Page 26 of The Night Before Christmas
Felicity noted the clear hitch in his voice as he said her name. Erika. Sounded rather exotic.
‘She could have waited one more day, surely?’ said Felicity.
‘That’s the kicker. To this day, that’s the question I just don’t have the answer to. Why Boxing Day? Why not an ordinary Tuesday in February? Why couldn’t she have just waited even a couple more days? I tried asking her for an explanation later, but she couldn’t even give me that much. She just said, “It was time” in that mysterious, mystical Japanese way of talking she had. What am I meant to do with that?’
Felicity tried to ignore the stereotypical images of beautiful and mysterious Japanese women that immediately entered her mind.
‘Anyway, she basically ruined Christmas for me, and I was never a huge fan to start with.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Felicity.
Why on earth did she ever let you go?
James lifted his eyes to hers, his cool seemingly restored. ‘Your turn.’
‘Yikes, how long have you got?’ said Felicity, meaning it. Then she had a crazy thought.Damn you, Bex.
‘Take me out for dinner on Friday night and I’ll tell you,’ she said, looking him right in the eyes with what she hoped was a slightly flirtatious look. He stared back at her from beneath that blond fringe, his eyes suddenly twinkling in amusement.
‘You are full of surprises, Crazy Cat Lady. But…’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not a date,’ said Felicity, quickly. ‘It’s just two friends sharing their tragic Christmas stories over dinner. Okay?’
‘Fine. Okay. It’s not a date. It’s just two tragic friends. Gotcha.’
‘Right then.’
‘Right then.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Whose stupid idea was this?thought Felicity, three days later, as she waited for Penguin Man to pick her up from her flat for what was seeming more and more like it might actually be a date.
Her phone had been pinging non-stop with messages from Bex and Sophie who had mystically discovered that she was finally going out with James (okay, she had told them) and had threatened to come and gatecrash if she didn’t give them all the details immediately. Hell, even Andrea had dropped her a little good luck message. Bloody Andrea, who was twenty years older than her and had a much more exciting sex life. She smiled at the thought of the three of them: Bex, Sophie and – unlikely though it was – Andrea. They were her only true friends in the world. But man, they could be bloody annoying. And not just sometimes.
Bex: Time to get back on the horse, cowgirl.
Ew. And also, dear God. The prospect of having sex with someone new after all this time is actually terrifying.
Sophie: Good luck, darling! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Eye roll.
Andrea: About time you two had a bloody good shag and got it out of your system. Enjoy!
Inappropriate. Wrong on so many levels, in fact.
One small mercy was that little Holly was now well on the mend which meant at least Andrea wasn’t quite so stressed. In fact, she had even seemed quite happy to let Felicity take the night off and go out for the evening with her number one volunteer.
‘It’s not like it’s a date or anything,’ she’d said, to which her boss had just raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s not. I mean it. We specifically discussed how it wasn’t going to be a date. I have no idea if he’s even single.’
‘Single or not, it’s definitely a date,’ she said, waving away Felicity’s protestations. ‘The sexual tension between you two is off the charts. It’s a date.’
Now, sitting in her flat, she felt as though Andrea might be right. God, she was unbearable when she was right. Felicity waited. Her palms were clammy. She wondered vaguely if she still smelled of Lady Swish shaving foam after mistaking it for her deodorant earlier and spraying it lavishly under one arm. That had not been an easy clean up. The clear gel had turned instantly to foam, seeping into her only acceptable bra and leaving a huge wet stain. Mortified, Felicity had dabbed at it desperately with a ratty old towel, but in the end she’d had to abandon the silk shirt and bra altogether and now her bedroom looked like a mini tornado had hit after she’d gone through the enormous pile of clothes on her chair-cum-wardrobe indouble quick time to find something that would function as an acceptable alternative outfit.
It was the nerves. It had to be the nerves. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. Adam had been her childhood sweetheart. Had she ever actually been on one with anyone else? Did she go on one with Tom? She couldn’t remember. Maybe? Although that’s not really how things worked at university. You just sort of went to a bar and got a bit drunk and then you got a lot drunk and then you accidentally bumped faces or loins with someone and then you were going out with them and that was that. Simpler times.
Her stomach did another little flip flop. What did one do on a proper grown-up date? What happened if James tried to kiss her? What happened if he didn’t? She had asked Bex and Sophie these questions on WhatsApp, but their replies had been less than satisfactory.
