Last Christmas

by Lily Greene

  “Could be better. But okay. Pounding headache,” Ella said, searching through her dresser draw for some painkillers.

  “Here darling!” Libby charged towards her with a glass of fizzy water that had a disconcerting orange hue to it. She forced it into Ella’s reluctant hand and paced back to the bar. “What is it?” Ella asked stroppily.

  “Drink it. You’re welcome!”

  “Mmm,” Ella said with sarcasm as she gulped down the concoction in one. “Yummy.”

  “Vitamin C and Alka Seltzer. Nothing but the best for you madam.”

  “Thank you,” Ella said, clambering out of bed. She pulled up her blinds to reveal a dreary-looking day.

  “Now, what are you doing today Miss Successful Artist?”

  Ella joined Libby in the kitchen and sat up at the breakfast bar. Libby was grimacing at the batter in the stainless steel mixing bowl. She was using a fork to beat out the lumps that didn’t look like they were going anywhere.

  Ella walked to the draw on the side of the island and produced a whisk.

  “Here. Might be easier.” Libby smiled sarcastically.

  “You better be hungry! This is exhausting.” She sighed. Ella shook her head in despair at her impossibly undomesticated friend. “So go on, what are you doing today Ell?”

  “Hmm. I think I’ll have lots of things to follow up on after the exhibition. Emails to solidify friendships with the contacts I met last night – that sort of thing. I’m exhibited at the Beat Gallery until the end of January so I need to make sure I advertise things on my end and chase people up – make them invite their friends, their colleagues, their long lost pen pals, their chiropodist, their dogs etc.”

  “Sounds like a plan! I have to work today at an event. I’ve got to go and dress some bratty B-list celebrity tonight.”

  “Gosh. I don’t envy you. What event is that for?”

  “The premier of some absurdly popular sexy teenage werewolf, vampire, bat film thing. Sweet girl is converted to the dark side by irresistibly attractive but taciturn man who happens to have supernatural powers.” Ella raised her eyebrows in disgust. “Just wait, it gets worse. It’s a Christmas vampire, werewolf film. The mistletoe has some sort of devilish, seductive power.”

  Ella cracked up laughing. “Oh Liberty, that sounds positively ghastly. I hope it’s a glamorous dress at least.”

  Libby nodded as she added some butter to the frying pan.

  “It might even be worse than seeing your ex-boyfriend!” Ella joked.

  “So, you’re going to see him then?” Libby asked as she poured the pancake batter into a layer of burnt butter.

  Ella shrugged. “I do think we need to see each other. It’s just, well I don’t know if I want to. Last night as much as I hated him, I just wanted to kiss him.” She bit her lip guiltily. “Oh that’s so bad for me to admit isn’t it?”

  “No Ell. It’s only natural. You’re not a robot; you can’t just switch off your I love Robbie or Robbie is so sexy button. These emotions have gone largely undealt with since you broke up because you haven’t seen him.”

  “Uh huh. But I don’t want to give in to any of those feelings. I want to hear what he has to say, ask questions I have about the break-up and then walk away.”

  Libby was unsure what to say and how best to counsel her friend. Was this an awful mistake going to see Robbie or was he truly sorry for what he had done? They had been a great couple and she had been sure they were going to marry. Now she didn’t know what to think. She could only imagine what Ella must be going through.

  Libby plonked a dense pancake on Ella’s plate. It landed with a loud thud. The two girls looked at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. They could hardly breath and tried desperately to catch their breaths. Ella’s laugh was low, a cackle that resonated in the room, and Libby’s was a high-pitched frilly laugh; their laughs layered on top of each other sounded ridiculous and this always made them laugh further.

  “Oh Libby, do I have to eat that?”

  “Yes! Else I’m never bloody cooking for you again!”

  “Deal!” Ella cried. She stood off the bar stool and hugged Libby. “Thank you chef. We just need LOADS of toppings and it will be fine!”

  The two women raided Ella’s cupboard for sweet Christmassy toppings. They opted for Nutella, cinnamon, nutmeg and sliced banana, piling the flavourings high, hoping to mask the taste of the pancakes. They tasted like ash and they were so rubbery they would have been better used as frisbies.

  Ella and Libby ate small mouthfuls to stop themselves from choking and they washed them down with a cup of hot tea.

  “Shit, these really are awful!” Libby admitted.

  “Yupp!” Ella agrees. After nibbling on about a quarter of the pancakes, they threw the rest in the bin and stacked their plates in the washing machine.

  “I think I’ll also call Fergus today,” Ella said. She stood up straight and leant against the sink with her hand on her hips. “He saw Robbie approach me. He went to get us drinks and I have no idea how much of our encounter he saw, I just know he saw, maybe even heard, the end and asked me who he was.”

  Libby looked concerned. “What do you think he thought of it all?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I just said that Robbie was an old friend who had taken me by surprise. I don’t want to spoil what I might have with Fergus by pulling Robbie into the equation. Especially when I don’t know why he’s back all of a sudden.”

  Libby agreed that it was best not to tell Fergus about who Robbie was and their history together. Ella thanked Libby for looking after her so well and they said goodbye at Ella’s front door.

  “Good luck with the werewolves!” Ella cried.

  *

  It was two o’clock by the time Ella had answered all her emails about the exhibition. Three people had got in touch to ask if she would exhibit at their galleries at some point in the coming year. Andrew Flower from Chase Gallery, Murray Sharp from the new Edinburgh Arts Gallery and Julie Kidman from Shaw Gallery had all expressed an interest in her work. She was delighted with the news and it gave her more courage to face the difficult afternoon that lay ahead of her.

  She rang Fergus and they talked merrily about the exhibition. He checked that she was still free on Christmas Eve and told her he had planned a Christmas treat. He knew that this Christmas her brother wasn’t around and she would be quite alone on Christmas Eve so he had planned yet another surprise for her. They were going to see the English National Ballet’s performance of the Nutcracker. It was the perfect Christmas present.

  Once she had phoned Fergus, she had to make the call she was dreading. She scrolled down her address book on her iphone and came to the entry Robbie Newton. Ella suddenly wondered if this was still the right number for him. He must have got an American number when he moved to Chicago and had probably discarded the old English one.

  Ella wasn’t if this one would work but she didn’t want to contact his family to ask for a current number. It would be too awkward. She took the chance and pressed the dial button. Four solemn rings chimed out and they echoing in her nervous mind. It was now on the sixth ring and she was about to hang up when she heard the line crackle and the sound of Robbie’s calm and comforting voice fill the speaker.

  “Hello?”

  Ella’s mouth dried instantly. She couldn’t think of what to say. The uncomfortable silence grew until he broke it.

  “Helloo?” Another pause.

  “Ella, is that you?” he asked excitedly.

  “Yes. Yes it’s me,” she mumbled in return.

  “Hi. I’m so glad you rang. I’ve been trying your mobile all morning. I was beginning to think you were never going to pick up.”

  “Oh, well, I changed my number about six months ago when I lost my phone,” she said, matter of fact. This was bizarre. So much time had passed between them that they didn’t even have each other’s correct numbers.

  “I see. I hope you calling means you will see me tonight?
I know you must have reservations about seeing me again but please I need to —”

  “Seven o’clock, Trafalgar Square.”

  “Yes. Yes! Okay, I —”

  “Under Nelson’s Column. If you are a minute late I’m leaving.” Ella hung up the phone. She let out a massive sigh and released all the frantic energy that had bubbled up inside of her. She hadn’t planned on saying that but she couldn’t bear to be on the phone to him any longer. She knew that Trafalgar Square was a strange place to pick but she wanted to be somewhere surrounded by tourists, somewhere where they could be swamped by the grandeur of London and the impersonality of the surrounding stone. They had no memories there; it was neutral. It was just Trafalgar Square. If she wanted to, she could run away from him in any direction she pleased.

  *

  Robbie was standing under Nelson’s Column with a bunch of blush pink peonies. Ella rolled her eyes when she saw them. Man brings woman favourite flowers. Woman forgives man. Typical, predictable man. He was going to have to do a lot better than that if he wanted her to stay more than ten minutes. Ella wrapped her scarf a little tighter, pulling it closer to her neck so there were no gaps where the biting cold could seep in against her body. It was frightfully cold, perhaps the coldest day of the year so far and her cream fur coat could only block out the cold so much. She took a deep breath and crossed the square to where Robbie was standing, his face a little in the shadow of the enormous Christmas tree which was erected in front of the National Gallery.

  When Robbie saw Ella walking slowly towards him his face lit up with excitement and relief.

  “Hello, Ella my love.”

  “Please don’t call me your love, Robbie. You lost that privilege some time ago.”

  “These are for you. I feel silly for bringing them now but, well I saw them so often in Chicago on a flower stand or sometimes in the botanic gardens and I thought of you every time I saw them.”

  You thought of me every time. How considerate of you.

  Ella didn’t know how to behave; all she could think of were nasty retorts but wasn’t she better than that?

  She took the flowers and said nothing.

  “Shall we walk?”

  “Robbie I’d rather we didn’t. Can’t we just sit on the edge of the fountain and you can say what you want to say and then I can go home.”

  “Whatever you would like.”

  They walked over to the fountain on the left hand side of the large statue and stooped to sit down on its edge. Water was still flowing through the feature and the sound of it gushing from the top to the bottom of the fountain blocked out some of the squeals of Italian tourists who were dressed in their puffa-jacket and back-pack uniform. They were angling their cameras and pulling out selfie sticks to take snaps of them climbing the stately lions. Ella turned her attention back to Robbie.

  “Ella, I don’t know where to start. I made an enormous mistake leaving you in the way I did. I know that was particularly unforgivable and I want you to know there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t berate myself for letting you go and for behaving so atrociously towards you.”

  Ella said nothing still.

  “Being on the other side of the world from you was torture. I didn’t want to be in Chicago without you. It’s an incredible city but it is nothing without you there. I made a mistake and I want to rectify it.”

  Ella opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. She thought for a moment. He looked well, too well. His longer hair and slight stubble had transformed his face for the better. She wasn’t convinced by his ‘heartfelt’ confession. He anxiously adjusted his maroon scarf that he had tied too tight.

  “It took you almost a whole year to work out you made a mistake?” she asked accusingly.

  “No Ella. I knew I had made a mistake as soon as I’d left but I thought I owed it to you to be sure I could give you what you wanted if I came back. I had to be one hundred percent sure that I wanted all the same things as you did before I came charging back into your life. I had to be sure so I didn’t inflict any more pain on you.”

  “While we’re on the subject of you charging in, can I just say that you showing up last night was one of the most rude, inconsiderate acts I’ve ever experienced. Almost on par with leaving me in the first place! It was my first exhibition and I am outraged that you think it was acceptable to barge in there and demand to see me.” Ella stopped for a quick breath and then continued: “You talking about how you wanted to be sure, well I was sure. I knew I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. I was honest with you and you couldn’t even give me that same honesty back. You talk as if it’s noble of you to have made sure you wanted the same things as me before you came back. Bullshit. You’ve been a coward. Not once did you call me and tell me any of this. Not once. How do you expect me to believe anything you say now?”

  Robbie decided to try a different tact. He had to remind her that she loved him still and that he loved her.

  “Didn’t you miss me Ell?”

  Ella sighed and looked at Robbie straight in the faces. There was no point in lying when the truth was so obvious. “Yes, I did,” she said soberly.

  “Do you still love me?”

  Ella looked down at her hands in her lap and played with the edge of her fur coat. He took her hands in his and held them tightly, offering them some much-needed warmth. Ella looked up at him. “How could I love somebody who left me?” she whispered wistfully.

  “Oh Ella. I love you so much; I will spend the rest of my life loving you! I will spend the rest of my life making up this year to you! Can we go somewhere inside please? It’s doing us no good being out in the cold. Your hands are freezing. I understand why you don’t want to go anywhere with me but there’s still so much to say and you are going to freeze your beautiful bottom off if we sit here any longer.” He added the last comment with a cheeky chin. Ella had to hold back a smile. Robbie had always been obsessed with her bottom. When he saw that the comment momentarily melted her icy front he knew he couldn’t waste the opportunity. He needed to remind her how well he knew her, how good they were together. After all, he had knowledge of all her favourite theatres, restaurants, and landmarks on his side. That had to count for something.

  “Let’s go and eat at Sarastro. Do you still love that place?”

  Ella nodded involuntarily.

  They walked to Drury Lane in silence. They took it in turns to look one another sheepishly and pretend that they hadn’t noticed each other’s stares. At one point Robbie had tried to hold Ella’s hand but she had cast it off quickly.

  When they got to the restaurant, they were seated in a booth that was tucked away from other dinners. Sarastro was designed for after theatre dining; it described itself as the show after the show. The walls were lined with glittering props like Venetian masks and were painted with exuberant colours. The gold ceilings were adorned with low hanging lampshades and exotic music was being played live. Stepping inside was like stepping into an endless treasure cave of collected Venetian trinkets, or like walking onto the set of Phantom of the Opera. Ella, was glad that the maître d’ had placed them in a relatively intimate booth; she was thinking about the possibility of raising her voice with Robbie and she didn’t want it to be awkward if any other dinners were too close.

  “You know, I’ve pictured your face every night before I go to sleep. But you are so much more striking in the flesh,” Robbie said, once they had sat down.

  “Well I pictured your face every night and mentally stuck pins in it,” Ella said, the words escaping her before she had even noticed. “Sorry, that sounded gauche didn’t it? But as you can imagine, my thoughts about you haven’t exactly been very positive recently and I shouldn’t be the one apologising actually.”

  “No, that’s fair enough.”

  “So tell me Robbie, what was your new girlfriend like? You didn’t fancy bringing her back to England with you?” Ella asked with spite.

  Robbie was shocked.

  “I
can see from your face that you didn’t think I knew about your yank. Word travels fast, even across the Atlantic Robert.”

  Robert? Nobody but his mother calls him Robert! Ella knew she was angry with him but saying Robert sounded so strange on her tongue. They had never been that formal together before. He had always been Robbie, her Robbie.

  “Ella you must know that was just a distraction from the heartbreak,” he said as he pulled the menu towards him, pretending to read it.

  “Mmhm and did that distraction help you figure out if you wanted the same things as me?” she said quoting the words he used earlier.

  He put the menu down. “Ella,” he said softly. “I can see how much I’ve hurt you and I’m sorry. The woman you’re referring to was never my girlfriend. She was just the tiniest of flings and it meant nothing. And yes, dating someone that wasn’t you did help me realise that I wanted the same things as you so …”

  Her icy stare was back.

  “Ella, you know I hate Americans! It was never anything serious!” he said trying to lighten the mood.

  Just then, the waiter came over and recited the specials in his very best English accent. He smelt of salty onions and duck fat and he looked like he had used a little chip oil to slick back his greasy hair.

  Ella ordered the Confit de Canard, not put off by his odour de duck, and Robbie ordered the Beef Bourguignon and a bottle of Rioja to accompany their meaty dishy. Robbie was very good with wine. Regrettably it was one of his many talents.

  Before they had time to strike up the conversation again, the waiter had come back with their wine. He poured them two large glasses and Ella reminded herself not to drink too much, to stay in control.

  It was Ella who spoke when the waiter left. She told Robbie what it was like when he had left her and how difficult it had been selling the house they owned together without him. She had liaised with his brother and the whole operation had been a nightmare. Robbie sat silently for the best part of forty minutes, listening patiently to Ella.