No, she was sexy; she’d changed this past week.
She slipped her free hand into his and they turned to watch the choir gather behind them. The lights were dimmed, and with the flickering candles and haunting melody of ‘O Holy Night’ rising to the rafters you could be a priest or an atheist but you couldn’t deny it was a beautiful sight.
Claudia was awestruck as the choir and their sea of perfect voices glided down the nave and dispersed at the stalls. It was magical. Totally like that scene in Home Alone where the little red-haired girl sings the same song and Kevin and Old Man Marley are watching. It was nice to be so cultured.
The carol ended and Nick squeezed Claudia’s hand. With one hand in Nick’s, and the other holding her little candle upright, Claudia unfolded the carol booklet they’d been given with difficulty, then held it out for them both to see. The cathedral erupted into a joyful sing-along of ‘The Holly and the Ivy’. Claudia lip-synced her way through while Nick boomed out the wrong notes and often the wrong words.
She started to giggle and soon she was shaking and red and had to stuff the end of her scarf in her mouth. Nick looked down at her with twinkling eyes.
‘Come on, mime-artist, give it a go,’ he whispered in her ear between carols.
‘I can’t …’
‘Of course you can, I dare you.’
Okay, she could do this. The organist started up again, the first bars of ‘Joy to the World’ pealing out across the congregation. Come on, risk taker, this is no big deal. Claudia was going to give it everything she had.
‘JOY—’ Oh balls. Crap, crap, crap. It was the wrong moment and she was the only one who’d started singing. The ultimate humiliation.
She heard the sniggers around her, and was pretty sure there were many more she couldn’t hear further afield. Nick burst at the seams, his laughter so loud that even when the rest of the cathedral eventually started to sing it could barely drown him out.
Seeing her mortified face Nick calmed down and wrapped her in a one-armed hug, drawing her into his chest, still chuckling away. She resumed her lip-syncing for the rest of the carol.
Claudia couldn’t keep her eyes off Nick. She peeped at him constantly, often finding him peeping back at her. It was a bit of an eighties cliché, but he looked mighty fine by candlelight.
She would like a snog, please. Badly. She tried to concentrate on the words to ‘God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen’ but found herself licking her lips and fantasising about being pinned up against a wall with him pressing into her.
For crying out loud, she was in the cathedral that Charles and Diana were married in. Claudia expected that Diana had managed to get through the service without becoming a quivering wreck over the thought of Charles’s lips.
All this standing was beginning to make Claudia’s ankle a little sore. As another new carol started she shifted her weight, looking around the church.
Bloody hell. Are you kidding me?
About twenty rows ahead, on the opposite side of the aisle, was Seth. Claudia craned her neck as surreptitiously as she could to see who he was with. He was with her, the ‘this is awkward’ girl from outside the pub. The one that Seth claimed he had nothing going on with.
They were on a date? What a punch in the back of the head. What made her special? For a fleeting moment Claudia felt a pang for the life she and Seth never had.
Claudia looked at Nick who was merrily ding-donging on high. She tried to concentrate on the words but every few seconds her brain sent a pulse to her eyes forcing them to look at Seth and see what he was doing. Most of the time he was playing with his phone.
Damn it, Seth. She was having probably the best date ever and there he was again. Distracting her. Ruining this.
During the polite, British clapping between carols, Claudia pulled on Nick’s hand. ‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked.
‘I’m having the best time, but look who’s over there.’
Nick followed her gaze. His face went stony.
Claudia tugged his hand again. ‘I don’t want to see him; can we sneak to the back?’
They shuffled out of the pew and tiptoed towards the exit. They were nearly clear of the aisle when Claudia’s bad ankle twisted and she slid, gasping and her coat making a noisy, flapping sound.
Nick caught her arm and swung her round, spinning them both into an alcove out of view of the rest of the carollers. Their candles blew out.
They stood in the dark, pressed against each other, Nick taking Claudia’s weight as he leaned back against the wall. A thousand voices were chorusing Hark! The herald angels sing but Claudia was only aware of the shallow sound of Nick’s breath against her face, causing her eyelashes to flutter.
She could have stayed where she was for a hundred years; suddenly all was forgotten, everything felt spot-on. She ran a hand up his chest, his heat emanating through his jumper. She felt his firm body underneath, and his hand, which rested on her lower back, became heavier, drawing her closer. Claudia’s fingertips reached his neck. She felt him take her candle from her other hand and bury it, along with his own candle, in his coat pocket. And then he touched her face.
This was no longer a game, no longer something to run away from or giggle about. This was happening now. She rose onto tiptoes, Nick holding her up and tilting her head with his hand. She pulled on his neck so they met half way.
Soft and warm, gentle and tugging, Claudia was so mesmerised by the sensations of Nick’s lips that she barely recognised the two of them were immersed in their first kiss until they were mid-way through. He tasted of the sweet chestnuts, he bumped his nose against hers, and she could feel that he was smiling.
Thank God he hadn’t kissed her at the Christmas party. The alcohol would have drowned these sparks. She never wanted to kiss him without the utter clarity she was feeling now.
He breathed her in and she sank deeper into him. He was like a massive cake that she didn’t have to share with anyone; she wanted to press her whole face into him and say to hell with the world. His hand moved up from her back and he was clasping the sides of her face. There was barely room for a whisker to fit between them but still she pressed closer, her body craving to be as near to him as humanly possible.
Damn these clothes …
Naughty. She dragged her lips off him and they regarded each other with giddy smiles. ‘I’m having some very unsuitable-for-church thoughts,’ she whispered.
‘Me too,’ he grinned, his thumb tracing her spine in a way that made her tremble and want to clamber up onto him.
She dived in for one more smooch; she couldn’t keep away. Claudia had never wanted someone so badly. Usually sex was something that was fun-ish after a glass or two of wine, or just something to be endured. She’d never felt that movie-style fire. Until now.
They broke away again, panting heavily.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this here, we’ll go straight to hell.’
‘Do you want to leave?’ Nick asked, the question loaded with meaning.
Conflict churned inside Claudia. She badly wanted to follow her instinct and go with him … but she needed more time. This shouldn’t happen off the back of a situation involving Seth; she was a completely different person with Nick and didn’t want it to have anything to do with her last relationship. Her sex drive, or lack of, had burned her in the past and she wanted it to be right. She wanted to be utterly prepared. But her body was begging her not to take too much time. ‘Can we have another date tomorrow night?’
‘Of course. Where do you want to go?’
‘Let’s not go anywhere.’ She tried to slow her breathing. Tomorrow, she could wait until tomorrow. ‘Come over to mine.’
Date Nine
Claudia’s flat, West Kensington
‘Sorry,’ said Claudia to the old lady who rammed into the back of her.
‘No time to stand around in the doorway my girl, I’ve got shortbread to buy.’ With a steely look she stamped into the department store.
&nb
sp; Christmas shopping on Oxford Street was one of the best and worst things about Christmas in the capital. The shops bulged with stock – racks of gloves, novelty slippers, gadgets, gizmos, stocking fillers and those special somethings. At every turn, beauty counters offered spritzes of special-edition cinnamon-scented perfumes and food halls filled hungry shoppers’ tummies with sample mince pies and flowing prosecco. Elaborate window displays – Santa’s grottoes, Christmas mornings, enchanted forests – rivaled the Tate for artistic masterpieces. Shoppers were rosy-cheeked, twinkly-eyed and flinging money at the cashiers like Santa after a little too much Christmas spirit.
But it didn’t take long for them to transform into desperate last-minute buyers fighting over the last jelly bean-pooping reindeer toy. Claudia had one very important present to buy, and even though this was her third department store she still had no idea where to start. To the piped music of ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ and the reindeer bell-like cha-ching of a hundred cash registers, she stuck out her elbows and marched through Selfridges. What the helling hell was she going to get Nick – her now sort-of boyfriend – for Christmas?
‘Excuse me,’ she said to a sales assistant, accidently jabbing her in the face with a roll of pretty, overpriced wrapping paper. ‘Any chance you could tell me which level man stuff is on?’
‘Man stuff?’
‘Like, gifts or something. Not Gillette shower gel sets, something a bit more special.’
‘Why not try men’s accessories, first floor?’
Off Claudia went, joining a queue to go up the escalator, on which she stood with her face pressed against someone’s Build-A-Bear box, and emerged on a floor she immediately felt underdressed for. The men’s department. All greys and tweeds and more greys and model-types trying on suit jackets in front of mirrors when really they should be reclining with a Scotch and the Financial Times.
She fingered the arm of a plaid Vivienne Westwood suit. What to buy, what to buy … But yet again her thoughts drifted to Date Nine. The Date. Nick had given her five awesome dates this month, and tonight she’d had an idea for a date he would love. They were to meet late afternoon near the Tower of London for a Dickensian Christmas group walking tour. Then it was back to hers for a home-cooked meal. And then …
Anyway, must get on. Claudia strode in a direction that hopefully led to accessories and after a loop and a half of the level she found them. Well, she found some leathery things intermingled with some electronic stuff, which was a start.
‘What do you want to buy?’ asked a striking waif in a sharply tailored grey dress. She had a thick Dutch accent and icy-blonde hair. Claudia resisted the urge to ask her for a photo.
‘Do you work here?’ asked Claudia.
‘Yes,’ said the waif, pointing at a Selfridges badge that said Monique, and Claudia felt like a nitwit.
‘I’m looking for a present for my new boyfriend; I’m not sure what to buy him.’
‘You should buy him the new iPad. It is new and boys like new.’
‘Oooh no, I can’t quite afford to spend that much.’
‘How about this Aspinal iPad case?’ Monique plucked a mock-croc wallet from a nearby shelf and handed it to Claudia.
‘Well, I don’t think he has an iPad.’
‘But it is very beautiful.’
‘It is, it’s a lovely grey and I like this magnet bit.’
‘You will get a second date if you buy him this.’
‘We’re actually on our sixth date.’
‘But you don’t like him very much?’
‘I like him loads!’
‘But you don’t want him to have nice things?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘You should buy this case then.’
It was a nice case, and Claudia didn’t want to anger the ice maiden. Maybe she could pop an ‘IOU an iPad’ inside?
No, that was ridiculous. The case was £250, so she put it back on the shelf. ‘Gloves are a nice present; can you show me where they are please?’
‘You don’t get a classic yellow Selfridges bag if you buy something as small as gloves,’ said Monique.
In that case, maybe the case was worth it.
‘Actually, that’s not true,’ Monique sighed. ‘I just wanted you to buy the case. Follow me; I’ll take you to gloves.’
Monique reluctantly handed Claudia a complimentary mini candy cane and left her scouring the racks for any gloves under sixty-five pounds, though she wasn’t convinced gloves were a good enough way of saying thanks for being here all along, please be around for a long, long time more.
The more time marched on the harder it was becoming to concentrate on the task at hand, and the more glued the candy cane became to one of the fluffier gloves, so she edged back to the escalator and hastily left Selfridges. Continuing up Oxford Street, the Christmas lights weaved across the road from one flagship store to the next like vast, frost-covered spider webs under the sun.
What was she going to buy Nick? What was girlfriendy and fun but not too ‘long-term relationship’?
Hello, Ann Summers.
Goodbye, Ann Summers. Claudia walked straight past and in through the door of Holland & Barrett. She loitered by the hazelnuts. Come on, she was a grown-up, and sexy things were perfectly normal and grown up. She exited Holland & Barrett and walked straight back past Ann Summers again, into Dorothy Perkins on the other side.
Stop being ridiculous, nobody’s watching and nobody cares. She took a deep breath and launched back on to the street, head held high.
Claudia waltzed in to Ann Summers with faux-purpose and headed straight for the first rack of undies she saw. She studied the bridal lingerie with authority while her eyes darted left and right.
‘Can I help you with anything today?’ asked a girl about ten years younger than Claudia, all oozing confidence and burlesque hair.
‘Um, I’m just looking for something a bit fun for when I’m with my, um, boyfriend.’
‘Sure, were you after toys, or costumes or underwear?’
‘Just some undies I think, maybe something a bit festive?’
‘No probs. Special occasion?’
‘Just, you know, sex.’ Claudia shrugged and rolled her eyes.
‘First time?’ The sales assistant smiled.
‘No, I’ve had sex loads of times, hundreds— Oh you mean with him. Yes, first time.’
‘Have you visited Ann Summers before?’
‘Pfff, all the time.’ Never. Claudia had been disinterested in sex for so long she’d never even considered visiting the shop before. The girl led Claudia over to a wonderful array of red and white tasselled, pom-pommy outfits that would make Mrs Claus blush and hide behind her apron. ‘This is our Christmas collection, it’s all super fun and sexy – it’ll be such a treat for him. Trust me, this is his Christmas present covered if you show up wearing one of these.’
‘If only I could get enough paper to wrap myself up,’ Claudia tittered, examining her hand through a mesh bra. It might as well have been made of cling film.
‘Actually, we do have long red satin wraps that you tie around yourself like a present bow, if you want me to get you one?’
‘No, that’s okay, thank you.’ Actually bestowing herself like she was a luxurious present seemed a little narcissistic for the first time Nick would see her naked.
Nick had to see her naked!
‘If you need anything, just come and grab me, okay?’ the girl said with a grin and wandered off to realign some handcuffs.
Claudia picked up a red tie-front bra with dangly pom-poms. Would Nick like this? She wasn’t sure if this kind of thing could even count as a present. Would he say, ‘You look great, now where’s my iPad case?’
She ran through the unveiling in her head; what might happen, what he’d say, what she’d say. Nick, I want to wish YOU a Merry Christmas. Nick, unwrap me, baby. Nick, I want to hang my stockings … under your … She cringed. She was going to sound like such a twat. Maybe t
hey should just kiss – over clothes – because kissing him was spectacular enough.
‘Would you like to try that one on?’
Claudia blinked. She must have spent the last five minutes staring at the bra like a right pervert.
‘No, thank you, I think I’ll just take this, and the matching knick-knacks.’
Claudia left the shop, shoving the carrier into her handbag lest anybody see she was a lady who bought rude underwear. It felt nice, though, to want to be sexy and exciting. The butterflies awoke with a dance routine to rival a Gap Christmas advert and a beam formed on her cheeks.
Four hours to Nick.
Back at home, Claudia spent a long time examining herself in the mirror in her new undies with the heating on full whack. She’d shaved her legs and her bikini line, spritzed there with perfume, experienced extreme stinging as a result and quickly re-showered. She dried her hair, leaving it soft and loose. Just how she knew Nick liked it.
She dressed carefully, tucking the fluffy pom-poms inside her clothing. Every couple of minutes she glanced at the clock.
Her stomach was somersaulting faster and faster the closer it got to date time. ‘Come on Claudia, man up,’ she muttered. She was a grown woman, and she’d done it many a time. Sort of. Just … not with anyone but Seth in a very long time.
What if something had changed? Was sex like fashion? Oh God, she never followed fashion. What if her way was considered really retro?
Did people even shave their bikini lines any more? What if she’d made a huge mistake?
In a panic, Claudia raced to her laptop and frantically zipped around the Cosmopolitan website, speed-reading more sex tips than you could fit into a chapter of Fifty Shades, and by the end felt so overwhelmed all she thought she’d be able to handle would be a cuddle and a rom-com.
This was going to be fine. It was Nick. He wasn’t going to laugh at her or dislike her; he’d wanted her for years. Everything would be fine.
Thirty minutes to go.
She finished off the prep on a batch of homemade mince pies in record time and was even able to clear some of the more embarrassing things out of the way of her flat, replacing them with some spicy winter candles.
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 15