‘One from The Body Shop, a nail polish one,’ I paused and sucked in my bottom lip. ‘And one that turned out to be full of cat treats.’
‘But you haven’t got a cat?’ Manny replied, confused.
‘Yes, well,’ I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. ‘Didn’t realize until I’d got it home from the supermarket, did I?’
The inside of the windscreen fogged up as he exhaled heavily. I reached forward to rub it down with my sleeve then cracked my window open. The heating was broken again meaning we had the luxurious choice of being freezing cold or red hot for the entire three-and-a-half-hour drive up home. Even though he spent more money fixing the Volvo than he would spend on buying a brand-new car, Manny refused to consider junking the old thing. It had belonged to his dad which meant the topic was not up for discussion.
‘Right, let’s make sure I’ve got this straight, last year it was five advent calendars, a fully decorated tree in every room of your house and a deeply annoying jumper that played “Jingle Bells” every time you breathed, and now I’m supposed to believe you’ve randomly gone full Grinch and decided to bah humbug the whole thing off?’ he scoffed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Not full Grinch. More like a partial Grinch, just the Grinch tip.’ I unwrapped another chocolate and watched the cars blur into one another on the other side of the carriageway. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind, as you well know.’
A couple of months ago, I would tell anyone who asked (and plenty of people who didn’t) that my life was perfect. I had an amazing job at Abbott & Howe,one of the oldest and most prestigious law firms in England, and I was so close to being promoted to junior partner, I’d been having borderline erotic dreams about my new business cards. I lived in a lovely house in lovely west Hampstead with my lovely boyfriend and we were talking about potentially considering adopting a dog. Everything was moving in the right direction. At least it was until my lovely boyfriend declared he was leaving me for Justine, his receptionist, and I had to move out of my lovely house. Shortly after that, I had something of a meltdown at work and now, when I looked at myself in the rear-view mirror, it seemed likely that the RSPCA would put me up for adoption before they allowed me to take charge of a living, breathing animal.
‘So now he’s not only the chump who broke your heart, he’s Michael Darden, the dentist who stole Christmas?’ Manny asked with a scowl. ‘I knew I should have punched him in the nuts when I went to pick up your stuff but no, you told me not to.’
My stomach performed a clumsy death drop into my pelvis. More than three months and I still couldn’t hear his name without wanting to wash my hair in honey and headbutt a beehive.
‘Like I said, you can’t punch him in the nuts because it will make things weird if we get back together,’ I said. ‘And wecouldstill get back together.’
Manny tightened his grip on the steering wheel but said nothing.
‘I saw a TikTok that said men who are about to make a major commitment need to stretch like an elastic band, to test their boundaries before they come back to you.Michael could be stretching.’ I was babbling. I knew I shouldn’t want him back, but I couldn’t help myself. I missed brushing his blond hair out of his green eyes before we kissed. I missed the way he always put the coffee on before I woke up. I missed coming home to hear him shouting at the television then turning it off and pretending he was reading. I missed us. Everything fell apart when we did, and all I wanted was my life back the way it was.
‘The only thing he’s stretching is his receptionist’s vagina. You are thirty-two, you are not allowed to get relationship advice from a fourteen-year-old on TikTok who has skim-read her nan’s copy ofMen Are from Mars, Women Are from Venusthen made up a dance about it,’ he replied. I bit my lip to stop myself from telling him it was actually a very well-choreographed routine. ‘You’ve got to let him go. You’ve been in goblin mode for far too long – you don’t go anywhere, you don’t do anything and you haven’t posted so much as a half-decent meme in weeks. I rely on you for all my astrology content, it’s really not on. No one else cares about my moon sign, Gwen, no one.’
‘Been trying to stay off Instagram,’ I muttered, clicking my fingernails against each other. Michael hardly ever posted, but seeing his face hurt in just the right way. Nevertheless, Manny had a point. I felt all wrong. It was as though I’d been put through a hot wash and I’d come out the wrong shape. Fundamentally the same but irrevocably buggered. ‘I’m officially changing the subject. Talk to me about work, are you excited to go back?’
‘Yes?’ I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt all the wayup and over my face. For someone who wanted me to cheer up, he was going the wrong way about it. ‘Next question.’
‘Are you going to tell your mum and dad what happened?’
‘Absolutely not and neither are you,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want to worry them.’
Or deal with how impossibly disappointed they would be if they knew what had happened.
‘What if they want to be worried?’ Manny countered. ‘They are your parents, you know.’
‘And they have enough on without me adding to their load,’ I reminded him. My job was to smooth things over when Manny stayed out too late and didn’t call, when Cerys got her nose pierced without permission, when Dad got drunk at Aunt Gloria’s second wedding and told her it was about time she got a good seeing-to and Mum didn’t talk to him for a week. Whenever we hit a bumpy road, I was there to smooth it out, with good grades, a smiling face and absolutely no drama.
‘Anyway, it’s not that big of a deal,’ I added. ‘I probably made things sound worse than they were when I told you what happened.’
He did not look convinced.
‘I’m not sure how you could make it sound any better. I’ve had nightmares about it and I wasn’t even there.’
And that was exactly why I couldn’t tell my parents.
‘I’m serious, there’s nothing to tell them,’ I insisted, fighting off flashbacks of flying staplers and high-pitched shrieks. ‘Once I’m back at work, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. All I want is for life to go back to the way it was, back to normal.’
‘Whatever that means.’ Manny took his hand off the gear stick to squeeze my knee. I smiled and covered his hand with my own. He truly was the best cousin a girl could ask for and I knew I was lucky to have him. Even if he did buy us Amazon gift cards for Christmas. ‘I know it’s been a rough couple of months but I think this is exactly what you need. Broken-hearted big-city lawyer comes home for a family Christmas in the country? All that’s missing is for you to meet a member of the landed gentry who’s fallen on hard times and needs free legal advice.’
‘What if I get snowed in at the pub and meet a visiting prince from a very small Scandinavian country?’ I suggested with a grin. ‘It’s a shame we don’t have a family bakery that needs saving as well.’
‘Or a failing shop that somehow has survived until now selling nothing but Christmas ornaments and is about to be put out of business by a mega corporation? Although you never know what Nan’s been up to in our absence, I wouldn’t put that one past her.’ He held his hand out for another sweet and I rummaged around in the tin for his favourite. ‘I’m serious though, let’s make a pact. You are going to have a perfect Christmas. Twenty-four hours with your nearest and dearest, no worrying about ex-boyfriends or London law firms or how long it’s been since you had your highlights done.’ I reflexively reached a hand up to my sad hair. ‘Nothing but pure, unadulterated, festive joy and more Ferrero Rocher than you can shake a stick at. Then, when we get back to town, we’ll set fire to your sweatpants and all will be right with the world.’
‘That does sound nice,’ I admitted, warming to at least part of the idea. ‘Everything except for the sweatpants.’
‘Fine,’ he said with a grunt. ‘You can keep your elasticated waists but you have to give me a fifty per cent increase in goodwill to all men and promise to join in all my reindeer games.’