She didn’t beat around the bush this time, like she had when she’d discussed it with Eloise. She just smiled, laughed breezily, and lifted her prosecco glass. “Oh, I’m not. Well, not until Christmas afternoon. I’m working through Christmas Eve.”
George’s head tilted to the side. “Is this to do with Dave’s job?”
She nodded, grateful he didn’t question her Christmas spirit. This was why she liked George so much. He got it. “Yeah. I need to show them I’m serious if I want to be in with a real chance.”
“That makes sense. And I bet you’ll actually get peace and quiet going home Christmas Day. The trains’ll be mad the couple of days before, with everyone trying to get home.”
Cara’s eyes widened, and she gestured a little too enthusiastically with her glass, almost sloshing prosecco everywhere. George smiled at it, eyes twinkling as they crinkled at the corners. “Exactly! This is what I mean! And it’s like, so much cheaper – but according to Eloise I’m just being Scrooge. I’m not, right?”
“Absolutely not! I’m staying in the city over the holidays completely. All my mates will be around for New Year’s, and I’ve got so much work to try and get through – year end deadlines, you know. My dad and step-mum said they’d like to get some winter sun, so I told them to go ahead. Might as well, eh?”
Okay, now maybe that was a step too far. “You told your parents to go away for Christmas? You won’t see them at all?”
“They’re going to come visit in the New Year. I’ve got a few days off. I’ll take them to see a show; they always like that.” He tore a pizza crust in half, concentrating on it for a moment before looking up at her through his fair eyelashes. “You could come with us, if you like. If that’s not too presumptuous. I’ve –” He cut off with a laugh, blushing. “I’ve told them all about you. Is that weird? I know we’ve only had a few dates but …”
“Oh, my God, no, I’ve done exactly the same thing with my parents about you!” Maybe the prosecco had made her bold, or maybe she was just excited to hear he was as keen on her as she was on him. Cara grinned at how relieved he looked to hear it.
They finished up their meal and walked hand-in-hand to the cinema around the corner, and Cara thought the lights all looked a little more magical already.
She wasn’t being a Scrooge. Christmas in London was already looking up.
Twenty days to Christmas
“You need a hand with that?”
Eloise huffed, turning to look over her shoulder at Number 3, who was bundled up in a pea coat, woolly scarf and beanie hat, bracing himself for the cold. He smirked at her, and she doubted the offer was a serious one.
Jamie Darcy, her neighbour, put the arsey in Darcy.
And right now he looked more than a little miffed that she was blocking the stairs, jangling his car keys from the end of one of his leather-gloved fingers.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, breathing a little heavily. She was sweating inside her coat. The bloody tree wouldn’t fit in her Polo, and she’d had to take the bus. Which meant carrying the eight-foot thing up the hill to the block of flats, earning glares whenever a rogue pine needle jabbed someone who got too near. The single flight of stairs up to her front door was the real struggle, though.
Jamie stepped to one side, watching her struggle to drag it up another step. “Isn’t that a bit too big for the flat?”
He would know: the flats on this street were all identical. Six in a building, two per floor, and seven block-like buildings of them curving around the street. And while they were reasonably spacious, they probably wouldn’t fit an eight-foot tree easily.
“It’s not for my flat.” God, she really had to get to those cross-fit classes more. Or, like, at all. “It’s for the school.”
“Right. And you’re stuck with it because …?”
“Because I offered to pick it up. Because some of us like to do nice things for other people at Christmas.” And because when the head had asked her to get it, she couldn’t exactly turn around and say no, not when she’d made such a big deal out of how much she loved Christmas, getting stuck into the nativity and setting up lunchtime craft classes with the kids to make their own decorations, or decorate Christmas biscuits. Plus, she was the one who’d found a real Christmas tree within budget. She’d kind of made it her responsibility.
“Alright, hint taken. Mind out the way.”
Before she could object, he brushed past her. Apparently immune to the pine needles poking through the netting, he hoisted it up, wrapping his arms around it.
Eloise tripped out of the way, fumbling in her coat pocket for her keys and unlocking the door so Jamie could drop it just inside the hallway. He looked around, curious, taking in the wooden white-painted snowflakes hung on red string from the ceiling, the tinsel around the canvas on the wall, the reams of wrapping paper spilling out of a box she’d left out in the hallway.
“It’s like an elf threw up in here.”
“I went for an understated look this year,” she deadpanned, although it wasn’t a lie. Last year she’d tacked up those shiny concertina things all over the place. Josh had hated them though, so she’d donated them to the school after a week of him complaining.
Of course, she could have whatever she liked in the flat this year.
The thought still kind of stung.
“Yeah, looks like it.”
“Thanks for the help,” she said a little brusquely, by way of telling him to stop trying to see the rest of her flat and leave now, please.
Jamie had been in the building a couple of months before she’d moved in, in August last year, and even though they’d been polite enough to each other, he always gave the impression he had somewhere better to be. She’d never taken much of a liking to him – and Eloise prided herself on being someone who made an effort to get on with everyone. (She’d had to when Cara had always been such a social butterfly at school, the one who everyone wanted as a friend.)
“No problem. But, um, quick question – how exactly are you planning on getting that to the school? Or even back downstairs?”
“Someone’s giving me a lift. Someone with a big enough car to fit this tree. They’ll give me a hand.”
Jamie nodded, and gave her a cursory smile as he stepped back out. “Fair enough. See you.”
“Yeah, see you. Thanks again.” And she shut the door behind him.
The stress of the tree finally off her shoulders, she sagged against the door, sighing out heavily before kicking off her boots and tossing her coat and bag onto the chair she left near the door purposely for that. She’d hang the coat up later.
She flicked the kettle on and padded into the living room to put the TV on, flipping through the channels and settling on Film4. It was one of the Fast & Furious movies – not as festive as she’d have liked, but one she didn’t mind joining partway through.
The sound of the kettle boiling pulled her back to the kitchen, but not before she snapped on the fairy lights. She’d laid a string of them on the cabinet the TV sat on, and of course there were the ones on her own Christmas tree. It was a five-foot, slightly sparse-looking thing, but once she’d smothered it in tinsel and baubles and multi-coloured fairy lights (and, of course, some Cadbury tree chocolates) it was perfect.
And a sit-down with a movie