‘Hello, Maisie.’ Jonas’s mum answers the door, a fluffy dressing gown wrapped around her and tied tightly at the waist. ‘If you’re looking for Jonas, you’re too late. He left about twenty minutes ago.’
‘Left?’ I glance behind me, as though he’ll be there, but all I see is the overgrown lawn and winter-flowering shrubs.
‘He’s gone back early. He had some … stuff he needed to do. Important stuff, he said.’ She attempts a smile but it doesn’t work out. ‘So important, he’s missing out on Christmas with his family.’
None of this is her fault, but I want to yell at her. I want to scream in her face, to vent all my anger and frustration, because Jonas should be here. I need to talk to him. To explain, somehow. But he’s gone and it’ll be too late by the time I see him again. It looks as though I’ve taken a wrecking ball to our friendship all over again, and I didn’t even have to try to stop his wedding this time.
‘You have a nice Christmas, Maisie,’ Jonas’s mum calls after me as I turn and leg it from the house, retracing the path I took only minutes ago. I don’t look back. I run all the way home, hoping to sneak past Mum so I can hide in my bedroom until I’ve managed to calm down.
No such luck.
‘That was quick.’ Mum switches off the hoover as I step inside the house. ‘I’m making gingerbread men when I’ve finished out here. You can help me if you’d like – you used to like helping me roll out the dough.’ Mum smiles fondly as she reaches for the hoover’s power button and I murmur in agreement as the hoover roars into life. I wander into the living room after I’ve hung my coat up, finding Dad fiddling with his camera lenses on the sofa.
‘Can you take my photo?’
Dad’s face breaks out into a grin. ‘Of course, sausage. Go and stand in front of the tree. It’ll look more festive.’
I don’t want to be here, stuck in the past and playing happy families at Christmas without Jonas, knowing that I’ve hurt him all over again.
‘Smile, then.’ Dad lowers his camera and stretches his mouth into a cheesy grin to demonstrate. It’s hard work, but I manage to push my features into an expression that vaguely resembles joy. There’s a blinding flash and I know I’m going back home.
TWENTY-EIGHT
There’s anticipation in the air, swirled up with a heavy dollop of fear that even the din of dozens of conversations can’t mask. It should have been years since I was last in this hall, but it was only a few weeks ago. I can picture Lily up on the stage, warbling her way through ‘O Holy Night’ while her choir mates looked on in horror. But it won’t be Lily on that stage tonight. It’ll be her pupils. Although I know she’s feeling sick with nerves right now – I can see her pacing up and down in front of the stage as she spews words at one of her colleagues, her hands flying – I know she’s going to be so proud of every one of her kids.
‘It’s mad to think this was your school.’ Annabelle is gazing up at the ceiling, her eyes trailing from one end of the hall to the other.
‘Why, because it isn’t a cave with a wall of hieroglyphics instead of an interactive white board?’
Annabelle drops her gaze so she can smirk at me. ‘Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…’
I nudge her and she giggles. ‘It must be weird for Auntie Lily being back here. You’d have to drag me back to my school. I can’t wait to leave.’
I smile fondly at my daughter. ‘You say that now, but one day you’ll be old and wrinkly like me and you’ll look back on your schooldays and wish you could go back, just for a little while.’
Annabelle stares at me as though I’ve just announced my intention to tap-dance naked on the stage in front of us. ‘I doubt it. And you’re not that old, you know. You look pretty good – for your age.’
‘Thanks. I think.’
Annabelle gives a one-shouldered shrug. ‘It’s true, and I’m pretty sure Evan fancies you. That’s why I don’t let him come to the house any more. It’s so embarrassing.’
Oh, God. The icky feeling that’s washing over me is almost painful. If I had control of this time-travel thing, I’d go back to thirty seconds ago and rip my ears off so I didn’t have to be privy to this knowledge. A thirteen-year-old boy has a crush on me? That is beyond yeuch, and I can’t even take much comfort in the fact that this is why Annabelle isn’t inviting her friends round to the house rather than being ashamed of her uncool mum. Fortunately, I don’t have long to dwell on Annabelle’s bombshell. The musical starts and I’m spirited away to the world of Ebenezer Scrooge.
Afterwards, we find Lily backstage, surrounded by ghosts, gentlefolk and street urchins. When she spots us, she edges her way from the group and pulls us into a tight hug.
‘What did you think? Was it okay?’
‘It was brilliant.’ And it really was, even if it has left me feeling a little blue. Because it’s alright for Ebenezer; that dude managed to change his ways before it was too late, while I’ve managed to make an even bigger, more complicated mess of my relationship with Jonas.
‘Do you really think so?’ Lily hugs me again, her face shining as she beams with pride.
‘I really think so. It was amazing, Lily. You did a fantastic job.’
‘It was all these guys.’ Lily looks at her pupils, her face radiating pure joy. ‘I’d better go and tell them – again – how incredible they are, but thanks for coming.’
‘It was a pleasure. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ After kissing Lily on the cheek, I guide Annabelle out of the hall and head for the car park. She chatters about the musical the whole way home (apparently the boy playing Bob Cratchit is ‘pretty cute’) and she’s humming one of the songs as she heads up to bed. I’m usually eager to fling myself into bed so I can continue my adventures in the past, but I’m not tired tonight. I make myself a cup of tea before sinking onto the sofa and kicking off my shoes. The photo album is on the coffee table. I flip through the images, smiling at the memories. The youth club disco. The picnic in the park with my family. Christmases and birthdays. Tina’s leaving party before she headed down to London to start her career as a theatre make-up artist. My niece and nephew as babies and toddlers.
The album comes to an end, so I take another from the cupboard. This one is full of baby photos of Annabelle, starting with the very first one, taken when she was minutes old. I look exhausted in the photo, my hair plastered to my forehead, my eyes weary, my skin pale and blotchy, but I look happy too. So happy I could burst. I can remember the feeling as though it was only yesterday. I was right to put a stop to Jonas and me, even if it fills me to the brim with sadness.
I flip to the next photo. Jonathan’s gazing down at his daughter with a mixture of awe and dismay. He’d found fatherhood overwhelming in the beginning and had never quite managed to catch up. Then there’s Mum and Dad, adoration painted on their faces as they watch their sleeping granddaughter. Their first grandchild. Lily and Annabelle are next, though you can barely see the baby as Lily has bent to place the gentlest of kisses on her forehead.
And then Annabelle and Jonas are here in front of me. The two people I love most in the world captured on film. So I didn’t mess up completely by travelling back in time. Jonas was still there for us, at least in the beginning. But I did go on to put the final nail in the coffin of our friendship. I must have, because Jonas still isn’t part of our everyday lives.
Neglecting the cup of tea I just made, I head up to bed. If I’m given the chance, I have to stop myself from repeating the same mistake.
‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ is being played in a series of chirpy beeps. The light beyond my closed eyelids is intense and I can smell a heady mix of floral and musky tones. The music’s still chirruping away as I open my eyes and I see I’m standing in a shop, with a row of prettily packaged bath sets behind me and a glass cabinet filled with dozens of bottles of perfume in front of me. There’s a woman with a scary, rigid grin on her scarlet lips standing behind the counter, a bottle of perfume in her hand, ready to attack,
and I back away before she can even think of spritzing me. I’m at the doors leading onto the shopping centre concourse before it occurs to me to check out the chirrupy music, which has followed me out of the shop. I’m carrying some hefty plastic bags, but I transfer them into one hand and pat myself down with the other. The music stops just as I discover the mobile phone in my coat pocket. Typical. But my heart gives a happy flutter when I pull the phone out of my pocket and find myself reunited with my old Nokia 3310. I’m tempted to ignore the missed call and find a bench so I can sit and play Snake. I don’t understand the hype over all the apps and games Annabelle has on her phone, but I remember Snake was simple, unadulterated fun.
But no. There’s a missed call. It could be important. It could be Jonas.
I manage to navigate the phone’s tiny screen without too much difficulty and find that it was Lily who rang. I return the call. It only rings once before she answers.
‘Where are you?’
Holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder, I shift the carrier bags to my other hand as the handles are starting to cut into my palm. ‘I’m shopping.’
‘On Christmas Eve? Are you mad?’
‘Probably.’ I grab the phone again and switch ears. ‘What’s up?’
There’s a barely repressed squeal down the phone. ‘I’m at yours and you have to come here, right now. I have a surprise for you.’
‘What kind of surprise is it?’ I pass a long line of children and their parents. I can’t help smiling when I realise they’re all waiting to see Santa before he shuts up the grotto for the season. I wonder if it’s the same Santa whose lap Lily and I perched on.
‘It’s a good surprise.’
I laugh down the phone. ‘I didn’t expect it to be a vicious one, like coming home to find you’ve hidden a tarantula in my bed.’
‘I can’t tell you what the surprise is, can I? It wouldn’t be a surprise then. Duh.’
She has a point, but my skin has started to prickle as it dawns on me what the surprise could be.
‘I’ll be home as soon as I can.’ I don’t even bother to say goodbye, simply cut off the call, drop the phone in my pocket and half-run, half-shuffle towards the bus station. I’m nearly there when it occurs to me to check my handbag. Sure enough, there are a set of car keys in there. Trying not to howl with frustration, I scurry to the car park. It’s set over four floors so it takes me an age to locate my crappy old car. As ancient and unreliable as it could be, the car was a graduation present from my parents and I loved it at the time.
Dumping my shopping bags in the boot, I climb into the car and make my way home, finding a strange kind of comfort in the cranky old beast. The roads are terribly congested but I inch my way to Mum and Dad’s, the prickly sensation increasing as I near the house. My stomach is swirling with butterflies as I jab my key at the lock.
‘Mum? Dad?’ I stow the shopping bags in the corner, underneath the coat hooks. ‘Lily?’
‘We’re in here.’ I hear Lily squeal from the living room, and I push the door open slowly, making the anticipation of what is to come last as long as possible. I squeeze my eyes shut, so I don’t even see him when the door is fully open. But I know he’s there. I can even remember what he was wearing underneath his trademark leather jacket: black distressed jeans (so distressed, they looked as though they needed tossing in the wheelie bin) and a white T-shirt under a deep blue shirt.
‘Hey, Maisie Mack.’
I’m grinning, even before I open my eyes. For Jonas, it’s been a year since we were in the same room. A year since we kissed under the mistletoe in the Farthing. A year is a long time to be without one of your best friends. Although we texted and emailed and had long, expensive phone calls, I remember the agony of being away from him. So Jonas doesn’t look the least bit surprised when I throw myself into his lap and attempt to squeeze the life out of him.
TWENTY-NINE
‘Where’ve you been?’ I bat Jonas on the arm before giving him another squishing. ‘We missed you.’
‘I’ve already had that lecture from Lily.’
I look across at Lily, who I’d forgotten was in the room in the excitement of seeing Jonas again. She gives a solemn nod.
‘And I’m sorry I stayed away for so long, but I had some stuff to sort out.’
‘But you’re back for good now, yeah?’ Lily doesn’t give him the chance to respond, which I suppose is a good thing, because she wouldn’t like his answer. ‘Shall I put the kettle on? Fran, Mick, are you having another brew?’
I spin around, almost toppling off Jonas’s lap. I’d forgotten they were here too and I can’t believe I practically straddled a bloke in front of them. Flashing them a sheepish smile, I jump to my feet and scurry off after Lily.
‘Did you manage to get all your shopping done?’ Lily pulls the lid off the kettle and tops it up at the sink.
‘No idea, but I don’t care. I just wanted to see Jonas.’
‘Don’t let Jonathan hear you talking about another fella like that.’ Lily winks at me. ‘But yeah, I know what you mean. I nearly snogged his face off when he turned up on my doorstep. I probably would have done if William hadn’t been there.’ Lily tilts her head to one side and pulls a face. ‘Actually, scrap that. I love that boy to death, but you couldn’t snog him, could you? It’d be like copping off with your brother.’
It hadn’t felt like kissing my brother. Not even a little bit.
‘We should go out tonight.’ Lily flicks the kettle on and grabs a couple of mugs from the cupboard. ‘William’s had to go home – he’s on the early shift tomorrow – so it’ll be nice to have some company.’ Sighing, she slumps against the worktop. ‘Nobody tells you that dating a doctor is pretty crap and lonely at times.’
‘This is where having amazing friends comes in handy.’ Flinging my arms around Lily, I give her a squeeze. ‘Let’s go to the Farthing and get stupidly drunk, just because we can.’
It’s still quite early, but there’s already a jubilant atmosphere in the pub, with customers prancing around to the music blaring from the jukebox or chatting animatedly at the bar as they wait to be served. The landlady’s wearing a pair of reindeer antlers as she serves behind the bar, the sprig of mistletoe from last year nowhere to be seen, while Aaron’s looking hot and flustered in a Christmas tree-patterned jumper as he collects armfuls of glasses abandoned on tables.
‘Finally.’ Aaron’s sleeves are rolled up and he puffs out a breath, aiming for his clammy forehead. ‘It’s manic in here. Come and give us a hand.’ He shoots me a pleading look before he heads for the bar with his unsteady-looking stack of glasses.
‘You.’ Annie jabs a finger in my direction, the bells on her antlers jingling with the sudden movement. ‘You’re late.’
I’m late? For an impromptu night out in the pub?
Realisation jolts me like a cattle prod to the spine. After graduating, I returned home to Woodgate, where I started working part-time at the Farthing while studying towards an advanced diploma in counselling. I am late – for a shift.
‘Sorry.’ I look from Annie to Jonas and Lily, apologising to all three. ‘This’ll still be a fun night out. You can keep me company while I work, and I’ll even get the first round in.’ I nip through to the back of the pub, grabbing a tenner from my purse before hanging up my handbag and coat. After a couple of deep breaths, I head back out to the bar. I hope I can still remember how to pull a pint.
‘I didn’t know Jonas was back.’ Aaron squeezes past me to get to the optics as I’m finishing with the vodka.
‘He just got back today.’ I add a splash of coke to the vodka before placing the glass on the bar and reaching for a pint glass. Here goes…
‘I haven’t seen him in ages. What’s he been up to?’
I’m concentrating on the task at hand, making sure I’ve angled the glass correctly before I open the tap. Surely this will be like riding a bike.
‘He went to Japan for a while after graduation.’ I’
m a bit hesitant with the tap and lager splutters into the glass, creating too much foam. But never mind. Deep breaths. We’ve got this. I manage to produce a decent enough pint and take it over to Jonas and Lily with the vodka and coke. I’m feeling pretty smug when I return to the bar, especially when I remember how to work the till.
‘I’m glad you’re here and everything, but do you think you could pull your finger out and actually serve some customers now, instead of just your friends?’ Aaron is trying to look and sound authoritative, but he can’t pull it off. His arms are folded across the festive jumper, but he can’t keep up the stern look he’s adopted, which crumbles almost as soon as it’s on his face. I can see he’s fighting a smile.
‘You’re not my boss.’ I poke him in the ribs before pocketing my change.
‘Actually, I am.’ Aaron had been working at the Farthing for a couple of years at this point, and Jack and Annie had made him assistant manager over the summer, mainly so they could leave him in charge while they went to Benidorm for two weeks. ‘So get cracking before I dock your wages.’ Grabbing a tea towel from the side, Aaron whips me on the bum.
‘Oi. I’ll have you done for sexual harassment in the workplace.’ Giving him a mock warning stare, I head for the customers. ‘What can I get you, Norman?’
I even remember the locals. Get in.
I’d forgotten how much fun it was, working in the Farthing. Yes, it was tough on the feet, and I always smelled faintly of beer, but I had a laugh with the customers as we exchanged banter across the bar, and working with Aaron was always entertaining, whether we were playing cards or pool during a lull, or teasing each other as we flitted around behind the bar. It was behind this bar that Aaron told me about the Care Bear he slept with until he went away to uni, but tonight there’s no time for cards or pool or confessions. We’re rushed off our feet – I barely have the chance to make eye contact with Jonas and Lily across the pub, let alone catch up.
The 12 Christmases of You & Me Page 18