by Clare Lydon
I did as I was told.
Nicola’s face fell when she saw me. “Victoria.” She tapped a pen on her desk and fidgeted in her chair. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I should come and sort things out.” I paused. “Can I have a seat?”
She motioned to the free one on the other side of her desk. “Please.” She tugged at her shirt collar and cleared her throat. “How are you?” Her eyes searched mine.
I screwed up my face. “Not brilliant.” I decided to take the bull by the horns — I didn’t have much time, so small talk wasn’t on the cards.
Besides, Nicola hated small talk.
“I wasn’t really sure what to do after the other night. And then we saw each other skating yesterday... I don’t want that to happen again.” My throat was clogging up with emotion, but my voice was coming out clean and clear. Decisive, almost.
“Me neither,” Nicola replied, not looking me in the eye now. “Saturday was a mistake. And yesterday at the ice rink didn’t help. Tell Holly thanks for mowing me down.”
I didn’t move my gaze from hers. “She wasn’t to blame.” It was a statement, not one to be messed with. “Anyway, I can’t stay long, I’ve got a meeting in an hour. I just want to know we’re okay, seeing as we will be bumping into each other again. The lesbian scene isn’t that big, no matter what anyone tells you.” I was relying on Nicola for a solid answer.
She shrugged, which wasn’t the best response for the current situation. “We’re going to have to be, aren’t we? I can’t walk away from Melanie. She’s good for me. I’m not going to mess this one up too.”
I frowned. “You shouldn’t marry someone because you think you owe them something.”
“I know.” Nicola paused, before fixing me with those eyes again. “But we’re solid. She’s dependable.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And me and you... the other night — it was like we were just picking up where we left off. It’s too hard. I’ve always had feelings for you, but they mess with my head.”
I gulped and tears needled the back of my eyes. Every time she said something like that, it took me back to teenage Nicola. The one I’d been in love with.
There was a knock on the door and it opened swiftly. A man with red hair walked in, but stopped when he saw me. “Sorry guv, didn’t realise you had company.”
“Can you give me five and I’ll be with you?” she told him, holding up her hand.
If the man noticed Nicola’s watery eyes, he gave nothing away.
“Sure,” he said, smiling at me as he backed out of the office.
Nicola stood up and walked around the desk, leaning on it in front of me before taking my hands in hers. “I have to go — I’ve got a briefing to do.”
A tear trickled down my cheek. I didn’t know why. I hadn’t come here to pursue anything with Nicola, but I didn’t want this moment to end. I was fighting with my teenage self and my normally rational present self.
“I don’t want this to be the end of us — even as friends.” I paused, searching my mind for something to say. Nicola’s hands were hot around mine. “Do you still love country music?”
She nodded.
“Then come to the Dixie Chicks with me.” Even as I said it, I knew it was wrong. But it was out of my mouth before I could control what I was saying.
She furrowed her brow. “You’ve got tickets? They sold out in minutes.” She paused. “Remember when we were meant to go to that concert all those years ago?”
I nodded, putting an image of Holly out of my mind, even though every fibre of my being was screaming at me to take the offer back. But I wasn’t operating via normal me — I was operating via 16-year-old me. “I do. But we never got there that time, did we?”
Nicola narrowed her eyes. “Things got in the way.”
“Boys got in the way.”
She nodded, then cast her eyes to the ground, before returning them back up to me. “I’d love to come with you.” She paused, before tilting her head. “You give off very mixed signals, you know that?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything else.
“I’ve got to go. Drop me a text with the details?”
I nodded and got up, already cursing myself as I left. Why had I said that?
I was so going to hell.
It was now less than two weeks to Christmas, and I was no closer to getting a girlfriend. If anything, my plan for a Christmas girlfriend had shaken up my world and thrown a whole load of trouble my way in the past couple of weeks. On top of that, I’d promised the Dixie Chicks tickets to Nicola in a moment of stupidity, and now I was regretting that enormously. My stomach lurched as I thought about breaking the news to Holly. It could wait. I decided to go to bed as I’d probably done enough damage in the world for one day.
I brushed my teeth, spitting out blood as I did — it represented the world I was living in. Messy. When I got into bed, sighing with relief as the covers soothed my skin, I stared at the ceiling and thought about my dad. He was probably looking down at me and shaking his head right now. Christmas was meant to be all about lightness and giving, but I knew that with the Dixie Chicks tickets, I’d taken the giving a step too far. I had to make that right before Holly found out.
“What would you do, Dad?” I asked out loud, before stilling my breathing and waiting for an answer.
Nothing came.
Perhaps my dad was too busy stringing up Christmas lights and drinking mulled wine with the angels — sounded about right.
But I knew he wouldn’t be happy with what was going on. I needed to just walk away from Nicola completely, no good could come of it. And then Holly would be happy too.
Holly. Oh god, the tickets.
I pulled the covers up over my head and willed sleep to take me away.
Perhaps everything would seem a lot clearer in the morning.
Tuesday December 13th
Holly and I were meeting in the drinks department at Selfridges to buy some overly expensive alcohol for our annual Christmas soirée, usually held the weekend before Christmas. Holly always had a party around that time to celebrate her birthday, which fell on Christmas Day — hence her festive name.
Last year we’d bought some fancy type of eggnog, specially imported from the USA and it was demolished within the hour. This year there was just as much festive bling on offer, with specially made sloe gin, Christmas-spiced rum and festive fizz, along with swag like specially printed Christmas glasses and cocktail shakers. In truth, I wanted to buy the whole shop, but I knew Holly wouldn’t go for that, being far more practical and prudent than me.
Holly arrived ten minutes late, giving me a hug and complaining about the Tube. I shook it off — Holly was ten minutes late wherever she went, it was her ritual. She was dressed in a smart grey suit with those slip-on shoes with tassels that were so in vogue right now — with her height, Holly never needed to add heels. She’d had her hair cut recently and it hung down over her eyes, short at the back. As usual, Holly looked like she’d been expressly delivered from a catwalk show to come shopping with her vertically challenged friend. It was a role I was well used to playing.
“Have you found anything?” Holly rubbed her hands together, her green eyes twinkling. “I’m surprised you haven’t bought the shop yet.”
“I only thought about buying the whole shop, there’s a world of difference.”
Holly chuckled, before picking up a bottle of Smirnoff Gold. “This would be a good talking point.” She shook the spirit and the gold leaf danced around the liquid.
“Bit noughties,” I said. “What about this?” I held up a bottle of bright blue liquid, which had a reindeer head fixed around its cap so that when poured, it looked as though Rudolph was vomiting up your drink.
Holly screwed up her face. “I don’t think so — blue drinks are never good news.”
But within five minutes we’d struck gold: mince pie liqueur. “Mix it with rum to make mince pie mar
tinis,” Holly read from the label. “That’ll do nicely.”
We bought three bottles before heading off to the Selfridges’ Christmas department to buy a new ornament for the flat — also now one of our Christmas traditions.
The department was vast, stacked floor to ceiling with shiny Christmas objects and decorations, all vying to be the one to adorn your home. Honestly, I could have happily moved in there for the festive period, pretending I was in the movie Elf or similar. This Christmas department represented a world where everything was simple, and the biggest decision you had to make was whether or not to eat a candy cane or a mince pie for breakfast.
After 20 minutes breathing in the filtered essence of pine cone, we settled on an uber contemporary snow-covered branch as our new ornament, replete with a red-breasted robin. It was going to look great on our lounge wall.
Next up on the list was family shopping. I always bought my mum a selection of treats from the Selfridges’ food hall, along with something woollen. This year, Holly chose to follow suit. We bagged our mothers identical grey cashmere jumpers and hoped they’d never meet wearing them, along with a selection of nuts, chocolates and weird cheese.
Which just left buying for each other so we agreed to meet in the champagne bar in an hour — we had to have bought our presents by then. We called this our annual Christmas dash — you could pre-plan, but you could not pre-buy.
I knew where I was headed: bags. Holly needed a new one that fitted her laptop as well as her daily life — she’d been telling me so for weeks now. I’d done my research, which meant I found the perfect bag within 20 minutes and had it gift-wrapped on the spot. I was pleased with my choice. The bag was cherry-red leather with tassels to match Holly’s shoes, had a wealth of pockets and leather so smooth, you could fall asleep on it.
Holly was waiting in the champagne bar with a grin on her face when I arrived, two glasses of fresh bubbles on the table along with a bowl of green olives. Most of the other tables were full of shoppers relaxing after spending their cash too, drinking wine and champagne, as well as eating some of the bar’s tapas offerings.
“All done?” Holly asked. She smiled and it lit up her whole face — she looked extra-gorgeous tonight.
I stashed the presents under the table, dropping my handbag on to the back of the chair.
“Yep and you’re going to love what I bought you,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it.” Holly sipped her drink, before rubbing her hands together. “So I was thinking, tonight could be the start of our Christmas extravaganza.”
I tilted my head. “Our Christmas what?”
Holly scratched her forehead and stretched her legs out so they snaked down the side of my chair. “If your Christmas girlfriend quest is really over, then maybe we should just throw ourselves into Christmas, just the two of us and our plans. What do you think?”
Guilt crept up my face. Turns out guilt was coloured red.
“What’s the matter?” Holly narrowed her eyes. “This is right up your street, but you’re not jumping up and down.” She paused, then sat back in her chair. “You feeling okay?”
I licked my lips before shaking my head. “I’m fine, just need some food — this champagne has gone straight to my stomach. The Christmas extravaganza sounds perfect. But what does it involve?”
Holly grinned and was engaged once more. “Tonight, we do dinner under the twinkly Christmas lights. Then tomorrow we watch a Christmas movie, your choice, and I’ll pretend to be amazed when you choose Elf. Then there’s the party, Dixie Chicks, my birthday — we’re all set really!”
My face fell. Dixie Chicks.
I put my finger in the air and pursed my lips, then took a large gulp of my champagne. Then another. It was nearly all gone.
“We better get you some food sharpish if this is your drinking mood,” Holly said with a smile.
“About the Dixie Chicks.”
Holly’s face formed a question mark. “What about them?” She withdrew her legs and sat up. “You did get the tickets, right?”
I nodded. “I did.” More nodding. “But I might have promised them to somebody else.”
Holly looked confused and rightly so.
“What?” She looked like she wanted to scrub out her ears, like she couldn’t possibly have heard right.
Only, she had.
I downed the rest of my drink and grimaced. I really was a terrible person.
“The thing is, I saw Nicola yesterday. And things were fraught. I know she loves country music, and it just came out. I wanted to make her feel better, make the situation better, so it just slipped out. I’m so sorry. But I can take it back, and we can still go. I’ve been meaning to. I just haven’t had the time.”
Holly didn’t say anything. She just breathed deep gulps of air, then stood up, shaking her head. Her jacket was on before any words spilled from her mouth.
“Nicola. I might have known Nicola Sheen would be involved somewhere. You just can’t help yourself, can you? Tori Hammond, whirlwind central. Do you just like drama? Because if you do, you’re doing a stellar job.”
It was like she’d punched me in the face, and frankly, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. Holly was being horrible to me, and while I knew I deserved it, it didn’t make it hurt any less. This was Holly. We were more than just friends. We were a unit. We were... I couldn’t find the words to say what we were.
“Holly.” I stood up and put my hand on her arm.
She threw it off abruptly. “Don’t try to brush this one off, Tor, it’s not going to work. You know how much I wanted to go to the Dixie Chicks — you know. Yet you still did this. Incredible. Well, I hope you really enjoy those tickets. I hope they play all the hits, and I hope you don’t feel one ounce of guilt when they play our song — the one we always sing.” She picked up all her bags and brushed past me. “I’m going home. I suggest you don’t do the same for a while as I don’t want to look at your face any longer than I have to tonight. Call your girlfriend, I’m sure she’ll come and meet you.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said, but Holly was already out the door and heading down the stairs to ground level.
I sat back down and ordered another glass of champagne, tapping the bag with Holly’s present.
She’d calm down eventually. She always did.
“It’ll all be fine,” I said out loud to nobody.
But this time, I wasn’t sure it would be. This time, I’d overstepped the mark and what made it worse was I could have covered it up and never told her. But it just slipped out. Now everything was ruined and it was all my fault. If they were giving out gold medals for bad friends, I was about to take the title by some distance.
I stared at my fresh glass of champagne, at the bubbles fizzing to the top, but I couldn’t embrace their jollity.
My mood was sinking so fast, I feared I might fall through the floor at any moment.
Thursday December 15th
I arrived home from work exhausted from the week so far. I’d texted Nicola to tell her the Dixie Chicks tickets were off after my disastrous shopping trip with Holly, but she hadn’t texted me back. I guessed my friendship with Nicola wasn’t going to go anywhere fast now, but after the turmoil of the previous couple of weeks, I was fine with that.
I didn’t know what I’d been thinking in Nicola’s office that day — not much, apart from wanting to please younger me. But my current life was far more important than my past, and I was going to try to be a better person. Now I just had to tell Holly and let her know that our friendship meant the world to me. That she meant the world to me. But that all hinged on her being happy to talk to me, and that might be the trickier sell.
I’d also spoken to my mum the previous evening and told her the whole sorry tale. She was now coming into town on Saturday and meeting me for lunch on the pretext of some Christmas shopping. She hadn’t said much in response apart from dropping in the odd sympathetic platitude, but I expected she was coming to tell
me much the same as Holly had on Tuesday. Ever since then, Holly had been courteously polite to me when we’d crossed paths in the morning, but tonight was the first time we’d be home together since Dixie-gate.
I picked up the post from the mailbox in the reception area and got the lift to the fifth floor, punching the button and waiting for it to move. There was a bank statement for Holly, some junk mail from a catalogue for me, plus a handwritten envelope addressed to both of us. I was intrigued.
I ripped open the hand-written envelope just as the lift doors sprung open. I hitched my bag up my shoulder, unlocked our front door and threw my keys down on the shelf in the hallway — they scratched the wall as they landed. Damn. Dropping my bag, I pulled the contents of the envelope free and stopped still, blinking rapidly as I read.
‘Melanie Taylor and Nicola Sheen are pleased to announce their marriage and would love you to be there to celebrate their special day on Saturday, December 31st...’
I stopped and stared.
So she was going ahead with it — that was a good thing. She was engaged after all, and the logical thing for people to do when they were engaged was to get married.
Nicola Sheen was getting married.
I’d known that all along. And I didn’t have an ‘It Should Have Been Me’ feeling about it.
The feeling washing through my bones was 10 per cent betrayal but 90 per cent relief. Nicola Sheen was in the past and that’s where she should have stayed all along. Still, my movements were heavy as I put the invite on top of my keys and turned away from it. Then I hung up my coat, went through to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed.
Ten minutes later, I heard the front door slam, which shook me from my stasis. I heaved my body upwards, peeled the clothes from my body, applied more soothing, comforting homeware of tracksuit bottoms and my favourite yellow T-shirt, and then headed into the lounge. The invite was no longer on the shelf as I passed.
When Holly heard me shuffle into the lounge, she turned and walked over, stopping just before she got to me.