Page 99 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
Elle nudged herself along the sofa and curled up next to me. ‘You really like Tom, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
Elle blew all the air out of her lungs, as if she’d been holding her breath for decades. Perhaps, in a way, both of us had been.
‘I just thought we’d moved on, you know? But you were so insistent, so I got in touch with Ryan on Facebook to let him know you were going to be in the area, mainly so he could keep an eye out for you, at first. But then, well, my stupid fucking brain got to work and I got this idea to get him to set you up with someone for the article. And I swear, Mally, the Darren thing was all I did. But then you bumped into Tom and the two of you seemed to be hitting it off if Ryan’s reports were anything to go by, then you didn’t reply to me fordaysand I just… couldn’t deal with that. I started to spiral.’
‘Why did me getting along with Tom Brinton bother you so much?’ I asked, stroking her hair.
‘Because… I don’t want you to leave me. I want you to come withme. To New York.’
I heaved her into a sitting position and looked her in the eye. ‘You’re my best friend. You’ll always be in my life – and, trust me, I have absolutely no intention of moving back to Scarnbrook. But you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your family.’
‘You’re my family too, y’know.’
My breath caught in my throat before I responded. ‘I know.’
Neither of us spoke after that. There’d be plenty more to say down the line, but right now, sitting here together – both of us exposed and exhausted – was enough.
I reached for the remote control and switched the telly on. It was tuned to the Christmas movie channel, and – if the unfolding Christmas cookie decorating montage was anything to go by – the film had around two-thirds to go. Elle stared at the screen blankly, her wide eyes red-rimmed.
I opened the drinks cupboard underneath the TV and took out a bottle of sloe gin. I held it aloft in her direction and raised my eyebrows. She nodded grimly. I fetched two tumblers and poured us both decent measures, sitting down beside her.
I reached into my backpack and removed the bingo sheets I’d angrily stuffed inside back in Scarnbrook. I smoothed them out and grabbed a couple of pens from the coffee table drawer, marking fresh columns of tick boxes next to all the tropes. I handed her one of the sheets and a pen.
She remained silent, but as the film continued, the protagonists winning an ice-sculpting contest, we silently played, drinking the gin as we did so. Just as we’d innocently done a couple of weeks ago before everything had shattered. Elle eventually reclined to get more comfortable, resting her head in my lap. I stroked her hair once more as the characters climbed onto the stage to accept their trophy, the woman making a heartfelt speech about having rediscovered the magic of Christmas before she and the chiselled chiseller kissed, dryly.
By the time the credits had finished rolling, Elle was asleep. I turned the TV off and sat with her for a few minutes longer to make sure she was properly conked out.
Eventually, I got up slowly, laid a blanket over her, crept into my bedroom and called Rory.
As soon as they’d left, I pulled on a screwed-up pair of pyjamas that had been under my pillow for goodness knows how long, clambered up onto my bed, wrapped myself up in my covers and turned out the light. It was still way too early for bedtime, but the last twenty-four hours had felt like twenty-four days and I was exhausted. But, just as my eyes started to close, my phone rang. It was Josh. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me.
‘Josh? Hello?’
I thought the line had disconnected, but after a few seconds I heard a long, shaky breath.
‘You’re scaring me. Are you all right? Are Mum and Dad okay? Is Saskia with you?’
‘Everything’s fine and, yeah, Saskia’s here.’ His voice sounded younger. Vulnerable, even. I got the impression he was lying in a dim room, just like I was. For some reason, it felt easier to talk to him in the dark.
‘Okay, Josh. What is it?’
‘I’m, uh, sorry about earlier, Amelia. Mally, I mean.’
‘You can call me Amelia.’
‘And, umm, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I’d been in Scarnbrook.’
‘There’s no need to say sorry. Saskia explained everything.’
‘Yeah, I know she did. She’s much better at that kind of thing than me.’
‘Ha, yeah, and me.’
Pause.
‘Livvie was always great at that stuff, too, wasn’t she?’ he said.
