Page 11 of The Night Before Christmas
Much later that night, when Sophie had fallen asleep on the sofa, Bex and Felicity chatted quietly – or semi-quietly – across the room.
‘You should ask him out,’ slurred Bex in her best stage whisper.
‘What? No… I can’t!’ whispered Felicity.
‘What have you got to lose? You like him, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. He’s completely gorgeous.’
‘Well then.’
‘Well then, nothing. He might not even be available. I’m betting he lives in an immaculate mansion in Chelsea Downs or somewhere like that. With a jumbo fridge and one of those barista coffee machines. And a girlfriend called something like Precious or Chanel who only eats egg whites and kale and gets her eyebrows tattooed on.’
Bex giggled and slopped Prosecco over the arm of the chair. She mopped at it feebly with her sleeve.
‘Unlikely.’
‘Look, I’m not in a position to date anyone right now. I never thought I’d meet anyone, working at Saviours, if I’m honest, and that suited me just fine. And it’s not like I have a great history when it comes to relationships.’
‘You can’t hide out here forever,’ said Bex, waving an arm around the tiny flat.
‘I’m not hiding.’ Felicity felt weirdly offended. But also, seen.
‘Sure, whatever you say.’
‘Anyway, he’s bound to turn out to be a psycho in the end, isn’t he? It’s only a matter of time with me.’
‘Anyone ever tell you that you have trust issues?’ said Bex.
‘You do. Regularly.’
‘Well, there we are then.’
‘You don’t count. You know too much. At any rate, we’re both forgetting something crucial. I may well never see him again.This is a big town. I’m a rather small person. I never go out. And I don’t have his number.’
Bex’s mouth formed an O shape which made Tipsy-Felicity giggle.
‘You didn’t get his number? What were you thinking?’
‘I wasn’t thinking. I was flustered. He was so handsome. And tall. Did I mention tall?’
‘But the cats. Won’t he want to visit the cats? He’s bound to want to see how they’re getting on.’
‘He won’t just turn up out of the blue, surely. Who does that? He’s probably forgotten all about us. Or he’s told all his mates about his crazy cat lady Christmas. Had a good laugh.’
‘Oh no. He won’t have done that.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because then he’d have to tell them about the penguin suit.’
‘Fair point.’
Felicity rubbed her eyes. ‘So, what about you? Are you seeing anyone, Miss Know-it-all?’
Bex took a long time to reply. Into the silence, Sophie suddenly let out a Miss-Piggy-style snore and Felicity stifled a giggle. Sophie had never struck her as the snoring type.
‘You know me,’ said Bex, eventually, playing with a strand of her long dark hair. ‘There’s always someone.’
