Chapter 15 #2
Josie shrieked, flinging soapy dish water at him, and laughing as he chased her into the living area, whipping his tea towel at her legs.
“I’ll thrash every last one of you,” he threatened the rest of the family, who were sitting by the fire, sorting out tree trimmings.
“David. Put that down and come help,” their mother scolded from the sofa, with a pretense of sternness but a twinkle of joy at her eldest’s exuberance.
The tree took a full two hours to decorate, which took them through the whole of the King’s College Cambridge’s Nine Lessons and Carols classical album, plus some of a cheesy Christmas pop compilation.
When they were done, David turned off the overhead lights, and Josie switched the tree lights on again.
“Ta-da!” she repeated, with far more enthusiasm than the first time.
“Aahhh,” chorused her family with varying levels of sincerity. But it was spectacular.
They stood in awed silence for a moment. Then her brother exclaimed, “Presents!” and grabbed the bags full of gifts from the hallway, emptying them out under the tree with little respect for any fragile contents, arranging them in clusters according to who the gifts were from.
“In groups by gift-receiver, surely?” Josie offered. “Then you can see what you’re getting and be excited.”
David shook his head. “Nope. I want to give out all my presents personally. Plus, if it was grouped by receiver, Theo’s pile would be 782% larger than anyone else’s.”
“Fair point.” Josie grinned, then yawned. “Okay, I’m off to Bedfordshire. Night-night, everyone.”
“Night, Bosie.” David and Laura each gave her a hug.
“Good night, darling.” Her mother lifted her face, as Josie bent to kiss her forehead.
Later, Josie lay in bed with the light on for a long time, listening to the sounds of the house settling down, too full of joy from the perfection of the evening to sleep.
All the people she loved the most, safe, in one house, her beautiful childhood home, all at the same time, at Christmas. Well, apart from the fact of Dad being gone, of course.
Oh, and Rob.
Shit.
Mustn’t forget Rob.
* * *
“For the sake of Auld Lang Syne!”
The tiny pub erupted in cheers as a dozen of David’s closest friends, mostly male bankers and stockbrokers, some accompanied by glamorous partners and wives, toasted the New Year.
David grinned, held up a finger in the air to demand a moment’s attention, steadied himself theatrically, and chugged down a pint of lager in a matter of seconds.
He held up his empty glass to more raucous cheers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shaking out his surf-blond, shaggy hair.
Josie shook her head at him in mock disapproval, laughing. He bared his teeth at her in their trademark fake smile and loped over, slinging his arm around her shoulder.
Enjoying having the floor, he announced to the group, somewhat drunkenly, “Lads, I have news. Those of you who are here pretending to celebrate NY Eve, but are actually here to hit on my NY-dwelling sister, in the hopes her amnesia will make her forget what sleazeballs you all are — well, you’re shit out of luck because she hasn’t lost her senses or taste. So, give it up.”
This speech solicited a couple of groans, and one of the guys grabbed his coat and made as if to leave while Josie squirmed.
David laughed, pinching his sister on the cheeks.
He always managed to make her uncomfortable while focusing enough on her to show she mattered more to him than any of his friends.
“Thanks a bunch.” She punched him quite hard on the arm. “I do so love having you discuss me like I’m some trophy.”
“Ha! You are most welcome, dear sis. No, seriously, you’ll be thanking me when Graeme isn’t running his hands all over you later. Considering you came out in a slut-dress, I had to do something to protect you. I mean, cover yourself up. Have you no respect?”
Josie smoothed down her blue dress, which was admittedly a bit cleavage-exposing, but nothing outrageous. “What’s wrong with it?”
David bared his teeth and ruffled her hair, messing it up. “I’m joshing. And it’s thanks a lot, not thanks a bunch. Now go be nice to the Real Housewives of Islington — I’m off for a pint.”
“It’s my round. What are you having?”
“Thank you, but if I let people buy me drinks all night, I’ll never get to chat up that hot redhead at the bar. Wish me luck.” He made for the bar, slightly unsteady.
“Good luck!” Josie called after him.
She watched him push somewhat obnoxiously past a couple of people ahead of him at the bar, maneuvering himself next to a pretty girl with flame-red hair who was waiting for a drink.
He said something to her, and she turned to him, an eyebrow arched.
Then her face broke into a smile. He was a charming bastard, Josie thought with an inward laugh, and kept watching.
They were in a packed, ancient pub on Fleet Street in the heart of London. But as far as Josie was concerned, there could be nobody here but her and David. To be able to celebrate New Year’s Eve with him, when he had died more than two years ago . . . it was beyond miraculous.
Her brother’s miraculous resurrection had distracted her over the past weeks. It was almost enough for her to stop thinking about where Rob might be, or who with, this New Year’s Eve. Almost. But increasingly, as her return to New York approached, she’d been thinking about her husband again.
In this world, she figured Rob was spending the holidays with the glamorous Surin. Horrible as it was, that thought at least made some kind of sense. After all, here, Rob didn’t even know her.
But what about in the world she’d left behind?
Had Josie simply disappeared from that Rob’s life?
Or had she switched places with another version of herself — the Josie who really lived in Brooklyn and whose brother was alive?
Was that Other Josie with her husband, right now?
Had she kissed him at midnight?
Josie swallowed. There was a familiar knot in her stomach, but her dark reveries were interrupted by someone putting their hands over her eyes. “Guess who?” said a gruff, male voice she instantly recognized.
“Charlie!”