The 12 Christmases of You & Me

by Jennifer Joyce

  ‘What? It’s true. Our youth is fading fast. I’m already getting wrinkles. Look.’ Lily leans in towards me, frowning so that lines appear on her forehead.

  I’m about to tell her she sounds ridiculous, and that in twenty years she’ll look back and cringe at her naivety, but the rattle of an oncoming train catches my attention. I peer along the tracks at the train trundling towards us, still with no idea where we’re going.

  ‘I still think you should go for it with Aaron.’ Lily holds her hands up as I glare at her. ‘What? He’s cute. And he’s taking responsibility for his irresponsible actions.’ She grins at me. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t knock you up as well. You’re way too sensible for that.’

  Lily obviously has more faith in me than I deserve, because an unplanned pregnancy of my own is on the horizon.

  ‘Why don’t you go for it with Aaron?’ I take a step back as the train pulls into the station, raising my voice over the noise. ‘You obviously fancy him. How many times have you told me he’s fit or cute over the years?’

  I could kick myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I shouldn’t be encouraging Lily to pursue Aaron; in our present day, she’s getting married in twelve days, and I could have jeopardised it with my big gob. If she hooks up with Aaron in 1999, who knows what path that’ll take her on? Probably not the one she’s currently treading.

  But Lily hasn’t heard me – and not because of the din as the carriages empty of passengers, who fill the platform. She’s gone, springing forward, dodging bodies and luggage as she makes her way towards the train. I follow as quickly as I can, afraid she’s going to board without me and leave me stranded on the platform with no clue where I’m supposed to be going. My eyes dart along the platform, searching for her, but she’s been gobbled up in the crowd and could be on the train already for all I know.

  But then there she is, wrapped around a man, her feet off the ground, her legs wrapped around his waist, her head pecking like a pigeon as she covers his face with kisses. He laughs as he twists to avoid her puckered lips and I press a hand to my stomach as butterflies take flight.

  Jonas is here.

  The real Jonas, stripped bare of eyeliner and nail polish, his hair its natural espresso-brown, slightly too long and curling at the front. The long leather jacket is gone, its much-worn, much-loved predecessor back. I should go and say hello, but I can’t seem to convince my legs to propel me forward. Butterflies are swarming in my stomach, and not in a pleasant way. I feel jittery, anxious about coming face to face with this Jonas. The Jonas who is no longer the boy in the eyeliner, masking his real self with make-up and out-there hair. This Jonas is more real, more open, and he scares me. This man will one day disappear from my life and my heart is already breaking. How can I be with him, talk to him, touch him, let him make me smile, when I know how it will end? And when I know it’ll be all my fault?

  ‘Maisie Mack!’ Lily slides down his body until she’s standing on the platform again. He’s striding towards me, weaving his way through the dissipating crowd until he’s standing in front of me, his arms outstretched. And then I’m in them, enveloped by the cracked leather, without even thinking about it. Because of course I can’t keep away from this man. I love him. I’m in love with him.

  The thought casually pops into my mind, as though it belongs there, and it should jolt me, this realisation that I’m totally in love with Jonas Brown, my former best friend. But it doesn’t, because I think I’ve always known, deep down.

  I’m in love with Jonas.

  ‘Babe.’ A mass of brown curls are suddenly between us, and a hand on Jonas’s shoulder is pushing us apart, its fingers long and slim and its nails French-tipped. ‘Can we get going? My feet are killing me and it’s freezing.’

  Oh, God. Becca. Unlike Tiffany, who I’d liked the first time around, I’d despised Becca from the moment I met her. And why wouldn’t I? Here she is, complaining about the cold while wearing a skirt that barely covers her fandango, and there isn’t a coat in sight, never mind on her body. What is in sight – very clearly – are her giant nipples beneath her flimsy top. They’re ready to take someone’s eye out. And don’t get me started on the logic of choosing to wear six-inch stiletto heels and expecting your feet to feel as though you’re walking on fluffy clouds…

  ‘Here.’ Jonas shrugs off his leather jacket, but Becca wrinkles her nose and waves it away.

  ‘I’m not wearing that manky old thing. Can’t we just go and get a coffee somewhere?’

  ‘Yeah. Course.’ Jonas slips his jacket back on and zips it up to his chin before looking around.

  ‘Looking for this?’ Lily stumbles towards us, hefting a huge holdall. ‘Is that pink suitcase yours as well?’

  ‘Jo-Jo.’ Becca’s mouth is a cavern of outrage as she stamps her foot. ‘I can’t believe you’ve dumped my suitcase. My Louis Vuitton vanity case is in there.’ Glaring at Jonas, she clicks her fingers before jabbing a finger at the suitcase. ‘Go and get it, quickly, before someone has it away.’

  I catch Lily’s eye as Jonas duly scurries away to rescue the pink suitcase. She shrugs and staggers on with the holdall.

  ‘So, you and Jonas.’ Lily is already out of breath as she attempts to keep up with Becca’s long strides while lugging the holdall. ‘How’s it going living together?’

  I stop in my tracks, apologising as a woman walks into me from behind. The fact that Jonas and Becca are living together shouldn’t come as a surprise as I know their story inside out, but it still gives me a jolt.

  ‘Really great.’ Becca loops her arm through Lily’s, not seeming to notice that Lily’s listing to one side with the weight of the holdall. ‘Jonas is an amazing cook, you know, and he never lets me lift a finger around the house. I suggested we get a cleaner, to take the pressure off him, but he said he’s happy to do it.’

  ‘Got it.’ Jonas holds out the pink suitcase, which Becca glances at before giving his arm a pat.

  ‘Great. Thanks.’ She turns back to Lily without taking the case. ‘He’s taking me away at Easter. To Japan. I can’t wait!’

  ‘Give me that.’ I reach out and take the suitcase from Jonas. ‘I think Lily needs some help.’

  Jonas relieves Lily of the hefty holdall and we end up lagging behind, heaving our luggage as Lily and Becca giggle and natter, their heads bent together conspiratorially. I don’t understand how Lily can like this horrible woman, though I suppose she’s only just met her. She doesn’t have the benefit of the years Becca and I have known and loathed one another.

  ‘The bus stop’s that way, sweetie.’ We’ve reached the station concourse, but instead of heading for the main doors, Becca has veered to the left, towards the taxi rank.

  ‘The bus stop?’ Becca turns and spits the words at Jonas, her manicured hand on her hip. ‘Nobody said we were getting the bus.’

  ‘What’s wrong with the bus?’ I know exactly what Becca thinks is wrong with the bus – with most public spaces – but I feel a little prickle of satisfaction at pushing her buttons.

  ‘They’re absolutely vile things. Filthy seats, stale air, grotty people with their grotty brats running riot. No.’ Becca shakes her head so vigorously she ends up with a mouthful of curls. She bats at her hair before powering forward, ignoring Jonas’s directions. ‘We’re getting a cab. I’ll pay for it myself if I have to.’

  I try to catch Lily’s eye, to convey my dislike of this woman and to see if Lily shares my animosity – through the medium of eyebrow quirks and lip-pursing – but Lily’s already walking away, attached to Becca’s side as they march towards the taxi rank.

  ‘I guess we’re getting a taxi then.’ Jonas shrugs helplessly and strides after them.

  Becca isn’t impressed with the venue for our catch-up coffee, though she hides it well with her sneering, constant griping, and wiping her seat with a tissue before she dares to sit.

  ‘Oh dear God.’ She drops her face into her hands as Val wanders out of the kitchen in a he
avily stained tabard and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. ‘It’s Waynetta Slob.’

  ‘That’s Val.’ I raise my hand in greeting, my face lit up like a Christmas tree. I never thought I’d be so happy to see my old boss, but I’m enjoying seeing the horror on Becca’s face as she approaches. ‘It’s so good to see you, Val. How are you?’

  Val stops abruptly and raises her eyebrows at my enthusiastic greeting. ‘I’m good, girlie. Ticking along.’ She sticks the cigarette between her teeth and delves into the pocket of her tabard, producing a pad and a gnarled, stubby pencil. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘I’ll just have a tea, thanks. Two sugars and milk. Not too much but not stingy either.’

  Val heaves a sighs. ‘I remember.’ She scribbles on the pad and raises her eyebrows at Jonas.

  ‘Just a coffee for me. Milk, no sugar. Becca?’

  Becca shakes her head, a tiny whimper her only verbal response.

  ‘I’ll have a tea. Two sugars.’ Lily holds up the fingers to demonstrate. ‘And a bacon and sausage butty. Red sauce. And a mince pie.’

  ‘At least someone’s here for actual grub.’ Val glances down once she’s finished scribbling the order, looking pointedly at me. ‘Last of the big spenders, eh?’ With one last look, she trundles off to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with the drinks and Lily’s sandwich.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything?’ Jonas asks Becca, earning himself a glower from his girlfriend. His gaze drops to the table (which is in need of a good scrub) and he clears his throat. ‘So, Lily. How’s your first few months of uni been?’

  Lily drops her sandwich on her plate and sighs dramatically. ‘It’s been amazing. I’m sharing a room with this girl who has the fittest boyfriend with the fittest friends. And I’m totally in love with that tutor I’ve been banging on about for weeks.’

  ‘What is it with you and history teachers?’ Jonas cradles his cup of coffee and blows on it. ‘First Mr Adamson and now this Graham.’

  Lily sighs again, closing her eyes as she no doubt pictures her latest crush. ‘He’s amazing and funny and just…’ She shakes her head. ‘Wonderful.’ Stooping down, she grabs her bag and rummages inside, producing a wallet of photos. ‘Do you want to see him?’

  ‘You’ve been taking photos of him?’ Jonas frowns as Lily pulls out a wad of glossy photos. ‘Please tell me you haven’t been taking sneaky shots of him through his living-room window, because that’s called stalking.’

  Lily sticks her tongue out at Jonas. ‘I don’t even know where he lives.’ She grins at him. ‘Yet.’

  ‘You’re not seriously going to pursue this, are you? Because I don’t think it’s allowed.’

  Jonas looks genuinely worried. I really want to reassure him that Lily’s crush on Graham will have completely fizzled out by the start of the next semester, when she falls head over heels in lust with a medical student.

  ‘Here he is.’ Lily passes the top photo to me. It’s a group shot inside a museum, and Lily points out an older man in the middle. ‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’

  I pass the photo Jonas. ‘He’s … mature-looking.’

  ‘Jeez, Lily, he’s ancient.’ Jonas practically frisbees the photo across the table at Lily, his nose scrunching up with distaste. ‘How old is he? Sixty?’

  At least, I want to say, but I keep quiet.

  ‘Age is just a number.’ Lily grabs the photo and plonks it on top of the pile in her hand before shoving them back into the wallet.

  ‘Babe.’ Becca places a hand on Jonas’s arm and leans her head on his shoulder. ‘Can we get going soon? This place is making me itch.’

  I watch as she strokes his arm, her fingers trailing feathery-soft along his leather jacket, and I want to snatch them away. Is this why I hated her so much the first time round? Was I jealous, even back then, before it even occurred to me that I might have non-platonic feelings for my best friend? If I’d have realised earlier, if I’d said something back then, would things be different now? He could still be in my life, and not just as my best friend.

  I could tell him now. Get him on his own, away from Becca, and declare my feelings.

  But no. I can’t do that, because what if he doesn’t feel the same? He certainly doesn’t seem to, the way he’s gazing at Becca as though she’s the only other human being in the world, and not even the griminess of Val’s Café can dim her beauty. Plus, events have to play out as they did twenty years ago otherwise the butterfly effect will kick in and I’ll lose my precious Annabelle.

  This sucks. What good is dusting off my heart and admitting my feelings for Jonas when I can’t actually do anything about it? I’m in an even worse situation than I was before.

  ‘Shall we have a photo?’ Lily wipes her greasy fingers down her jumper and reaches into her bag, pulling out a disposable camera. ‘I’ve got to use up the film. Three more piccies and I can get them developed. My roommate’s boyfriend threw a Crimbo party last week, so you’ll be able to see just how hot his friends are.’

  I crouch down next to Jonas, ready to get the hell out of here, trying not to breathe in the smell of his leather jacket in case it turns my insides to mush.

  ‘Say cheesy feet!’ Lily is holding the camera up to one eye, squeezing the other shut. She presses the button, blinding me with light, and I cannot thank her enough.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘You’ve definitely got tickets for you and Annabelle?’

  Lily’s drumming her fingers on the table as I place a round of drinks and a couple of packets of salt and vinegar crisps down, and her foot’s tapping against the leg of her stool.

  ‘We definitely have tickets. You gave them to me weeks ago.’

  Lily nods and takes a long sip of her pint before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Good, because you’ll be my only cheerleaders in the audience on opening night. Anya’s back in Leeds and won’t be back until Friday, and you know what the life of a doctor’s wife-to-be is like.’

  ‘He will get to see it, though?’ I open one of the packets of crisps and grab a handful, slightly concerned that Lily has yet to touch hers. Her fingers are drumming on the table again and I push the unopened packet of crisps towards her as a distraction.

  ‘He’s coming on Friday with Anya.’ Lily eyes the crisps for a moment before pushing them away with a grimace. ‘I’m too nervous to eat. What if it all goes wrong?’

  Lily had phoned me earlier in a bit of a flap about the school musical, so I suggested we meet up at the pub so I can calm her down. It isn’t working so far, judging by the way she’s tearing at her fingernails with her teeth.

  ‘It won’t go wrong.’ Reaching out, I gently move her hand away from her mouth. ‘Remember to breathe.’

  Lily takes a couple of deep breaths before she gives a decisive nod and tucks her hands under the table. ‘You’re right. It’ll be fine. Better than fine. Those kids have worked their little socks off over the past few weeks.’ She grabs the packet of crisps but makes no move to open it. ‘It’s just that everything’s happening all at once and I don’t feel ready. A Christmas Carol tomorrow, my hen night on Saturday, and then I’m getting married a week later.’

  I push my own packet of crisps towards the middle of the table, my appetite wiped out as my stomach twists with nerves. Lily’s getting married in less than two weeks, which means I’ll come face to face with the present-day Jonas for the first time in two years. If I don’t manage to put things right in the past, he’ll still hate me, which is doubly distressing now I’ve realised that I’ve been in love with him all this time. I have to go back and fix things between us.

  No pressure.

  None at all.

  So why am I the one chowing down on my fingernails now?

  When I wake, I’m kissing somebody. Cold lips meeting cold lips, icy fingers cupping my chin, my own fingers clutching scratchy material as I reach up on tiptoe. I can hear the murmur of conversations around us, battling over-enthusiastic guitar-playing as someo
ne brutally murders an upbeat version of ‘The Christmas Song’, but I don’t dwell too much on the acoustic assassination of a well-loved classic as the tongue pushing its way into my mouth distracts me.

  My eyes open to see a dark blond head and an ear turned pink due to the cold. My first feeling is relief that the person kissing me isn’t Jonas, because this is not a good kiss at all. It’s too wet. Too washing-machine-on-a-fast-spin in the tongue department. Too yeuch. My fingers release the collar of the kisser’s duffel coat and I place my hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him away as I take a step back.

  ‘Jonathan?’

  I reach up to touch my lips and I flinch. This can’t be right. Jonathan Fox didn’t kiss like that – and I should know as I spent six years kissing him. This man has kissed nearly every inch of my body and it never felt yeuch. I guess love clouds your judgement sometimes, but I’m no longer under its spell.

  ‘Oh, God, Maisie.’ Jonathan grabs my lapels and his mouth is on mine before I have the chance to register what’s about to happen. Luckily the kiss is over quickly, before I can choke to death on his tongue. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘Are you?’ I want to laugh a proper belly laugh, but I manage to keep a straight face.

  ‘You know I am.’ Jonathan lunges at me, but I shift so that we end up hugging rather than snogging. Jonathan can keep his plunger-like mouth to himself, thank you very much.

  ‘I’ll call you every day.’ He pulls a chunky mobile out of his pocket and presses it to his chest. I fight the belly laugh again, because he won’t call me once. He’ll barely answer when I call him over the next few days, and he certainly won’t miss me. He’ll be too busy snogging his ex-girlfriend – though I won’t find this out until years later, when I discover what an unfaithful bastard he really was.

  It’s the year 2000 and I’m waiting for a train to take me back home to Woodgate while Jonathan is heading for Portsmouth to spend Christmas with his family. The first time around, I missed Jonathan like crazy and spent the festive period pining for him, but this time I’m glad when my train pulls into the station and I’m whisked away, even if it does mean I have to kiss him again. I can’t believe I never realised at the time what a terrible kisser he was. I still feel grubby from the damp kiss as my train pulls into Manchester, but the sight of Lily and Jonas waving from the platform drop-kicks the memory – and all traces of the icky kiss – from my mind.