Monday 25th December
In the attic flat at Brides by the Sea: Head in the clouds
When I wake on Christmas morning, the bedroom is surprisingly bright. There’s so much snow clinging to the glass of the little porthole, I have to open the window and clear it away before I can get a view across the bay. As I brush the ice crystals off the slates and look out across a roofscape of white plains, my insides deflate. Down below the sea and the sky are the same light grey, merging somewhere far in the distance. Out along the bay the people out on early walks with their dogs are battling into the wind, their figures dark against the dazzling white clumps along the sand.
Snow all the way to the edge of the sea? I’ve never seen that before.
Sticking my feet into my leopard pumps, I whip down the four flights of stairs to the shop. As I peer past the snowy tulle skirts in the window of the White Room, the snow outside in the mews is layered across the cobbles in a thick downy quilt. I know it’s hopeless to think Rory can get here with falls like this, but I slide back the lock on the door all the same. I have no idea why the hell I feel this wretched when spending this Christmas day alone is the ideal I’ve been working towards for months. Then, trying not to notice how eerily quiet it is, I stamp back upstairs and stick some milk in a pan.
PJ’s, hot chocolate, cosy duvet. Friends Season 1 here I come.
Even if I’m looking forward to the day a lot less than I’d imagined, breakfast is shaping up okay. The only way it could be better is if yesterday’s doughnuts hadn’t gone crusty overnight. If I had to choose again, I’d possibly go for jam rather than custard. But considering how the weather’s turned, the twelve pack that felt excessive when I nipped out late on Christmas Eve afternoon seems like startling good judgement this morning.
But when I tuck myself back under the covers and start on my Friends-fest, far from me falling out of bed laughing, Jennifer Aniston looks so young, she’s making me feel like an OAP. How did I ever think a whole day alone was going to be do-able, let alone fun? Ever since I arrived, I’ve been busy and surrounded by crowds of people. Somehow, my old hermit routine is a shock I’m not prepared for.
Four episodes in, I press pause and stick my head under the duvet. I’m sniffing and reaching for a tissue when I hear voices.
‘Is this Holsie’s house? Why are there so many stairs?’
There’s a low, familiar laugh. ‘Because Berry lives up in the sky.’
‘Gracie? Rory?’ Mortified doesn’t begin to cover that they’ve caught me crying. But as for them being here, if I’d looked in my doughnut box and found my custard rocks had turned into a Krispy Kreme selection, my stomach wouldn’t be whooshing with any more excitement than it is now.
Gracie’s eyes are huge as I peep out from under the duvet. ‘Does Feather Christmas’s reindeers fly up here, Hols?’
Rory’s face is split in a grin. ‘Holly Christmas! Seeing as this is twenty questions, why are you still in your pyjamas when it’s time to go?’ His grin slowly turns into a knowing smile. ‘Unless your Christmas present to me is asking me to meet you in Paris, via your pyjamas?’ Even though we both know it’s bull, he never gives up.
I’m trying to shut him up. ‘We’ll see once Christmas is over.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes, then?’ He doesn’t get any less tease-y.
‘Ask me again next time you see them.’ Obviously there won’t be a next time. Part of me is aching inside that he won’t be crashing in and waking me up with the smell of cooking bacon. That those pre-wedding breakfasts are over. However seductive Rory’s plans sound and however much I man up, with my savings as they are I can’t make the figures work. There isn’t enough for me to get a business up and running, and eat too. ‘But how did you get here? The mews looked impassable. I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘The main roads are fine.’ His brow wrinkles into a frown. ‘I promised I’d be here, Berry. If it meant pulling you ten miles on a sledge, I’d still have come to get you.’
Something about the way he looks at me as he says that makes my insides turn all soft. Just for a second I’m regretting that I wasn’t out of bed to get a ‘Happy Christmas’ hug. Although however much I’d like to bury my head in his neck, it’s probably best that I didn’t, because I might not have wanted to let go. So when Gracie dips around Rory’s ragged jeans and holds a furry toy out to me, I’m grateful for the diversion.
When I see what it is, I can’t help laughing. ‘An Olaf meerkat? Isn’t he fab?’
Gracie’s beam couldn’t be any bigger, although she’s still holding snowman tightly too. ‘Feather Christmas brought him.’
Rory cuts in. ‘I know we’re mashing our genres here, but it was your voice in my head telling me he was too cute to leave in the shop.’ For a guy who once thought Frozen was what peas are, he’s caught up fast.
As I smile, I realise what’s missing from Rory’s hip. ‘Where’s Teddie?’
‘Where do you think? It’s hard to prise him away from Immie these days.’ He looks at his phone. ‘If you’d like to get ready, that would be good. We need to call round by Roaring Waves to get some beer and fizz for Bart and Jess.’
I pick up my best jeans and a Topshop shirt. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
‘Great. Don’t forget your wellies.’ Just before Rory backs out of the room, he drops a carrier bag onto the bed. ‘That’s the Christmas jumper I promised you. You put that on and I’ll get the Christmas tunes ready.’
I tip it out onto the quilt, but instead of the threadbare Bad Elf Beer hoody I’m expecting, there’s a soft, berry-pink sweatshirt with a white-printed caption.
Christmas is too sparkly … said no one ever …
I’m laughing so hard I can hardly speak. ‘Thank you so much.’ Better still, when I bury my face in it, it smells faintly of Rory. I’m about to dive across for a thank-you hug. But it’s too late, he’s already closed the door.