Last Christmas Read online

  ‘I’m glad you were free tonight,’ he said. ‘I know it was kind of out of the blue.’

  ‘Out of the blue?’ I sipped more wine. ‘No, my party invitation was out of the blue. I’m sorry about that – I mean, I barely know you. My colleague Mimi decided to send out invites to all my email contacts.’

  ‘What, so you invited me by mistake? Can I still come?’ James raised an eyebrow.

  Oh, Lord. Leave it to me to stick my foot in it within five minutes. ‘No, no, of course I want you to come,’ I babbled. ‘I’d love it if you were there.’ I could feel heat spreading up my neck and across my cheeks.

  James grinned, reaching out to touch my fingers. ‘Relax, Lucy. I’m kidding. I really will try to make it out – sounds like it’s going to be good fun.’

  I gazed down at his olive skin against my pale hand, then met his eyes again. God, I could stare into them for hours . . .

  ‘Lucy?’

  I gave myself a shake. ‘Hi. Yes. So tell me, why are you out of practice dating?’

  His warm, open face closed up, and I wanted to kick myself. ‘Well,’ he said after lifting the glass to his lips, ‘it’s a rather long story. I was with someone for quite a while, and then things went pear-shaped. And now here I am. Single again at the age of thirty-five.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  ‘Sounds like me,’ I said. ‘Well, I’m not thirty-five – I’ve a few years left on the right side of the thirties – but I’d been seeing a man for ages and we broke up last year. That watch I brought in was meant to be a gift for him.’ I stopped short of detailing the proposal fiasco.

  James winced. ‘Yikes. Nice present, though. You must have really loved him.’

  ‘Yeah.’ The hollow ache I’d tried to keep at bay with the flurry of party prep returned. I had really loved him, but he hadn’t loved me back. Not the same way.

  ‘I think it’s good you’ve left the watch with us, though. You can’t hang onto the past too long or it drags you down. That’s what I’ve learned recently.’ He shook his head. ‘Listen to the pair of us! Way too serious for a first date. Come on, tell me something about you. What do you do?’

  We chatted easily for the next couple of hours, working our way through the bottle of wine. I learned that besides his part-time job at the shop, James was studying towards a masters degree at the London School of Economics, and that he loved the South Bank as much as me.

  ‘In fact’ – he said, pushing back his chair – ‘it’s a beautiful evening. Want to take a walk by the river?’

  ‘Sure!’ My feet would protest each step in my new shoes, but I didn’t care. The thought of James by my side as we mooched along the riverbank, streetlights glowing and tree-lights twinkling, was too romantic to pass up.

  ‘Come on, then.’ James paid the bill, then took my arm and guided me out to the street, hailing a cab. In minutes, we were crossing Waterloo Bridge, the London skyline spread out before us. The taxi slowed to a stop and we picked our way down dark stairs to the wide walkway below. James clasped my hand, linking his fingers with mine. I smiled up at him, my heart thudding as we wandered past the National Theatre. Although we’d only just met, it was as if our similar pasts – the hurt and disappointment of previous relationships – meant we understood each other; trusted the other to act with kindness.

  James paused, tugging me over to the railing. Before I could ask why, his arms encircled my waist and he pulled me against him. His warm lips met mine, one palm coming up to touch my cheek. I lifted a hand to the back of his neck, feeling the wiry sharpness of his hairline, then relaxed into his embrace.

  After a delicious minute or two, James leaned back. ‘I’ve wanted to do that all night. I’m glad I worked up the courage.’ His eyes shone darkly in the dim light.

  ‘Me, too!’ I said, smiling up at him. The wonderful kiss had outweighed the strangeness of smooching someone other than Robert. God, I couldn’t wait for the day when I was free of comparisons and memories.

  ‘I hate to put an end to such a brilliant evening,’ James said, pushing a lock of hair from my face. ‘But I’ve got an early shift at work tomorrow and a paper to finish. Let’s grab a cab and drop you at yours. I’ll catch the Tube from there.’

  ‘Actually, I think I’ll walk home. It’s only about ten minutes away.’

  ‘I’m not going to let you go home on your own! If you don’t mind an escort, I’ll make sure you get back safely.’ He took my hand again and we set off down the walkway.

  My heart started pounding as my block of flats came into view. Despite saying he had an early morning tomorrow, should I still invite him in for a drink? And if I did, would he expect more than that drink? I was definitely not sex-ready: the hair on my legs was so long, you could practically braid it. Not to mention the hair on other places of my body. Shudder.

  But James solved my dilemma by drawing me in for a kiss again. ‘Night. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  A silly grin spread on my face. ‘Night.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I was still wearing the silly grin when I hurried past Tony’s kebab shop the next morning.

  ‘Hiya, Lucy!’ He let out a low whistle. ‘Looking good.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I couldn’t resist putting a hand to my shiny locks. Not a banana clip in sight!

  ‘Hey, I can’t wait for your party,’ he said. ‘Thanks for the invite.’

  Oh, the party! With last night’s excitement, I’d almost forgotten about it. RSVPs had been rolling in, and by the end of yesterday, we were up to nearly seventy-five. I couldn’t believe so many of my and Robert’s old gang were coming, and I was dying to show them the new, upgraded me. Even my arse looked perkier today.

  I drifted into a daydream where a mutual friend let slip to Robert how wonderful I looked, and he escaped the wedding and raced along the Thames to the pub, dropping onto one knee and admitting he’d been wrong . . .

  ‘Hey!’ Surprisingly, Mimi was at the office before me. ‘So? How was it? Glad to see you’re still banana-clip free.’

  When I’d returned from the hair salon, purchases in hand, Mimi had actually made me change into them and perform a runway show – as much as one can fashion a runway in a three-metre by three-metre office. Once I’d finished my ridiculous prancing, she’d given me a rare thumbs-up, stating I looked ‘nice’. Coming from her, that was high praise indeed.

  I pulled out my chair, savouring the anticipation on her face. Usually it was me asking how her previous night had been. ‘It was bloody fantastic.’

  ‘I knew it! I knew it would be – as long as you didn’t mention Robert and all that.’ She shot me a look. ‘You didn’t, did you?’

  ‘No. But James did say he’d also experienced a failed relationship and was only starting to date again.’

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ Mimi rolled her eyes. ‘The pair of you can dry each other’s tears, then. Be careful – you don’t want to get involved with someone on the rebound.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s not on the rebound.’ I shook my head, recalling how James had only given me a very brief outline of events before changing the subject. Whatever had happened obviously still rankled, but he hadn’t seemed lovelorn. Anyway, I liked that he was slightly bothered by his past. It showed he was sensitive; that he’d really cared. Unlike other men I know.

  ‘So? Did you do the deed?’ She waggled her hips back and forth as much as possible in the tight pencil skirt.

  ‘As if! For goodness’ sake, it was only our first date.’ Plus my bikini line was so overgrown, he’d need a compass to find his way. ‘But he did say he’d call today.’

  Mimi raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, well. Looks like you’ve reeled him in. Good job.’ She leaned back in the chair. ‘Now, onto the par-tay,’ she said, making the word sound French. ‘The RSVP list is coming along nicely. And the reason I’m here so early is’ – she did a drum-roll on the desk – ‘I was on the phone with The Dirty Mondays’ manager.’

  ‘The Dirty Mondays?’
My voice had that helium-squeak again. The Dirty Mondays were my all-time favourite band. They’d faded in popularity over the past few years, but on the rare occasion the radio played their music, I couldn’t help singing and dancing (an animated shuffle, in my case).

  Mimi grinned. ‘Yup. And guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re going to play our party!’

  ‘Nooooooo.’ My mouth fell open. ‘Really? Seriously?’

  ‘Yup. For a fee, of course. But we can afford it. They’ll do three sets, starting at five p.m. and staying until nine. We can hire a DJ to take over afterwards.’

  I threw my arms around Mimi. ‘Oh my God. That’s incredible, Mims. Thanks so much! How on earth did you manage that?’

  She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but her smug expression showed she was pleased. ‘One of my friends from home went to uni with the drummer. I know how much you like the band, so I thought it was worth a shot.’

  I sat back, beaming. ‘This is going to be the best Christmas party ever.’ For the first time, I was actually starting to believe it.

  ‘Told you! I sent a note to everyone we invited, updating them on the band. I bet we get a huge wave of responses now. In fact’ – she said as the computer pinged – ‘they’ve been coming in fast and furious for the past hour. Have a look.’

  I leaned towards the screen, eyes bulging as I scrolled down the list of names . . . and scrolled some more . . . and some more . . . ‘Shit, do you think the pub will be big enough?’ I’d never dreamed size would be a consideration.

  ‘It’ll be fine. Not everyone will come at once, although we may need crowd control at the door. We don’t want every loser off the London streets to think it’s an open party. Don’t worry – I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘You’re a star.’ I was about to hug her again when my phone buzzed. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Lucy?’ A hesitant female voice filtered through the handset.

  ‘Yes, speaking.’ I ran my eyes down the list of names again, wondering what Mum’s WI friends would think of The Dirty Mondays’ questionable lyrics.

  ‘Hi. It’s, um, Daisy. Er, Robert’s sister?’

  Oh, God. For a second, I couldn’t believe I’d not recognized her voice. When Robert and I were together, she’d been like my little sister – I’d watched her grow from pig-tailed chatterbox to gorgeous PR executive. But after the break-up, I’d only heard from Daisy once. I could have contacted her more, but seeing anyone connected with Robert made me want to throw things at a wall.

  ‘Daisy, hi! How are you? It’s been ages.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry I haven’t called . . . I just, I wasn’t sure how you felt about keeping in touch after everything that happened.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, swivelling back and forth in my chair and trying to ignore Mimi’s inquisitive stare.

  ‘So you probably know Rob’s getting married in a couple of days,’ Daisy began tentatively.

  I gritted my teeth. ‘I did hear that, yes.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be saying this since I’m a bridesmaid and all, and Greta is really nice . . .’

  My jaw clenched. Was Daisy ringing up to torture me?

  ‘But I wish Rob was marrying you,’ she finished in a rush.

  I laughed, but it sounded like someone was strangling me. ‘Well, I didn’t make the cut.’ The bitterness in my tone rang loud and clear, and an awkward silence filled the line.

  ‘Anyway, I got the invite to your Christmas party. I think it’s ace you’re throwing a huge do while Rob gets hitched. And I would have responded sooner, only I was trying to figure out a way to do both.’ She paused. ‘But then I saw The Dirty Mondays are playing, and I was, like, forget the wedding! I have to be at that party!’

  I smiled, remembering when I’d first introduced thirteen-year-old Daisy to the band. She’d quickly become a convert, snapping up everything related to the group, from T-shirts to mugs. Even now, despite their less-than-desirable trendiness, she was still an avid fan.

  ‘I’d love for you to come,’ I said, thinking how nice it would be to see her again, Robert-related memories or not. ‘But if you’re a bridesmaid, don’t you need to be at the wedding?’ As soon as the words left my mouth, I asked myself what I was doing. I didn’t care about Robert’s wedding! If Daisy wanted to party, that was her business.

  ‘I’ll be there for the ceremony, and I figure Greta and Rob won’t mind if I nip out during the reception. Greta has so much entertainment planned now, I’d be surprised if they even notice I’m missing.’

  ‘Entertainment? Like what?’ Curiosity stirred inside. Hearing wedding details provided insight into the personality of the woman Robert did love enough to marry.

  ‘Yeah.’ I pictured Daisy rolling her eyes. ‘You didn’t hear it from me, but ever since you told Greta about your party on the same day as the wedding, she’s been a little . . . crazy.’

  ‘Crazy? Why? When I met her, she didn’t even know who I was.’

  ‘Well, she does now. I guess Rob filled her in. Anyway, when people started telling her they were hitting your bash first before the ceremony or taking off early, she booked a magician, a drag queen, an urban dance group . . . and wait until she hears about The Dirty Mondays. I swear, by the time she’s done planning, the reception will be a reunion of Britain’s Got Talent contestants.’

  ‘Yikes.’ I hadn’t intended to compete with Robert’s wedding, but I was a little chuffed at Greta’s reaction to me and my shindig. ‘What does Robert think of all this?’ The question slipped out before I could stop it.

  ‘To be honest, he’s not bothered. He loves Greta so much, he says he only really cares about marrying her.’ I drew in my breath sharply at the stab of emotion, and Daisy groaned. ‘Oh shit, I’m sorry, Luce.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said, as my heart shifted back into place. Focus on the party. ‘Anyway, it would be great to see you.’

  ‘Phew.’ Daisy let out a sigh. ‘I’m so relieved you’re fine with me coming. I mean, I know you sent an invite and everything, but I wanted to make sure.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t think Mum and Dad will be along, though, so you can cross them off the guest list. Mum’s up in arms at the very notion of you daring to do anything on Rob’s big day. I fully expect to spot your mum and mine in a takedown on the high street any minute. Right, I’d better get to work. I’ll see you in a few days!’

  ‘Who was that?’ Mimi asked when I hung up.

  ‘Robert’s sister. Seems your earlier email worked. She heard about The Dirty Mondays and wants to come.’

  ‘Really?’ Mimi’s eyebrows rose. ‘Over Robert’s wedding?’ She held up a hand for me to high-five. ‘Score!’

  ‘I don’t know, Mims,’ I said, sighing. ‘I don’t want this thing to be a competition. It was meant to distract me from the wedding, not overtake it! Apparently loads of guests are bailing early on the reception to hit the party.’ I bit my lip. ‘What if Robert thinks I’m doing this to get back at him?’

  ‘Who cares what that idiot thinks?’ Mimi asked. ‘This is the same man who led you along for ages, Luce, and then when you wanted to solidify the commitment, he dropped you! Single in your prime baby-making years, my friend, with not a prospect in sight.’ She shook her head gravely. ‘Forget the wedding, the bloke should be dragged by his balls down Piccadilly.’

  I laughed, despite the truth in her words. ‘You’re right. Forget the wedding. We’ve got four more days – let’s make this a party no-one can resist.’

  Later that evening, I was crawling under the duvet in my studio-cum-cell when the mobile rang.

  ‘Hello?’ I yawned.

  ‘Lucy? It’s James.’

  I sat upright in bed. ‘James! Hi!’ Although he’d said he would ring today, I wasn’t sure if that was guy-speak for ‘I’ll talk to you sometime in the next millennium.’

  ‘Sorry I didn’t have a chance to call earlier. I ended up working at the shop most of the day and it was crazy. In the
run-up to Christmas, lots of people need extra cash.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ For once this year – thanks to Robert’s watch – I wasn’t one of them.

  ‘I was hoping you’re free for lunch tomorrow? Believe it or not, I’ve never been to Borough Market. It’s right on your doorstep so maybe you can bunk off work for a bit and join me?’

  ‘I’d love to.’ Mimi had the party planning firmly under control and things continued to be quiet on the recruitment front.

  ‘Great. Shall we meet at noon outside the Tube?’

  ‘Perfect. See you then!’

  I clicked off and flopped onto the duvet again, a smile nudging up the corner of my mouth. For once, it wasn’t Robert’s face I pictured as I closed my lids. It was James’ big brown eyes and the feel of his lips on mine.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘I’m off!’ I did a spin for Mimi the next day so she could check I was presentable for my lunch date.

  She lifted her head from eBay, where she was scouring the site for Christmas decorations. Hopefully her list didn’t include more mistletoe – already, two huge boxes of the stuff nestled in the corner. Clearly, she was hoping for a kiss or three.

  ‘Turn around again? Yup, you’re fine,’ she said, after I’d almost tripped performing the manoeuvre. ‘I’m happy to see you’ve stayed off banana clips. And you’re even wearing the new shoes!’ She pointed to my lace-ups.

  I shrugged, although I was secretly pleased with myself for finally moving beyond the shapeless jumpers and saggy trousers I’d sported for years with Robert – and for the year afterwards.

  ‘Say hi to James for me!’ Mimi made kissing noises with her lips, and I rolled my eyes. ‘And don’t worry, everything here is under control.’

  I believed it, I thought, hurrying down the stairs. My assistant was executing this party with military precision. As she’d predicted, numbers had swelled with the announcement of The Dirty Mondays, and she’d hired a few blokes from Santa Security to man the door and keep the peace. Everything was ticking along fine.