How to Stuff Up Christmas

by Rosie Blake

  ‘Thanks, Gavin,’ Eve said.

  ‘Yeah thanks, creepy brother-in-law,’ Harriet said.

  ‘I wasn’t being creepy.’

  ‘I know, I know. Look, Eve, tread carefully, but you know,’ Harriet mused, ‘maybe he really did have an emergency to get to?’

  ‘Or maybe he is a spy,’ Gavin offered.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Gavin.’ Harriet sighed. ‘Maybe he was seeing an animal,’ she suggested. ‘Don’t vets have to do that?’

  Eve considered this option. ‘Maybe, but he was a bit smartly dressed for it.’

  ‘Maybe he’s a smartly dressed kinda guy. We are a dying breed, ladies.’

  ‘Gavin, really. And, Eve, it definitely could have been a work emergency. I watched a programme about vets who always had to go out and rescue cats in trees and things.’

  ‘Pretty sure that’s firemen, Harriet.’

  ‘Oh. Oh yes, it might have been.’

  ‘So what should I do?’ Eve asked, walking up the path to the side of the house, waving at Aisha who was standing smiling at her from the conservatory.

  ‘You could turn up to his work again?’ Harriet suggested.

  ‘Er… bit extreme, isn’t it? Why doesn’t she just phone him?’ Gavin asked.

  ‘Um, hello, she doesn’t have his phone number.’

  ‘What?’ said Gavin, clearly flummoxed. ‘How is this possible? Eve, you are aware it is the twenty-first century and that basically the first things you do are (a) Introduce yourself, (b) Get their phone number and email, and (c) Instantly Facebook Friend Request them.’

  ‘Not helpful, Gavin. Again.’

  Eve stood outside the conservatory, the pottery class about to begin. ‘Guys, I have a class—’

  ‘I didn’t know about the phone thing…’

  ‘Well now you do, we need a new plan.’

  ‘Yes, and maybe you should just wait for him, I mean, you know, in case he is a two-timing shitbag like your last boyf—’

  ‘GUYS!’ Eve called over them. ‘I have to go, I have a class.’

  ‘Oh right, okay, well, I’m sure you’ll work something out, Eve,’ Gavin said.

  ‘I say wait for him to get in touch, but live your life, so don’t WAIT for him, but just leave it because you are a strong, independent woman who any guy would be LUCKY to have—’

  ‘Harriet, I really have to go, I get the gist.’

  ‘Okay, well, be strong.’

  ‘I will. I’ll be strong.’

  Eve hung up, jumping as Minnie’s head appeared from the double glass doors. ‘Why are you loitering out there? Come in, it’s freezing.’ She chivvied her inside, closing the double doors behind her, a theatrical shiver as she did so. ‘Were you on the phone to a certain local vet?’ Minnie asked, waggling her eyebrows as Eve felt her face go as red as the coat she was removing.

  ‘No, nope, no,’ she said quickly, not keen to fill Minnie in on what was happening; she would no doubt be unable to keep it to herself.

  ‘Don’t worry, Danny isn’t here,’ Minnie said and went to sit down.

  ‘Why would that… I don’t understand.’ Had Minnie imagined that Eve liked Danny?

  ‘They’re brothers,’ she said, laughing at Eve’s expression. ‘Didn’t you know? Well,’ she paused, ‘I suppose they don’t really look very similar. Although same noses perhaps?’

  ‘They’re brothers,’ Eve repeated, wracking her brains now for any mention of Greg. Oh my goodness. She thought back to the conversation with Danny about the pub. She’d basically accused him of hitting on her. She felt her toes curl in embarrassment. That had been Greg’s brother.

  Aisha looked up from her wheel, a question on her face, and Eve headed straight to her seat, eyes on the floor, determined to be ignored. At least Danny wasn’t here; he would have found it hilarious and she wasn’t in the mood to be wound up by him.

  Minnie, however, was clearly in the mood for gossip and was opening her mouth ready to continue. Raj, fortunately, chose that moment to intervene and Eve looked up at him with large, thankful eyes. As Minnie gave up, Eve was sure he gave her the tiniest wink.

  ‘Eve, before we start, I was wondering… I wanted to start running some pottery classes for kids, you see, and I thought you might be able to design me something for a business card?’

  Eve had been looking at his eyes, the dark lashes, the neat eyebrows, as she followed what he was saying. ‘Design you…’ She was confused now, her own eyebrows meeting in the middle.

  ‘I thought one of your cartoons could be perfect. I’m great with pots but I’m no illustrator.’

  ‘But I’m not an illustrator,’ Eve said quickly.

  ‘But your cartoons are perfect, they are really comic. I was hoping you might have an idea.’

  And, already, as he said it, Eve was imagining what she could design for Raj. A duck on a potter’s wheel, a cartoon dog trying to make something out of clay. A slow smile spread across her face as the images cascaded through her mind. ‘I could have a go,’ she heard herself saying and was rewarded with a flash of Raj’s incredibly white teeth.

  ‘Excellent, thank you.’

  The class began and Eve continued to work on a large fruit bowl that she had started the lesson before. Her hands were caked in clay, slippery with water, as she gradually coaxed the edges up, the bowl taking shape, the satisfaction in her chest as she watched it transform. Grateful too that the spotlight had ceased to be on her, she listened in detail as Minnie grilled Aisha and Mark about their wedding. Eve was lapping up the details as if she had been out in a desert as they discussed the theme, their wedding band, Aisha’s worries about the cost of bridesmaids’ dresses, finding suitable readings.

  ‘It’s hard to find something people haven’t heard before.’

  ‘You could try Christina Rossetti, I read lots of hers and they have lovely words, the sentiments are perfect for a wedding. And have you looked at the website “Preloved”? There are some great bargains on there.’ Eve couldn’t believe she had piped up, it had been weeks since she put away her own wedding scrapbook, with pictures of dresses and print-outs from the internet. Still, seeing Aisha’s face light up as she scribbled the suggestions down, Eve felt happiness spread through her.

  The week swept by, Danny failed to appear to lessons at all and Eve briefly wondered whether he was ill, too embarrassed to ask Minnie in case she teased her again. She became absorbed in her bowl, adding details to it every day. She spent the evenings sketching ideas for Raj’s business cards, determined to come up with something he might like. She cooked recipes too, carefully following the recipe books and enjoying the quiet peace of waiting for things to boil now that life seemed less frantic. She knew she would be returning to her old life, racing around London, commuting to work, heading out, crammed into the Tube, walking quickly, feeling flustered. For now though, she could enjoy the slower pace, immerse herself in drawing and painting and pottery. She toyed with the idea of appearing at Greg’s practice again but, as another day passed and he hadn’t appeared, her confidence wavered. He would come if he cared, surely?

  Daisy and Eve were perched in the bathroom, taking turns in the circular mirror. It was Ro-Ro’s wedding in a few short hours and they were getting ready together as if they were back in London about to embark on a night out.

  Daisy had appeared that morning, clothes bag draped over one arm, leather holdall in the other, stepping off the train at Pangbourne. Music was reverberating around the tiny space, pumped out of Daisy’s iPhone, and they were taking turns choosing songs from the playlist. Eve was determined not to be a wedding drag, to look fabulous and show her friends she was moving on. It was bound to be a spectacular wedding, Ro-Ro’s parents lived in an insanely posh house just outside Didcot, and the invitations in italic scroll on stiff cardboard had arrived with delicate layers of tissue paper separating the pages so you just knew money had been spent.

  Eve had bought a ruby-red dress online and was wiggling into it now, hold
ing her hair up so that Daisy could zip up the back.

  ‘That’s gorgeous,’ Daisy said admiringly as Eve smoothed down the front.

  It fitted perfectly, a thin belt nipping in the waist, the fabric clinging without showing every lump and bump. The low neckline edged with lace was pretty low but Eve reasoned that she would be wearing her cream woollen coat in church, which would keep her respectable. She had straightened her hair and clipped it back, outlined her eyes in liner, brushed on blusher and was now filling out her lips in a deep red. She felt glamorous as she burst into a snatch of the chorus, throwing an arm round Daisy as she sang.

  Sitting on the bench and bending over to put on her heels before they headed out to the taxi that would be waiting in the car park, she thought she heard her name being called. Frowning as she repinned the front of her hair from her face, she jumped back with a start as a man appeared in one of the porthole windows.

  It was Greg.

  She sucked in her breath. Daisy was calling to her from the bathroom and Pharrell Williams was telling her to be ‘Happy’ very, very loudly. She had wondered whether she would see him all week and he was here. She clattered through the living room, not sure what she’d say or do. It had been eight days since his emergency. What kind of ‘emergency’ takes that long? She had convinced herself that there was nothing there, no spark between them, but looking at him through the porthole she felt her stomach ache. Then she remembered the days in between. He could have come by any time; what the hell was he playing at? She felt her fists curl into themselves, sick of men presuming they could mess her around all the time. Well, not this time.

  She stepped out onto the deck, peering down over the side of the boat, almost a foot taller in her heels. He stood on the bank below, looking up at her. He looked good, relaxed, wrapped in his camel-coloured coat. She’d felt skittish all week, wondering if she’d see him every time she went into the village, roaming from anger to bewilderment back to feigning indifference. She’d wanted Danny to reappear in class so she could ask him, and was then relieved when he failed to appear.

  ‘You look… gosh,’ Greg said, pulling a hand through his hair. ‘Look, Eve, I wanted to apologise for the other night. You must have thought it was very rude and—’

  ‘Not really,’ Eve said, feigning nonchalance, thrown by his sudden appearance. She was about to get in a taxi, go to a wedding, mingle, dance and forget the last couple of months.

  ‘Well, it was rude and I’m sorry.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Eve said. ‘An emergency is an emergency,’ she continued, her voice brittle.

  ‘Have you got a moment? No, it doesn’t look like you have,’ he said, almost talking to himself, indicating the red dress with a hand.

  ‘Look, Greg, I don’t know what is going on with you but I don’t need to know. You’ve obviously taken long enough to think up some brilliant story.’

  Greg looked up. ‘Well, I wanted to explain.’

  ‘Please don’t bother. I don’t need to hear lies.’ Eve felt herself growing taller as she spoke.

  ‘They won’t be lies,’ Greg said, taking a step forward.

  ‘That’s what they always say,’ Eve said, Liam’s face replacing Greg’s in her mind as she spat out the next sentence, all the things she should have said to him. ‘I’ve been messed around before so it’s really not a big surprise.’

  Greg didn’t reply for a moment. ‘I’m not “they”,’ he said in a quiet voice.

  ‘We barely know each other anyway,’ Eve said, satisfied to see him flinch.

  ‘I know that but I thought, well, I felt…’ He pulled a hand through his hair, his face hardening. ‘Well, I obviously read it wrong and you obviously know me oh so well, so God forbid I dare to contradict you.’ His voice was rising now, his fists curling.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You tell me, Eve, you seem to be able to know exactly what is going on with me.’ He had lowered his voice again, his anger controlled and devastating.

  She felt backed into a corner, not able to think things through before reacting. ‘Oh, I am so sorry that your mysteri­ous double life has been totally busted.’ Her voice was laced with sarcasm. ‘But I don’t need to hear it, you are free to be with who you want to be. I don’t have any claim on you.’

  ‘You don’t,’ he said, his mouth in a thin line, his blue eyes glittering.

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ Eve said, feeling as confused as her thoughts.

  The taxi was pulling up in the car park beyond and Eve’s eyes flicked over towards it. She wished it had come ten minutes before and she would never have needed to get into all this; she would have been on her way to a wedding.

  She could hear Daisy moving through the boat in her floral dress and heels.

  ‘The taxi’s here, Daisy,’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘Coming!’ the call came back and then Daisy appeared, her ginger hair curled and smooth. ‘I keep getting my stilettos caught in the… Hi, sorry,’ she said, straightening as she spotted Greg on the bank.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, his hand half-raised in a wave, his face creased, brows drawn together. ‘I’ll get out of your way,’ he said quickly, his face turned up towards Eve.

  Eve had caught Daisy’s appraising gaze. What did Daisy see, she wondered? A good-looking man with messy brown hair, a straight nose, purple shadows under his eyes? He sounded terribly weary all of a sudden.

  ‘Fine,’ Eve whispered, feeling tears spring to the back of her eyes and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing he’d upset her. ‘That’s probably best,’ she added.

  ‘I… I actually thought…’ He didn’t carry on, went to step forward one more time, a hand up, and then it fell away. ‘I was wrong.’

  Eve imagined a terrible flicker of sadness on his face before he turned away from her. She watched him walk back over the common, shoulders down, as if she’d broken him. For a brief second she wanted to run after him and take it all back. What was he wrong about? What had he thought? But then she hardened herself to it. She had gone out with someone for four years and had never worked it out; she didn’t want to get into it now. You don’t know him, Eve, and you don’t need more lies.

  ‘Who was that?’ Daisy asked as Eve turned to look at her.

  Eve paused momentarily before replying. Her eyes had lost their earlier sparkle, her painted red mouth turning down. ‘Greg,’ she said, not meeting Daisy’s eye.

  There was obviously something about Eve’s look that stopped Daisy asking anything more.

  He realised he was looking forward to seeing her. The hospital had drained him and Danny had stayed that night, both of them gloomily moving around the flat, not even bothering to summon the energy to make a proper breakfast the next day. The milk had soured so they stood in the kitchen spooning dry cereal into their mouths.

  He knew he probably needed to explain why he’d raced off. He had been meaning to tell her but the week had been jam-packed, Katie unable to do any extra days for him, visiting Mum who seemed to have deflated since the false alarm, struggling to conceal her disappointment. He hadn’t wanted to tell Eve everything. She didn’t need that; it was too much and she was only in the village for a while. But he knew that wasn’t the only reason. He’d been avoiding people for weeks, everyone well-meaning but all asking the same questions in the same pitying tone, and when he was with Eve and she didn’t know he could be himself, not waiting for the tilt of the head, the kind eyes.

  He could hear music coming from the boat the moment he stepped onto the common, smiling as he imagined her dancing round the living room. It seemed to be pounding as if it were a party boat on Ibiza. He forgot sometimes she was from London, going out to bars and clubs. He’d have to take her into Reading. There was a brilliant cocktail bar overlooking the river in the centre that she’d probably really like. She didn’t hear him knock and he didn’t want to just burst in so he skirted the edges of the boat, feeling slightly ridiculous as he popp
ed up staring into a porthole.

  She was perched on the bench, her hair falling around her face as she bent to do up a shoe, her mouth falling open as she saw him a couple of metres away. He felt jolted by her, aware he had startled her but also taking in this impossibly glamorous Eve. When she stepped out onto the deck he couldn’t think of any words to say. She looked beautiful. Her dress was stunning, the colour vivid against the backdrop of the steely sky, and her brown hair as glossy as any model in an advert. He could hear himself starting to speak and then got a hold of himself.

  ‘Look, Eve, I wanted to apologise for the other night. You must have thought it was very rude and—’

  She didn’t let him carry on, cutting him short with a curt, ‘Not really.’ There was something different in her voice, her expression shut off so that he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. She looked over his shoulder, not holding his gaze.

  He wanted to get back on track. He didn’t want to explain everything here and now, didn’t need to load her up with all his baggage, but this wasn’t going as he had planned. And where was she headed dressed up like that? It suddenly occurred to him that she was probably waiting for someone else. He found himself flailing. ‘Have you got a moment? No, it doesn’t look like you have.’

  She looked at him then, seeming like the Eve that had appeared in his practice with gingerbread, the one who had hidden her head in her hands and laughed helplessly through her fingers. Then that look was gone and he knew this wasn’t the right time for him to appear like this.

  ‘Look, Greg, I don’t know what is going on with you but I don’t need to know. You’ve obviously taken long enough to think up some brilliant story.’

  She sounded hard, her voice flat, her eyes cold.

  ‘Well, I wanted to explain,’ he said, his mouth trying to lift but feeling utterly despondent, his earlier hopes disappearing, the music jarring with his thoughts.

  ‘Please don’t bother. I don’t need to hear lies.’

  He felt his body react, a step towards her, his brain two steps behind. He was tired, the emotion of the past few days had floored him, leaving him with images of his mum in the hospital, his brother’s face, new lines round his mouth.