Page 138 of Someone Like You

I wouldn’t put it past them, doing their ‘parental duty’ of wishing their only child a Merry Christmas, not realising – or caring – the impact the intrusion will have. Raff has gone from elated to deflated in mere seconds.

‘No. Umm… it’s Jules.’ He fake smiles again. ‘I won’t be long,’ he says.

When he leaves the room, unease snakes through my veins, making me shiver.

Not only was he uncomfortable when that message came in, but he called her ‘Jules’. He’s given her a nickname. A Raff nickname.

33

GABY

Ignoring the concerned looks from my family – especially Mom and Issy, who know how I feel about Raff – I get up and go into the entry, where I put on my boots, coat, and gloves. Issy is hot on my heels.

‘Are you going somewhere?’

‘I need to… be somewhere else – anywhere else.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No, it’s okay, Is. I want to be alone.’

‘It might not mean anything,’ she says. ‘It’s just a text message. And he kissed you back last night. I saw it. Weallsaw it. He’s probably telling her it’s over.’

‘He called her “Jules”, Issy. Raff only gives his girlfriends a nickname when he’s serious about them. When Winnie became “Wins”, that’s when Freya and I knew for sure that she was sticking around.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ she says dismissively. ‘He calls you “Gabs”.’

‘Exactly.’

She frowns, confused. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, not wanting to explain something so frigging obvious. ‘I’m going for a walk. I need to clear my head.’

‘Okay, fine, but here.’ She thrusts a beanie at me and I tug it on, then leave.

At first, I don’t know where I’m going but then it comes to me, and I head towards West Highland Drive. It stopped snowing overnight, but everything is still blanketed – roofs, lawns, shrubs and bushes, cars… The snow is melting on the street itself, now a translucent, milky white, but the sidewalks are covered in white, a few sets of footprints, including children’s, the only indication that people have been out.

Ahead, outside a blue and white house, a father makes a valiant effort at helping his child ride their new bike on the shovelled driveway. He lifts his hand and says, ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ his child echoes, only they’re missing their front teeth, so it comes out as ‘Cwrithmath’.Cute.

I stop at the end of their driveway. ‘Merry Christmas,’ I say. ‘Did Santa bring you a bike?’

They nod at me, wide-eyed and flashing that toothless grin.

‘Well, you must have beenverygood this year.’

‘I was! Wasn’t I, Daddy?’

Daddy concurs, sending me a knowing smile.

‘Were you good this year?’ the child asks me.

‘Mostly.’

‘What did Santa bring you?’

Santa brought me my dream job and precious time with my family and freedom for my sister from a bad marriage and the realisation that I may have the best friend in the world, but that’s all he will ever be to me.

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