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‘Maybe not a very good example.’ Says Ollie, with a twitch of smile.
‘Part rehabilitated. He’s a work in progress.’
‘So, no rhino’s then? Tigers?’ Juliet says hopefully.
‘They wouldn’t fit in my flat.’ I point out.
‘No garden I suppose.’ Says Ollie, and I’m not sure if he’s taking the piss out of me, or Juliet, or being serious.
‘Very small balcony. There would be health and safety issues. Ha-ha!’ I wish I could stop laughing nervously but being shoved in front of Ollie seems to have that effect on me. I’m perfectly normal in other company. Just not Christmas party company.
‘So, you still live here?’ Juliet sounds incredulous. She sips her drink delicately and I resist the urge to neck mine. I am well aware that my life is pretty crap at the moment, but ten minutes in the company of this pair and I feel worse than ever.
‘Yep.’
‘Ah,’ she looks as though she’s struggling for something to say, then suddenly smiles triumphantly, ‘so you play polo! Everybody does, don’t they in the countryside! My step-brother lives in Cheshire, plays polo all the time, so exciting!’ As she is excited it seems a shame to disappoint her.
‘Oh yes, polo! Great! All that galloping, hot men, chasing a ball! Yes, of course I play, ha-ha! Definitely.’
Ollie raises an eyebrow. ‘Wow, you have been busy, I thought you hated horses.’
‘Hated horses? Me? Never!’
‘I’ll have to challenge you to a chukka or two next time we’re up this way then.’
‘Splendid.’ What the hell is chucking?
‘My brother plays in Argentina a lot, do you?’
‘Oh no, no, not enough time. Dogs to rescue! Oh sorry, phone buzzing! You know what it’s like, all work no play when you’re a journalist!’ It isn’t, well not here. Unless there’s been a mass food poisoning incident and half the village have been rushed to hospital. But I cannot take this much longer. Just hearing about fabulous Ollie and his fabulous life has been bad enough in previous years, but actually being in the same room as him and his silly girlfriend is making me want to scream. Or run away and hide in a corner. With a book. A book never lets you down, a good book, bad book, any book, I don’t care.
I’m just about to dash off, when there’s a shriek.
‘Oh my God, Maisie!’ For a moment, I think Juliet is about to collapse, her hand is on my arm, she’s grasping, long polished nails sticking in. I stare down, slightly aghast. It’s a bit like being grabbed by a bird of prey wearing nail varnish.
‘Daisy.’ I say it automatically.
‘My God!’ She clasps her throat melodramatically. ‘How absolutely awful.’ She flashes her mobile in front of my face, then waves it in front of Ollie’s.
His reactions are quicker than mine. He grabs her wrist, so that the phone stills and he can read it. ‘That can’t be right. I’m sure it can’t. Never read anything so ridiculous. Don’t worry, Daisy.’
I wasn’t worrying, until he said don’t worry.
‘What?’ I grab the phone from her, but as I’m reading, she’s shouting out.
‘How absolutely awful, to lose your job on Christmas Eve! What on earth will you do, poor Maisie?’
‘Job? You’ve lost your job?’ Mum has heard and scurried back over to my side and is trying to extract the phone from my frozen fingers.
I stare at Ollie, I can’t breathe. There’s a massive lump blocking my throat.
If I’d thought the last couple of days have been rubbish, this is the cherry on top of the bloody cake.
Shit. How low can I go? I’ve cocked up my career plan, been dumped, and now even lost my crap dead-end job. I’m overweight, live in a rabbit hutch, and I’m staring at the man who has it all worked out.
I hate him.
‘Even my hair’s a mess.’ My voice has gone as wobbly as my legs.
‘Hair?’ He looks very concerned, and it makes me want to cry.
‘Come and sit down, you poor girl.’ Terence puts one hand on my elbow and the other in the small of my back and steers me towards the corner of the shop where he houses the special editions. ‘You’re in shock. Somebody get a brandy.’
Even feeling like I do I have to take a deep breath and let the smell of old leather and special words (yes, they do have a smell) filter their way into my body. I’m not sure if I want to cry, or curl up with a book and escape, pretend I’m somewhere else.
I also feel a bit heady, which could be dust, words of wisdom, or the goldfish-bowl sized brandy glass he’s pushed into my hand. The fumes alone are making me splutter.
He gently prises the phone from my fingers and hands it over to Ollie wordlessly.
‘You’ve not been sacked, Daisy.’ Ollie crouches down in front of me and looks into my eyes. He’s got the lovely warm brown eyes he had when he was Joseph to my Mary. Before they turned naughty and he kissed me. He was mischievous then, he’s not now, he’s all earnest and caring, but he actually looks a bit like the Ollie I knew. He looks like the eighteen-year-old Ollie with the luscious lips and the nervous smile. Maybe I don’t hate him.
‘But Juliet said …’
‘It says here,’ his tone is firm. It’s quite commanding and authoritative, I can see why he’s so successful. ‘That the three local newspapers are merging. The office is closing, but there will be opportunities for all staff to apply for jobs and no compulsory redundancies are expected. None.’
‘Well, that’s okay then, none!’ My voice sounds pathetic and all wavery to my ears, but it’s the best I can do. I say it again, trying for a stronger tone. ‘None.’
Uncle Terence pats my hand absent-mindedly, but he’s frowning at Ollie. ‘How the hell can they not have announced it in the office, that’s not on is it? Downright underhand if you ask me. No emails, nothing, Daisy, darling?’
‘Erm, maybe I might have missed a meeting while I was writing a missing rabbit ad. It explains why David was avoiding me when I left.’
Something nudges my left leg. Something damp lands on my left knee. It’s Stanley, with a slice of ham.
I stroke his ears and stare at Ollie. ‘It definitely says there are jobs?’
He nods. ‘Definitely.’ Our gazes lock and his is so intent I’m spun back to that Christmas all those years ago. When it was just him and me, and nothing and nobody else mattered. When all I could see were his eyes, when he tasted of whisky and mince pies, when the scent of cloves and cinnamon mingled with the citrus of his aftershave. And now I’m not sure what is past and what is present. I just know I’m glad he’d here.
‘Mince pies, anybody?’ I blink my way back to the present feeling a bit unnerved, just as Mum waves a tray under Stanley’s nose, so I cover his eyes.
‘He’s not allowed dried fruit, it’s poisonous!’ She waves one tantalising close and his nose twitches. ‘Don’t you dare, Mum!’ I kiss Uncle Terence on the cheek and down the rest of the brandy in one gulp. Which could be a mistake. The fiery liquid burns its way down my throat and insides and brings tears to my eyes and makes me cough and splutter alarmingly. ‘Thank you.’ I blink like an owl in sunlight.
‘You’re welcome, my darling. You’re okay?’
‘Definitely.’ I nod vigorously to prove the point. ‘Sorry, it was a bit of a shock, but I’m fine. All ready to party!’
Uncle T smiles. ‘That’s my girl. Oh look – mistletoe!’
Ollie blushes, and just like that he’s the teenager I used to know. Except the grown-up Ollie is even more gorgeous.
He glances at me, the corner of his mouth quirked up into the hint of a smile. A shared secret, and my stomach does a little flip of anticipation.
I want to touch him, kiss him, see if he still tastes the same.
I mustn’t!
I scoop up my dog and take a hasty step away from Uncle T. ‘Come on, Stanley, let’s mingle.’ Then I flee.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_6f66dcf9-79e2-5f30-923b-2f6367a35a81)
10.30 p.m., 24 December
‘Sorry, Dais, I’m going to have to whizz.’ Frankie is hugging me as she speaks, she’s all flushed and smiley. Or maybe it’s me that’s flushed and her that’s just smiley. ‘Thanks so much for letting me come, not had so much fun in years, but Tarquin just called.’
‘He did?’ Frankie and Tarquin have quite an explosive relationship. She’s always so controlled and restrained, right up until the moment she screams at him or throws something heavy. I think he winds her up on purpose, their relationship seems to thrive on the emotional highs and lows.
‘He’s sent a car, and roses! He’s booked a hotel for the night to apologise.’ She winks. Break-up make-up is the way they roll.
‘That’s nice.’
She glances across the room at Ollie. ‘Shame he’s got that cow in tow, he seems nice.’ She sighs. ‘Well he’s dishy so who cares if he is or not? You’ll have to give me his deets!’
‘Frankie! You’re just about to make up with Tarquin!’
She grins. ‘He’s an orphan, he’ll have nobody to eat Christmas dinner with if he doesn’t make up with me!’
‘Really? That’s so sad.’
‘Sad? Cheeky cow, what’s sad about having to spend Christmas day with me!’
‘I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t.’ I glare at her. ‘The orphan stuff, not having anybody. That’s horrible.’
‘He’s not an orphan, you dork.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘He just chooses not to see his fam. So don’t go all drippy and nice to him when you see him. I know you, you’ll be helping him move in!’
‘Oh.’
‘Have a great Christmas if I don’t see you.’ She winks. ‘I’m hoping to be tied up on a four-poster bed! I might text your Ollie and see if he wants to make a foursome!’
‘Frankie!’
‘Oooo! You want him for yourself, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t! You’re worse than my mother, anyway he’s almost family.’
‘Too sexy for family.’ Her voice has got that dreamy edge to it again. ‘Admit it, he’s a hunk.’
‘He’s a hunk, and he’s got a girlfriend! A nearly fiancée. And it’s not all about looks you know.’ She’s being ridiculous. Totally. I do not fancy Oliver Cartwright.
‘Ha-ha. Says who?’ Frankie smoothes her hair down, the heavy jet-black fringe would make anybody else look like a vampire having a bad day, on her it’s cool. ‘Me thinks you doth protest too much.’
She doesn’t give me time to correct her quote, or protest that I’m not protesting too much. I just don’t want to shag Ollie. End of.
Well, okay, there might be a tiny bit of me that wonders what it would be like. Just a tiny bit. Just out of curiosity, because after all he was a bloody good kisser. And now he’s cuter than ever. And kind, and I was so tempted to go in for some lip action a few minutes ago.
Frankie strides out of the shop, letting a waft of cold air in, then I hear her whoop and there’s a clatter of high heels on the paving stones as she spots the posh car and Tarquin.
The rest of the party passes in a bit of a blur. At one stage, I lose Stanley and rediscover him sharing a chaise longue with Mabel. They look rather sweet, and they’re both snoring.
I think I have had a vat of mulled wine, enough mini food to make up a banquet sized portion of full-size offerings and several unscheduled stops under the mistletoe.
Ollie goes back to being boring, stiff Ollie with Juliet – who keeps giving me patronising sorry looks, until Uncle T tempts her to try the mulled wine, and she falls into a pile of Great Expectations.
Which makes me snigger, and when Ollie catches me at it the corner of his mouth twitches with what could be a smile. Or wind. Either way, it cheers me up.
Then he and Terence prop her back up and she tries to kiss his face off and plucks at his shirt like a hungry kitten as he steers her out. Probably for a night of passion, if she stays awake.
I bet he’s good at that as well. Bugger. Where did that thought come from? I do not want to think about Oliver and his sexual prowess. Not at all. I do not want to even consider the possibility that I have missed out on some brilliant bonking. Not that he would have been that good when we were eighteen. Or even wanted to. It was just a kiss.
She’s too tall for him though. I mean, look, she’s had to wear ballet pumps and I’m sure she’s a high heels girl at heart. Not that he’s short, he’s just normal height. But she’s definitely too tall. It will never last.
Half an hour later, everybody has gone so I prod Stanley awake and let him hoover up crumbs while I’m waiting for my taxi to arrive.
‘Don’t worry about the job dear girl, that can wait. No checking emails tonight, it’s Christmas.’ Uncle Terence kisses me on each cheek, continental style.
‘Of course, I won’t!’
I will.
‘Next year will be better, my dear!’
‘Of course, it will.’ It has to be. If Ollie can do it, then I bloody well can, too.
I hug Stanley close. Ollie has everything, Ollie has the type of life I had assumed I would have. Seeing him tonight has been a bit of a kick in the gut if I’m honest, it’s hit me just how much I’ve been avoiding facing up to all the things that are wrong with my life.
All the things I could make right, if I tried hard enough.
I’ve let what happened to me when I was eighteen define the rest of my life, define me.
I’ve let one sad, horrible failure stop me from trying. I’ve been kidding myself that I’m happy coasting along, accepting what I’ve got, rather than risk failing again. And even though I can never change what happened in my past, I can change me. What’s going to happen in my future. Can’t I?
I’ve got to get my act together, I really have. I deserve so much more than I’ve got.
I am going to show them. I am going to show bloody Ollie Cartwright, and my mum that I am not a complete failure.
I’m going to prove it to myself.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_23044e79-3e9c-52fd-8411-c28426bd6658)
Very, very late p.m., 24 December (or early 25 December)
