by Clare Lydon
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded, but bit my lip. “I’m fine.”
“I saw the invite.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Really, I’m fine.”
But she gave me a hug anyway, because that’s what friends do, and I let her. Sure, we were still fighting, but some things trumped fights.
After a few moments, I untangled myself from Holly, walked over to the fridge and pulled out one of her beers. “Want one?”
She nodded.
I uncapped two and handed her one.
“You’re drinking beer?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve decided to be a different version of me from today, one who puts myself and my friends first. And maybe Tori 2.0 drinks beer, who knows?” I took a swig and tasted the familiar bitter taste. I couldn’t quite keep the wince from my face. “I might get used to it.”
We both sat on either end of the sofa, a train rattling by as we did so.
“Have you heard from Nicola?” Holly held up the invite.
I shook my head. “She’s been very silent this week. Now I know why — other things to do.” I puffed out my cheeks and blew out a long breath. “I don’t know why I feel a teensy bit betrayed, but I do.” I drank some more beer. “I’m more relieved than anything else, but my teenage self is a bit sad. It’s always nice to be the chosen one, even if it was never going to work in the end.”
Holly looked away before answering. “Very true.” She paused. “But you’re always the chosen one with me. Even though sometimes you really don’t deserve it.”
I grimaced. “I know. I’m sorry about everything, I really am. I’ve told Nicola she’s not going now, and I hope we can go to the concert as planned. It’s what I always wanted. They were always your tickets.”
Holly spluttered. “Not what you said on Tuesday.” Her tone was disbelieving, then her face sagged. “Giving those tickets away like you did really hurt.”
Holly’s words cut me to the core. Never in a million years had I meant to hurt Holly. But I had. She’d ripped down my defences and exposed me for the terrible friend I was. I wanted to make it better, make Holly see it was one mistake and that our friendship was way stronger. It had to be, I couldn’t cope without it.
I took her hand in mine before speaking. “I don’t know what else to say apart from sorry again — you’ve no idea how sorry I am. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do.” I hoped Holly believed me, but I had a feeling it might take more than mere words.
“I know you are,” she said, shaking her head and dropping my hand.
A cool breeze of my own making washed over me.
“But you’re so infuriating. You just do things and don’t think about the consequences. I know spontaneity is all the rage these days, but sometimes, so is a calm, measured approach to life.”
I sighed. “I know. But you do that much better than me. It’s not my strong point.”
“I’m not sure how long that excuse is going to wash, Tori.”
I frowned. I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?” My voice was quiet.
“I mean you have to grow up and get real. Saying you’re no good at something is not an excuse to then make the same mistake again and again. If you’re no good at something, work at getting better at it. Especially if the consequence of not doing so is hurting the people closest to you.”
I let the words settle on my skin and seep into my bloodstream before replying. “I promise I’ll try. I know giving the tickets to Nicola was a mistake. I knew it as soon as it came out of my mouth. But once it was out there, it was done.” I shrugged.
“And then what happened?”
“Sorry?”
“Then what happened?” Holly sat forward, looking at me.
“I don’t get you.”
She laughed softly. “I think that’s the point I’m trying to make.”
Her words were slightly barbed, but she was smiling. At least that was something.
Holly shook her head again. “I’m saying that after you made the mistake — and you knew it was a mistake — you did nothing. You hid. You hoped that someone else would come along and sort your mess out for you. But guess what? Nobody did. Your mistakes are for you to deal with.
“You did the same with Nicola. You never put a stop to it, even though you knew it was going nowhere. You did it with Amy too — she was the one who called it off. Everybody else has the same issues to deal with, and they do. You need to start dealing with your life rather than running away from it.”
I said nothing, just looked around the room. I knew I deserved this, but it didn’t make it any easier to take.
But Holly wasn’t finished. “Running away creates drama and you love drama. But you don’t need it, that’s what you don’t realise. You’re fine as you are. You can be the star of your own life, you don’t need other people to define you. It was the same with your Christmas girlfriend quest. You couldn’t just date like everyone else, you had to have a theme, a deadline — more drama.”
I glanced over at Holly, taking in her words. Was she right? Did I court drama wherever I went? My life had certainly always had its fair share. Maybe she had a point. Maybe I did do it to myself.
“You should come out for lunch with my mum on Saturday,” I said glumly.
Holly looked at me quizzically. “I should?”
I nodded. “Yep. She’s given me this speech before too, or similar. You could tell me in stereo.”
Holly smiled. “No, we’ll just tag-team. I’ll do today, she can do Saturday.”
I gave her a weak smile. “You make me sound like such a moron. An emotionally defunct moron.” I put my head in my hands. “Am I that bad?”
Holly was silent for a few seconds too long.
I burrowed my head deeper.
“You’re just you, Tori, I know you and I love you.” She paused, as I looked up. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make better choices and make a change. See what I mean?”
I sighed and nodded. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. And maybe now I was reaching my late 20s, the cuteness factor was wearing off somewhat. But Holly still loved me, that was something at least.
“I do,” I said. “And I will totally try. You have my word. Is that good enough?” I searched Holly’s face for an answer. She waited a few seconds before replying.
“It is if you mean it,” she said.
I bit my lip again. “I really do.”
“Then I’ll look forward to Tori 2.0. She sounds like an interesting, sassy woman.” Then she smiled at me, a proper full face smile this time, and when she did, I realised how much Holly’s approval meant to me.
I stared at the train that was passing by the window, waiting for the noise to die down before replying.
“So am I forgiven?”
Holly shook her head, then smiled. “You’re forgiven. You’re an idiot, but you’re forgiven.
I smiled back. “I was going to give the tickets to you all along, honest. Nicola doesn’t deserve them — you do.”
She waved her hand. “Let’s leave Nicola out of this from now on, shall we? We’re going to the Dixie Chicks, just like we planned. Our Christmas extravaganza is back on. What do you say?”
A wave of warmth washed over me as I held up my beer for her to clink. “Here’s to us and our Christmas extravaganza.”
“Here’s to it,” Holly replied, tapping her beer bottle to mine.
She held my gaze and my stomach did a backflip.
Honestly, my emotions were all over the place this Christmas.
Friday December 16th
I opened two days of my Advent calendar and ate the chocolate for breakfast, then made my way to the office. The weather had turned grey and exceedingly damp. This morning, the heavens had opened and as I’d walked from the Tube, water was racing along the gutters, the torrential downpour slapping the concrete like a scorned lover. I’d run the gauntlet of trying not to get in the way of a giant wave f
rom a passing car, and I’d just about managed it.
Now, I was in my office kitchen, grinding beans for my first coffee of the day. Surprisingly, I’d slept fine last night, but my dreams knew something was up. In it, I’d been walking up the aisle on my wedding day when I woke up, sweating and confused. I was pretty sure the woman waiting for me was Nicola Sheen, but I couldn’t be certain — she seemed taller than her from the back. Now, a couple of hours later, I still had that odd, wary feeling you get when you have a dream that’s far too close to real life. I preferred my dreams to be abstract and bizarre rather than based in reality — like that dream where I’d married Kristen Stewart. After that one, I’d been smiling for the whole day.
Sal walked into the kitchen looking exactly as I felt — tired and like she wanted to still be asleep.
“Morning No. 1,” she said. “No arson plans today?”
I shook my head with a smile. “None this morning, but maybe later if I’m bored.”
Sal laughed and slotted two slices of bread into the toaster before opening the fridge to grab the butter.
“Make sure you watch the toast, though,” I said. “That toaster is dodgy, mark my words.”
“A bad workman always blames his tools,” Sal replied.
I finished making my coffee and raised an eyebrow at her. “Just make sure you watch it.”
I walked through to my desk and opened my emails — only 35 new messages overnight, not too daunting. I smiled at a picture of Holly and me from last summer that I had as my screen saver — it was just after we’d done a skydive and we had our arms around each other, grinning into the camera. It always made me smile, plus it reminded me I was capable of anything if I put my mind to it. Outside, the rain was still skating off the dark grey roof tiles and a crunch of thunder made me turn my head, quickly followed by a shard of lightning.
I was on my third sip of coffee when I smelt the smoke, and just raising the mug to my mouth when Sal ran past me the other way. Too late — the fire alarm was already blaring.
“Sorry!” Sal was standing in the kitchen doorway, her face clenched. “Looks like we’re going to have to evacuate again. I promise to buy a new toaster today.” She caught my eye and gave me a tight-lipped smile.
There was a collective grumble as people winced at the noise of the fire alarm, then gathered their coats and bags before trooping down the stairs, brollies in hand. On the pavement outside the water jumped up, hitting calves and shins, while windscreen wipers worked overtime as we huddled in the doorway of the local supermarket.
Everyone else was willing the fire department to get here quick and sort this out, but I wasn’t one of them. I wanted to be nowhere near the fire engines when they arrived.
“Not you this time,” office manager Maureen said to me.
“Apparently not,” I replied, fixing her with a death stare. Possibly a slight over-reaction on my part, but Maureen should know when to shut up. It wasn’t one of her qualities.
Five minutes later and the fire engines turned up. Nicola Sheen and her colleagues got out, fire gear on and ready to tackle the toaster again. She looked around, searching out Maureen. When her eyes spied the high-vis jacket, Nicola began walking towards us.
“Here we go.” Maureen let out a sigh and stepped into the rain, umbrella up. I’ve no idea why, but I followed her.
When Nicola saw me next to Maureen, she stopped. I could see the battle of professional versus personal playing out in her mind, but eventually professional won the day. She came to a halt inches from me, her face giving nothing away.
“Morning, Maureen,” she said, as if this was just any other day. Nicola’s vision was set to tunnel mode, and Maureen was the only person at the end.
“Nicola,” Maureen replied. “I’m so sorry, it’s our damn toaster again.”
“It’s pretty bad when you’re on first-name terms with me.” Nicola glanced at me. “You again?”
Was that a smirk on her face? If it was, I really wanted to wipe it off. “No, actually,” I said. “Believe me, you’re the last person I wanted to see this morning.” I paused. “How are the wedding plans?”
Nicola flinched, but then regained her composure, turning her focus back to Maureen.
“You’re getting married?” Maureen said. “How wonderful! When’s the happy day?”
“Less than two weeks, isn’t it, Nicola?” I closed my eyes as I said it. Why couldn’t I just shut my mouth?
Maureen looked from me, to Nicola, and back. “You two know each other?”
“Old school friends.” Nicola kicked a stone on the pavement as she said it.
Another crunch of thunder interrupted our joyous conversation. I moved as central as I could get under my umbrella, whereas Nicola just stood and stared, water cascading off her shiny helmet, her uniform seemingly making her indifferent to the weather conditions.
“Let’s try to get this over with as quickly as possible, shall we?” Nicola said, glancing at me again.
I presumed she was talking about the fire alarm.
“Right you are,” Maureen replied.
Nicola turned on her heel and Maureen scuttled after her, disappearing into the building without a single look back towards me. The wind had picked up now and the rain was slanting horizontally into my body, my umbrella not much help at all.
I ran towards the building and took shelter in the reception area, along with the other fire marshals from the other floors. My umbrella dripped silently at my side and the air was filled with the scent of wet tarmac and gently steaming bodies, damp and bothered from the inconvenience. Sal was nowhere to be seen — was she hiding under her desk eating the offending toast?
When Nicola and Maureen came back down the stairs five minutes later, Maureen was clutching a clipboard and nodding to Nicola, who was being followed by a colleague I recognised from their previous visit.
Maureen rolled her eyes as she passed me. “Off to round up the troops,” she said. The other fire wardens slipped off to do the same, and with Nicola’s work colleague out the door as well, it was just me and her. However, this morning, even in her uniform, Nicola did not spell desire. Rather, she spelled Trouble with a capital T.
“I hope the wedding goes well.” My voice was flat.
Nicola scrunched up her face. “Really?”
I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Really.”
She smiled grimly. “I’m sorry about everything. I was just confused and got a bit nostalgic. But I’m marrying Melanie. I can’t let her down.”
“A great basis for a marriage,” I said.
“I’ve heard of worse,” Nicola replied, folding her arms across her chest. “Anyway, you and me, we’d never have worked. Not with Holly in the picture.” Nicola fixed me with her eyes as she said it.
“What’s Holly got to do with anything?” I was genuinely perplexed.
She angled her head. “Really, Tori? It was always there at school, you know that. But now? You two should just bite the bullet and get it over with.”
I shook my head. “Stop trying to deflect the situation. Me and Holly are friends, that’s all. You’re the one who kissed me—”
“—And you pushed me away? I don’t think so.”
We both stood glaring at each other, daring the other to take it further.
Nicola blinked first. “Face it, Tori. We had unfinished business. Now it’s finished. You can get on with your life and I can get on with mine. Although I’ve taken you off the wedding list. I assume you’re not coming?”
My hand was on the move before I could stop it. I reached out and slapped Nicola across the face. That was for my present self, as well as my 16-year-old self. The sound as my palm connected with her cheek echoed around the building’s reception, and I heard a gasp behind us. I gasped internally too — far from being satisfying, I just felt a bit sick.
We both turned to see Maureen standing there, jaw hanging open, along with half the rest of the building behind her. I wasn’t sure how
long they’d been standing there, but I was pretty sure they’d seen me slapping Nicola, the first time I’d ever done such a thing in my whole life. I stared down at my hand, which was shaking, and then up at Nicola who was clutching her cheek.
I still couldn’t believe I’d just done that.
After a few moments, she puffed out her cheeks and shook herself down. “I’ll take that as a no then,” she said.
With that, she whipped around and signed Maureen’s admin sheet. “I’ll be sending one of my officers round next week to check all your devices so you’d better get new ones. Otherwise, I’ll be issuing a fine. Clear?”
Maureen nodded meekly, then Nicola walked out of the door and out of my life. Again. But this time, I had a feeling it was for good. I felt the cloak of closure settle on my shoulders, and it fitted perfectly.
Once she’d gone, the rest of the office workers began streaming up the stairs, leaving me standing, shell-shocked.
Maureen made her way over to me, concern etched on her face. “Everything okay?”
I exhaled loudly. “It will be,” I said, giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “And don’t worry, I only slap people I’m really mad at.” My hand was still stinging.
“Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you in the future, then,” she replied.
Saturday December 17th
I met my mum just after one o’clock under the Swiss cuckoo clock in Leicester Square, which wasn’t the best place to meet someone on the penultimate Saturday before Christmas. Half of London was there, prowling around, looking for wildly inappropriate goods to spend their money on. I hated rushed Christmas shopping, so was glad I’d got all of mine out of the way already.
My mum was a mass of floaty material and beads as always — I often joked this must be the learned dress code in professor school. Her hair was shoulder-length and she’d dyed it recently so it was the colour of honey. She was wearing her comfortable shopping shoes from Marks & Spencer and was already clutching at least three shopping bags, as I knew she would be. My mum was an early riser and she liked to hit the shops as soon as possible to beat the crowds. “If you don’t get there till lunchtime, you’ve lost already,” she always said. Which was the main reason why we rarely went shopping together.