Читать книгу It Won’t be Christmas Without You - Beth Reekles, Beth Reekles - Страница 7

“You need a hand with that?”

Eloise huffed, turning to look over her shoulder at Number 3, who was bundled up in a pea coat, woolly scarf and beanie hat, bracing himself for the cold. He smirked at her, and she doubted the offer was a serious one.

Jamie Darcy, her neighbour, put the arsey in Darcy.

And right now he looked more than a little miffed that she was blocking the stairs, jangling his car keys from the end of one of his leather-gloved fingers.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, breathing a little heavily. She was sweating inside her coat. The bloody tree wouldn’t fit in her Polo, and she’d had to take the bus. Which meant carrying the eight-foot thing up the hill to the block of flats, earning glares whenever a rogue pine needle jabbed someone who got too near. The single flight of stairs up to her front door was the real struggle, though.

Jamie stepped to one side, watching her struggle to drag it up another step. “Isn’t that a bit too big for the flat?”

He would know: the flats on this street were all identical. Six in a building, two per floor, and seven block-like buildings of them curving around the street. And while they were reasonably spacious, they probably wouldn’t fit an eight-foot tree easily.

“It’s not for my flat.” God, she really had to get to those cross-fit classes more. Or, like, at all. “It’s for the school.”

“Right. And you’re stuck with it because …?”

“Because I offered to pick it up. Because some of us like to do nice things for other people at Christmas.” And because when the head had asked her to get it, she couldn’t exactly turn around and say no, not when she’d made such a big deal out of how much she loved Christmas, getting stuck into the nativity and setting up lunchtime craft classes with the kids to make their own decorations, or decorate Christmas biscuits. Plus, she was the one who’d found a real Christmas tree within budget. She’d kind of made it her responsibility.

“Alright, hint taken. Mind out the way.”

Before she could object, he brushed past her. Apparently immune to the pine needles poking through the netting, he hoisted it up, wrapping his arms around it.

Eloise tripped out of the way, fumbling in her coat pocket for her keys and unlocking the door so Jamie could drop it just inside the hallway. He looked around, curious, taking in the wooden white-painted snowflakes hung on red string from the ceiling, the tinsel around the canvas on the wall, the reams of wrapping paper spilling out of a box she’d left out in the hallway.

“It’s like an elf threw up in here.”

“I went for an understated look this year,” she deadpanned, although it wasn’t a lie. Last year she’d tacked up those shiny concertina things all over the place. Josh had hated them though, so she’d donated them to the school after a week of him complaining.

Of course, she could have whatever she liked in the flat this year.

The thought still kind of stung.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“Thanks for the help,” she said a little brusquely, by way of telling him to stop trying to see the rest of her flat and leave now, please.

Jamie had been in the building a couple of months before she’d moved in, in August last year, and even though they’d been polite enough to each other, he always gave the impression he had somewhere better to be. She’d never taken much of a liking to him – and Eloise prided herself on being someone who made an effort to get on with everyone. (She’d had to when Cara had always been such a social butterfly at school, the one who everyone wanted as a friend.)

“No problem. But, um, quick question – how exactly are you planning on getting that to the school? Or even back downstairs?”

“Someone’s giving me a lift. Someone with a big enough car to fit this tree. They’ll give me a hand.”

Jamie nodded, and gave her a cursory smile as he stepped back out. “Fair enough. See you.”

“Yeah, see you. Thanks again.” And she shut the door behind him.

The stress of the tree finally off her shoulders, she sagged against the door, sighing out heavily before kicking off her boots and tossing her coat and bag onto the chair she left near the door purposely for that. She’d hang the coat up later.

She flicked the kettle on and padded into the living room to put the TV on, flipping through the channels and settling on Film4. It was one of the Fast & Furious movies – not as festive as she’d have liked, but one she didn’t mind joining partway through.

The sound of the kettle boiling pulled her back to the kitchen, but not before she snapped on the fairy lights. She’d laid a string of them on the cabinet the TV sat on, and of course there were the ones on her own Christmas tree. It was a five-foot, slightly sparse-looking thing, but once she’d smothered it in tinsel and baubles and multi-coloured fairy lights (and, of course, some Cadbury tree chocolates) it was perfect.

And a sit-down with a movie for an hour was exactly what she needed, completed with a mince pie and cuppa in her snowman mug. Perfect.

Perfection was interrupted in the next ad break though, with the sound of an incoming FaceTime.

Eloise sighed, licked the last mince pie crumbs off her finger and set down the plate on the sofa before reaching for her phone and swiping the screen open. “Hi, Mum.”

She was greeted by the sound of Mele Kalikimaka playing from somewhere, and a pair of snowman deely boppers wobbled on her mum’s head.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses?” she asked, before her mum had chance to say hello.

“Oh, darling! I thought it was dark!” This was punctuated by a giddy laugh that made Eloise wonder if her parents had cracked the Christmas Baileys open a little early. Her mum swept the sunglasses off her face. “We’ve got news! Your dad’s just on FaceTime to Cara to tell her now. Actually, it was all her idea. Sort of. That boyfriend of hers, George. He gave us the idea.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’ve booked a holiday!”

Eloise caught sight of herself in the little window on her phone: one eye squinted shut, brow furrowed, top lip pulled up on one side in utter confusion. “Um, okay. That’s nice, Mum.”

“For Christmas!”

Eloise practically heard Santa’s sleigh crash-landing to Earth.

Her mum, oblivious, carried on, talking a mile a minute, eyes glazed and mouth in a beaming smile. “See, Cara told us all about how George’s parents have booked a last-minute holiday to get some winter sun for a week over Christmas, so we had a look and oh, sweetheart, you wouldn’t believe the deal we got! A week in Tenerife, all inclusive! Absolute bargain! We fly out on the twenty-third, so we’ll be back just in time for New Year. I’d hate to miss Sandra’s New Year’s do down the pub. They put on a cracking night.”

Oh, yeah, Eloise thought bitterly, fighting hard not to say it out loud. God forbid you miss the New Year’s do at the local pub, but sure, skip Christmas; that’s not a big deal. It wasn’t like Cara hadn’t already mucked things up by deciding to travel home on Christmas Day instead of a few days earlier. It wasn’t like she wasn’t already kind of dreading her first Christmas in years without Josh and looking forward to a few days with her family more than ever. Especially with Cara. It felt like forever since they’d really hung out or spent any time together.

“I’m so glad I’ve been going to those fitness classes with the girls to shed a few pounds ready for Christmas. I don’t know where I would’ve got a swimming costume and sundresses at this time of year if I didn’t still fit into them! And your dad’s bought one of those Hawaiian shirts, a bright yellow one with big pink flowers on. Looks bloody ridiculous, of course, but there was no stopping him!”

There’s no stopping you going, either. Clearly.

“So …” Eloise swallowed the lump in her throat. Vin Diesel was back on the TV, and she reached for the remote to mute it. “So you’re going on holiday for Christmas. And Cara’s not coming home. So I’m – I’m spending Christmas all on my own.”

“Oh, no, don’t be silly! Of course you can still come home, and Cara will be here – just not first thing in the morning. And she’s said she can work from home for a day or so if she has to. And you could always go see your aunt and uncle and your cousins.”

The aunt and uncle and cousins who lived over an hour’s drive from home, who she didn’t actually talk to all that much, and only saw a few times a year since she’d gone off to uni. And who didn’t even cook a turkey on Christmas Day, because ‘it was too much hassle’.

Her mum was still going on: about the hotel (four and a half stars on TripAdvisor, you know) and the one utterly scathing review (but of course it was probably a one-off) and how close they were to the beach, and –

And Eloise could see how excited her mum was. Her dad’s voice was faint, somewhere in the background under what was now Michael Bublé’s Holly Jolly Christmas, chattering away to Cara to tell her exactly the same news. He was just as excited.

And why shouldn’t they be? They loved their sunny holidays in the Mediterranean. Of course they’d love a bit of winter sun for a change.

It wasn’t their fault she didn’t like to let on how homesick she got or how lonely she could be here.

So she plastered on a smile, asked her mum all the right questions, pretended that this was fine – they’d FaceTime from the beach! Her parents would have the best time! Of course Eloise didn’t mind! They’d send each other pictures of their Christmas dinner! Ha ha!

(God, Christmas dinner – that was always her dad’s domain … What the hell would they do? Would Cara expect her to do it all? They couldn’t not have a roast dinner on Christmas Day.)

It was all Cara’s fault. Cara and that bloody guy she was seeing, George. Eloise had only heard wonderful things about perfect, dashing, handsome George so far, but this made her kind of hate him. He’d ruined Christmas.

Cara had sort of ruined Christmas when she’d phoned a few days ago, to say she wouldn’t be there the whole day. But Eloise could just about live with that. It wouldn’t be great, but they’d still have most of the day, and it wasn’t like she’d be off to Josh’s in the evening like she had the last several Christmases.

She could live with Cara bailing on Christmas morning.

But this?

Christmas was the best time of year. For Eloise, it properly started as early as November. She’d been so excited about going back home and spending a few days with her family, watching the usual suspects on DVD, playing games, eating too much …

And now she’d be waking up on Christmas Day all alone. In a big, empty house.

Alone at Christmas.

Did it get much worse than that?