‘No, but I do feel sick,’ I replied, leaning forwards with my head between my knees. ‘Manny, you’re not going tobelieve me and I don’t know how to explain it but today has already happened.’
‘Oh, I believe you, it feels like we were just here. Shortest year ever,’ he sighed as he sat down beside me. ‘Come on, let’s go downstairs and I’ll mix you a mimosa.’
Looking up at my dress hanging on the wardrobe, I shook my head.
‘I mean it, I have lived this Christmas Day already. Yesterday was today and today should be Boxing Day but it isn’t unless you really are lying to me and Manny, I am freaking out.’
Manny pulled back to get a better look at me, saw the panic on my face and frowned.
‘It’s too early and I’m too sober for nonsense. What is going on?’
How was I supposed to explain?
‘Christmas Day was yesterday. I went to bed last night and when I woke up this morning, it’s like I’ve travelled back in time,’ I said, trying to get the tremor out of my voice. ‘I swear on Adam Driver’s life.’
‘Gwen,’ he said, horrified. ‘Think about what you’re saying.’
‘I’m telling the truth!’ I insisted. How could I make him believe me? I hadn’t felt this confused and frustrated since theSex and the Cityreboot. ‘I don’t know how else to explain it. I’ve already lived through this exact Christmas Day. We opened presents, ate turkey, argued with Oliver, I saw Dev Jones from next door, there were fireworks, then Cerys went mental and told Dad about all the work stuff and it snowed and I had to sleep on the camp bed and, Manny, I swear to you. It’s not déjà vu, it’s not a glitch in the matrix, it’s not a bad dream.I’m telling you, I have already lived this exact day and you know I would never, ever lie to you.’
Manny stared at me, every possible expression flitting over his open-book face.
‘So what are you saying, we’re in aGroundhog Daysituation?’ he said eventually. ‘And you’re Bill Murray?’
‘Yes. I’m Bill Murray.’
‘Am I Andi McDowell?’
‘No, you’re the groundhog,’ I replied. ‘That or I’m having a complete psychotic break.’
He cocked his head to one side and raised his eyebrows, eyes wide with possibility. ‘Well …’
‘It’s not a psychotic break,’ I insisted, reaching out to slap his bare legs. ‘This is real and it’s scary and you’ve got to help me, Manny, I need your help.’
‘I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you use those words,’ he said softly, taking a seat beside me on the bed. ‘You never ask for help.’ My lower lip trembled as I looked at him, my frenzy softening into fearful hope. ‘I want to believe you, I really do. Tell me one thing that happens today, something you couldn’t possibly know unless you’d been through it already.’
‘Like what?’
He screwed up his wide mouth and wrinkled his nose. ‘What are we having for dinner?’
‘The same thing we always have for dinner on Christmas Day,’ I replied. ‘That’s a terrible question, ask me something else.’
‘Everyone’s a critic,’ he pouted. ‘Fine. What am I getting from your mum and dad?’
Most of the events of the day were all too easy to remember and not because they were cherished memoriesI would treasure forever, but I hadn’t really been paying attention to Manny’s gifts, I was far too interested in my own. Creasing my forehead with the effort of recollection, I saw him sat by the tree, cup of tea in one hand a bacon butty in the other and … ‘Bedding,’ I answered finally. ‘You’re getting bedding. John Lewis, very nice.’
He stared at me for a moment, an uncertain look on his face before he burst out laughing.
‘You total knob, you almost had me there,’ he groaned as he bounced off the bed. ‘Very funny, Gwen. Get your arse downstairs, I want a bacon sandwich.’
‘And it’s going to snow this afternoon,’ I said confidently.
‘Thank you, Carol Kirkwood. That’s hardly proof, is it? They’ve been saying that all week.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I jolted upright and jabbed my finger in the direction of his phone. ‘I caught you sending a dick pic! In your room, after dinner, wearing nothing but reindeer antlers and oh myGodwhy did I have to remember that?’
‘What did you just say?’ Manny reared back as though I’d told him I’d snogged Boris Johnson for a laugh.
‘At dinner,’ I explained, finding myself strangely energized. ‘You had an argument with Oliver and you stormed out and I came upstairs to see if you were all right and you were … you know.’