‘Okay, Scrooge, since when have you hated present shopping so much?’ I spin back around and almost sideswipe a singing Santa. ‘Oops, sorry, Mr C!’
He grins at me as he carries on his happy rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’ and I sing along, digging in my handbag for my purse. I pull it out, take out a note and stuff it into his collection bucket.
‘Merry Christmas, you wonderful man!’
Coco gives a bemused laugh as she digs out her own donation and hurries to catch up.
I send her a look. ‘What?’
She shakes her head, her gorgeous hair tumbling about her shoulders, a far more sensible number of bags in her hands as she projects the perfect runway image. ‘What is going on with you?’
‘Nothing. It’s Christmas. It’s the season to be jolly and merry and bright.’
‘There’s jolly, merry and bright, and then there’s jazz hands on a densely populated street.’ She clutches one of my waving arms and drags it down, making me pause and look at her. Her brows are drawn together, her green eyes seeing far too much.
My stomach gives a tiny lurch. ‘Nothing’s going on with me. I’m just being me.’
I turn on my heel and carry on walking, my eyes on the shop windows, looking for inspiration, distraction, a deflection.
‘Not true,’ she says, hurrying into step beside me, her eyes not leaving my face. ‘You’re crazy, wired, talking ten to the dozen. I mean, you’ve always been a tad manic, but these last few months you’re like a battery-powered bunny...and I don’t mean the X-rated version.’
No, she wouldn’t because, let’s face it, I haven’t been seen to in that sense since her wedding night...not that she would know that either.
Not only have I not been seen to, I’ve not been able to forget that night, not for a second.
I laugh to cover up the heat swirling deep within, the sudden sickness that always follows when I remember the next morning and my empty bed.
‘You know me, I love this time of year—I love Christmas!’
It’s the season of giving, of hitting the shops and seeking out the perfect gift, getting merry with family, with friends, being social. Not that Coco and I have done much of that lately, not since her Married status. But hey, it is the season to be jolly and I will be that in spades, even if it kills me.
‘You say that.’ She sidesteps a giggling group of women wearing what belongs on a beach in the Caribbean and not London in winter, but I guess the alcohol they’ve already consumed is doing the work of layers for them. Lucky women. Maybe I ought to try it. Coco touches my arm, drawing my attention back to her and the fact she is still speaking. ‘But it was the same last month, and the month before that, and don’t even get me started on October. You do remember the chaos you caused at my Halloween party, don’t you?’
My cheeks flush a little. ‘It wasn’t my fault. I told the guy there would be kids present. How was I to know he’d drop his kegs as he serenaded you with Happy Birthday...?’ I stifle a real giggle over that. ‘You’ve got to admit it was kind of fun though? A little twist on Marilyn Monroe?’
I know the smile she gives me is a reluctant one and I do feel a pang of guilt because she’s right; I should have been more thorough when choosing the entertainment for her surprise birthday party at Halloween. Instead, I’d been too busy keeping myself busy to look into the details properly. It’s lucky I’ve not made a similar mistake at work and launched a PR campaign—an event even—with a similar faux pas. My company would be finished, my career with it, and then I’d have something other than my current celibacy to blame Jackson for.
‘Anyway, it was most definitely a surprise all round,’ I continue. ‘A surprise on top of a surprise, so to speak.’
Now she laughs, a real laugh, and I feel my shoulders ease. Good deflection.
‘It was definitely that. And I’m no Scrooge, by the way.’ She crosses her arms. ‘I’m just saying I’d rather be sipping mulled wine in a festive bar and finding out what’s been going on with you these past few months than traipsing through the shops and getting taken out by rogue shoppers.’
‘Tut-tut. If this is what marriage does to you, you can keep it; you are d-u-l-l at the mo.’
She stops walking and my words hit me like a slap in the face. I know I’ve taken my I’m all right, Jack too far and I look back at her, guilt written across my face. ‘Just ribbing you.’
‘You’re not though.’
‘I am. I’m just, you know, adjusting to having my best friend married off and losing my wing woman on club night.’
Club night? What club night? My conscience is the one laughing now. You’ve not been clubbing in months.
She switches her bags into one hand and hooks her arm through mine. ‘Hey, I’m sorry I’ve not been around as much. You know that, right?’
I give her an apologetic smile. ‘I know. And I’m sorry for accusing you of being dull—you’re not, at all. I just miss you; I miss our nights out together. But you and Ash have visited the most amazing places in the world these last few months and you make each other happy. And that makes me happy. Truly it does.’
I squeeze her arm, desperate to convince her. It’s not Coco’s fault I envy what she has. It’s not her fault I succumbed to a night of crazy with Jackson, only to have him run. Well, not quite run. He was stuck in the same wedding party as me for three days, but I might as well not have existed for all he looked at me.