She was going to make it.
The world seemed brighter when Claudia awoke the next morning. Although the sun was yet to stretch up over the horizon, the dawn light behind the curtains was more opal than slate. She had slept for nearly sixteen hours, and her stomach growled to complain about it.
She stepped her rested, naked body out from under her beautiful duvet and padded over to the window, grabbing her dressing gown en route. Pulling back the curtains she gasped at the street below. The entire dark grey road and all the rooftops and chimneys of London were covered in thick white snow, tinted Tiffany blue by the early-morning sky. Looking up, she saw fat white flakes lazily drifting down from the clouds and she smiled. She’d made it.
Claudia pushed her iPod into its dock and cranked up her Christmas playlist. To the classic sounds of The Ronettes and Wizzard she danced her way through the flat, flicking on the multi-coloured lights of the Christmas tree, rehanging some tinsel that had fallen off a picture frame, filling the expensive coffee maker they’d hardly ever used with her stash of finest Hawaiian hazelnut coffee.
‘Hello me,’ she said to her reflection, and – to hell with the ballet – threw some amazing shapes that would have made Beyoncé snap her up as a backing dancer.
Getting through her first night alone in the flat, giving Seth a piece of her mind, allowing herself to have a good cry and leaving things a bit odd but not too horrendous with Nick had all contributed to lifting the gloom and making her feel like the Ghost of Christmas Present. Even better – the one from The Muppet Christmas Carol. She’d vowed at Hyde Park that she wouldn’t let Christmas pass her by.
She wanted pancakes. Not because Seth didn’t like them and she rarely made them just for her, but because she wanted them. She merrily mixed up a batch of her favourite peanut butter and bacon batter and fried three large fluffy pancakes. She poured half a bottle of maple syrup on the top, popped a Santa hat on her head and settled down on the sofa to watch Sunday Brunch.
‘Single life is great!’ she told Tim Lovejoy and Simon Rimmer through a mouthful of pancakes, while they sampled Christmas cocktails on the TV.
Her phone tinkled with its text-message reindeer bells. ‘Good morning,’ she said to it as she reached into her dressing-gown pocket.
Seth. ‘Go away,’ she mumbled, but opened the message anyway. No more avoiding things like a big old scaredy cat.
‘Sorry about yesterday. Didn’t mean to upset you and be an arse. Tried to make an awkward situation lighter, but made it more awkward. You know me! Hope we can talk it through some time, when I’m not claiming territory like an idiot and you don’t smell of puke xx’
Hmm. ‘I don’t think I want to talk to you at the moment,’ she said, carefully laying her phone down at the opposite end of the sofa. ‘I’m quite happy talking to myself.’
Claudia was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a biro dangling out of her mouth, staring at Cameron Diaz’s beautiful hair in The Holiday, when there was a knock on the door. She spat out the biro and pushed aside a confetti of half-written Christmas cards.
‘Who could this be, eh Claud?’ she whispered, heading to the door and pressing the buttons on her huge, gaudy Christmas-tree earrings so they came alive with lights scampering over the shiny plastic. Even if it were one of those pesky men, she felt ready to handle it.
‘Merry Christmas my darling!’ shrieked a petite blonde woman with a year-round tan and the pinkest of pink lipstick. Nick’s mum.
‘Christine!’ Claudia exclaimed, enveloped in a hug doused with Ralph Lauren Romance.
‘Hope you don’t mind me stopping by, love,’ she said, shuffling into the house and dropping her oversized handbag on the floor. ‘It’s jolly cold out there you know, the snow’s threatening to stop all the trains but they can’t stop Christine. Oooh, that coffee smells nice, mind if I grab one? Love your earrings by the way, my darling.’
Christine and Claudia were close and could natter for hours, but they rarely hung out without Nick in tow. What was she up to?
Christine reemerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee, handed one to Claudia and pulled a huge box of Marks and Spencer chocolate biscuits out of her handbag. She settled down on an armchair and gestured for Claudia to take a seat, too.
‘How are you doing, my angel?’
‘I’m okay thanks, you?’
‘Same old with me, my love. Pilates is going well, though I think the instructor has a thing for me. Looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas for the wedding. But I want to talk about you. I heard about Seth.’
‘Yes. Not the best Christmas pressie.’
‘What a little twerp he is. How are you feeling about it all?’
‘I’m actually okay. I’ve been a bit all over the place, but think I’m coming through the other side now.’
‘That’s good to hear. Been keeping yourself busy?’
‘Non-stop, actually. Some good distractions.’
‘That’s good. Any Christmas parties?’
Claudia eyed Christine with suspicion. Where was this going? ‘Just the one so far, with Nick and Penny.’
‘And did you have a magical time?’
‘Yes … it was quite magical.’
Christine was staring at her, trying to make her crack. Plop. Three-quarters of her chocolate-coated ginger nut fell into her coffee, after drowning by excessive dunkage, leaving Christine clutching a melting corner in her baby-pink talons.
‘How’s the job?’ she asked, changing tack.
‘It’s okay. Same old. You know I don’t want to be there for ever.’
‘So what are you being a ninny about, then? Take the Royal Ballet job!’ Christine visibly relaxed, a weight off her shoulders. She put down her mug and sat back, worn out by her outburst.
Claudia smiled. ‘Nick told you, then?’
‘Of course he did,’ Christine said proudly. Proud of herself for getting it out of him, rather than of Nick for setting it up. ‘He was all excited and chuffed with himself, banging on about making you happy and getting to work with you every day.’
Claudia munched a biscuit to hide her guilty face.
‘I said to him,’ Christine continued, ‘won’t you three get sick of each other, all day, every day? But he was adamant it would be just brilliant. Why wouldn’t he want to spend as much time as possible with a girl he loves. His words.’
‘As friends, Christine, as friends!’ Claudia spluttered, a blush creeping up over her face.
‘Mmm-hmm. So are you going to take it?’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’ She really had to make her mind up. She was coming around to the idea, but every time she thought about watching them all dancing from the sidelines she couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss. She was having trouble deciding if she could live like that for a year.
‘So what’s my son, your friend, up to today?’ Christine pried.
‘I don’t know, aren’t you going to see him?’
‘No, I think I’d better get back home before the snow gets much heavier. You don’t know where he is?’
‘No,’ Claudia laughed. ‘We don’t all have synchronised diaries.’
‘Are you sure it’s not because you’re avoiding him?’ Christine had stopped beating around the bush and was practically standing tall right in the middle of it.
‘Oh my, he told you that too?’
‘He didn’t have to. I called him last night and he was such a Mr Mopeypants I knew something was wrong. Especially when he said he didn’t know what you were going to do about the job. You three know everything about each other.’
‘It’s quite complicated.’
‘Was he mean to you?’
‘No.’
‘Did he stab you in the back?’
‘No.’
‘Did he side with Seth?’
‘No!’
‘Well make up with him, won’t you, love? He’s usually such a happy thing at this time of year, I hate seeing him wallowing
about. I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed over a Sunday roast.’
Christine slurped the rest of her coffee and grabbed a few more biscuits from the box before heading to the door. ‘Must dash, my love, I want to do a spot of Christmas shopping at John Lewis before I head home.’
‘I thought you were worried about the snow?’ Claudia teased.
Christine winked and shrugged on her coat. She kissed Claudia on the cheek. ‘Be friends with Nick again. Don’t lose the people who know you the best.’
‘I just lost Seth,’ said Claudia.
‘Pssh, Seth never really knew you. If he did he’d have loved you so much he would never have been such a prat and left. Call Nick.’
She wafted away down the corridor; such a meddler, but always right.
The snow had stopped falling and the clouds had drifted away. A brilliant blue sky domed over London and the fluffy whiteness sparkled in the sunshine. It looked like a nice day for a walk and a pub lunch. Claudia reached for her phone.
Claudia and Nick strolled along the South Bank, the only sound coming from the slushing of their feet in the melting snow. Next to them, the Thames was a proud, choppy brown and the Clipper boats whizzed up and down with the bucketloads of tourists who were descending on the city in the run-up to Christmas.
They hadn’t said more than a hello since meeting ten minutes ago.
Then Nick asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Much better, thanks.’ Another few minutes passed. Under Waterloo Bridge they passed the long tables of second-hand books surrounded by brave people extracting their fingers from gloves to have a closer look. Opposite, the Technicolor-graffitied undercroft buzzed with skateboarders and BMX bikers jumping, spinning, tumbling and laughing, while Rat Pack Christmas classics blasted from a stereo. ‘How cool is all this snow?’
‘Icy cool,’ Nick wisecracked, his face struggling with the seriousness of the mood and glee at the real winter wonderland he was standing in. He peeped sideways at Claudia and they shared amused smiles.
‘So, your mum came to see me.’
‘Whaaaat?’ cried Nick, stopping. ‘My mum is so embarrassing. What did she say?’
Claudia laughed. ‘That you’re a happy little thing at Yuletide and I’m a big old mean Grinch for bringing you down.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ Nick said quietly. They walked further, past tourists photographing each other and teens bundling snow off the railings and hurling it at each other’s heads. ‘Did she really say “happy little thing”?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Mum. I’m not little, I’m a big strapping lad.’
‘Sure you are, mummy’s boy.’
‘I am. I’m the tallest of everyone at work. And I’m very tough and rugged and I like beer and fighting and I don’t care at all about Yuletide.’
‘You are quite tall …’ Claudia agreed.
‘What am I saying? I love Yuletide,’ said Nick, lunging to the ground and scooping up a fistful of snow. He hurled it into Claudia’s face.
Freezing cold and powder soft, the snow woke her senses and a shocked, reflexive laugh burst from her mouth. She shook the flakes from her hair and blinked at Nick.
‘Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!’
Claudia edged towards him. She stopped and rubbed her eye.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, tentatively coming closer.
‘I think you got some grit in my eye.’ She blinked hard and backed away against the railing.
Nick took two giant steps towards her and cupped her face. Her fingers curled behind her and gripped a handful of snow. She kept her eyes tight shut for effect and because if she opened them and saw him this close again she didn’t know how she’d react.
He was leaning right in, his head bent down, his fingers gently pulling on her eyelid. She lifted her arm slowly, quietly, nearly there.
Bam. She opened her eyes, saw the opening of his collar and threw the snow down the back of his neck. He leapt back from her, whooping and laughing. He danced a jig, hopping and leaping and shaking his jumper to get the snow out. ‘You cheeky monkey!’ he yelped.
They held up truce hands, and Nick flung an arm around Claudia’s shoulder. ‘Come on woman, you promised me a date. I mean, you know, a date with a log fire. Claud – I didn’t mean …’ She’d stopped and was staring up at the British Film Institute, pretending she hadn’t heard. He followed her gaze.
‘It’s a Wonderful Life,’ he read off the billboard. ‘It started five minutes ago. Do you want to go?’
‘Do you?’ Claudia longed to – it was her favourite Christmas movie – but she was petrified of it sounding too date-like.
‘Sure.’ Nick took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world then, remembering the implication, gave it a quick squeeze and dropped it again.
They rushed through the box office and into the theatre and settled into their seats in the dark just as, up on the big screen, the young George Bailey was scolding Mary for not liking coconuts. They peeled off their coats, Claudia being careful not to let her hot skin touch Nick and give her away. Sure, a romantic walk in the snow, an old movie and a meal could be construed as a date – especially when Person A tingled every time Person B put his big warm arm around her shoulders. But Claudia had her sensible head on; no getting distracted by runaway thoughts. She concentrated on the screen, ignoring Nick’s proximity.
Claudia stood at the bar of the King’s Inn a few hours later, ordering a Baileys, a Christmas ale and two turkey roasts (Nick insisted that no other roast was allowed in December). She looked back at Nick, who was nestled in an armchair by the log fire, his bare arms warming while his jumper dried out on the back of the seat. He stared into the flames, throwing little pieces of ripped-up napkin onto the logs and watching them ignite, bobbing his head to the low melodies of Bing Crosby and Ella Fitzgerald. Behind him a huge misted-up window looked out across the Thames.
Being back on good terms with Nick felt right. Things were disjointed without him around and making up was a huge relief. Not that they’d really made up about anything as such. Maybe she should brush the whole Christmas party under the carpet for the sake of harmony. But there were a lot feelings still churning around inside her; could she hold on to them, unanswered, for another twelve years? As she carried the drinks over Nick’s eyes met hers and crinkled at the corners. God, he was attractive.
‘Cheers,’ they murmured, clinking glasses as Claudia sank deep into the opposite armchair.
‘Less than two weeks to Christmas, you know,’ smiled Nick.
‘Have you bought all your pressies?’
‘Some. There’s one person I’m not sure what to buy for yet.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Just someone I don’t feel I can get the usual tat for. I feel like I want to put a bit more thought in this year.’
Claudia’s brow sweated. She fanned herself. ‘Hot next to this fire, isn’t it?’ Did he mean her? No. She had to stop reading something into everything he said. That’s exactly what caused the avalanche of snowball cocktails, the unwelcome mistletoe kiss and the puke on the tamest fairground ride of all.
‘So, um,’ Nick started, ‘I’m having a cracking day. Thanks for bringing me here. I feel like it makes my Starbucks date look a bit crap.’
‘That was a brilliant date. It was probably my favourite date I’ve had this Christmas, from start to finish.’ She watched Nick closely. This was the perfect time to get things out in the open. For the sake of her battered heart they had to move past this.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak Nick stood up and started swaying. Claudia cocked her ear to hear the music, just as the pub owners, evidently huge East 17 fans, cranked up the volume to the 1994 Christmas number one, ‘Stay Another Day’.
Nick sang along, lifting his T-shirt to show his stomach and looking every bit the nineties boyband member.
‘What are you doing?’ she giggled. ‘Sit down, you maniac!’
This only made Nick shut his eyes, clench his fists and sing louder. She watched him in awe. Was this Nick telling her his true feelings?
‘Fine. Fine.’ If that’s how he wanted to communicate, she’d do it his way. She stood and joined in, swaying and warbling, ignoring the bemused looks of the other patrons.
The song ended and they fell back into their seats, flushed and topped up with Christmas spirit. But as wise as East 17’s words were, Nick wasn’t getting out of it that easily. She had to know where she stood. She didn’t want to get the wrong end of the stick again.
‘Thanks for taking me home yesterday,’ she ventured.
‘Of course. I’ll take you home any time.’ He grinned like a naughty schoolboy.
‘You didn’t seem to think like that at the party,’ Claudia said quietly.
Nick shuffled forward in his seat and Claudia mirrored him, while intently watching the ice swirling in her glass. They leant toward each other and she glanced up and gave him a smile and a shrug. She had to know why he’d turned her down. His face showed regret, but she couldn’t tell if he was looking at her as more than a friend, or the same as he always had. What are you thinking in there?
‘Claud, it just wasn’t right.’
She nodded. That hurt her heart. But it was only Nick; her friend Nick. She had to stop thinking it was more.
‘You were raging, table-dancing, uni-student drunk.’
‘Tell me about it. Tell everyone on the Ferris wheel the morning after about it.’
‘I was really hoping to show you a good night, to cheer you up, but I think I went a bit overboard and got you completely sloshed.’
‘You didn’t do that, I did it to myself.’ Claudia took a deep breath and made herself look him straight in the face. ‘I thought you were flirting with me,’ she said before she could chicken out. She braced herself.
‘I was.’
‘You were?’
‘You looked so … beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And for the first time in a long time I didn’t have the boyfriend card keeping me in check.’ Nick gave her a guilty smile. ‘I know that makes me sound like a massive creep, slinking in as soon as you’ve broken up with the love of your life.’
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 9