I Heart Christmas

by Lindsey Kelk

  ‘But he had a reason, surely?’ This was not looking good for Tim.

  ‘He was on a stag do with some boys from the office and he text to say he was so wasted he was going to stay in their hotel room,’ she said. ‘But how likely is that? Bunk down with the boys in a Travelodge or just get in a taxi and come home? The next day he was a wreck.’

  ‘Because he really was hungover?’ I suggested.

  ‘Because he was guilty,’ she corrected. ‘He’s a guilty, lying shit. I can feel it in my bones, babe, I know it.’

  And then it was time for hysterical tears, round two. Jenny and I sat back on our heels and looked at each other without anything more helpful to say. This really couldn’t be happening. Louisa and Tim had been together since we were kids. They were that really annoying couple who always finished each other’s sentences, held hands wherever they went and, most annoyingly of all, seemed to genuinely like each other all the time. I knew things had been harder since they’d had Grace, because when was adding a baby to the mix easy? But this just seemed so unlikely. Tim wasn’t a cheater. Tim didn’t have the balls to be a cheater.

  ‘So what did he say when you said you were coming here?’ I asked, hoping to stem the sobbing. ‘Did he freak out?’

  ‘Well …’ I spotted a fleeting look of sheepishness run across her face before she quickly replaced it with righteous indignation. ‘I haven’t told him, have I?’

  ‘LOU!’

  Jenny beamed with pride and nodded with approval.

  ‘Damn right, girlfriend,’ she said, clapping.

  ‘Oh, you stop it.’ I slapped her hands away. ‘You really cannot get away with saying “girlfriend”. And she needs to tell Tim where she is.’

  ‘I text him to say we were going to my mother’s for the night,’ Lou said. ‘He doesn’t know we’re here. It was all those texts. I’ve known for ages something’s been going on and I’ve been so miserable and then I read them and they went back weeks, Ange. All I could think was that I needed to get away and obviously I couldn’t go to my mother’s.’

  ‘Well, obviously,’ I admitted. She might as well have gone to my mother’s.

  ‘And I just wanted to see you. I knew you’d make me feel better.’

  I softened, just for a second, and the sobbing began again. It was quieter this time, sadder. ‘I really don’t know what to do,’ I said, stroking her hair as the dressing room door opened and the petrified-looking shop assistant pushed in a rack of clothes, waved a disembodied hand at us and closed the door again, without even entering.

  ‘We’ll fix it,’ Jenny promised without any actual way of knowing whether or not that was possible. ‘You did the right thing, Lou Lou. Let him see how he likes being home without you and Gracie for a couple of days. He’ll rethink his situation.’

  ‘I guess.’ Lou tried to look hopeful but failed.

  ‘But she needs to tell him that she’s gone,’ I pointed out, ‘or he won’t know that he’s supposed to miss her.’

  ‘I gave someone else some advice once,’ Jenny said, pushing herself up to her high-heeled feet and browsing the rack of clothes pulled by our invisible friend. ‘It’s OK not to be OK. You’re going through some stuff, it’s not all going to feel better when you wake up tomorrow. And that’s not your fault.’

  I bit my lip and watched, my heart breaking for my best friend, while Jenny picked out a pair of leather leggings, just like hers.

  ‘And the person who took that advice turned out OK, huh, Angie?’

  ‘What?’ There suddenly seemed to be an awful lot of PVC in this changing room. ‘You gave someone advice?’

  ‘You. I gave you advice.’ Jenny looked less than impressed. ‘Maybe you didn’t turn out so good after all. Did someone drop you on your head this morning? Lou Lou, try these on.’

  Louisa took the leather leggings and blanched. I couldn’t help but smile – after everything she’d just told us, the thing that threw her was a pair of bloody trousers.

  ‘We’ll give you a minute,’ I said, taking Jenny’s hand and yanking her out of the changing room. Lou nodded, looking a little relieved, and took another sip of her mimosa. If Jenny had been right about anything, it was that the booze seemed to make things better.

  ‘I can’t believe that asshole,’ Jenny hissed once we were safely back on the shop floor. ‘I ought to cut his balls off.’

  ‘If it turns out he is cheating on her, I’ll hold him down while you take the first snip,’ I replied. ‘With a pair of rusty barbecue tongs. But for now, we just need to calm her down. We can’t go back to Grace with her in this state.’

  ‘Shopping is totally calming.’ Jenny held out her hands, as if I hadn’t noticed we were still in a store. ‘We’ll work this out.’

  ‘Fine, but I think we should just give her ten minutes on her own before we go charging back in there telling her what’s what.’

  And by we, I of course meant Jenny.

  ‘Whatever. I’m going to pee.’ She fluffed out her ponytail. ‘And then I’m going to buy shoes. Any shoes. Coming?’

  I looked around at all the racks of Christmas party dresses and felt my fingertips begin to prickle.

  ‘I’m going to see if they’ve got this jumper I wanted for Alex downstairs,’ I said, exercising previously unforeseen self-control. I wasn’t sure I liked it. ‘See you back here in ten minutes?’

  ‘Ten minutes,’ she agreed, flouncing off to the ladies’. Jenny-less, I pressed the down button on the lift and stopped, stock-still.

  What if Tim really was cheating on Louisa?

  The thought hadn’t actually occurred to me before that moment. Obviously he was in her bad books for a good reason but in all honesty, I just assumed he was being a bit shit and a bit stupid. What if he was having an affair with this Vanessa woman and Louisa nicking off had just given her all the more time and freedom to get her feet under Louisa’s beautiful modern country table. It wasn’t as though Tim would be the first husband to cheat on his wife after their baby was born. I could imagine how left out he must feel, how hard it must be for him not to be her entire world after getting all of her attention for the last fifteen years. And he had some great role models to turn to – my ex had been one of his best friends and his affair had turned out just great. He was engaged to the woman he cheated on me with, everything had come up trumps for him. Perhaps there was more to this than I wanted to believe.

  The men’s department wasn’t quite as busy as the women’s floors but there were plenty of harassed-looking gents trailing their partners and patiently lifting their chins while jumpers and shirts were held up against them for consideration. Shopping anywhere in New York in December was a trying experience but I loved coming to Bloomingdales any time of year. In spring it was full of bright colours and the hope of summer, in summer it was a delicious swirl of air conditioning, and in winter it was all sparkly party dresses, giant Christmas trees and happy shoppers. The season of goodwill concentrated into a single store. Even when the queues were long and I had to wait ten minutes to go to the toilet, there was something about Bloomies that always put a smile on my face and it wasn’t just the 10 per cent tourist discount I always got, even though I’d been living in the city for years. Trusty British driver’s licence.

  ‘Hey, Angela?’

  I was happily stroking a preppy blue on blue striped jumper, wondering what kind of sexual favours I’d have to trade Alex to convince him to wear it, when I heard a voice I recognised.

  ‘Jesse.’ I reluctantly turned away from the kitten-soft jumper and gave him a quick hug and an air kiss. I was turning into such a twat. ‘I’m busted.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he said with a laugh, grabbing the blue sweater from behind me and holding it up against himself for approval. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up. ‘I saw you were out today. Getting your Christmas on?’

  ‘What on earth makes you think I’m excited about Christmas?’ I asked, altogether too aware of how awful I looked. Jesse was one of those m
en who always looked perfectly put together, even when he was super casual. I assumed it was something to do with being six feet something and having a perfect beard.

  ‘I don’t know. The light-up reindeer in your office are kind of a hint,’ he said, tossing the blue jumper over his arm. ‘Looking for something for the party on Friday night?’

  ‘The Christmas party?’ I was so beyond excited about my first ever proper honest-to-the-son-of-God-whose-birthday-we-were-celebrating office Christmas party.

  ‘Holiday party,’ he said. ‘We’re not allowed to call it a Christmas party because there are lots of different religions represented at Spencer Media, Angela.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ I would never be politically correct enough for America. ‘Are you Jewish?’

  ‘Catholic,’ he replied. ‘Mostly. I’m yanking your chain.’

  ‘Right.’ I raised my eyebrows and forced myself not to sigh. Sometimes, America … ‘Am I still allowed to be Christmas shopping?’

  ‘As long as you don’t say the “C” word in front of HR,’ he confirmed. ‘Who’s the sweater for?’

  ‘My husband,’ I said, holding up the jumper again and frowning. ‘Alex. Alex Reid. I didn’t change my name. But I’m married. To Alex.’

  There was a good chance I was over-explaining but for one, I felt bad that I’d been caught Christmas shopping when the rest of the office was slaving away and two, not to put too fine a point on it, Jesse was hot. And hot men made me nervous.

  ‘Aah, the mysterious Mr Angela.’ Jesse stroked his chin through the stubble and smiled. His eyes were very blue. His hair was very black, a little bit like Alex’s, only shorter. Of course he wasn’t as handsome as Alex, I reminded myself quickly, and as sexy as that beard might look, it would almost certainly give a girl a rash. ‘He’s a sweater guy?’

  ‘Against his will, on special occasions,’ I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt. ‘He’s a perennial jeans and T-shirt kind of a man.’

  Why was it always so weird to see someone you worked with outside work? I spent between eight and twelve hours a day with Jesse, five days a week, and had never so much as coloured up when he tipped me the wink in the office but three minutes of casual conversation in the Bloomingdales basement and I felt like a complete slag.

  ‘I feel him,’ Jesse said, clearly not awkward at all. ‘I only dress up for you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘In the office?’ he gave me a huge grin. ‘I figured jeans and tees every day would be pushing my luck. With Mary mostly.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ I agreed quickly, nodding so hard I thought my head might fall off. ‘Yeah, she can be a bit strict. Although I’m a bit more casual off duty, as you can see.’

  Better to bring up my bag lady ensemble than have him say nothing then run back to the office and tell them all what a tramp I was. Not that there was a single person in that office that hadn’t walked in on me trying to get some sort of stain out of some sort of clothing in the last year.

  ‘I like it.’ Jesse flicked some presumably very real dust from my shoulder. ‘Totally punk.’

  ‘Totally what I was going for,’ I said, relaxing a little. ‘You’re Christmas shopping too?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He waved the blue sweater in the air and rolled his blue eyes. ‘I’m doing so well. We both know I’m gonna end up wearing this before I give it to my brother. I can’t cope with going out to do laundry in this weather.’

  I nodded in agreement, bathing silently in the glow of the brand new washer and dryer in our new apartment. Soon, my precious, soon.

  ‘You’re in Williamsburg, right?’ he asked, digging around in his Manhattan Portage messenger bag. ‘You should come to my band’s show Thursday night. You haven’t seen us play before, right?’

  ‘I have not,’ I said, taking the flyer and scanning it quickly. Music Hall, Thursday at eleven. So past my bedtime, but super close to my apartment.

  ‘Yeah, we’re R5-D4.’ He pointed to the band at the top of the list. ‘It’s a dumb name.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ I said reflexively. I had no idea if it was dumb or not. ‘Ooh, you’re headlining.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s our friend’s night,’ he shrugged. Bless him for being so blasé about it. I’d once heard someone say there were a hundred blogs on the internet for every one that had a reader. If that was true, there had to be a thousand bands in Williamsburg for every one that only ever played in their friend’s basement. Thursday night at Music Hall was nothing to be sniffed at. ‘It should be fun, though. You should come. I’ll put you on the list.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ It was as committal as I could be. ‘As long as you don’t quit and leave me in the lurch looking for a new managing editor while I’m looking after things for Mary.’

  ‘We’re a long way from quitting our day jobs,’ he promised. ‘As you’ll see if you come to the show.’

  ‘Maybe Alex’ll come,’ I said, more wondering to myself than to Jesse. ‘My husband. He’s a musician, he’s in a band.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said with another shy smile. Bloody Americans and their perfect teeth. If I weren’t dead against it, I’d have been pitching Jenny’s empty womb for rent at that exact second. Smart, handsome and brilliant gnashers. She could do worse. ‘I love Stills. They were like my favourite band when I was in college.’

  College? How old was he? How old was I?

  ‘I should go,’ Jesse said, looking at his watch. ‘I ran out as soon as Mary wasn’t looking but I had better get back before the staff meeting.’

  ‘You’re making me feel so guilty.’ I pushed my dirty hair out of my face and held my head. ‘Tomorrow is going to be hard work, isn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe I won’t mention I saw you.’ Jesse tapped his nose and tossed the sweater over his shoulder. ‘Secret Shoppers Anonymous.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hate you if you didn’t.’ I dug my hands deep in my jeans pockets, feeling a bit odd again. ‘I’d better get back upstairs. See you tomorrow?’

  ‘At work or in Macy’s?’ he asked as I walked away.

  ‘Make it Barneys and you’ve got yourself a date,’ I laughed before immediately blushing from head to toe. ‘A shopping date. Obviously.’

  ‘Too late,’ he deadpanned, turning to the cash desk. ‘I’m going straight to HR when I get back to the office.’

  And even though I was smiling as I walked away, I still felt a little unsettled. The Americans were a litigious people.

  When I got back up to the second floor, I had a sneaking suspicion that Jenny wouldn’t have been able to keep clear of the changing room and give Louisa the space she so clearly needed. After a quick scout around the shoe section proved fruitless, I ran back to the changing room.

  ‘Jenny, I’m just not sure,’ I heard Louisa protest inside. ‘I don’t think it’s really me.’

  ‘Don’t be dumb,’ Jenny replied. ‘It’s all wipe clean, baby sick proof. It’s totally practical.’

  When I threw open the door, I was treated to the sight of Louisa clad in a backless leather bustier and leather trousers so tight I could more or less see exactly where Grace had come into the world.

  ‘Help?’ she said, afraid to move in her towering high heels.

  ‘Doesn’t she look awesome?’ Jenny stood beside her masterpiece and gave me a double thumbs up. ‘Hell of a makeover.’

  ‘Hell seems about right,’ I said, fighting a smile that would not be welcomed by either of my friends. ‘I reckon we probably ought to get back home soon, relieve Alex of his Grace-sitting duties?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ Louisa nodded, immediately bending down to take off the ridiculous stripper heels Jenny had chosen for her. ‘I’m sure she’ll be missing her mummy.’

  ‘You two suck,’ Jenny announced, hands on hips. ‘I hope you know that.’

  ‘We do,’ I said, throwing an arm around Louisa’s shoulders and squeezing them in a half-hug. ‘And we’re fine with it.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘They’re
totally unconscious,’ I announced, quietly closing the bedroom door on Grace and Louisa, both completely sparked out on my bed at three in the afternoon. Alex nodded from his cross-legged position in front of his record racks. Someone had had a very busy morning pretending to start packing up the apartment. He was surrounded by record sleeves, some I recognised, some I didn’t, all showing the careful wear and tear of being played often but with love.

  ‘Jet lag’s a bitch,’ Alex said, sliding a Nirvana album into the slots of a special packing crate. ‘They must be exhausted.’

  We’d been out of the house for nearly five hours and Alex had filled one box. But he had been on babysitting duty and I couldn’t imagine he’d allowed Grace anywhere near his precious vinyl collection. I was only allowed to touch the records if I washed my hands and even then I was forbidden to drop the needle on the record player, following an unfortunate scratching incident with my dad’s Police record when I was five. I still couldn’t believe my dad remembered that. Or that he had told Alex within fifteen minutes of meeting him.

  ‘Can you believe all this Tim stuff, though?’ I had filled him in on the basics with a series of exclamation mark-filled texts on our way back in the cab. ‘I just can’t get my head around it.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s too bad.’ Alex cleared a spot beside him for me to sit down. I stretched out along the floor, pulling the Ramones T-shirt I’d borrowed in my rush to get dressed that morning over my bare belly. ‘I liked that guy. I hope they can figure it out.’

  ‘What did you and Grace get up to?’ I said, resting my head in his lap. ‘She went out like a light.’

  ‘I took her to the park,’ he said, pushing away the rest of his records and stroking my hair away from my face. ‘She’s a maniac. I thought my legs were going to fall off chasing her around the dog run. Word of advice, never let a kid see a puppy if she can’t actually have it. I had to bribe her to stop crying with all the candy on earth.’