by Jane Linfoot
The next moment Johnny’s taken my hand and we’re winding our way back into the crush of bodies, as the electric guitar slices into the introduction. And then the drums crash in, and when the lyrics come, deep down I just know… Oasis. ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’.
‘Yay, this is one of my favourite feel-good drunken dancing songs…’ I’m yelling at Johnny as I fall towards him. ‘In the world, ever…’ And suddenly I’m twenty all over again, if not fifteen.
He grabs me around the waist as he catches me. ‘Oasis?’ He’s propping me up with his shoulder, helping me get my balance back. ‘It’s a great song for a last dance.’
I don’t quite get what he means by that, but I don’t care, because the music is making me smile, hugely, just because it always does. Beside us, everyone’s pretty much in the same euphoric cloud as me. As mixes go, you don’t get more heady than pure nostalgia and a free bar. By the time the chorus comes, I’ve got my balance back. I’m waving my hands in the air and shouting at the top of my voice, going totally bonkers, along with everyone else. When we get to the don’t look back in anger line, Johnny and I are shouting it at each other. And the way it means so much to us both is sending shivers shooting all over my scalp.
When it finally goes all quiet and the music fades, I fall against Johnny again and this time my hands land on his shoulders. ‘I’m guessing this is our song.’ I’m filled with this deep-down sadness, which is nothing to do with Johnny and me, and how angry we’ve been with each other for all these years. I’ve momentarily forgotten that. For me it’s the sadness I always get when that song ends, simply because I want it to go on forever. If I was on my own in the studio, I’d flick it straight back to the start and listen to it all over again.
Johnny pulls the corners of his mouth down. ‘I guess you’re right, Fi.’
I shout in his ear. ‘That’s the bloody annoying thing about discos – not being able to get instant replay.’ ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’ is blasting out now. But the feel-good moment is over and my feet are throbbing as hard as the floor.
He gives a shrug, then dips towards me. ‘Alice says it’s your bedtime. Sorry, but she asked me to take you up. Undo your zip, check you’re okay.’ He puts his arm around me to guide me. ‘Or maybe I shouldn’t have told you that?’
‘So that explains the last dance bit?’ I’m furious with Alice for wrecking my fun. ‘Why exactly?’ I’m sticking my chin out.
He gives a shrug. ‘Probably because she saw you falling over and she’s looking out for you.’
I let out a snort of disgust. ‘Thanks for that. I’m not that drunk.’ Considering what I’ve consumed, that is. What’s more, if Alice hasn’t been drinking, everyone will look drunk to her. And if Alice sent the most tactful best man here, I hate to think how the other one would have put it.
‘Fine.’ Now he’s taking my hand and being all conciliatory. ‘If you’re all good we can stay longer? Dance some more?’
But as I sink against the warmth of Johnny’s body, I’m suddenly not minding so much. As for undoing my zip…Whereas Quinn definitely couldn’t be trusted with that job, we both already know Johnny proved he can do that and walk away. He’s one hundred per cent up to the job of seeing me to bed and complying with Alice’s ‘no sex’ rules. Because we both know that’s what he did last time he undid my zip after a party. Despite all my efforts to persuade him otherwise.
I smile up at him. ‘No, I’m ready to go.’
And somehow I can’t wait to see how he’s going to play it this time around.
49
Saturday, December 24th, Christmas Eve
In my bedroom: Uggs and a disaster area
‘I can’t actually believe it’s over.’
We’ve made it up two flights of stairs ‘without incident’ and we’re pushing our way through the door into my room. In other words, I didn’t fall over and we didn’t snog.
Johnny laughs. ‘It’s a long way from over. In six hours’ time, we’ll be starting again. Come here…’
Almost before the door has closed, he’s whipped down the zip of my dress and jumped back to a safe distance. And I’m guessing he’s all done here.
‘Thanks.’ As I run my hands through my hair, despite a few tangles, it’s still silky enough to feel like it belongs to someone else. ‘Can you see my Uggs anywhere?’ If I slip my feet into them, I know I’ll feel better.
Johnny laughs. ‘Good luck with that one.’
Even though the hair and make-up ladies have done their best to tidy before leaving, the room is still like a disaster area. There are bottles and half-drunk glasses of prosecco scattered across the coffee tables along with the remnants of canapes, and towels strewn across the floor.
‘I know it’s messy in here, but my Uggs should be easy enough to find.’ It’s no worse than my bedroom at home on a bad day, but I’m skimming over that.
He laughs again. ‘No, what I mean is, Alice said she’d taken them. She had them on under her wedding dress when I last saw her.’
Lucky I can see the funny side. And that I got my own toast. But there are times when all a girl wants are her Uggs. ‘Borrowing from the bridesmaid is a bride’s prerogative. For one day only.’ I seize a piece of flamingo fabric from the floor. ‘Yay, here we go, at least she left me my pyjama top. Give me a minute.’ I dive into the bathroom. And if I clean my teeth while I’m there, it’s for no reason other than because I’m on my way to bed.
As I come out and slip my dress onto a hanger, Johnny’s still over by the door, his jacket slung over one shoulder. There’s a pang of disappointment in my chest that he’s about to follow Alice’s instructions to the letter. I’m scouring the room, for some reason, to delay him leaving, although I seriously doubt flat prosecco and wizened tomato tarts will help me any. Then I spot gold – there’s an open packet of crisps on the bedside table.
‘Fancy a crisp while you’re here? They’re hand-cooked, smoky bacon, totally delish. At least they were this morning. Or maybe a drink?’ So long as he likes tap water we’re all good.
He blinks and shifts his back, where he’s leaning against the wall. ‘Sorry. I was miles away. I should go.’
Dammit. Wrong answer. But just to be certain he’s completely decided, I cross the room. When I come to a halt, my toes are practically brushing his brogues and my nose is level with the open neck of his shirt. I’m so close I’m checking out the tan on the skin of his neck. Very slowly I lift my hand upwards. As I slide it to rest on his jaw, I sense the catch in his breathing. As his stubble pricks my fingers, there’s the bang of a heart, but I’m not sure if it’s mine or his.
He locks his fingers around my wrist. ‘Don’t make this hard, Sera.’
Talk about a déjà vu action replay of our last time together. Except I’m possibly less drunk this time. More tired. And if he says anything about bad timing, I’ll hit the roof, given it’s taken bloody years to get back here.
Gently he turns his face into my palm. I’m feeling the shiver of his lips on my wrist, when there’s a scuffle outside the door. We freeze and watch. As the handle turns and the door slides open, slowly I pull back my hand. By the time Quinn tiptoes in, I’ve taken a step back and my arms are folded across my cami top.
‘Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here?’ Quinn leaps backwards as he spits the words at Johnny.
‘The same as you, I hope.’ Johnny’s voice is level. ‘Checking Sera’s okay. Which she is.’ He grabs the door and hauls it open. ‘In which case, I’ll see you out.’
‘Not so fast.’ Quinn puts his hand on his hip, stands his ground and waggles a rum bottle. ‘Maybe you should be the one to leave, Johnny, given Sera and I agreed we’d have a night cap. You know the old saying, three’s a crowd.’ He’s recovered enough to give a low laugh.
Johnny leaves the door and wanders behind me shaking his head. ‘Grab what you need from the bathroom, Sera. We’ll go to mine.’
‘What?’ I’m not following.
> Johnny’s voice is low. ‘Don’t argue, just get your stuff and come with me. Like now would be good, please.’ The look he flashes me tells me he’s not joking.
‘Okay.’ I’m not exactly clear what he means by stuff, but I go to the bathroom and get my wash bag. As I see my cardigan hanging on the sofa edge as I pass, I grab that too. And a moment later, he’s propelling me down the landing towards his room.
50
Saturday, December 24th, Christmas Eve
In Johnny’s bedroom: Broom handles and lucky women
‘You jump into bed, I’ll take the sofa.’
Johnny’s turning back the quilt for me as I take in sloping ceilings very like the ones in my own room. Although because this room’s smaller the double bed he’s shooing me towards is the only one.
‘We could top and tail?’ Even as I say it I’m remembering the urban legend of the girl at school who lost her virginity doing just that. Lucky woman.
‘Don’t argue. Just get in.’ He’s wearing his non-negotiable face.
‘I take it that’s a no then?’
He ignores that and shakes out a couple of the cashmere throws Alice provided. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’
When I’m less drunk. That’s the subtext. And between us, with my alcohol-inflamed lust, it’s not a talk I’m aching for.
As I ease my bottom onto the bed, I sniff. ‘If this is about Alice’s rule, it’s damned hypocritical.’ I’m sounding like a petulant kid because I feel like one. ‘She’s probably bonking my Uggs off in the wedding suite as we speak.’
Johnny’s trying not to smile as he disappears into the bathroom. When he comes back a few moments later, he’s in low-slung cotton lounge pants and a T-shirt. ‘She is the bride.’ At least he’s laughing off my grumbling. ‘Anyway, she’s probably going straight to sleep too. It said in The Huffington Post no one has sex on their wedding night any more.’
‘Whatever.’ That’s exactly where I read the same thing, but I’m not going to admit we have that in common right now.
He tugs at his hair. ‘Anyway Alice isn’t singlehandedly trying to ruin your wedding enjoyment with her rule. That’s her way of subtly suggesting you steer clear of a certain groomsman.’
‘Sorry?’ There’s only one person she could mean. ‘Quinn?’ If my voice is a shriek it’s because I’m gobsmacked.
‘He does have a hideous track record of hitting on bridesmaids. That was Alice’s attempt to keep him in check. And to flag up a warning to everyone else.’
And saving me from falling flat on my face, which I so nearly did, even though I missed the point completely. And I thought she was being a control freak. ‘And that’s why I’m in here with you now?’
‘Yes… and no.’ He sighs. ‘I’m sorry for exploiting the situation, but I kind of liked the idea of talking to you as we went to sleep. And you being here when I wake up. I’m happy to take the sofa to get that.’
The night of the ball, when I hurled myself at him, I still ended up in my own bed that night. In my own room, in the suite he’d booked. And when I didn’t hear from him when I threw my phone into the harbour, I took it that he’d hated how that weekend panned out. Although the fact he did try to get in touch means that wasn’t the ultimate humiliation I’ve taken it as. And now we’re here, I have to ask.
‘Why did you ask me to that uni ball before I went off travelling?’ Not that I want to rake over the past, but I’ve always been curious to know.
The way he’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, he’s not intending to go straight to sleep. ‘Once you left uni, I missed you. A lot. But you had your life mapped out and I was determined not to get in the way.’ He gives a sheepish shrug. ‘The ball was the perfect one-off excuse to see you before you left for your first world trip. I’m sorry if it was selfish.’
My lips are twitching. ‘I had a lovely time. Once you finally decided to give in, that is.’ Or do I mean put out? Those two days we spent in bed go down as the best of my entire life.
He looks at me steadily. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen. All the same, I’m pleased it did.’ He’s smiling at me now. ‘It kept me going for years.’
Whereas with me, it stopped me dead. My love life never quite moved on from the awesomeness of that weekend. ‘Considering you were such a babe magnet back in the day, you play very hard to get with me.’ And as a grumble, it’s entirely justified. I mean, I’m in bed on my own, aren’t I? Again.
He frowns. ‘I was hardly that.’
‘Excuse me, you took a different girl home every night.’ But never me. If I was less polite, I’d have called him a man-whore.
‘You surely don’t think I…’ He lets out a long sigh. ‘For the record, if there were queues of women, it was only because I had a car and they wanted a lift. Believe me, I love Jake, and it’s awesome having him in my life, but ending up with an unplanned baby puts casual sex in a whole new light. I didn’t go there. Apart from that weekend of the ball, obviously. You were never the one I took home at uni, but only because I knew it would have been too hard to take you home and not end up in bed with you.
Now he tells me. ‘You’re managing to walk away tonight.’ It’s a fair point.
‘You’ve got me there.’ His smile splits into a grin. ‘At least this way you won’t wake up tomorrow and regret what you did.’
‘I’m a lot less drunk than you think.’ Well someone’s got to tell him. Now I’m snuggled under the duvet, I’m barely wobbly.
‘See how you feel when you’ve got a clear head in the morning.’ He sends me a wink. ‘Without the mojito goggles.’ He rubs his hand on his chin. ‘In any case, not everyone travels with multi packs of condoms.’
‘Right. Good point. I know I don’t.’ My shrug goes with my admission. He’s talking about Quinn’s bulk supply there. And partly explaining too. It’s obvious he hasn’t brought any either. ‘Alice fell down badly on that one. She could have had mince-pie-flavoured ones too.’
Johnny laughs. ‘Fancy remembering champagne truffles and a nut cracker and forgetting the most essential essentials.’
As I look at the pink and gold truffle box on the bedside table, something beyond it catches my eye. ‘Hey, you’ve still got the knitted bears from the shop. Weren’t they meant to be a wedding present?’ As I look at them nestling against the lamp, I feel all squishy inside because I’ve found my old friends again.
Johnny wrinkles his nose. ‘I’m not sure they’re Alice’s thing.’
‘But you bought them specially.’
A guilty flicker flashes across his face. ‘No, I actually bought them because I saw your name on the window and wanted an excuse to go into the shop.’ He shrugs in response to my horrified stare. ‘What? I could hardly go in and say I wanted a wedding dress, could I?’
I’m wailing now. ‘I loved those bears. They’d been in the shop for years, Jess should never have sold them to you.’
‘Remember that time you were knitting at uni?’ If he’s trying for diversion tactics it’s working.
I shudder at the thought. ‘As if I could forget anything that traumatic.’ We were supposed to knit a small item of clothing and I insisted on knitting a wedding dress with a train and practically had a nervous breakdown. ‘I had to use broom handles to get the holey effect and I was knitting day and night for weeks.’
He laughs. ‘Can you see why it was dull and boring when you left?’
And I quietly take us back to what’s way more important. ‘Promise you’ll keep the bears… or at least let me buy them back.’ Although given the figure he paid was monstrous and equivalent to several arms and a leg, I might need to pay in instalments.
‘I promise…’ He laughs. ‘Or, you could always have a quiet word with Santa.’
‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?’ Somehow, in all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten. ‘When we wake up, it’ll be Christmas morning.’ It’s funny how some years the magic isn’t there and others there’s so much it makes y
our head woozy. And it’s nothing at all to do with the ten Gin Slings you just had. But whatever it is, you’re so happy you feel like your chest could burst. And it’s as if there’s star dust twinkling on the ceiling, entirely without the help of Blue Watch, or Celestial Skies. ‘Hasn’t it just been the most perfect day?’
He nods. ‘It has.’ There’s mischief in his eyes as he stands, turns and reaches upwards. ‘You know Alice hasn’t failed entirely…’
As I lean back, the pillow pile is so big I’m practically sitting up. ‘How come?’
He’s striding across the room towards the bed, his cheeks slicing into those delicious creases as he tries to hold back his smile. And there’s a green sprig dangling from his hand.
‘She gave us mistletoe…’
‘So she did…’ And a second later, as his lips brush against mine and I taste a mix of minty toothpaste and hot velvet guy, I’m damned glad I stayed the distance and hung mistletoe in every room.
51
Sunday, 25th December, Christmas Day
In Johnny’s bedroom: Serviettes and dazzling smiles
‘So, I’ll see you again very soon, bed-head.’
It’s seven-thirty, Johnny’s grinning at me from the bed as he speaks, and if it seems like no time at all since we finally fell asleep curled around each other, that’s probably because it is. But my idea is to make a fast getaway before everyone gets up, so no one sees me doing my bridesmaid’s walk of shame, along the landing in my pyjamas. And so far I’m failing. Spectacularly. Both with the speed and the leaving.
‘Johnny… how about you go and jump in the harbour?’ I’m laughing as I reply to his cheeking. But when I rake my fingers through my party hair, I know he’s got a point. The sleek bouncing curls I went to sleep with have tangled into a disaster area. Try as I might, it’s hard to make a slinky departure, when I’m in bare feet, tugging my cardi down far enough to cover my shorts and my hair’s like a bird’s nest that’s been hit by a force-ten gale. ‘Right, this time I’m definitely going.’