Chapter 3
‘You were a bit harsh on the new girl,’ Jerry said to Stacey as they sat together on the top deck of the bus later that evening and stared out at the inky-black night sky.
‘I know,’ said Stacey. ‘I feel bad now but, well, she’s got everything I haven’t, hasn’t she? A degree, her freedom and all that excitement over Christmas. I just couldn’t stomach it. I mean, I dream of enjoying Christmas but it’s just one big fat pain in the backside, as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Well, bah humbug to you,’ said Jerry. ‘I’ll say hello to the Grinch when I next see him, shall I?’
Stacey shook her head. ‘I know I sound like such a misery but Christmas is already ruined for me.’ She turned to look at Jerry. ‘Freddie got engaged.’
‘Grace’s dad?’
‘Yeah, and it’s all over bloody Instagram. He took her to Lapland and proposed. Can you believe it! I struggle to get child support out of him or even buy Grace a Christmas present, but he’ll buy a woman he met online six months ago a diamond ring and take her to see Santa.’
‘That’s harsh,’ agreed Jerry.
Stacey struggled to stop a tear falling down her face.
‘And they’re planning a super-quick wedding. Her parents are loaded, apparently. I reckon she’s pregnant and she wants skinny designer-dress photos, not fat bloaty ones.’
‘Oh, Stacey, I’m sorry,’ said Jerry. ‘That’s a lot to deal with.’
‘It is,’ she sniffed. ‘All I see is him swanning around having a great time, going here, there and everywhere, and I’m stuck at home. He never sees Grace, never offers to have her. He couldn’t give a damn. And in the meantime, I’m rotting in a tiny flat at twenty-nine years old and my only dinner date is a seven-year-old with possible ADHD and a nut allergy. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret having Grace for one minute – I have no idea what I would do without her – but … but I need a life. I think I might be going slightly mad. I need to get out more. Just once every so often. I don’t need to be a party animal – those days are gone – but I want to feel like I’m twenty-nine, not forty-nine, and go to Christmas parties and get hammered on cheap champagne and then snog someone under the mistletoe. Now that would really make my Christmas.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Jerry.
‘No sex, though,’ stated Stacey. ‘Absolutely no sex. Did you know that Grace was conceived on Christmas Eve?’
‘No, you have never told me that.’
‘I blame George Michael,’ she continued. ‘If he hadn’t recorded “Last Christmas” I wouldn’t have gone all weak at the knees and succumbed to Freddie’s non-existent charms in Ellie’s spare room.’
‘Too much information,’ said Jerry. ‘But George Michael does have a lot to answer for, God rest his soul.’
Stacey nodded. ‘They should ban sex at Christmas. All that slush and romance weakens your defences. December should be kissing only month. No one should be allowed to have sex at Christmas.’
‘Well, there’s a rule I would have no problems keeping.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Stacey, turning to him. ‘I forgot to ask about your self-inflicted celibacy.’
‘No need to apologise. But you’re right, the festive season makes it much harder not to have sex. Everyone else seems to be happily falling in love under fairy lights and mistletoe and then having sex to George Michael, but not me.’
‘Has he still not made a move – seriously – coffee-shop man? How long has it been now?’
‘Oh, four months, three weeks, seven days, four hours and thirty-five minutes, to almost quote the goddess that is Laura Linney.’
‘Wow. I’m sorry. That is tragic,’ said Stacey. ‘How often do you see him?’
‘Every single day after work. Ever since he walked through the door of my coffee shop and I complimented him on his brogues and we didn’t stop talking for an hour and he said he hoped to see me again and I said I come here every day after work and then he said, well, I’ll see you tomorrow then. And we shared a look. I’ll never forget that look. We both knew he would definitely be coming to see me the next day. And he did. And the next day and every day since. I mean, who does that unless they’re interested? I think I’m giving the right signals and the chemistry seems so good and we get on soooo well and we talk – we have the best conversations, honestly we do – but the moment I think he’s going to make a move, ask me out on a proper date or something, he runs off like a startled rabbit. Like he’s scared of something.’
‘You could make the first move?’
Jerry went bright red.
‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘I just can’t. I need it to come from him. I mean, if I ask him and he says no because I’ve read it all wrong, then he may never come into the coffee shop again and then I’d have lost him as a friend too.’
‘You need to get them to play “Last Christmas” on repeat in the coffee shop, and if that doesn’t get him to come on to you then you’re done. There isn’t a romantic bone in his body as far as you’re concerned.’
‘Maybe,’ said Jerry. ‘I fear I’m destined to be alone under the mistletoe for Christmas yet again, eating my Christmas lunch for one whilst pining for the man of my dreams.’
‘You and me both, mister,’ said Stacey, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘You and me both.’