Page 26 of Five Gold Rings

‘I just wanted to say sorry, too. I’m Eve,’ she says, coming over to shake Gabriel’s hand. ‘And you must be Gabriel from the…’ She points towards the top of the Christmas tree.

He puts a hand in the air. ‘That would be me. I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, but you’ve seen me wee so I feel as though we’re already friends.’

She laughs and I see Gabriel turn to me, signalling his approval. You’re friends because she laughs at your jokes or because she’s seen you wee?

‘How did I get upstairs?’ she asks me.

‘I carried you,’ I tell her. ‘You were out cold.’

If it sounds romantic, then it was far from some gallant knight carrying a damsel into a tower. Drunk people have limbs like lead, so it was a slight struggle. I may have banged her foot against a banister. She was that out of it that she didn’t notice. But I got her upstairs, I tucked her in. I left her a pint of water knowing how much alcohol was in her system. I then went back downstairs to finish my film and basically procrastinate over the fact that the girl I’ve liked for an age was in my bed and what it all meant.

‘Well, thank you. Sorry, was I snoring? I do snore when I’ve drunk a lot.’

Like a bear in deep hibernation. ‘A little. But I’m glad you got some sleep.’

‘I’ve made coffee. Sounds like you both need fuel for your adventure today,’ Gabriel tells her.

‘That would be amazing. And carbs. I need to carb up after yesterday.’

‘Well, I can do one better. I will do bacon. The situation deserves bacon,’ Gabe tells us, a little too excitedly.

‘Gabe… Mate…’ I say.

‘God, remember the last time we had bacon together, Joe?’ Eve tells me.

‘The Smoked Trout Christmas Party Incident…’ I reminisce.

I pause for a moment. I fell in love with her at that party, despite its dubious title. I always trace it back and I think that was the point I knew she was really cool. Mr and Mrs Caspar hired out a private room in a pub for their six employees. Eve wore a black vest top with a brocade skirt. We ordered exactly the same off the set menu: the soup, the turkey, the Christmas pudding and we both commented on how we’d opted for classic combos. In reality, though, we’d made exactly the right decision because the majority of the party ordered the fish starter and by the time the coffees were served, people were being violently ill. Whether it was the alcohol or the smoked trout we will never know, but they were like scenes from a Halloween film. We then spent the rest of the evening apologising to waiters, ensuring people got home safely and then sat there in a private dining room with its carefully Christmas curated playlist in the background, drinking and chatting, not entirely alone as Mr Caspar was fast asleep and we couldn’t move him. But Eve told me about her boyfriend, I told her about my then girlfriend, we talked about the advantages of living in London (the food; the Tube; the energy) and had a whole hour of doing impressions ofThe Simpsonscharacters. She talked passionately about studying for an MA in Law specialising in human rights. By the end of the evening, we were sat on the floor, eating bacon rolls we specially ordered at the bar, the soft glow of Christmas lights caught in her hair, her swigging at the remnants of bottles of wine. A moment where she sat next to me, chatting to me about her Christmas plans in her best Bart Simpson voice. Me laughing so very hard and realising how much I could really fall for her.

SEVEN

Eve

Ring 1: A square cut, double halo diamond ring in 18k white gold. For Gloria.

‘Hold up,’ I tell Joe as he walks in front of me on this pier. ‘These are supermarket heels, they’re not built for running.’ I bend down and try to adjust the straps on these shoes, watching as Joe stands there jogging on the spot. Joe is in a dinner jacket and I hate to say it but he wears it well. Some men wear tuxedos like they’re playing dress up, but he looks effortless in his, the bow tie actually tied as opposed to a clip on, his shoes polished but not too shiny. It’s like he’s going to a film premiere but will be the sort to charm all the fans and journalists on his way. As he walks towards me, I remember how last night I fell asleep on him and may have left a big trifly puddle of drool on his shoulder. He’s always been nice, but now I can’t work out if that’s just pity at play. I really hope the Caspars haven’t paid him to look after me. I hold on to a railing – these damn shoes – but then, as if on cue, Joe’s there next to me and he bends down to help me with a shoe strap. He’s suave, gentlemanly, but it’s also winter so he starts jogging again. We’re by the river Thames which ordinarily would be peppered in lights, fine architecture and appear quite magical. However, the breeze is strong. So strong, it makes Joe squint and clench his teeth, too. ‘Feeling the cold?’ I ask.

‘My nipples could literally cut through glass… I apologise. That’s not a festive image,’ he says, putting his hands under his armpits.

‘Would you like my fur thingy?’ I tell him, handing him some random coat thing I picked up from the supermarket that looks like it once belonged on the back of a Muppet. He shakes his head, patting it on my shoulders to tell me I need it more. He may be right. Contrary to what Joe thought, I didn’t sleep as well as I’d hoped last night. I must have got four hours solid drunken sleep, but I woke up at 4 a.m. lying there in Joe’s bed wondering where the hell I was. When I fell asleep, I was on a sofa. And then I called out for Chris, remembered what had happened and then sat up in the twilight gloom of that room, in floods of tears, just hoping to God that I was in Joe’s bed and hadn’t blacked out and ended up somewhere completely different.

After that, I got up and stood by the window, watching a house down the road that had enough lights on it to guide aircraft to safety. I watched the mesmerising patterns of the lights illuminate the street, and some robotic reindeer continuously buck their legs but not really get anywhere.A midnight drink if you need it,read a little Post-it note next to a pint glass of water. I sipped at it and turned on a bedside light. Was I nosy? Maybe a little. I distracted myself with photographs of Joe’s friends, people I thought may be his sisters, a noticeboard of old tickets and postcards. I stubbed a toe on a big medical textbook, I found an old toy monkey under a pillow, I checked out what toiletries he might use. But when that was done, I curled up on his bed and steeped in my loneliness for a moment, allowing sad thoughts to get in the way, praying for daylight so I could have company again. When the time allowed for it, I had a bath, I flashed a housemate, I washed my hair and got a brief thrill in cracking open new palettes of make-up and fresh brushes. I looked in a mirror and put on some sort of mask to try to face the day. Maybe this is what I needed, a quick fix, an adventure, distraction so one day I would be able to sleep again.

‘Are you here for the Christmas Eve cruise?’ asks a young unimpressed lady with a clipboard, dressed up as Mrs Claus. Even if this is the company, this is a better alternative than being alone in my own thoughts.

‘Not quite… We’re looking for one of your passengers. Do you have the manifest? Passenger name is Frank Truman. We were supposed to be meeting him here.’

‘Eve?’ a voice asks from behind me. I turn and instantly smile. It’s an older gentleman in a navy suit, dark overcoat, cravat and the wise man that he is, he wears a hat to keep the cold off his head. ‘Rudy told me to expect you… Do you have it?’

‘I do indeed. Lovely to meet you.’ I beckon Joe over who has the ring box safely ensconced in his jacket pocket. He opens it, presenting it to him, the diamonds catching the reflection in his glasses. A grin appears on his face in response that gives us no choice but to be instantly happy for this man we’ve only just met. ‘Is this as you expected?’

‘And more. That Rudy Caspar is a genius. We go way back, did he tell you?’ he tells us.

‘No, he didn’t,’ Joe replies.

‘He’s a pain in my general arse but he’s a good man. Give him my best.’

‘Oh, we will,’ I tell him, watching as he nervously scans the people on the pavement, walking along the gangways towards the pier. ‘I suppose the ring is for a lady friend today?’

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