Chapter 13
‘I’m so sorry I forgot the make-up wipes.’
While Simon was out of his Grinch costume, now sweaty and stuffed to the bottom of the Bag For Life, he was still covered in lingering green face paint as we sat in a crowded pub.
He rubbed his finger across his chin and then laughed. ‘It was worth it.’
We were alone, waiting for Josh to return from ordering our drinks and Megan from phoning Alex outside.
After receiving our Christmas pudding trophies on stage, it felt like such a downer to suddenly all head back to our respective homes and hotels.
Instead, Josh made the fantastic suggestion of grabbing a celebratory drink on him, since it was he that almost lost us the race getting caught up in the Parumpapumpums’ mosh pit at the inflatable slide.
‘Why not?’ Simon said, asking for a few minutes to get his things – and endure some light teasing – from his fellow buskers.
‘I’m glad you had fun.’ I nudged Simon in the shoulder. ‘Especially since it was all so last-minute, and not your usual cuppa by the sound of it.’
He shook his head in agreement. ‘It really wasn’t, but it was fun. I don’t mind admitting it.’
‘Will your busker friends ever let you forget it?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, playing with one of the paper-thin beer mats on the table. ‘Particularly since I plan on bringing this trophy with me wherever I go from now on.’ He lifted his glass trophy, engraved with the details of the day and encasing a fake Christmas pudding.
‘That is a prestigious trophy,’ I agreed, holding mine up as well. ‘Not many people have one of these.’
‘I will treasure it always, although I feel kind of guilty. I did none of the fundraising.’
‘Trust me,’ I said, using one of the napkins to polish the engraving of my trophy; there was a little bit of silly string still on it. ‘You did plenty with helping us out. Besides, Megan, Josh, and I raised about ￡2,000 between us. So you’re covered.’
‘Oh, good, otherwise I’ll have to start bringing two caps with me to my sets to gather money for both Crisis and Cancer Research.’
‘Alternative sets maybe?’
He paused for a moment, putting his trophy down again. ‘I really was sorry to hear about your mum,’ he said. I pfted and gestured with my hand to forget it, but he carried on. ‘My mum also had cancer.’
‘Oh, I’m…’ I stopped myself before I fell into my own most hated trap of saying sorry.
It wasn’t that I wasn’t sympathetic or appreciative of people’s care but saying ‘I’m sorry’ always sparked a fear of pity in me.
Maybe it was because I was an orphan and I hated the idea of people seeing me just as that, a helpless orphan.
Or maybe it was because half the time people said ‘I’m sorry’ because they felt they had to and they felt awkward.
When they did that, suddenly I had to care for them and make sure that they were okay after feeling awkward about something horrible that happened to me.
There was no win in it for anybody.
‘It’s fucking awful,’ I said finally, forcing a smile that felt very awkward, given the topic.
Simon nodded. ‘Yeah, it was, but she would have loved this.’
I swallowed. ‘Would,’ I repeated and he nodded.
‘When I was eighteen,’ he clarified, and I felt awful for asking. He wasn’t that much older than I was when my mum passed. Sure, he was technically an ‘adult’ but you’re always a child when you lose a parent, no matter your age.
I went to reach for his hand, an instinct that had never hit me before, but he had moved his hand away from the table so it looked like I was suddenly very interested in the salt and pepper pots. They were shaped like Santas and snowmen, so it wasn’t inconceivable.
‘I was ten,’ I said quietly, feeling the dormant lump of grief beginning to rise in my throat. ‘But you’re right, she – they – would have loved this,’ I said brightly, setting the salt and pepper pots down again when I realised he had noticed.
What surprised me wasn’t the emotion that sprung up in me, but how safe it felt to let it show. Simon hadn’t rushed to fill the silence or tried to fix anything. He’d simply understood, and somehow that made the moment feel lighter instead of heavier.
‘Thanks again. That’s another item of my Christmas bucket list sorted for this year.’
He smiled quizzically. ‘I’m sorry, your what?’
I looked over my shoulder at Josh. who was pointing to a list of cocktails and discussing the tweaks he would like made to them. He was a regular Sally from When Harry Met Sally when it came to his cocktails.
‘It’s my first Christmas in London, and kind of my last…’ I mumbled the end of my sentence and cleared my throat. ‘And Megan, Josh and I kind of have this plan – it’s sort of all the things we’ve said we’d always do if I was ever in London – one of them was the Christmas Pudding Race.’
‘And the others?’ Simon asked, clearly curious as he leaned forward on his arms.
‘Drink mulled wine in Covent Garden.’ I smirked.
‘Ah, well, I know you did that already.’
‘Yep. Others include eating dinner in an igloo.’
‘An igloo?’ he repeated.
‘Apparently it’s a thing.’ I shrugged. ‘That was one of Josh’s ideas.’
‘Okay, that I understand. Any others?’
‘Buy something Christmassy from a market, go ice skating.’
Simon nodded, still smiling. ‘No light shows?’
‘We saw the lights at Carnaby Street,’ Megan said, suddenly appearing at the table. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Nothing much,’ I said, leaning back and making sure she had plenty of room. ‘I was just telling Simon all about my Christmas bucket list.’
‘Ahh, yes, the famous list of things that we always said we would do if Evie spent a Christmas in London,’ Megan laughed. Clearly her husband had finally answered the phone.
‘Is Alex okay?’ I asked quickly.
‘He sounds like he’s at death’s door.’ She grinned. Obviously, Alex sounded realistically ill still and therefore unlikely to have been having a secret shag with a neighbour or one of Megan’s relatives.
Simon’s brow furrowed in confusion over Megan’s oddly assigned glee.
‘It’s a long story,’ I said, and he shrugged as if this was a fair enough explanation.
‘So how are you two friends?’
‘I feel like I should be asking you two that,’ Megan said, winking between me and Simon. ‘You never really told me how you two knew each other the first time we met.’ Megan pointed between herself and Simon.
‘I did tell you.’ I blushed. ‘I bumped into him and then bumped into him again.’
Now was not the time to say that I was really quite happy to be bumping into him again and again. In fact, I was thinking of making it a habit over Christmas.
‘Sounds like the opening of Bewitched,’ Megan said, not pacified. ‘I need details!’
‘She did bump into me.’ Simon laughed. ‘Clearly, Evie is not known for her coordination. Today’s Christmas pudding was the victim today.’
‘Don’t judge my Christmas pudding!’ I lightly threw one of the beer mats at him.
‘What about you two? You’re best friends, I assume?’ Simon pressed.
‘She’s practically my sister.’
‘Practically?’ Megan repeated, mock-offended. ‘I am your sister. We lived together for over ten years after all.’
I rolled my eyes, thinking I might as well tell Simon the whole story, if abridged, to avoid the sympathy-scene repeat.
‘After my mum passed away, I went to live with Megan and her family. I was still at school, but we met when we were at nursery, so I’ve known her my whole life. At least, as far back as I can remember.’
Simon nodded, smiling at what sounded like a sweet story once you’ve removed all the chemotherapy, funerals, and therapy that preceded and followed the initial move.
‘And then we met Josh at university and we all lived together while we studied, or rather Megan studied. Josh and I weren’t the best students,’ I admitted with a laugh.
‘Eight years ago.’ Megan shuddered. ‘How can it have been so long since we graduated?’ She went back to looking at her phone to check her WhatsApp for messages from her husband.
I shrugged and played with the beer mats, just as Simon had been doing. ‘It probably feels like a long time ago for you since you’ve actually lived a life since then. I’ve just travelled.’
‘Travelled?’ Simon repeated. ‘I don’t actually think I’ve asked you yet, what you do?’
‘Oh, I’m…’ I began but Josh interjected, fanning himself with the cocktail menu as he returned from the bar.
‘She was a fabulous personal assistant to a world-famous celebrity, but now she’s moving to Toronto to become a world-famous TV producer in her own right.’ He took his seat with a balletic flourish.
My eyes flickered to Simon. He hadn’t known about the move to Toronto and since this friendship – he had called me his friend after all – was so new, it seemed like a bit of news that he might seem a bit surprised by.
If he was, though, he hid it very well.
‘Wow…’ he said after a moment, looking from Josh to me. ‘That sounds like a really exciting career.’
‘It’s not bad.’ I shrugged. ‘I get to travel a lot, which is why I haven’t been able to do most of the things on our list.’ I was really wishing my negroni was here so I could take a sip of it to fill the space I suddenly felt between me and Simon.
‘You should check out her TikTok!’ Josh said, suddenly pulling his phone out of his back pocket.
‘No!’ I said, lurching across the table to get it. But he was too quick, and I heard my voice suddenly reverberating around our booth. Simon leaned over Josh’s shoulder to watch, an intrigued smile on his face.
Josh opened the app to a video of me at one of Pim’s guest appearances in New York. I had walked past Radio City at 2.00 a.m., after a night shoot in Central Park, and had chosen to dance and record a voice-over later about the event. It was a good night.
But witnessing Simon watching it made my stomach curl into a knot.
‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ Simon muttered quietly, but sincerely.
‘Stop it,’ I groaned, shrinking into the table.