Chapter 30
Thankfully, my hangover was nothing a few paracetamols and a lot of water couldn’t fix.
Not to mention Josh and Megan, when they worked as a team.
Josh did wonders beating my face with all the make-up at his disposal, and Megan found a pink turtleneck, skinny black jeans, and a silver pair of Doc Martens I’d once asked her to look after – when I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase – which she’d never returned.
I guess sisterly theft had its benefits.
To stay warm in the Christmassy weather, I borrowed a woollen hat with a signature bobble.
‘The finishing touch,’ Megan said, layering her prized Burberry scarf around my neck. ‘Perfect. Now go. And have fun.’
‘What about you two?’ I suddenly realised I was leaving them alone on Boxing Day, with only a box of Denise’s delicious picky bits for tea.
‘Girl dinner!’ Josh chorused, wrapping an arm around Megan’s shoulder and Megan gripped his hand.
‘Maybe a glass of Shiraz.’
Josh sucked his teeth. ‘Oof! Too soon.’
I was prompt for my arrival at the South Bank, after getting an over-priced taxi I definitely could not expense.
I hadn’t even checked in on Pim over Christmas, but she hadn’t reached out to me, unlike Elijah, so she had at least decided to respect my boundaries over the festive period. For which I was very grateful.
Not many revellers remained in the city, now that the big day had passed.
Across the water I could see the lights of St St Paul’s Cathedral still lit for all the evening services, leading up to midnight mass and carols.
The London Eye continued to circle in the sky, lit up in blues and purples as tourists and Londoners gathered for the perfect Christmas view of the city.
It was a good night for it, chilly but clear.
Not a cloud in sight in the night sky, only the lights of passing aeroplanes and the reflections of the city across the rolling Thames.
I found a bench to sit on, exhaling with surprise at the cold iron as I sat, playing with my sleeves while I waited.
‘Watching the world go by?’ Simon asked from behind me a few moments later. I didn’t turn immediately, just smiled.
‘I thought I would get that last Christmas memory,’ I said to him, finally turning as he sat down beside me. In surprise, I laughed. He was wearing a suit, with a skinny black tie and a plain but smart black scarf. He crossed his arms playfully as I took him in. ‘What are you wearing?’
He scrunched his face up in jest, acting as if his wearing a suit was completely normal.
‘I thought I would go all out, seeing as it’s Boxing Day.’
‘Well…’ I was a little lost for words. It was a bit of a shock, especially given that I was sitting in a cosy turtleneck-and-jeans combo but, God, he looked handsome.
Kind of like a James-Bond-just-finished-fighting-a-guy-on-a-speedboat fantasy, with his windswept hair and slightly red face from the brisk air.
‘Sorry I missed you on Christmas Eve,’ he said, adjusting his scarf.
I shook my head and took his hand in mine confidently. It was surprisingly warm, as if he had just moved it from above a fire or from holding a cup of mulled wine. Maybe the flask was about to make a reappearance.
‘Don’t be sorry, I understand,’ I said softly, hoping the weight of my words would land properly. ‘I didn’t realise your mum had passed so close to Christmas.’
Simon inhaled quickly, his voice a little quieter. ‘Yeah,’ he said, almost distantly, like he wasn’t quite sure how to talk about it. ‘Christmas is always a challenge after something like that.’
I nodded. It wasn’t the kind of pain that could be fixed with words.
Not when the holidays were supposed to be about joy and togetherness.
‘After anything like that,’ I muttered, trying to keep my own feelings at bay.
‘I think more about my mum at Christmas than any time of year. Not her birthday, not her passing, not even my birthday.’
Simon’s breath caught. ‘There’s something about Christ-mas,’ he agreed, his his tone thoughtful. ‘It’s like… it brings everything up. Like it makes the emptiness stand out more.’
I didn’t say anything, I just found myself shrugging. ‘No one should be alone at Christmas.’
Simon’s voice came a little stronger, though I could still hear the underlying sadness. ‘And that’s why I volunteer.’ He smiled, knowing that his saintliness would make me groan. I was full of admiration for him, but I did love to tease his perfection.
‘You really put the rest of us to shame,’ I mumbled, still holding his hand and finding myself inching closer to him on the bench.
‘It’s just something I like to do,’ he argued playfully, leaning over to brush a loose strand of hair that had escaped from under my hat and was blowing across my face, and tucked it safely back underneath.
‘It’s all I know how to do,’ he admitted, almost reluctantly.
‘It helps me feel closer to my mum – she loved music as much as I do – but I don’t really know how to talk about it.
About her. About everything that happened after she passed away. ’
I felt a strange pull in my chest, like I wanted to say something to make it easier, but I knew there were no easy words. There never were.
He exhaled slowly, as if he was preparing himself for something more.
‘After my mum passed, things between my dad and me, they just… fell apart. He didn’t get it.
He was so caught up in work, in… everything.
And I was just a teenager, trying to find my way without her.
I think he expected me to go to university, as I was supposed to, but I chose music instead. ’
There was a bitterness in his tone now, and I could feel how much it hurt him to say it, like opening a wound he’d kept shut for a long time. ‘We’ve barely spoken since. It always turns into an argument. But it feels different now; as if enough time might have passed.’
‘Then why not reach out to him? Ask him to dinner?’
‘I’m volunteering.’ He smirked. And I laughed, wrapping my arm around his. ‘There’s always next year.’
I felt the tug of my heart as I thought ahead to where I could be next year, in Toronto, after my first year at Salient Studios, looking back at my time in London.
Could I do that? I wondered. After the joy of this Christmas – could I still make the move to Canada?
I said nothing and inhaled the cool air.
‘So where are you taking me for dinner?’
‘Ah, about that,’ he said with a cheeky grin that made me instantly suspicious.
‘You couldn’t get a booking?’ I asked, knowing full-well what bookings were like on Boxing Day, having had trouble getting a dinner reservation for Pim, until I found an opening at a reputable Chinese place in Kensington.
‘I did, but it’s a unique one. And we have to be out of there by ten at the latest.’
‘Works for me.’ I thought Megan and Josh would still be waiting up for me back at Megan’s at that point, ready to divulge and dissect my evening’s outing within minuscule detail.
It wasn’t so much a rarity that I went on a date, as a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it occurrence.
They had missed out on these experiences with me, and now we were all going to make up for lost time.
‘Right then.’ Simon smirked, standing but never releasing my hand, as he helped me from the cold bench.
He directed me down the bank, past the skate park and past the Southbank Centre.
Some men and women walked by in similar situations, hand-holds and smiles, admiring the view of the city on the last day of the Christmas season – before the New Year overwhelmed the South Bank with noise and fireworks.
Simon gave no indication of the name or location of the restaurant, even when I asked.
‘We’re not there,’ he said, and I said no more, letting him revel in his surprise. ‘How did you get on with your list in the end? The Christmas to-do list? Did you complete it?’
‘Mostly,’ I said, with pride. ‘Despite the slight ups and downs, I think the only things I’ve got left are the New Year’s Eve fireworks and dinner in an igloo, but we’ll have to skip the latter. I’m not even sure how Josh or Megan would have managed that. They get booked quite early, I heard.’
‘Right,’ Simon said, more seriously than seemed necessary. ‘I’ve heard that too, about the bookings.’ He said no more, but a suspicion rose in my mind.
‘Did you manage to book an igloo?’
‘Well, not exactly,’ Simon said, his cheeks flushed from the cool air and the effort of trying to remain charmingly na?ve.
He nodded with his chin over to his left and I turned to see where he was gesturing.
There, alone, on the South Bank, was an igloo.
Surrounded by security gates and bundles of other dismantled and collapsed igloos, one sat alone in the centre.
‘What the hell!’ I shouted excitedly, stopping in the middle of the South Bank to stare.
Inside was a small table and two picnic chairs. I could see some fleece blankets and electric candles, and a single Christmas rose in the centre of the table. ‘How in the hell did you manage that?’
Simon laughed, clearly thrilled with my reaction.
‘A buddy of mine is responsible for packing them all up. He’s held off on packing that one up, but he said…’
‘We need to be out by ten,’ I repeated his words from earlier, squeezing his hand and feeling an electric-like current coursing through me. ‘How did you convince the cook to stay?’
Simon’s smile faltered. ‘Ah, well, that little bit of the puzzle I couldn’t fix.’ He chuckled apologetically. ‘But I have a solution.’ With a gentle tug he pulled me forward.
He clambered over a security gate, before helping me clamber over as well, holding shamelessly on to my waist to place me down with as much grace as possible. His friend was nowhere to be seen, but would no doubt return to dismantle the last igloo as promised.