Claudia snorted. Her eyelids were becoming heavy and she was beginning to wonder why she’d picked a fight with a couple of teenagers. ‘At least my face isn’t being sucked on in the middle of the Tube. Sooooo romaaaaaantic.’
‘Well your face probably isn’t going to be sucked on at all this Christmas. Because it’s crap.’
Claudia had no answer to that. The little shit was probably right. She stuck out her lower lip and thought about it, then flicked her eyes towards the girl.
‘You’ll find out, girly,’ she lectured, ‘that relationships and snogging is all well and good until your brother here’ – she motioned at the boy, who looked aghast – ‘puts his hands on your other sister’s bum and cocks it all up.’
‘We are now arriving at Baron’s Court Road’
Claudia used the pole to heave herself up and tottered clumsily to the train doors. She looked back at the couple, who were having a heated discussion about whether to stand up to the crazy drunk lady or let it go because she might be stronger than them. The doors opened and the cold night air rushed into the train.
‘I am a wronged woman,’ she declared, and fell face down onto the platform.
Ouch. Fresh tears trickled down Claudia’s cheeks. It wasn’t fair, she didn’t want to be hurt right now, she was hurting enough. She pushed herself up from the cold, gritty tarmac and hobbled down the long platform, feeling very alone. London is a noisy, crowded, energising city, but at night certain pockets can be as silent as the countryside.
Claudia exited the station aware that the only sound was the clacking of her high heels. She didn’t like this feeling. She was injured and alone, it was dark and really cold, and the damned wine was heightening her emotions even more. She could see her breath misting in front of her face, and a quiet, lazy breeze pushed crackly leaves and cigarette packets across the street.
Claudia stopped and stood still in the middle of the road.
A new fear made her heart thud. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t bear it. What if he came back? What if he didn’t?
She was all alone, at night, on the streets of London, and she had nowhere to go.
Date Two
Starbucks, Holborn
Claudia unpeeled her face from the sofa cushion one eyelash at a time. Beneath her she left a zebra-print of tear-streaked mascara on the cream fabric. Penny would kill her, if Penny were one to care about such things and didn’t regularly lob red wine, pasta and hair dye all over her flat.
She padded to the bathroom and had a good stare at herself. She was still wearing last night’s make-up, but not one bit of it was in the place it started out. A false eyelash had nested above her top lip, giving her a Hitler moustache. She tilted her head. If only I could be a boy …
Her hair glittered faintly with hidden crystals, the few survivors cowering fearfully in her sunken up-do. She wore thick penguin-print pyjamas that belonged to Penny and were, if she was being brutally honest (which right now she felt like being), too short, too tight, less cute and more adult baby on her than they were on her friend the petite ballerina.
Claudia opened the shirt and looked at her breasts. She lifted one and let drop; it bounced in the manner of a yo-yo. The same result with the other. She stretched a handful of flesh away from her stomach as if it were bread dough.
‘You are sexy and exciting,’ she whispered to her reflection. ‘Just look at you.’ The bare-breasted, diamontéd Hitler in the mirror struck a prose.
Penny woke mid-morning to the sound of a thousand dying cats in her living room. Following her late-night performance she had found her best friend in a shivering, tearful frenzy on the doorstep of her building, and it took four hot chocolates and three episodes of The Big Bang Theory before she fell asleep on the sofa.
Flying out of her room she saw Claudia in the plank position, guttural, inhuman groans bursting out of her. On the TV was Penny’s Insanity Workout DVD.
‘3 … 2 … 1!’ yelled the presenter, and Claudia collapsed with a last dying wail.
Penny flicked off the TV. ‘Why is this happening?’ she demanded.
Claudia wiped her sweaty brow on the carpet. ‘This morning – well, last night, I suppose – I had the realisation that I am not considered a Sexy Lady. I am therefore becoming said Lady. Starting with a little exercise.’ If she just fixed herself everything might still work out.
Penny rolled Claudia over and glared at her. ‘You’re a very Sexy Lady. Seth is a total moron with no brain cells and shrivelly, cowardly balls. Don’t you dare change for him!’
‘I’m not – this is for me. I want to be a Sexy Lady for me.’ She peeped at Penny to see if she was buying it. ‘I’m sorry I got your pyjamas sweaty. And your sofa grimy.’
‘Don’t care and don’t care, but if you’re going to start an insane fitness plan then we’re going to do it together, because I want to be a Sexy Lady too.’
‘You already are a Sexy Lady.’
‘As are you! But we do need to get you a change of clothes. Will you let me take you home?’
‘No thank you.’ Claudia shrank back against the sofa.
She’d stood on the frosty street for a good half an hour the previous night, overwhelmed by the responsibility of deciding what to do with herself. Eventually she’d turned her back on her block of flats and tottered the mile to Penny’s house. By the time she’d arrived her emotions were rollercoastering, with certain sharp peaks that she just kept swinging back around to.
She wasn’t sexy any more.
He didn’t love her.
A Jack the Ripper wannabe could kill her at any moment.
She wasn’t exciting.
She’d fallen out of the Tube and cut her knee, and it wasn’t fair.
Penny crouched down and began untangling Claudia’s hair with her fingers. ‘We’ll be really quick, I’ll go in first, check the coast is clear, then you can run in, grab some stuff, pour bleach in his shampoo and we’ll be back here within an hour.’
Claudia nodded. She could do this, if Penny held her hand. Seth should be at work anyway. ‘I called in sick,’ she confessed. Claudia worked at Edurné’s, a popular dancewear shop on Neal Street. She liked her job. Really. She kept herself up to date with the dance industry’s news, trends and fashions, and could match a dancer with their perfect shoe just by looking at them. But she’d been doing the same thing for years, and the truth was she was bored.
‘Quelle surprise. What’s this, the fifth time in the last six weeks?’ Penny pulled Claudia to her feet. ‘Come on, we’ll go in all black, like ninjas. You’ll have a great time.’
Fifteen minutes later Claudia was walking through Kensington wearing black leggings and a big black duffel coat. Penny chassed along next to her, humming a mash-up of the Batman, Spiderman and Avengers theme tunes. Claudia kept quiet, her heart thudding in her chest.
She hated that she was nervous about going to her own home, but what if he was there? She stopped in her tracks. ‘What if she’s there?’
‘She won’t be there – Seth would have expected you to be home last night, so he wouldn’t have brought her around unless he’s even more of a knobbertron than I thought.’ Penny gently pushed Claudia into a walk again.
Arriving at her block of flats in West Kensington, Claudia stood for a long time staring up at her window. I won’t be able to look out at my view any more, she mused. She couldn’t afford to live here on her own. She’d have to downsize to a studio.
Claudia took a deep breath and plunged into the building. She climbed the stairs listening for sounds of wild sex coming from her floor.
Nothing.
She crept towards her front door. Even Penny had stopped dancing and was moving silently; she was really fulfilling her role of ninja.
Claudia pressed her ear to the door and listened. She listened for sounds of him and the girl, she listened for sounds of silence, and she listened, with hope in her heart, for sounds of crying, of heartbreak, of him sitting in there caring abo
ut their split.
Still nothing.
Taylor Swift wouldn’t be fannying about like this. She’d have already written a stonking great chart-topper about the whole mess. Let’s do this.
The second she walked into their flat she saw everything – their photos, their memories, their life. Their open bedroom door, their bed, and that he hadn’t been home last night either. Her heart crumpled like a discarded ball of paper.
‘Come on.’ Penny charged in. Claudia knew she’d noticed the same thing, but was grateful to her for not saying a word. Penny yanked open a cupboard and pulled out Claudia’s huge pink suitcase.
Claudia shrank back from the case like it was the enemy. She didn’t want anything to change. She wanted to live here, and she didn’t want never to see Seth again. She fanned her hot skin and she stuck as close to Penny as if the apartment was booby-trapped.
Penny marched Claudia from room to room filling the suitcase with clothes, underwear and toiletries, not giving Claudia more than three seconds per item to decide if it was coming. Every time Claudia’s face wrinkled and she started to say ‘I wore that when … ’ Penny would pinch her and move on to the next item.
It’ll be over soon, Claudia repeated like a mantra as she averted her eyes from the box of Seth’s favourite cereal. It’ll be over soon.
Claudia and Penny were silent as they walked back to Penny’s flat, taking it in turns to drag the heavy suitcase over the uneven paving slabs.
Claudia heaved the case over a particularly angled stone and it crashed with a thud on the other side. She stopped and sighed. I think I’ll have a break to wallow in self-pity.
Penny took the case from her hand and coaxed Claudia to keep moving. ‘Dare I ask what you’re thinking, or will that open the floodgates?’
‘I’m thinking … ’ Claudia considered her words. ‘That we had a nice relationship. He wasn’t a horrible old knob all the time. I couldn’t have seen this coming. Did you see it coming?’
‘No.’ Penny was thoughtful. ‘Generally he’s a nice guy, I liked him. Though … he did think his own crap jokes were funny.’
‘Yeah, he thought he was hilarious. I just presumed he was destined to grow up to become king of the Dad-Jokes.’ They walked on in silence for a little more. ‘We were close, though. I know we didn’t ever go on dates any more, but it’s not like we didn’t have fun together. And it’s not like we hadn’t had sex for years, it just wasn’t … that often.’
Claudia tried to take the suitcase back from Penny, who shifted it into her other hand and gave Claudia a harsh bugger off, keep talking look. So she did.
‘We had brilliant holidays, like when we went to Orlando, or Rome. I love his family, and he loves my dad. And Dad thinks he’s okay … We’re only half way through season two of Game of Thrones together, Penny!’
‘I know, it’s really hard,’ Penny soothed.
‘What I’m saying is, it all feels very out of the blue. I couldn’t have predicted this, could I?’
‘Absolutely not, and when you’re ready maybe you can get some answers from him. But for now, you need to promise me you’re not about to blame yourself.’
‘Oh no, he’s the idiot who messed it all up.’ But inside she did feel a bit to blame. She was supposed to bring ‘fun, sexy girlfriend’ to the table yet over the years she’d begun only to bring her doughy tummy and some cracking TV box sets.
Claudia’s phone tinkled. She met Penny’s eye and warily pulled it from her handbag. She smiled. Nick.
Fancy a shag now you’re single? Claudia laughed out loud. Nick was the only one who could say something like that to her and not induce further hysterical crying or livid indignation.
No thanks, now a lesbian, no boys allowed.
Fine. Frigid. Let me know when I can come over to Penny’s and stare at your lovely face.
Claudia walked a little lighter the rest of the way.
‘Can you plump it up a bit?’ Penny asked, her arms in the air.
Claudia boxed the sides of Penny’s stomach until it stuck out at more of a curve, then went back to circling her with duct tape.
Claudia finished her friend’s faux-pregnancy pillow tummy with a flourish, and Penny added the finishing touch by pulling on a billowy blouse. Penny stroked the pillow and admired herself in the mirror.
‘You look so beautiful,’ Claudia smiled, a tear in her eye.
‘Thanks, you too.’
‘Thanks.’ Claudia squadged her own pillow-baby, which she’d really only fashioned in support of Penny. It felt warm, but other than that she definitely wasn’t ready to be pregnant yet. ‘So, how does that feel? Still want a baby?’
‘I love it, Claud, I love it so much I want to name the pillow. I want to name her Katie Rose and go shopping for tiny furry onesies with ears on.’
Penny was head-over-heels broody for a baby, and at thirty she was over waiting for Mr Right to ride in and play house with her, so she’d chosen to look into the options of having a baby solo. She was bursting at the seams with love, more than enough to equal that of two parents, but she wouldn’t be alone – Claudia would be there.
‘If I do go ahead with this, will you come with me to appointments or whatever?’
‘Of course I will; I’m going to be your husband for the whole thing. Especially if we get to go to a sperm bank, because I’m gagging to know if they really do have porn mags lying about.’
‘I’m not sure if they’d let you look. That might be a different, um, wing than where we’d be going.’
‘Okay, I’ll bring my own.’
‘Cool. Don’t bring them if we end up going to an adoption agency, though, that might be a bit off.’
‘You’re always telling me not to look at porn, you’re such a nagging wife.’
Penny walked in a circle, holding the small of her back as if the pillow-baby was making it ache. ‘Do you think people will judge me? For not actually being a wife?’
‘If they do they’re living in the past, and I’ll give them a good telling off.’
‘Well, maybe not for being unmarried, but what about for not doing this with a man?’
Claudia saw the nervous face of her friend and waddled over to give her a hug, squashing their pillow tummies together. ‘You’ve wanted this for a long time, and if you had a partner I’m sure it would be a great journey together, but you can do this yourself. It’s allowed.’
Penny nodded. ‘You sure you don’t want to get one too? We could be single mums together. Sorry, not to be flippant.’
‘It’s fine, but no thanks. With or without Seth, I am soooo not ready.’
‘But you’ll hold my hand?’
‘Hell, I’ll hold your legs apart in the delivery room if you want.’ She looked down at their pillows. ‘We should totally sumo with these.’
‘Let’s do it, but we can’t when I’m actually preggers. Can we?’
‘No, probably not. For now, nothing will stop me defeating my non-up-the-duff nemesis.’ She gave Penny a bump with her pillow and sent her flying across the room.
That night, while Penny danced under the icicles at the Opera House, Claudia sat on the living-room floor surrounded by her underwear.
‘I’ll show you sexy,’ she muttered, snipping a peephole into the left cup of one of her bras.
Among the scattered, fraying garments were needles and thread, sequins, ribbons and a big plastic bucket filled with warm water, her red dress and two pairs of knickers that were slowly turning pink.
Claudia had spent the evening miserably trying on her lingerie collection in front of Penny’s full-length mirror. She didn’t feel very hot in it. This wasn’t the underwear a sexy and exciting girl would wear. I bet That Girl’s buttocks were encased in some skimpy, lacy number called a ‘cheeky hipster’ or ‘man-stealer thong’. But Claudia was no city banker. She couldn’t skip down to Victoria’s Secret on Bond Street and blow a few hundred on teeny colourful triangles with all the trimmings. She had to make do and m
end.
Which is what she found herself doing now: sewing sequins onto bra straps, stitching ribbons to the sides of granny-pants and upgrading grey undies to murky pink ones. She was pleased with her progress, and was holding a bedazzled balconette up to the light to inspect her glitter-gluing skills when Penny got home.
‘What in God’s name are you doing and have you made me some?!’ Penny took the bra from Claudia’s hand and held it against her boobs. ‘Hmm, you’re bigger than me. Are these your Christmas presents?’
‘No,’ Claudia took back the bra and set it down tenderly, the glitter-glue already cracking and falling off. ‘This is my sexy new underwear.’
‘Oh.’
Penny and Claudia sat in silence, looking at the mess.
‘Hang on,’ Penny said eventually, and darted off. She came back moments later holding a pair of frilly red tutu knickers. ‘You can have these if you like.’
‘Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t want to wear your old knickers.’
‘They’re better than your old knickers!’ Penny waved the red pants at the chaos in the living room. ‘I haven’t even worn these.’
Claudia gingerly reached out and took the knickers. They felt soft and silky, and she was longing to put them on instead of the scratchy sequin-riddled ones that were currently burning her bits. She went into the bathroom and tried them, topping them off with her newly peepholed bra. Okay, the bra looked awful, and Claudia hid her rude boobs with her arm. But the knickers were nice. The frills cascaded over her bottom and when she shook it they rippled like a can-can dancer’s petticoats.
She popped her oversized T-shirt back over the top and went back into the living room. Penny was chucking the gloomy pink water down the sink. She turned around. ‘Full disclosure: I’ve worn them once. But I washed them. I think.’
Claudia was washed and scrubbed and had already called in sick when there was a knock on Penny’s door the following morning. Penny leapt from her room like a springbok and crouched in front of the door. ‘Don’t be angry,’ she whispered, then stood and flung the door open.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 3