Annie let out a long drawn-out sigh. “As if I don’t have enough to think about right now, she goes and does this to me. And I was so looking forward to Christmas at her house,” she said.
I stared at my laptop, still reeling over my cancelled holiday. “I was looking forward to Christmas too,” I replied.
Annie chuckled. “You sound as miserable as I do?”
I hadn’t meant to moan. Annie clearly had enough problems with Emma, without me dumping on her as well. “Not at all,” I said, trying to sound perkier. “It’s nothing I can’t figure out.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” she asked.
Annie always did know me well. “I’m sorry, Annie,” I said, realising there was no point pretending. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I sighed. Images of white sandy beaches, deep blue seas, and golden sunshine flitted through my head. I saw balmy evenings where I sipped cocktails from coconut shells, the blissful rhythm of calypso music playing in the background. I thought about my packed suitcase, zipped up and airport-ready. “I’m not going to the Caribbean. Jeremy cancelled the whole thing.”
“You’re joking.” Annie’s voice oozed compassion. “Oh, Holly, I’m so sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” I said. “He didn’t even have the grace to tell me.”
“The bastard! And there’s me wittering on about my daughter.”
“Don’t be daft.” I recalled all the support Annie had given after Jeremy’s departure. “You’ve listened to me talk about my problems enough times.”
“So, we’re both up shit creek then?” Annie said, as if resigned.
“What do you mean?” I asked, wondering if there was more going on than she’d said.
“That you’re not the only one with man troubles. It’s not just Emma’s living arrangements that are concerning me.”
“Since when?” I said. That was news to me. I’d known Annie for years and never seen her as much as look at a chap.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not what you think,” she said, as if reading my mind. “As I still need to get away from that daughter of mine, why don’t I tell you when I see you? Pub? Half an hour?”
Usually, I’d have jumped at the chance of a night on the town but needing to figure out what to do about Christmas I wasn’t convinced that was the best way to get my head around things.
“I’ll give you my shoulder to cry on, if you give me yours?” Annie said, in response to my silence.
I chuckled, supposing it was either that or stay home and unpack my suitcase. “I guess a couple of hours sharing our woes might help,” I said.
Annie let out a laugh. “In my case, there’s no might about it.”
I smiled, telling myself I could eat while I was out. “Okay. Make it forty-five minutes,” I replied. “And you’re on.”
5
Seven days until Christmas
“Never again.”
If I had a pound for every time I’d said that, I’d be a very rich woman. Not that I could work out how rich, thanks to the raging hangover beating a drum in my skull. Lamenting how much it hurt, I put a hand up to my head and felt something stuck in my hair. Pulling it free, I stared at a piece of tinsel, its silvery fronds mocking me.
Tossing it to one side, I flipped the duvet back, hauled myself out of bed and threw on my dressing gown. Making my way to the bathroom, I avoided looking in the mirror as I stood at the sink and turned on the cold tap. The morning after the night before was never pretty in my experience and deeming myself to be in enough pain, I didn’t see the point in damaging my eyes too. I stuck my dry mouth under the flowing water, quenching my alcohol-induced thirst with gulp after gulp until I struggled to breathe and drink at the same time. Straightening myself up, I wiped my mouth with the back of one hand, while slamming the tap off with the other. “What were you thinking?” Yet more words that could have increased my bank balance.
Going downstairs to the kitchen, I went straight to the coffee machine. Short of a head replacement, I knew if anything was going to sort me out, it was a strong dose of caffeine. As I set about making my coffee, I asked, Why, oh why, did I do it to myself? Before my thoughts turned to the previous evening.
The pub had been packed thanks to a works Christmas party and as was usual when it came to these things, people revelled in boisterous excitement.
“Merry Christmas!” people shouted over the music.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” others replied.
High-spirited conversations, Rudolph reindeer sweaters, and Santa hats abounded. It seemed everyone looked forward to a bit of downtime and merriment. At least, everyone except me and Annie.
Making our way through the crowd, we secreted ourselves in a corner away from the hullaballoo. We wore no sign of yuletide gaiety and while such a fun-filled atmosphere might not have been conducive to two women in need of drowning their sorrows, drown our sorrows we did.
“I can’t believe my holiday’s been cancelled,” I said, staring straight ahead.
“I can’t believe mine has!” Annie replied, her gaze following the same direction.
“I was so looking forward to getting away. Being waited on hand and foot.” I pictured hunky smooth-voiced barmen and poolside servers in colourful shirts, all happy to attend to my every cocktail need.
“Me too. To have someone else cooking Christmas dinner for once. Or more to the point, to have Emma cooking it.”
Keeping our eyes forward, we both sighed, before picking up our wine glasses and simultaneously taking a long, hard swig.
“All to get his money back.” I frowned in confusion. “Who lets their girlfriend catch them in bed with another woman and then sticks the boot in for a second time?”
“An argument over a restaurant menu. Who leaves their partner because their lasagne didn’t come with a cheese sauce?”
“In a way I blame myself. I should have kept an eye on that booking.”
“I definitely blame myself. I’ve raised a monster.”
We both took another drink.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said. Having spent nine months insisting I wasn’t going to Mum and Dad’s for Christmas, I could just see Mum’s smug expression at any U-turn on the issue. “My mother’s going to be in her element.”
“Whereas I know exactly what I have in store,” Annie said. “Running around after that daughter of mine, instead of her looking after me. The girl’s never done anything for herself.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“I hear you,” I said.
We clinked our glasses together and downed the last of our wine.
Now in the cold light of day, my thoughts fast forwarded to later in the evening and I cringed, envisaging the stick I was in for when I next saw Annie. Not that I had long to wait, I realised. We were due at work together in less than twenty-four hours.
I didn’t have the voice of an angel when sober, never mind when drunk, and as I pictured myself, microphone in hand, belting out George Michael’s Last Christmas on the karaoke, all the while meaning every single word, I had to ask myself what I’d been thinking. By then, I’d obviously forgotten my woes, stolen someone’s Santa hat, and embraced the Christmas spirit, because I was not giving up that mic for anyone.