Journey to the Centre of Myself (25 page)

I laugh and laugh. ‘But I thought you liked Trolls?’

Maybe not fully grown up just yet.

Mirelle types quickly, as if she is a very hard worker, which she can be. However, it has never happened immediately upon walking into the office and certainly not on Christmas Eve. Usually, we eat chocolates and share Christmas plans.

‘You can’t avoid the subject forever, you know.’

‘Can’t hear you.’ Tap, Tap, Tap.

I walk around and pull her headphones out of her ears. Then I put them in my top drawer, the lockable one. Click.

‘Spill.’

Mirelle sighs. ‘It’s degrading. First, I fall in love with that middle-aged thing,’ she wafts her hands toward the door, ‘and now I’ve slept with a Troll. A small, balding, little man who, for some reason, chooses not to treat me like the higher ranking league tabler I am, but gives me constant grief about my princessy ways and makes me,’ she whispers, ‘beg for it.’

‘So why, oh Premier League, are you putting up with it?’

‘Because,’ she sighs, ‘he’s not small everywhere.’

I’m not sure I want this impression of Shaun in my mind. In fact, it’s being lasered across my vision, inflicting pain. ‘So, you’re bonking him cos he’s got a big one?’

‘I went to his house from yours. Stayed there all day and came from there this morning. Tried to demand drinks, food, breakfast in bed.’ She rubs her temple. ‘He made
me
get up and make drinks—and I
made them
. It’s obvious I’m having a breakdown, Amber. You need to help me.’

‘Erm, is it possible that you might actually like Shaun?’

‘Amber… I even like these little Trolls. What’s happening to me?’

‘I have a confession to make,’ I say, ‘about Christmas dinner.’

‘He told me you’d invited him. Erm about that…’

I realise what’s coming before she says it. ‘Okay, I’m getting the picture. You’re going to spend Christmas in bed, aren’t you?’

‘We might make it round for lunch...?’

‘No it’s fine, you two stay on your own. You’ll put me off my dinner.’ I picture all the food I’ve bought; it fills the fridge and the freezer. I could have settled for a microwave meal for one after all.

‘Thanks, Amber.’

‘No problem. Not only the turkey getting stuffed this Christmas then?’

She looks at me, disgusted, and then falls about laughing. ‘Nope. Anyway, where are all the chocolates? You’re slacking.’

‘Yes, well, you go get the coffee on, cos if you can make a drink for Shaun, you can make one for your bestie. After which I need to fill you in on the last couple of days, cos you’re not the only one with a story to tell.’

I fill Amber in on the Steve/Adrian situation and tell her about Karen.

‘So now you’re having dates with your boyfriend’s sister when you thought you were dating her husband, and you’ve already taken her job?’

‘I met her for a coffee, yes. She’s nice. Has her own problems.’

‘You don’t like a simple life, do you, Amber?’

‘It would appear not.’

‘So what did she say about Adr… err, Steve?’

‘That I should cut him some slack. He’s recently come out of a difficult marriage and the divorce is acrimonious because they’ve been arguing about custody of a dog.’

‘Sounds woof.’

‘Mir, I’m becoming seriously worried about you.’

‘What can I say? It’s a Christmas Mir-acle. I’ve fallen for a panto dwarf. So what are you going to do anyway? Are you going to give peace a chance?’

I volley a troll at her. ‘Seriously stop, you’re scaring me. I really don’t know. What I do know though is that I’m not thinking about it over Christmas. It will be me, lots of chocolate and the Christmas Doctor Who.’

‘I feel like I’m letting you down. I’ll ditch Shaun and come over as planned.’

‘No, you won’t, I’m actually quite happy to be on my own.’ As I say the words I realise I mean them. I’ve had enough of other people for now. A couple of days to myself will be lovely. No need to leap out of bed on Christmas morning. I can open my few presents when I like. I won’t have to share my Bucks Fizz. Also, I can eat chocolate for breakfast. Then I can snuggle and read my new book. Ooh, and I can wear my onesie
all
day.

‘What are you smiling at?’

‘I’m looking forward to Christmas.’

‘Me too.’

We chink our coffee mugs together.

We play Christmas songs through the computer. It’s a lovely day and although it’s not a nice thing to say, I like the fact that Jo’s not around and we can talk freely. Smithy has also taken this week off on annual leave, so we’re not expecting him to walk in at any moment.

‘What do you think it’ll be like in the New Year when he’s back?’ Mirelle asks

‘If he’s any sense, he’ll act as if nothing happened and carry on as normal.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Oh, by the way, that reminds me. Andi came in this morning. They’re going to advertise my job permanently. She says now they’ve streamlined they can finalise the post.’

‘Are you going for it?’

‘Yes. It’s what I need, a bit of stability.’

‘You’ll get it. I doubt anyone else will go for it. People have only just taken their new roles. I’m sure they won’t want to change round again.’

‘Fingers crossed. I do feel guilty about Karen though. Oh sorry,’ I say, remembering that it was because of Mirelle that Karen no longer has a post.

‘Well, though I feel bad about what I did, it meant I got to meet you, so I can’t regret it too much. Plus I kept my own job, which I need to survive. Karen has a husband.’

I don’t explain that this is not necessarily the case. It’s not my business.

‘Anyway, you don’t have Karen’s job, you have the parts of it. Karen’s job was split between several people to save money. The whole place has been streamlined, there were far too many of us. Now it looks like it’s getting sorted and I for one will breathe a sigh of relief if that means no more redundancies.’

We get to finish at two and stroll over to the pub for a quick one before we hug each other and wish each other a lovely Christmas.

I’m home for four and let myself into the house. The heating was set on a timer and the house is cosy and warm. I change into my onesie, starting early, grab my book and snuggle on the sofa. I cook the little Christmas snacks I bought for the day; pigs in blankets, prawns in filo pastry, mini quiches. I bring them through to the lounge and work my way through the lot. Flaky pastry covers my onesie and the sofa but I don’t care. I knock it to the floor or eat it. I watch some Christmas programmes and have a couple of vodkas. At the stroke of midnight, I wish myself a Merry Christmas and then I reach for my mobile and send Will a text.

‘Merry Christmas, Will, from a sober(ish) Amber. Wishing you all the best for the New Year.’

There’s no response. Not that I really expect one.

I hover over the keys, thinking about whether to send Steve a text. If I do, then I’m saying it was okay what he did, the lies. I’m not letting myself have the space I need to think. I put my phone down.

A little after one my phone beeps. Steve has sent me a text. It simply reads, ‘Merry Christmas.’ No begging for a second chance, just season’s greetings. I send back, ‘you too.’ Of course, this proves a mistake because then my mobile rings and it’s him. I turn off my phone and go to bed, pausing as I close the curtains to look up the street. I stare at all the Christmas decorations inside the windows and in the gardens. The weather is still. There’s just a slight glistening of frost. It glints under the glow of the streetlights. I feel warm, calm and Christmassy. I snuggle under the duvet, knowing I have nothing to get up early for, no to-do list. It’s lovely. I spread myself out on the bed, sleeping diagonally, with my legs on the other side. Then I consider it’s no longer another side, it’s all mine. I perform a satisfied yawn and tuck the top of the duvet tightly around my neck so no cold air can get in.

I’m woken the next morning by a knock on the door. Who the hell is waking me up at—I look at the clock—ten-thirty?

It's Shaun and Mirelle.

‘We know you said you were okay with us spending the day at Shaun’s but then we thought about you all on your own at Christmas and thought, nope, we need to be there.’

‘I’ve brought a turkey,’ says Shaun, staggering in with a bag full of food.

‘No really, it’s okay,’ I say, trying to cover my mouth with its foul, stagnant breath. ‘You two get yourselves back home, I’m fine.’

Shaun raises his hand. ‘No, we don’t want to hear another word. We’re here and I promise that Mirelle will keep her hands off me so you’re not uncomfortable.’ Mirelle punches him in the arm.

‘Here,’ Mirelle hands me a huge box. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘But we already exchanged gifts?’ I question.

‘This is from me,’ says Shaun.

I open the box. It’s a set of kitchen knives. ‘I figured you’d probably broken the last one. On the sofa,’ he says, looking pleased with himself.

‘Yep, funnily enough, it didn’t do it a lot of good.’

‘Well, seeing as you've got a turkey to carve this afternoon, I thought it would make just the right gift.’

I kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, it’s very thoughtful.’

He beams.

‘You’re such an ass-licker,’ says Mirelle.

‘Now, Mirelle. I told Amber that you’d desist from talking about our undercover action.’

Mirelle’s jaw drops.

‘You are so owned by that one.’ I shake my head. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

‘Yes, well, I’m still me, so maybe you could explain what you’re wearing.’

‘I thought I was spending the day alone.’

‘Well, you aren’t, so for God’s sake do something with yourself.’ She goes to sit on the sofa and has to pick up plates to get to it. She hands them to me. ‘Give those to Shaun and bring me a dustpan and brush. You’re living like a hobo.’

I salute her.

‘Appearances at all times, Amber. What if Ian Somerhalder turned up at the door?’

‘I’d turn him away and tell him I’m only interested in a man in a blue box who, I might add, could go back in his Tardis and turn up at a time when I looked nice.’

‘What if the tenth and eleventh doctors turned up at the same time? Which would you turn away, clever clogs?’

‘Well, none of course. I’d wish myself a
very
Merry Christmas.’

I walk off with the plates in my hand and a smile on my face. If only, eh, if only?

Shaun has insisted on taking over the majority of the cooking, saying he finds it relaxing. Myself and Mirelle are pulling crackers and generally getting rather merry on the Christmas sherry. Food will be at three, so I’m working my way through chocolates for brunch.

Just after twelve the doorbell rings.

Karen stands there. ‘Hi, Amber. Is it okay if I come for lunch after all? I tried to call and text but it said you were unavailable, so I popped round on the off chance.’

I remember I haven’t put my phone back on since last night. ‘It’s no problem, come in.’

We wander through to the lounge. I do introductions. ‘Shaun, who you saw briefly at the party and Mirelle, of course you already know each other from work.’

Everyone shakes hands and then the doorbell goes again. I shrug. ‘Don’t know who that could be.’

It’s Steve.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.

‘I’ve been sitting in my car.’ He points across the road. ‘I’ve been wondering whether to come over. After you sent me that text last night, I didn’t know where I stood. I tried to ring you back…’ He runs his hands through his hair. ‘Look, I just came here to say Merry Christmas, see if you’d talk to me. I’d have come last night, but I’d been drinking… Then while I’m trying to get up the courage, I see my sister walking up the driveway.’

‘I have an invitation,’ Karen says to him, having come to the door. ‘You were told to wait it out and see what happened,’ she says to him.

‘I couldn’t, okay? So here I am—Merry Christmas, Amber. There, I’ve said it and made a total fool of myself… I’ll go now.’

‘Plenty of extra food, Amber,’ pipes up Shaun from the kitchen doorway.

Karen looks at me.

‘Oh, what’s one more?’ I say. ‘You may as well stop for lunch.’

Karen’s mobile beeps and she reads it.

‘Err, Amber, while you’re feeling like that. It’s Adrian—he’s just turned up at the house to spend Christmas with me, except obviously I’m here.’

‘Well, it would be nice to meet the ‘real’ Adrian,’ I say dryly, glaring at a floor fascinated Steve. ‘So what the hell—get him to come round.’

Everyone walks through and starts hanging up coats and getting drinks.

Mirelle takes me to one side. ‘Once again, Ambs, I have to ask. How do you get yourself into these situations?’

‘Shut up and pass me the sherry.’

Chapter 27