Relight my Fire

by Joanna Bolouri

  ‘But it’s fucking Christmas!’ Kelly exclaimed. While we had all turned pale, her face was bright red. ‘They couldn’t have picked a better time?! What are they offering? I mean, Jesus Christ, Frank.’

  I felt sorry for Frank. This wasn’t his fault. He cleared his throat and told Kelly he’d speak to her first.

  We all left the conference room and returned to our desks; well, except Lucy who pulled up a chair and sat beside me.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ she said. ‘So this is happening. We’ve just paid for that wedding. Oh fuck.’

  I nodded in acknowledgment. ‘I’m still paying for my child.’

  She started to laugh. We both did because neither of us knew what the fuck else to do. Behind us we could hear Brian on the phone to a recruitment agency. He wasn’t wasting a single moment, unlike those of us who were in mild hysterics.

  ‘I’m trained for NOTHING,’ I said, my face beginning to ache. ‘What the hell am I going to do now? I’m nearly forty! Retrain as a plumber?’

  Lucy abruptly stopped laughing. ‘Wait. We’re not going to be working together anymore. Oh God, we’re going to have to go to interviews and pretend we take this shit seriously.’

  Yep. After a decade working for The Post I was going to have to start all over again, doing the same shit with people that weren’t Lucy. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny.

  Tuesday December 5th

  After my meeting with Frank yesterday afternoon, I discussed everything with Oliver, who was a fucking champ.

  ‘So I’ll get a month’s salary for every year I worked there. That should keep us going while I look for something else.’

  ‘Shit,’ he said, cuddling me. ‘You OK?’

  ‘I think so. It’s just a bit of a shock. I wanted to leave there, of course, I just wanted to do it on my own terms. Kelly walked out yesterday, telling Frank if he expected her to lift another finger, he was sorely mistaken. I admire that.’

  I lay down and rested my head on his lap while he stroked my hair. ‘I could probably get another sales job but my heart is telling me that this redundancy is actually a kick up the arse to find out what else I’m capable of.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he agreed.

  ‘But what if I’m not capable of anything else?’

  He stopped stroking my hair. ‘Seriously? You’re the brightest, funniest person I know. You can do whatever you want. I earn enough to support us for the moment; we’ll worry when we have to worry. At least take the rest of the month to slow down and think about your next move.’

  I’ve never been a woman who needed saving but right now this man was offering himself up as my safety net. I grabbed his hand tightly. ‘I love you, Oliver. Thank you for not panicking, too.’

  He smiled. ‘Whatever happens, happens – good, bad – I’m here regardless.’

  And at that moment I decided to listen to my mother for once. I was going to grab my happiness.

  Friday December 8th

  Today I left The Post, carrying a small box of stolen stationary and the elephant mug Lucy had brought me back from Sri Lanka. Only Lucy, Frank and I had turned up, with both Brian and Kelly vanishing earlier in the week for pastures new. I never did find out if they were shagging.

  Once outside, I said my goodbyes to Frank while I waited for Lucy to lock up. When he wasn’t hovering over my desk, he looked smaller.

  ‘What are your plans now?’ I asked him. ‘Anything lined up?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m fifty-one. Maybe I could retrain as a plumber?’

  ‘Jesus, Frank, do you eavesdrop on EVERYONE?’

  He laughed. ‘I wasn’t eavesdropping, you were just never very good at being quiet. Sarah will be here to pick me up soon. I’ve had to hand back the company car. She was very supportive when I told her my situation. Not many women would be.’

  ‘You have a very low opinion of many women then,’ I replied.

  ‘Possibly,’ he smirked. ‘You know, I’m glad we got to work together again. Despite your annoying demeanour, I have a lot of time for you, Phoebe.’

  ‘You complete me, Frank.’

  ‘Oh fuck off.’

  We had a brief hug then Lucy appeared and did the same, telling Frank to be good, like she was ET and he was a young Drew Barrymore. As we left him standing on the pavement waiting for his ride, I suddenly had the horrible feeling that Sarah Ward-Wilson wouldn’t be picking him up any time soon. If ever.

  Thursday December 14th

  I got a call from Hazel this afternoon, while I was extremely busy watching Judge Judy repeats on YouTube. I love her – she hates people more than I do.

  ‘So Kevin had an idea,’ she said, excitedly.

  ‘Amazing! Was it his first?’

  ‘Shut up, smartass. Listen, we are renting a little farmhouse over Christmas. It’s just on the outskirts of Glasgow. We went there last year. It’s very peaceful and very cosy.’

  ‘OK . . .’

  ‘And we feel shitty that our friends might have a crappier Christmas than we will. So why don’t you all come?’

  ‘All of us?’ I counted quickly in my head. ‘That’s eight people. Is there enough room?’

  ‘There should be. And if there isn’t, we’ll just improvise. Say you’ll come, it’ll be our gift to you.’

  ‘That’s so kind! But I’d hate to impose. Have you asked Lu—’

  ‘Oh, she’s already packing.’

  ‘Haha! OK then. I’ll talk to Oliver but it’s a provisional FUCK YES.’

  She whooped right into my ear. ‘Oh God, it’ll be just like our New Year get-together. Only with children. And less hard-core boozing. But still, YAY!’

  I HAVE THE BEST FRIENDS EVER.

  Friday December 15th

  Of course Oliver agreed to going away for Christmas, he was just as thrilled about it as I was.

  ‘But wait! That means we’ll miss our neighbours’ Christmas party,’ he said sadly. ‘You sure about this?’

  ‘What? The party we hear every second of, even though we’re never invited? You betcha.’

  Oliver laughed. ‘I hope this year they get arrested for their terrible taste in music. A man can only hear “Stay Another Day” so many times before he snaps.’

  I sniggered. ‘They’ve also been playing “7 Years” on a loop for months. That’s the kind of motive no jury would convict.’

  Molly, on the other hand, was concerned that Santa wouldn’t know we’ve gone away and she’ll wake up with no presents.

  ‘I’ll email him,’ I reassured her. ‘Give him the new address.’

  ‘Santa has email?’

  ‘Of course he does. He’s very modern. I’m pretty sure he also has Instagram but it’s on private.’

  She bought it. I’m the best liar ever.

  Sunday December 17th

  I finished my book last night and now I am in need of new reading material, so I cornered Oliver in the kitchen, armed with a list of authors I love and which books of theirs I haven’t read yet. Subtle, but I think he took the hint.

  Friday December 22nd

  Molly finished early today for her Christmas holidays, proudly carrying a small selection box that her teacher had given her. On the way home I stopped at the shop to buy dinner and we bumped into Sarah Ward-Wilson, struggling to keep her four children in check while she loaded up her car. Of course, the moment she saw me, the fake smile appeared in a flash.

  ‘Oh hello, Phoebe. I was so sorry to hear about you losing your job . . . and during the festive period. How awful.’

  Who the fuck says festive period? Fuck off, Dickens.

  ‘It’s fine actually,’ I replied, collecting my trolley. ‘We’re all heading off for Christmas anyway. We’ll still have a wonderful time. How’s Frank?’

  She looked at her feet. ‘Well, Frank and I – we had a lovely time but he just wasn’t the man for me. And well, I have the kids to think of and—’

  ‘You dumped him because he got made redundant. Didn’t you?’

&nbs
p; ‘NO! Not exactly. Look, we’re selling the house and I can’t be expected to support everyone on what my ex-husband gives me, now can I?’

  ‘Ex-husband?’

  She nodded. ‘He’s started divorce proceedings.’

  I started to laugh. ‘You stupid woman. You know how much Frank is worth, right? How much his father left him in the will?’

  She looked confused. ‘What will?’

  ‘Oh. He didn’t tell you? Smart move on his part.’

  ‘Phoebe, what on earth are you talking about?’ I could see her getting more anxious by the second.

  ‘Let’s just say that Frank didn’t need to work. In fact, Frank doesn’t need to work ever again. Big mistake, Sarah.’

  I immediately saw her brain kick into action. How much was he worth? What should she say when she called him, telling him she’d been too hasty?

  ‘And I’ll be texting him shortly, telling him to expect your call. And to ignore it, you gold-digging little worm.’

  I left her fuming beside her car while I took Molly inside.

  ‘Is your boss really rich?’ Molly asked me.

  ‘No idea, sweetheart,’ I replied, grabbing a bag of apples. ‘I just made that up. But what I do know is that he’s worth more than that horrible woman.’

  Saturday December 23rd

  We all met up this afternoon to make our holiday arrangements: who’d be driving who, who’d be bringing what and most importantly, how we’d sneak in the kids’ Christmas presents unseen because Santa was definitely still a thing.

  ‘Kyle and I will bring them in our car,’ Lucy offered. ‘They won’t be seen there. Just bring them over to mine before we leave tomorrow.’

  Hazel put a little tick beside the first item on her list. ‘Great. Now, we’ll need three days’ worth of food. I think everyone should spend £50 max and that includes some cheap wine and beer. I already have the turkey, so someone else can bring the veg and dessert.’

  ‘We’ll do the pudding,’ Oliver replied. ‘Don’t ask Phoebe to bring the veg, our New Year potatoes were repulsive.’

  Oliver kept Molly busy while I carried her Christmas presents to the car later that evening, before picking up Grace’s gifts from Hazel’s and dropping them all off at Lucy’s house. Kyle helped me transfer them to his car so I could sneak home before Molly started asking where I was.

  We leave at lunchtime tomorrow. I’m so freakin’ excited, it’s ridiculous. This year has been a hard one but somehow this makes it all disappear.

  Sunday December 24th

  2 p.m. After battling with the sat-nav, we were the last to arrive at the farmhouse, pulling up beside Hazel’s people carrier. I caught sight of Kevin carrying some boxes into a side door and yelled to let everyone know we were here. We hadn’t all been together like this for five whole years and I could hardly contain my excitement, which mainly seemed to be trying to escape through my bladder.

  From the outside the house looked pretty unremarkable. It was a long, purpose-built, grey-brick bungalow sitting alone in a field with the main farmhouse about half a mile away in the distance, looking far more inviting than ours. However, inside it was like a Tardis. A vast kitchen area with dining table, three double en-suite bedrooms, a main bathroom, a living room with huge patio windows and a kid’s room set up with a television, bean bags and bunkbeds. It was modern, clean and all ours for three whole days.

  *

  3 p.m. Bedrooms chosen and cases unpacked, we all sat down for coffee in the kitchen, remarking on how marvellous everything was and how clever Kevin was for finding this place. Oliver set up the PS4 for the kids. We were all so well-behaved. It wouldn’t last.

  *

  11.45 p.m. We’d gone through three bottles of wine, two boxes of Pringles and some Mint Matchmakers while we arranged everyone’s presents under our makeshift Christmas tree (a coat stand with tinsel wrapped around). The kids were fast asleep in their bunkbeds as we all sat around finishing our wine and making each other laugh. Every single one of us wondered if we could get a quick shag in that night without everyone else hearing.

  *

  12.50 a.m. Lucy and Kyle failed. Spot the amateurs who don’t have kids.

  Monday December 25th

  When Molly and Grace got up at stupid o’clock this morning, they found all their presents laid out in the living room and their shrieks of delight made us all crawl from our beds to join in.

  Kevin Bluetoothed his Christmas playlist to the speaker while Hazel and I made tea and toast for those who had an appetite at six-thirty in the morning. As I waited for the bread to pop up, I looked outside into the still-dark morning; snow had been falling heavily overnight and lay perfectly untouched. It’s remarkable how the sight of something so cold can make you feel so warm inside.

  After the violent shredding inflicted upon the kids’ presents, we all started opening our own. My gift to Oliver was a pair of sold-out tickets to see The Prodigy next year, some terrible musical socks and the Peaky Blinders box set. He bought me the new Mhairi McFarlane novel and a gorgeous leather bag (must thank Lucy). Attached to the bag was a tiny pony on a keyring.

  ‘You got me a pony!’

  He winked. ‘What? Did you think I’d forget?’

  ‘This is the best Christmas EVER.’

  *

  3 p.m. We’re done eating. I don’t think we will ever be able to eat again. I literally crawled from the table like a wounded soldier to the living room where I claimed my position on the couch and refused to move until Boxing Day.

  *

  4 p.m. Oliver found chocolate. Damn him. I ate it.

  *

  5.30 p.m. The girls decided to play Minecraft while the adults all remained in a bloated position, hoping for death or a second wind.

  *

  7 p.m. Since our gatherings would not be complete without dancing, we all took turns playing the DJ, choosing our favourite tunes. Who knew that Kevin was such a fan of Taylor Swift? Lucy even encouraged Kyle to put on ‘Africa’ by Toto, despite her hatred of the song.

  ‘How can you hate this song?’ Oliver asked. ‘It’s phenomenal.’

  ‘EXACTLY,’ Kyle exclaimed, high-fiving Oliver.

  Those boys were bonding hard.

  *

  7.30 p.m. ‘I would like to dedicate this next song to Phoebe, the love of my life. Well, until Molly came along, but she still ranks in my top two.’

  I chuckled, while everyone else made awwing sounds, as he chose the next song on Kevin’s Spotify. The opening chords of ‘Danger! High Voltage’ began blaring out. He looked over and smiled at me. It was a smile that made me realise that the song he’d chosen all those months ago in Pam’s office to describe how he felt about me hadn’t changed. Despite everything, Oliver still felt the same. And as he pulled me in to dance with him, I realised that while he felt the same, something in me had changed.

  All those years wasted, longing for romantic gestures and lightning bolts, waiting for the perfect moment – why the fuck did I assume they would happen to me? Why couldn’t I be the one who made them happen? I AM THE HERO I NEED. The only grand gesture that mattered was the one I was about to make.

  I pulled away from Oliver, announcing that I’d be right back, and made my way to the kitchen. What was I doing? How would I do this? If I was going to make a fool of myself, it had to be romantic. It had to be amazing.

  It had to be eighties John Cusack holding a boombox outside a window amazing.

  But this wasn’t the eighties and I didn’t own or have access to a boombox. What the fuck was I going to do? Sneak outside and hold my Samsung phone above my head outside the patio windows? I’d die of fucking exposure before anyone knew I was even out there.

  I needed it to be loud enough to make him investigate. I needed him to hear the song and to know why I was playing it. I needed his heart to skip a fucking beat, like he’d made mine do so many times before. I also needed to do this before someone wondered where I was.

  I grabbed my
car keys from the table and snuck out the side door, wishing I’d chosen to do this in summer. My bare feet crunched into the snow as I sprinted over to the car, unlocking the doors as I ran. Fuck me, it was chilly, but my adrenalin had taken over. Starting the car, I plugged my iPod into the radio and quickly logged into Spotify; I put on ‘Sweet Disposition’, the song he knows defines how I feel about love. How I feel about him.

  I rolled down all the windows and pressed play, letting the song drift out into the night. I was excited, I was scared and I was fucking freezing. I turned on the heaters and rubbed my arms, hoping he’d appear soon. But as the song played to an audience of me, I realised that the house’s double glazing, combined with their music, meant that no one could hear a fucking thing outside. I didn’t even have my phone to slyly alert Lucy to my whereabouts. This plan was going to shit.

  So I did what any frustrated person in my situation would do: I put my foot on the gas. I had lost my damn mind. A foot’s worth of snow meant that I didn’t get very far but I wheel-spun impressively, flashing the lights on full-beam and honking the horn. In fact I didn’t just honk the horn, I blasted that horn so loudly that I’m pretty sure I gave every animal on that farm a heart attack and I kept blasting until several faces appeared at the windows, wondering what the hell was going on.

  As Oliver stepped out into the night, I slid the car to a halt and stopped the music, accidentally dropping my iPod under my seat. He peered into the driver’s side.

  ‘Phoebe? What the fuck are—’

  ‘Wait,’ I demanded, scrambling to pick up my music player. ‘Just WAIT!!’

  By this time, everyone had gathered outside and I was pretty sure that the owners of the house would be on their way. Oh fucking hell, why I am so shite at everything?

  ‘Go back inside!’ I yelled to everyone but no one moved. I could see Molly and Grace pointing at me from the kitchen window.

  ‘Um, what is happening here?’ I heard Lucy ask as again I insisted everyone go back indoors.

  ‘I am trying to do a THING HERE,’ I insisted, shooing them from the driver’s window. ‘Please. Just go back in.’

  Confused, they all turned and made their way back inside. I knew that I had fucked this up royally but I could either carry on and look foolish and romantic or abandon the plan and look foolish and certifiable. There was no turning back. I pressed play on my song.