She blotted her eyes.
“I wish I could help with what you’ve lost writing-wise, but that’s out of my league. I’m sure it’s all still up there in that smart brain of yours, though…”
“You’d do all this for me? Why?”
He smiled. “Do you really have to ask?”
Alex bit her lip.
“I could get used to playing the hero.” He glanced at his phone. “Shit. My boss will have my balls if I’m not back downstairs. So, the private party starts at two. You’ve got two hours.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Come. There’s a brew downstairs with your name on it. My treat.”
Mark was right; circulating trays of appetizers was a no-brainer. The party of investment bankers from the City was more interested in Naomi and the continuous flow of booze than Alex’s prawn bundles. She took a breather in a nook at the far end of the venue, checking her phone. Both her dad and Joan had left messages. A power cut and depleted phone batteries, the reasons for their disappearances earlier. She sent two texts back, saying she would call after work.
Naomi ducked into the hideaway. Alex looked up from her phone, swearing under her breath. The beauty had been chatty each time they bumped into each other, but the blonde wasn’t buying it. The images of her fondling Mark were still plastered all over her brain. She felt relieved that she had mended fences with Mark earlier, but could do without this afternoon’s reminder of what Naomi had that she didn’t.
“If that slime pinches my arse one more time, I’m going to lamp him.” Naomi pointed to a lanky fifty-something banker with a greasy comb-over.
“That I’d like to see.” Alex frowned.
“Not in the holiday spirit?” asked Naomi.
“You could say that.”
“I’ve been there. Say no more.” Naomi nudged her with a bony elbow. “But this year, I think Father Christmas is finally bringing me Mr. Right. It’s been a bit stop-start, but I think we’re finally on the right track.” Her face shone brighter than her empty silver tray.
Alex dreaded the name that would spring from Naomi’s pillowy lips.
“We went out for drinks after work and ended up at mine. Neither of us got much sleep that night.” A loud laugh escaped from her throat. “Start as you mean to go on, Naomi.”
She knew it, her suspicions now proven right. It was back on—Mark and Naomi’s bonk-a-thon. It wasn’t any of her business, but a part of her wanted more details, even if they hurt. At least she’d have closure. “You’re lucky. Mark’s lovely.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Alex wished she had a recall button. Whatever Naomi spilled next would only make her feel bad. Too late now.
“Mark?” Naomi’s pencil-thin eyebrows pinched. “No, he’s just a friend. Well, that’s not totally true. We had a little fling last year, so we have history, but it’s ancient. I slip into my old flirty ways with him sometimes, but no, he’s not my type.”
The blonde’s mouth gaped open.
“You should go for him.” Naomi’s elbow jabbed her again. “You look cute together.”
Alex did a double take. Naomi nodded. “I’m serious. He talks about you all the time. If you’re interested, you should definitely let him know. Mind you, he works too much. And he’s got that awful scooter…”
“He talks about me?”
“He was raving about your play the other day—something about a bridge? I feel like I know you, he goes on so much…” She scrunched up her perfect nose. “Actually, I might owe you an apology…that day in Kitchen? I’m such a terrible flirt; it’s my default setting. I didn’t realize you guys were having a moment when I interrupted…I’m sorry.”
Alex nodded, speechless.
Naomi leaned in. “I know he’s really into you, but listen. Fate can be a lazy bitch. Don’t wait around for her. Make it happen with Mark. That’s why I’ve devised a battle plan to hook my new fella. Don’t leave anything to chance, sweetie. Ever!”
She winked and strutted off towards the chef to refill her tray.
Alex briefly closed her eyes, a slow grin winding through her freckles. All the resentment and jealousy she had been feeling towards Naomi slowly fell away with each elated breath.
In the three days running up to Christmas Eve, the National hummed with back-to-back holiday parties. Alex worked every catering shift available on top of her regular job. Throbbing feet, skipped meals, and zero face time with friends plagued the hectic week, but each pound earned brought her closer to a new year’s purchase of a good secondhand laptop.
Before staff scattered at noon on December 24, Alex met Mark for a quick goodbye in Kitchen. His flight to Dublin was leaving from Gatwick in three hours, and he was headed to the airport straight from work.
He handed over a burgundy laptop bag that had seen better days. “I wish I could give you a proper Christmas present, but this will have to do. I’m in no rush to get it back. Keep it for as long as you need.”
Alex hugged the bag against her geometric-print blue and black sweater dress. “This is the best present anyone could give me. Thank you.”
He grinned mischievously. “Okay, I lied. I do have something for you.”
“Cheater.” Alex swatted at him.
“It’s just a little something. Close your eyes.”
Mark only had five minutes to spare, so she didn’t put up a fight. All the rustling and crinkling raised her eyebrows.
“Now open.”
Four large packages of Twizzlers rested on the table—strawberry, and black licorice twists.
Alex squealed and snatched a package to her chest. “I’ve been having sugar shakes. How’d you find them?”
Mark beamed. “A friend brought them back from the States. I’ve had them for two months, waiting for the best time to give them to you. Thank goodness for lengthy expiration dates.”
“Would that friend be Naomi?”
He nodded, his grin fading. “Yeah, Naomi…” He cleared his throat. “She really is just a friend. Nothing more.”
Alex bowed her head. “I know.” Her eyes glowed, and a slight giggle escaped from her lips.
A smile meandered across Mark’s face as he lifted his backpack to his shoulder. He exhaled slowly, hesitant to look away.
“Wait. I have something for you, too.” Alex slid a Christmas card across the table. “Lucy used to call me the ‘Card Lady’ because I never missed an occasion to mail a handwritten card. I’d hit all of them—birthdays, Easter, Christmas. Although that nickname’s probably dust now. I couldn’t afford to send any this year.”
Mark tucked the red envelope into his jacket pocket. “Do you mind if I save it until Christmas morning? It will give me something to look forward to.”
“If that’s the highlight of your Christmas morning, times are tough,” said Alex.
He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Good things come in small packages, right, Mouse?”
She blushed.
He pulled his duffel bag closer to his seat and slipped his other arm through the backpack strap.
An empty, sinking feeling overwhelmed Alex. If her heart pounded any harder, the British Geological Survey might issue an earthquake warning. She stared at his lips and curled her fingers around the edge of her chair.
“Mark, before you go, I…” She leaned in, her lips parting slightly. “…I just want to wish you a Merry Christmas.” She tossed her arms around his shoulders. He met her hug with a warm squeeze. She closed her eyes, deflated. Not the holiday greeting she planned to deliver. Bottled it.
Pulling away, she looked up at him. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you on the other side?”
“Definitely. Enjoy Manchester and make sure Freddie behaves.” Mark picked up his duffel bag and set off. At Kitchen’s entrance, he looked back over his shoulder. Alex waved with a sigh.
He turned around again, this time kissing his palm and waving the captured smooch her way.
Thirty-Three
“Happy Christmas, kids. Having you here’s the
best gift.” Joan beamed at Alex, Lucy, and Freddie as she sipped a can of lager. “Anyone else fancy some cheer?”
Freddie shot up from the floor, a pair of fuzzy reindeer antlers jiggling atop his head; the comical accessory contradicted his dressy white shirt, red smoking jacket, and black trousers. “Drinking at 11 a.m.? I like your style, Joan.”
He whipped into the kitchen where Helen and Michael toiled away, the mouth-watering aroma of turkey cooking in the oven hinting at the delicious meal to come.
“My first Christmas with you, age twenty-two. Crazy.” Alex hugged her gran tightly. “I need this after the year I’ve had.” A toasty fire glowed in the lounge’s fireplace while the Carpenters’ Christmas album warbled from the stereo.
“That’s the best part of the holidays. A clean slate’s just around the corner.” Lucy stooped down, marveling at the blanket of presents under the tree.
“No, the best part’s the grub.” Freddie returned to his fireside spot on the floor with an open beer in his hand. “Turkey, roast spuds, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire pudding—I haven’t had a traditional Christmas meal in…forever.”
“Don’t you go home, love?” Joan took pride of place on the cushy sofa. She was bundled in a blue and white Fair Isle sweater, an early Christmas gift from Helen.
Freddie shook his head and shifted closer to the sparkly tree, the tint of his face fluctuating with each blink of the candy coloured lights. “Nah, Lucy and I typically hang out over Christmas. My parents misplaced their welcome mat years ago.”
“Me and Freddie have been celebrating Christmas Jamaican-style the last few years—roast chicken, rice and peas, a bottle of Sorrel—raising a glass in honour of my gran. And we always splurge on Christmas crackers. Freddie’s fetching in a paper crown,” said Lucy, sitting down beside Joan.
“That sounds wonderful, love. It’s important to keep up family traditions,” said Joan.
Michael weaved his way around his guests, carrying a tin of Quality Street chocolates and a large tub of Celebrations. Alex and Freddie swarmed his delivery before it could land on the coffee table. Freddie loaded his hands full of mini Maltesers, Twix, and Galaxy chocolate bars.
“Ooh, calling dibs on the Bounty bars.” Alex playfully shoved Freddie with her woolly white elbow. The sweater made her look like a fluffy Christmas snowflake.
Freddie laughed. “Bounty? Are you joking?”
Alex shook her head, munching on the small bar. She folded her legs under her blue tartan miniskirt and sat beside him on the floor.
“It’s the least popular one.” Lucy dug a green triangle out of the Quality Street. “The sad little Bounties always get left behind.”
“Once an outsider, always an outsider. Nice one, Lex.” Freddie gave her a peck on the temple.
“Alex, did you hear from your mum?” Michael upped the fire’s flames with a remote control.
“She sent a card saying she was off to Antigua with her greasy boyfriend; some resort where Oprah goes, apparently. Robbie and Kathryn were invited, too, like I care.”
“Now, Alex, come on…” Michael raised an eyebrow, his mouth a wry smile. Despite his dislike for his ex, he still expected his youngest to show her mother respect.
Helen trotted into the room, wearing a tacky snowman Christmas sweater that matched Michael’s. “Let’s open the presents before we eat. Everything should be ready by one.”
“Perfect. Then we can watch the Queen’s Speech at three,” said Joan.
“Really? The Queen addresses the nation today?” asked Alex. “Weird. Can’t see the President doing that.”
Helen pulled gifts from under the tree and placed them into eager hands.
Joan’s face lit up. “And we’ll look through the photo albums you brought too, Alex. We got your annual school photos, but that was about it. Your mum was quite stingy.”
“Still is…well, with me she is. I haven’t looked through those albums for ages. So embarrassing. Bad haircuts. Horrible clothes, and the acne…”
“They’re going to be hilarious. Lex wouldn’t let me take a peek. God knows, I’ve tried,” said Lucy, adjusting the hem of her grey sweater dress as she joined her friends on the floor.
For the next fifteen minutes, wrapping paper and bows overwhelmed the lounge, and laughter overtook the Carpenters’ holiday harmonies.
“Lex, you outdid yourself.” Freddie gazed at two Doctor Who Titan figures. “How on earth did you remember? And where did you find them? The green-windowed TARDIS and the blue-shirted eleventh Doctor are rare variants. They’re impossible to get.”
“All hail eBay,” she smiled. “Why go blind boxed, when you pick and choose?”
“They must’ve cost a mint. Thank you so much. I’m speechless…”
Alex shook her head, tearing the final piece of paper from Lucy’s present. “Anything for you, Freddie.”
“Speechless, Freds?” asked Lucy. “Enjoy this moment, everyone—God knows it won’t last long!”
“Wow. Lucy’s creative talents strike again! Love it. Thank you.” Alex flipped through a one-of-a-kind book filled with photos and Lucy’s drawings. “Here’s the first photo we took together at the Fox and Hounds near Sloane Square. Oh, and look Joan, here’s all of us at the Castle pub. Check out Mark’s face.”
“Are we talking about Mark…again?” Lucy scrunched up her nose and elbowed her best friend. “See, this year wasn’t all bad.”
Alex smiled at his photo. “Yeah, I’m an idiot. I’m glad we’re speaking again.”
“Hopefully that’s not all you’ll be doing!” Lucy smirked.
Alex playfully smacked her friend. “Lucy! Open your present.”
She ripped open the candy-cane striped paper, revealing the back of a CD case; it featured imagery of tall fir trees against a starry sky, no track listings. Confused, she flipped it over—a male and a female smiled up at her, both dressed in gaudy Nordic clothing and carrying lutes. The title declared CIDER WITH ROSIE Odin’s Magical Spear.
“Straight from their website.” Alex beamed expectantly at Lucy. “I was worried it wouldn’t get here in time. It’s number three on the Norwegian folk charts—seriously!”
“Ahh, nice one, cheers, Lex. That’s brilliant.” Lucy adopted a trying-my-best-not-to-hurt-your-feelings smile and held the gift up for everyone to admire.
A few seconds in, Freddie broke the room’s polite silence, doubling over with laughter. “Oh God, YOUR FACE, Lucy!”
Alex and her family joined in the wave of giggles, all in on the joke.
“I’m sorry, babe! Did you really think I’d give you such a crap gift?” Alex handed her a bendy rectangle covered in reindeer paper.
Lucy’s mouth fell open in relief. “I was gonna say—you don’t even know me.”
She removed the wrap in one go, smiling widely. A Watchmen graphic novel greeted her. “Now that’s better. I’ve always wanted to read this one, and I forgot to buy it at the con. Cheers, Lex!”
“Look inside…” said Alex.
Her friend cocked her head to the side and opened the cover. A pamphlet from the University of the Arts London slipped onto her lap.
“What…the…?” Lucy clutched the pamphlet.
“Your gran was so proud when you got accepted into their animation program, and I know it broke your heart to drop out. Lucy, you’re really talented, so I signed you up for three nights of cartooning fundamentals, to dip your toe back in.”
Lucy’s eyes glowed with tears, her hand clapped over her heart. “I can’t believe you did this for me. No one’s ever done something like…” She leapt into a hug with Alex.
“You and Freddie mean the world to me. I wouldn’t have lasted here five minutes without you. It’s my way of thanking you guys—for everything. I’ve never had friends who meant so much to me—I love you both…” Happy tears welled up in Alex’s eyes.
Freddie squeezed his way into the hug. “Who says family’s only connected by blood, eh?”
“I do
n’t think it’s a coincidence that my panic attacks have faded. You two, you’re my safety net.” Alex smiled into Freddie’s shoulder.
Michael put his arm around Helen. “I don’t worry so much about Alex, knowing she has these two around.”
“Ah, it’s not a proper Christmas without a bawl. Even the Carpenters are getting to me.” Joan waved her hands by her face. “I blame the drink. Can’t get too sauced before the turkey.”
She finished her lager and sailed her fingers along the smooth, cool silk of the scarf from Alex. “It’s beautiful, love. I just wish you wouldn’t spend your hard-earned money on me.”
“If I can’t spend it on you guys, who would I spend it on?” Alex wiped away a lingering tear. “The extra cater-waiter hours helped. I only dipped into my laptop fund a little bit. It was more important to give special presents to everyone—this year of all years.”
“As much as I love the scarf, the play’s the best gift you could’ve given me. Oh, Alex, I can’t wait to read it after dinner. Me, back on stage, who’d have thought?” Joan beamed, flipping through the pages. “You’re so busy with your job and writing for the workshop. How you ever found time to write about silly old me, well, I’m gobsmacked, love.”
“My plan was to give you the finished piece, but Olivia’s coffee had other ideas.” She frowned. “At least the first draft is better than nothing.”
“If that’s what your first drafts look like, you’re even more talented than I thought.” Joan waved her son over. “Michael, can you give my gift to Alex?”
He handed his daughter the last present lying under the tree, its box wrapped in Christmassy Paddington Bears and crowned with a red foil bow. “Let me guess. A coffee table book about Sherlock? Doctor Who? You’re easy to buy for,” he said.
Alex chewed another Bounty. “You mean predictable, Dad.”
She tilted the box to her ear and shook it. “Is this one of your pottery masterpieces, Joan?”
Her grandmother zipped her lips. “I’ll never tell, but it’s fragile so…”
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