Читать книгу No One Cancels Christmas - Zara Stoneley - Страница 14

‘Sugar.’ Sam is pounding the keyboard of her computer frantically when I get in to work. Luckily there are no clients (or Aunt Lynn) around to witness the abuse. Although it does occur to me that the keyboard will soon be my property. My responsibility. Shit, all this responsibility could be totally weird. The nearest I’ve come to commitment before has been to book a flight more than four weeks in advance. Now I’ve got a boulder-sized slab of obligation hanging over me and I’m not quite sure how I feel. They say love and hate are close buddies, don’t they? Well, so are petrified and proud. Right now, it’s anybody’s guess which one will win the day. I’m either going to end up crushed or feeling like I’ve done Aunt Lynn proud and shown her what I’m made of.

I’m not Spiderman, though, I haven’t got great power, just responsibility. I wish I was Spiderman, actually, I’m sure he could sort this out in a jiffy. He could whizz over and truss up Mr Armstrong in a super-strong web, and he wouldn’t care a fig that the one person he loves isn’t going to spend Christmas with him.

‘You’re frowning.’ Sam has stopped pounding.

‘No, I’m not.’ I force my face into what I hope is a chilled expression. But is probably just looking down my nose pop-eyed. ‘What’s up?’

‘I just accidentally booked my mum on a non-refundable last-minute deal to Kenya.’

‘And she doesn’t want it?’ Sam’s mum is funny. She’s one of those mothers who is so well-meaning it gets embarrassing, if you know what I mean. But she is lovely, and totally means well. Like mother, like daughter.

‘Does she buggery.’ Which figures. She is more big-hat hunter than big-game hunter. ‘She wants to go to Lapland, not bloody Kenya.’ Sam goes back to abusing my assets.

‘You can’t actually undo what you’ve done just by typing fast you know.’ I sit down and push her wheelie chair, and her, to one side. You see? This is what I meant when I thought it was weird Aunt Lynn leaving Sam on her own. At least this is a family booking cock-up, and not a customer. ‘Pressing delete doesn’t work when it isn’t on the screen any more.’

‘I know that.’ She suddenly smiles. ‘Actually, maybe that’s the best idea I’ve ever had, and my brain just hasn’t realised. Sending Mum off on her own would solve all kinds of problems.’ The frantic typing stops. ‘Christmas can be such hard work if we’re all together. A few days with just me and Jake on our own would be ace.’

She’s got a dreamy look in her eyes, and for a moment I feel a pang of jealousy. Sam has got a lovely boyfriend, a wonderful family and she’s all set for the perfect Christmas. Unlike me. I’m just about to book a ticket to hell. This was not a good idea at all. Me and my big mouth. Why can’t I think before I speak? Just once would be nice. I think they call it ‘filtered’, whereas I’m more another f word.

And I so like Christmas. What have I done?

Sam frowns. ‘Unless she gets eaten by a giraffe or something.’

‘What?’

‘Mum, in Kenya!’

‘Aren’t they vegetarian? They eat leaves and stuff.’

‘Well, a lion. Or what if a rhino tramples them? I mean, you know how she likes to be centre stage, she’ll be throwing her arms around and projecting!’ Sam’s mum is into amateur dramatics and sees herself as the next Dame Judi Dench. ‘How good is the health and safety at these places? They must do risk assessments, yeah?’

‘Yeah, of course they do! They have to, and you don’t often hear of tourists getting chewed up or trampled to death, do you?’

‘Well no, not often but there was that alligator—’

‘That was in the swamps, and that drunken twat decided to use it as a paddleboard. I don’t think your mum will be trying anything like that, will she?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘They’ll be far more careful than Will Armstrong, anyway; he probably wouldn’t know a risk assessment if he fell over one.’ Oh God, I can’t get that stupid man out of my head. All roads lead to Will. Literally. Sam looks alarmed – even though she doesn’t know the chaos that’s going around in my head at the moment. Honestly, I’d rather be in Kenya being trampled by wildebeest, right now.

My face must have done something it wasn’t supposed to, because her attention zooms in on me.

‘Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you had the day off?’

‘I just thought I’d check you were okay.’ Maybe popping into work, on the pretence of checking everything was okay, was a mistake. But the truth of the matter is I couldn’t face being at home on my own today. I now have no Callum, and no Christmas. ‘And I need to stalk Will Armstrong.’

‘You’ve already googled him.’ Sam grins. ‘You just want to stare at that photo don’t you? Go on, admit it, you think he’s cute.’

‘It doesn’t matter how cute he is—’

‘Ha! I knew you did!’

‘This is business, I need to google him better. The Wi-Fi is better here than at home, and,’ I pull out my chair and do a quick spin on it, cracking my knuckles as I go to show I mean business, ‘I also need to book my Christmas break.’

‘Christmas break?’ Sam is frowning and has stopped her attempts to unbook her mother’s wildlife trip. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Canada.’ I watch while it sinks in. ‘To see Will Armstrong.’

‘But I thought . . .’

‘There’s been a change of plan.’

‘Christmas! Wow, you’re going for actual Christmas with Lynn? Is that what she suggested when you told her about what’s been going on? Gosh, the pair of you together will soon sort him out.’ Sam claps her hands, looking so happy it seems a shame to put a downer on things.

‘Not the pair of us, just me.’ I stop my googling and look at Sam. I think it might be time to mention the cakes, and Ralph. And the business. Which is the really awkward one. I mean, we’re mates, we work together and in the new year it could all turn a bit weird if I’ve kind of become her boss, and don’t do this properly.

‘And Callum?’

‘No, not Callum. Callum and his buttock-clenching gladioli have gone.’

‘Buttock clenching?’

‘Later. But it was a good job he hadn’t decided to say it with roses.’ Thorns do not bear thinking about.

‘So why are you going to Canada for Christmas, then? I don’t get it.’

Nor do I.

‘Tell.’

‘Pass the Hobnobs first, my stomach needs reminding what food should taste like. Lynn’s cakes were a bit . . .’ I pull a face and rub my stomach, and Sam laughs. ‘Lemon curd and marmalade.’

‘They sound okay; my mum does lemon curd tarts, sometimes.’

‘Lemon curd and marmalade together.’

‘I think you need a Jaffa cake.’

Sam plunders the supplies, then she watches intently as I nibble the chocolate off, then remove the sponge, and finally savour the orange bit.

‘Wow, I needed that.’ This could be the closest I get to orgasm for a while. I take another. Sam can’t bear the suspense and snatches the box away.

‘So, what was so urgent? She’s okay is she? Not ill or . . .’

‘She’s fine. More than fine.’

‘Oh God, she didn’t find out about that nasty email you sent to Shooting Star?’ She clasps her hand to her mouth.

I shake my head. ‘Not quite.’

‘What do you mean, not quite? Tell me, woman!’

I haven’t quite worked out how I feel about this yet, which is why I suppose I’ve been reluctant to say it. Because once it’s out there, then there’s no going back. ‘Aunt Lynn has sprung a surprise. She’s got to go to Australia to see her old mate Ralph.’

‘But . . .’

‘He’s dying. Might not last until the new year.’

‘Oh.’

We both take a moment, and another Jaffa cake.

‘So why aren’t you going to Australia? I mean, Australia’s nice. You could have Christmas on the beach!’

‘I don’t want to be a gooseberry, or kiwi, and she needs to be on her own with him. So, I said I was going to see Mr Brain-freeze Will Armstrong. I kind of jumped in without thinking about it, so she wouldn’t feel bad.’

‘Aw, that’s so nice.’

‘Look out world, Saint Sarah is coming.’

‘Well,’ there’s a heavy undertone of doubt, ‘you did want to go, I suppose. But, not on your own, not at Christmas.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I know! I can come!’

‘You’ve got Jake and your family. And I’ll be fine, Sam.’

‘But, on your own?’

‘I’ll meet people, you know I’m good at that. And I am working, remember?’

She stares at me. ‘But for actual Christmas?’ I nod. ‘And you deffo can’t take Callum?’

‘Nope, I dumped him last night.’

‘Ah, so that’s why your hair’s blue.’ She knows me well.

‘It might have a bearing.’

She raises an eyebrow and ploughs on. ‘But you can’t spend Christmas all on your own.’

‘Well, I won’t be completely alone. Mr Armstrong hasn’t frightened off all his guests – yet.’

‘You know what I mean. You’re not going with Lynn, or anybody?’

I shake my head, not wanting to voice the fact that there isn’t an ‘anybody’, and instead grab another Jaffa cake. I need sugar.

‘Well that explains why she rang and told me she was shutting up shop for two weeks over Christmas, then.’ She gets up and puts the kettle on. ‘Paid leave!’ She smiles. ‘How generous is that?’

So, Sam gets paid leave and I get a fully inclusive break in a snowbound, rundown holiday resort with the Anti-Christmas.

And he’s already decided I’m an idiot.

‘There’s more.’

‘More?’

I hand her the slip of paper and watch the emotions flicker across her open features. If it was me, there’d be a hell of a lot of conflict going on there. Fear, doubt, envy, disbelief. Sam just grins.

‘Bloody hell, Sare, this means you’ve got a five-year plan! That is so—’

‘Not me?’ Sam know what I’m like. She knows I always like an escape route. That I can’t even commit to a hair colour, let alone a man or a job.

‘So amazing! It’s brilliant.’

‘It is? Sorry, I mean it is.’ I try and sound positive.

‘You love working here, and you’ll be able to look at new places, and redecorate.’ I raise an eyebrow; she’s getting carried away. ‘And tell Will Armstrong where to get off. It’s ace!’

‘I’ve never thought about even a five-day plan before. Five years is a bit . . . well, a bit somebody else, not me.’

‘You don’t have to think of it like that, though, do you? I mean, you were never going to just up and bugger off and leave Lynn and me in the lurch, were you?’

She has a point. ‘Well, no, but—’

‘This is just kind of giving you more power!’

I stop my self-indulgent worrying and give her a big hug. ‘Oh Sam, where would I be without you?’

‘Buggered, which means you can’t sack me!’

‘I’d never sack you.’

Her eyes are twinkling. ‘But you are going to sort Will Armstrong out?’

I take a deep breath, disentangle myself and turn back to my computer. ‘Yep, my first priority as,’ I pause; it seems a bit out-there to say it, ‘a company director.’

I click a button on the keyboard, my fingers crossed under the desk.

Booking confirmed.

‘All done, an all-inclusive break at the Shooting Star Mountain Resort. Watch out, Will, here I come.’

Bugger, what have I done?