gave it a Christmas party atmosphere. She sipped at her alcohol-free mulled wine and realised that Jonah and Allan were both staring at her waiting for her to re-start the conversation.
‘The wine is lovely, all spicy,’ Emily
remarked with a smile and another little sip.
‘I’m not drinking a drop until you tell us what happened,’ Jonah said.
‘And I’m saving drinking mine until the really juicy bits,’ Allan answered, all grins.
‘Well,’ Emily began. ‘I took Ray to the charity planning evening with my parents.’
‘What?!’ Jonah exclaimed.
‘God, he went to that,’ Allan stated. ‘The man is a saint.’
‘Yes,’ Emily said with a nervous nod. ‘And my parents, well my mother really, was really rude to him. And then my mother insulted my singing and then, I don’t really know what happened, but Ray got up and he took me with him, and we played the piano and sang “Oh, Holy Night” to the whole entire bar.’
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Allan inhaled a mouthful of wine.
‘And then we got kebabs and he told me all about his mum who died when he was young, and I told him… I told him how Simon died and about why I don’t drink and about Jonathan Stansfield, and then I thought he was going to fall off the roof and we ended up on the floor together and… then… then… I asked him to kiss me.’ She picked up her drink and downed half of it.
‘Mother Mary!’ Allan gasped.
Jonah wasn’t saying anything now. Emily knew he was worried about her, but she still wanted her best friend to say something, anything, even if their opinions were opposing.
‘And did he?’ Allan asked. ‘I’m guessing he did! Right there? On the floor of the roof terrace? Were you clothed at the time? Because you didn’t mention anything coming off and…’
‘Fully-clothed,’ Emily said. ‘In coats.’
‘God!’ Allan said, pulling a face. ‘That’s not romantic at all.’
Jonah still hadn’t said anything. His hands were wrapped around his cup of mulled wine and his body language seemed to be questioning her sanity. She supposed it was a real change to her persona from what everyone had got used to since Simon’s death. But it wasn’t so far removed from the Emily she’d been before that fateful evening. Drinks, laughter and love on the roof terrace had been staple weekend entertainment for all of them before life got shadowed.
She looked towards the Christmas tree near the entrance, its festive glow kick-starting reverie. ‘It was… wonderful… yet crazy and impulsive and…’
‘You’re going to be a couple and buy padlocks and keys and clip your initials to Tower Bridge for all eternity,’ Allan suggested, leaning a little over the table towards her.
‘No,’ Emily said. ‘Not that… not any of it. Because I stopped the kiss and now I’m wondering if it was all…’ She didn’t know how she wanted to end the sentence. ‘A mistake,’ she breathed. ‘You know…wrong.’
‘Does Ray think it was a mistake?’ Allan asked softly.
‘I expect so,’ Emily said.
‘You don’t know? You didn’t discuss it?’ Allan said.
‘I said it was late and he said he had to be up early too for a session in the studio and I went to bed.’ She sighed. ‘Then this morning we tip-toed around each other in my kitchen and it was so uncomfortable. It was like we’d lost all the camaraderie we’d built up and that’s the worst thing, feeling like that… because I’ve enjoyed getting to know him and he’s been fantastic helping with the Christmas show and… I should have thought of all those things before I asked him to kiss me.’
Still Jonah remained quiet. Emily watched him, his eyes looking into the cup of mulled wine, not meeting hers, not offering the best friend advice she so badly wanted to hear, no matter what it was… Perhaps she needed to be more direct.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she admitted. ‘Tell me, what do I do?’
Allan went to reply but then he stopped himself. He reached for Jonah’s hand and placed it on top of Emily’s. ‘What do you think she should do, Jonah?’
With accordions and trombones sounding out a noisy polka, Emily wondered if Jonah was actually going to reply at all, even now Allan had tried to force his hand. But then Jonah gave her hand a squeeze and started talking.
‘Well, Em,’ Jonah began. ‘The way I see it, you have two options. Depending on how you want things to go.’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘So, if you simply want the awkwardness to go away… you either give it time, or you face it head on and you talk to him. You say it was a mistake and you both put it down to the… tonic water.’
‘And if it wasn’t a mistake?’ Allan asked, nudging Jonah with his elbow.
‘Well, if it wasn’t a mistake,’ Jonah said, ‘then, Em, you should tell him how you feel and you should suggest… maybe… going on a date or something…’ He took a breath. ‘But don’t put yourself under too much pressure. He’s in the spotlight right now, there’s lots of forces at work, and Christmas, it’s an emotional time of year and you’re living in the same space and…’
Allan interrupted. ‘What Jonah is trying to say, very badly, is that if you only think the timing was off, or it’s a case of needing to get your head around the situation, and not that the whole thing is a mistake, then talk to him, clear the air and find out how he’s feeling.’ Allan smiled. ‘It could be that you’re on the same page, you’re just both too stupid to say it.’
Jonah squeezed Emily’s hand again. ‘What Two L’s said.’
‘Really?’ Emily asked, wanting so much for her best friend to understand.
‘I think I knew this was going to happen,’ Jonah admitted. ‘It was my fault. Trying to force-feed you men I find attractive and thinking you would too.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ Allan exclaimed. ‘You’ve been picking housemates for Emily based on your own criteria.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Did they all have a Hispanic look, tight black jeans and a snug vest like Enrique in the “Hero” video?’
Emily laughed. ‘Well…’
‘I’m not listening,’ Jonah answered.
‘No? Well, perhaps we need to buy two nutcrackers today,’ Allan suggested. ‘And the walnuts I’m thinking of breaking apart don’t come in a net from Waitrose.’
Talk to Ray. They had both said it. Jonah had said it. But was it all easier said than done?
‘Now,’ Allan said. ‘I think it’s high time we all started acting like the grown-ups we’re meant to be.’
‘Says the man who wanted to go on the helter-skelter no more than thirty minutes ago…’ Jonah said.
‘Be strong, Emily,’ Allan said, slurping at his mulled wine. ‘Like I’m going to be over that strudel over there I can practically taste but can’t try because I’ve not long had a German sausage.’
‘Just be you, Em,’ Jonah told her. ‘Take it one step at a time. One conversation at a time. One—’
‘Quality Street at a time… no, cancel that, that’s just ridiculous. One handful of Quality Street at a time.’
‘Thanks, guys,’ Emily said, picking up her plastic glass.
‘What?’ Allan exclaimed. ‘That’s it? We’ve imparted all our worldly advice and you’re not going to give us any details of this lip-locking that took place?’ He inhaled, leaning over the wooden table and gazing at Emily. ‘Was he good? Was his tongue like crushed velvet or sandpaper? I’m not telling you my preference…’
‘Allan!’ Jonah exclaimed.
‘What?!’ Allan replied, leaning back again. ‘Just because Ray doesn’t have an urban, favela vibe.’
Emily laughed, a soft, cosy feeling rising up in her belly. She felt happy. Really happy. For the first time in a long time. Contentedly she sighed, glancing around the marquee and taking in the frivolity and carefree ambience anew. Christmas was coming and she was no longer too sad to look forward to it.
Forty-Seven
MP Free Studio, Islington
‘Are we good to go again? Ray?’
It was his producer, Leyland, calling through from the sound desk, wanting another take of the last song Ray thought had been pretty much perfect. His voice was hurting after two hours hard at it. But not in the scary way it had been before. This felt more like tire
dness, or lack of practice, or the fact he hadn’t done his vocal exercises enough. He was going to try a hot bath later, breathe in some of that steam Dr Crichton had recommended. Taking a sip from his bottle of water, he looked up from the piano keys to Leyland’s face through the glass. Ray spoke into the microphone. ‘Yeah, we can go again. Can you turn up my headphones a bit?’
He adjusted the headphones then put his fingers back to the piano. In between takes he’d been thinking about lyrics for another festive song for Emily’s show. They currently had another three songs, together with ‘O, Holy Night’, but he couldn’t get the tune of ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’ out of his head. It was probably down to the fact that he had kissed Emily last night. It had been magical, everything, until it hadn’t, and then this morning he had been scared to breathe too heavily in case he touched any part of her in the tiny kitchen. Neither of them had mentioned it at all. He needed to find a way to break the ice somehow.
‘You OK, Ray?’ Leyland asked again.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go again.’
He listened to the intro begin in the headphones over his ears and got ready to play. But, as he put fingers to keys, the door of the studio burst open and Ida was there, right in front of him, the angriest look on her face. Right away, his heart began to race like one of the horses his dad put bets on…
‘What’s going on, Ray?’ Ida stalked towards the grand piano. ‘I mean, what the fuck is going on?!’
He pulled his headphones off, dropping them to the top of the piano, then leaped up off the stool, needing to be standing tall when she got to him. She didn’t just look angry. She looked crazy – eyes frenzied, hair untamed, loose-fitting cardigan way too big for her small frame. Now he was really concerned.
‘Hey, Ida, what are you doing here?’ He swallowed, trying to stand still and strong. He needed to be calm. In control and cool.