Stuck On You

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘I didn’t know you were getting married! Congratulations,’ I tell her. ‘Have you set a date?’

  ‘We were thinking Christmas,’ she says excitedly. ‘We’ve made a few preliminary plans but, honestly, I’m so tempted to back out of them now and just get hitched at a register office somewhere. You know what it’s like living here – even though we don’t know many people, you kind of know everyone at the same time. But we want something small and I just really can’t wait to start a family. Not getting any younger back here.’

  That last part was clearly Ivy’s attempt at a joke about her biological clock, but the implication makes her cringe.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she says. ‘Are your family keeping well?’

  ‘Yeah, all good. I was just going to find my mum – tell her we probably need to go home and do some work. It was lovely to bump into you though.’

  ‘You too,’ she says. ‘Good luck with the job change.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘If I don’t speak to you before, I hope you have an amazing wedding!’

  As soon as I’m walking away from Ivy, I allow my face to slip a little. I’m happy for her, of course I am, but that conversation was my ghost of Christmas past, present and future right there. Past, because Ivy and I had the same start in life; we both had dreams we wanted to follow, and the plans to do them. Present, because she looks amazing, has a handsome fiancé, and she’s finally opened her cafe. And future because, well, look at everything she has to look forward to. A wedding, kids, a career she clearly loves. I might be changing my job but I can’t help but feel as if I’m starting at the bottom. I’m heading for my mid-thirties, I’m single, I’m not having any kids any time soon… Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having a pity party, I’m just stating the facts. My life isn’t going to sort itself out, just because I want it to. Now is the time to make changes, to shape my future. The only problem is, right now, I have no idea what it’s going to look like.

  24

  This morning I have woken up with a real post-Dickens Day hangover. It’s not so much that I drank too much – although all the mulled wine I drank at the festival and then all the wine that Damian brought that I put away probably didn’t help – it’s from having so much fun last night.

  For the second part of Dickens Day we take things back to basics. Well, not entirely, we don’t shun all technology and go outside when we need the loo, but we do have an evening without the television for entertainment in favour of all playing board games together.

  What very much feels like a hangover I think is actually just from having a good time, staying up until three a.m., laughing until my face hurt.

  We played classics like Cluedo before turning to more modern games like Cards Against Humanity – which is kind of awkward to play with your family, you have to feel so comfortable making controversial jokes. I was so relieved my gran had already gone to bed at that stage.

  But it was when we played Articulate that we had the most fun because, it turns out, when you spend pretty much every day with someone for a year, you become so in tune with one another that team games like Articulate are a doddle. I would describe a celebrity, Damian would know who I meant. Damian would describe an object and within seconds the answer would just fall into place for me. We won by an absolute mile. In fact, the first game went so quickly we played again, and we won that round too. It turns out we make one hell of a team, but Damian said he already knew that, given how well we work together generally. I’m sure it’s much easier for him than it is for me though.

  I definitely haven’t slept enough, my face still aches from laughing, and I’m in desperate need of a cup of tea. I pull myself up from my single bed, extending my neck to peep out of the window. Ever since I was a kid I’ve always been obsessed with the idea of it snowing on Christmas Day, just like it does in the movies and the songs, but the Dickensian scene of widespread snow lying on the ground on Christmas Day is unfortunately rare. If this were a movie, I would wake up on Christmas morning, peep out of my window, and there it would be – delicate little flakes dancing down, settling on the floor, just waiting for me to run outside in my dressing gown to make a snow angel. Ahh, that’s never going to happen, is it? I’ll just have to settle for it looking cold.

  I figure, now that I’ve seen Damian dressed as an elf, and he’s seen me in a corset and a bonnet, I don’t need to worry too much about dressing for breakfast. If you can’t spend the festive period in a state of near-constant undress, when can you? I throw on my dressing gown and head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I notice that Selena’s bedroom door is closed, which makes me wonder if Damian is still asleep. It’s still closed by the time I’m out of the bathroom and heading downstairs.

  Sitting at the breakfast table there’s my mum, my gran, and Selena.

  ‘Morning,’ I say as I pull up a seat and grab the teapot.

  ‘Good morning, darling,’ my mum says. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘I’m knackered,’ I say, yawning right on cue.

  ‘I think we all are,’ she says. ‘Last night was fun though.’

  ‘At least you didn’t have to travel home at three a.m. with a sleeping child,’ Selena points out.

  ‘You live on the island,’ I remind her. ‘That can’t have taken you more than five minutes.’

  ‘I suppose it would be quite a bit further, for you to travel home,’ she jokes. ‘Now you’re a London girl.’

  I laugh at Selena’s attempt at a cockney accent.

  ‘Never liked London,’ my gran says with a bat of her hand. ‘If I had my way we’d chop the south off at Birmingham, send ’em all to France.’

  ‘Just give me a bit of warning,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll make sure I’m on the right side.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll do that,’ she tells me. ‘And you can keep that Damian on this side too. I like him.’

  ‘Given what you’ve said about work over the past year, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I like him too,’ my mum practically confesses. ‘We all do. And you both seem so excited about his new project, and I’ve seen all the amazing pictures he’s taken so far, and, well… are you sure you want to quit?’

  ‘You’re quitting your job?’ my gran says. ‘In this financial climate?’

  My gran’s knowledge of the financial climate can’t extend beyond the things that make her angry when she watches Question Time, but I can’t help but feel touched.

  ‘I have another job,’ I reassure her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not just another one, it’s the one I’ve always wanted.’

  ‘But Damian won’t be there,’ my mum reminds me.

  ‘And neither will Adam,’ Selena adds cheekily.

  ‘Wait, who’s Adam?’ my gran chimes in.

  I reach out and drag the plate of biscuits in the centre of the table, so they’re closer to me for easier access, because I’m going to need them.

  ‘He’s just some guy from work,’ I say.

  ‘Some guy she’s been flirting with for a year,’ Selena adds excitedly.

  ‘Snitches get stitches,’ I mumble under my breath. It might be annoying me slightly right now, while she’s spilling the beans on my private life, but I can’t help but love the way that as soon as you put siblings together in their family home, all of a sudden they regress to behaving as they did when they were kids.

  ‘Oh, tell us everything,’ my mum says.

  ‘Yes, come on, give your old gran some excitement,’ my gran joins in. ‘I left my Mills & Boon in the hall at home.’

  With the three of them all staring at me like this, all eagerly awaiting a bit of gossip, it’s hard not to see the family resemblance.

  ‘Well, I haven’t actually met him,’ I confess. ‘We swap notes.’

  ‘Oh,’ is about all my mum can say. She looks disappointed.

  ‘Reminds me of the war,’ my gran says. ‘Swapping letters with soldiers. Not that I was old enough, but your auntie Mavis was quite the goer.’

  ‘Y
ou know how I said you should find out his last name and look him up online,’ Selena says.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not going to ask Damian what Adam’s surname is. How would I explain wanting to know?’ I reply.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she says with a grin. ‘I looked up Damian’s company on one of the work-based social networks we use at work…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ve got your attention now, haven’t I?’ She laughs. ‘Well, it allows me to look through different companies and see who has worked there, and I did find an Adam who listed Damian as an employer.’

  ‘How can you be sure it’s the right person?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t have any dates listed, and Adam is a pretty common name, but I clicked on his profile and he had a picture… and he is one handsome chap. Looked like the kind of bloke you could fall in love with over a Post-it.’

  ‘Oh, let’s have a look,’ my mum says.

  ‘He might have a common first name but his surname is Miracle,’ Selena says. ‘How many Miracles do you think are out there, huh? Look him up on Facebook.’

  I grab my phone and punch in his name and sure enough, there he is, Adam from work.

  ‘Oh my God, that’s him,’ I say as I scan his profile for info. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Signs of life? Signs of a wife? Anything that might explain why he didn’t reply. His profile is reasonably private – about as much as your average person’s is, so I can see some of his basic info and his profile pictures – but as far as I can tell he is both alive and seemingly single. Obviously, without a deeper dive, I can’t say for sure, but without being friends with him that’s not going to be possible.

  ‘Oh, come on, let’s see,’ my mum says curiously.

  I open up his profile picture and hand over my phone.

  ‘Oh, look at him,’ my mum says as she flicks through his profile pictures. ‘He is handsome. Mum, look at this.’

  My gran pushes her glasses up her nose before taking the phone from my mum. She does that adorable thing older ladies do where, to get a better look at your phone, they hold it at arm’s length and make a face.

  ‘Not bad,’ she says. ‘He’s no Damian, but he’s not bad.’

  As I watch her navigate his profile I wonder who has taught my technophobic gran, who is no stranger to trying to change the channel on the TV with the cordless phone that she hates, how to use a smartphone.

  ‘Oh, I think I’ve done something,’ she says casually as she hands the phone back to my mum.

  That’s when I realise… no one has taught her to use a smartphone.

  ‘Let’s see,’ my mum says, taking the phone from my gran, holding and staring at it in the exact same way. ‘You’ve just sent a friend request.’

  ‘Wait, “just sent a friend request”?’ I say as I reach out for my phone. ‘To Adam?’

  ‘Yes,’ my mum says with a wince. ‘Can you cancel it?’

  ‘I can, but he’ll probably still see it,’ I say, hoping the ground will open up and swallow me. ‘Crap.’

  ‘Maybe this is a blessing in disguise,’ Selena says. ‘Maybe this is what you need, to get the conversation going again. Maybe, just maybe, he never went back into work before Christmas. If he accepts not only will you know that everything is fine, but you’ll also have the Internet to message each other on, like normal people, not Post-its like sociopaths.’

  ‘It’s a miracle,’ my mum jokes.

  ‘You’ve been spending too much time with Dad,’ I tell her with a chuckle.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ my dad says from the doorway.

  ‘Dad!’ I jump out of my skin. ‘How long have you been there?’

  ‘There’s the sign of a guilty conscience,’ he says. ‘What were you saying?’

  ‘I was just pointing out how Mum has caught your terrible sense of humour,’ I say. I notice he’s wearing his coat. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Come to the kitchen and all will be revealed,’ he says mysteriously. ‘Come on, all of you.’

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ my gran informs him.

  ‘OK, misery, fine.’ He chuckles. ‘Everyone else, come on, come quick.’

  We do as we’re told and follow my dad into the kitchen where we find Damian, all dressed up in his warm clothes as if he’s just got here, surrounded by shopping bags and boxes.

  ‘Have you been out?’ I ask him. ‘I thought you were in bed!’

  ‘No, I was up early, and your dad was going out to pick up the Christmas food, so I said I’d go with him,’ Damian says. ‘Sorry, I thought I’d let you sleep.’

  ‘I thought I was letting you sleep.’ I laugh.

  ‘What’s all this?’ my mum asks as she peers into one of the bags. ‘Have you picked up the right order? This doesn’t look like ours…’

  ‘You should see this one let loose in the farm shop,’ my dad says with a beaming pride. ‘A man after my own heart.’

  I’ve been to the farm shop with my dad before. It’s a miracle he makes it out of there without selling off organs to pay for everything he’s bought.

  ‘You’ve all been so generous, letting me spend Christmas with you, including me in everything. I just wanted to do something nice,’ Damian says.

  ‘It was like Supermarket Sweep, tell ’em, lad,’ my dad says, sidling up alongside Damian to give him a friendly nudge. ‘We were just grabbing whatever we wanted and, then, we get to the checkout and he goes… “It’s on me”… It’s on me! He paid for the lot.’

  ‘Oh, Damian, that is so generous of you,’ my mum says. ‘You already spent so much on the hampers, I’m sure.’

  ‘Just call it my Christmas present to everyone,’ he says.

  ‘Thank you,’ my mum says again. ‘Thank you so much. Selena, help me get all this food put away before it spoils. You too, Eric.’

  ‘Can I borrow you for a sec, Sadie?’ Damian asks, nodding towards the hallway.

  ‘Sure,’ I reply following his lead. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘You know I gave you some money and told you to buy yourself a Christmas present from me?’ he says.

  ‘Yes…’ I say cautiously.

  ‘Do you have it with you?’ he asks.

  ‘Erm, yes,’ I reply. ‘It’s a skincare set with some fancy moisturisers in. I haven’t used it yet though, I’m making myself wait until Christmas Day, because I’m sad like that.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he says with a smile. ‘Can I have it back? Well, not back, because I never had it, but can I have it to wrap up, so I can give you it on Christmas Day? I don’t want to look like an arsehole in front of your family.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say with a laugh.

  ‘Your dad said he’d get me some wrapping paper to use.’

  ‘OK, sure.’

  I head upstairs.

  I did buy Damian a present, which I was going to give him before I left for Christmas, but then he invited himself to come with me before I had a chance so I hung onto it. At least I’ll have something to give him on Christmas Day, although it won’t be anywhere near as impressive as the face cream he (kind of) got me. I suppose it seems kind of thoughtless, that he has me buy my own Christmas present, but I think that he thinks he’s doing the right thing. He probably thinks that, by giving me money and telling me to get whatever I want, he’s making sure I get myself something nice, rather than him wasting money on something for all of his staff and hoping they like it. That’s what everyone else in the office gets; I know, because it’s my job. I just arrange for a Christmas hamper for everyone. Well, they don’t talk to me, so I don’t know them well enough to make an informed purchase. I just buy enough for everyone, wrap them, pop them in the main office and people take them. It’s very heart-warming.

  Weirdly, as far as Damian’s family goes, I kind of do know what to buy them. I feel as if I know them quite well, because it’s me who reads his emails for him, so it’s me who sees the family newsletters. I like to read them. It feels like a peep behind the curtain, to see what the man from Oz i
s really like. His family seem so normal and down to earth. Not like Damian at all. Perhaps that’s why he keeps his distance – not that it makes sense to me. Honestly, as annoying as they can be, and as ridiculous as they make the Christmas holidays play out, pump my family into my veins because I love everything about them.

  ‘Damian,’ I call into the kitchen. He meets me in the hallway where I hand him the bag with my present in.

  ‘Thanks very much. Remember to look surprised,’ he says. ‘Oh, by the way, your dad and I passed a pub, down on the coast, just before we crossed the causeway,’ Damian starts.

  ‘The Ghost?’

  ‘That’s the one. He was telling me how great it is – the food, the drink, the live music. He also said that usually the two of you have already been at least once by now. Fancy going with me this evening?’

  ‘Just me and you?’ I ask. I don’t know why I ask.

  ‘Yeah… don’t worry, I just squared it with your folks. There’s nothing going on this evening. Susie says today is a preparation day and, since I paid for the food, your dad won’t even let me help put it away.’

  ‘Oh, OK… yeah. I’d love to,’ I say. ‘Good job I bought a new dress.’

  ‘Which one are you going to wear?’ he asks.

  ‘You’ll be the second to know,’ I tell him.

  I love them both so much, I might just throw them up in the air and see which one I catch.

  ‘OK, well, seven o’clock?’

  ‘OK, I’ll be ready for seven,’ I reply.

  ‘It’s a date,’ he says. ‘Right, make yourself scarce so I can wrap your present with your mum’s help. I feel so out of my depth.’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll go try to get a smile out of my grandma – that’ll kill an hour.’

  ‘I find it easy,’ he calls after me.

  It takes me until I’m sitting back at the dining table for Damian’s words to hit me. I grab a biscuit and bite down on it meaningfully. That’s just a thing people say, right? ‘It’s a date’… It has to be because… I don’t have a date with Damian, do I?