‘I didn’t really say anything.’
‘You listened. That helped me sort my head out.’
It’s sweet of Rich to credit me but I know he’d have come to the conclusion on his own.
‘I mean it. I needed someone to tell me Izzy could handle it and that I should wake up and smell the roses. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
I go to reply, and I don’t know quite how it happens, but all of a sudden my wine glass is lolling on the floor, the contents seeping into the carpet. My hands are wet and Rich is covered in splatters of wine that make him look like a slasher victim.
‘Oh my god, what happened?’ Izzy’s voice could cut glass. She hurries over to inspect the huge purple mark ballooning onto the carpet. Against the pale pink, it looks like a particularly vicious bruise blooming on the skin of a face.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I begin, but Rich cuts in.
‘My fault.’ He holds his hands up like he’s being arrested. ‘I lost my balance and knocked into Bec. Did I get you?’
‘I’m sure there’s no harm done.’ Izzy sweeps her eyes across my dress. ‘The one advantage of navy means nothing shows up on it.’
‘Have you got any white wine?’ Ed is on his haunches examining the stain. ‘It might neutralize the discolouration.’
‘I don’t think white wine will stand a chance against this.’ Rich nudges it with his foot. ‘It’s no biggie. We were talking about redecorating this room anyway, weren’t we, darling?’
Izzy makes a visible effort to iron the frown out of her forehead. She doesn’t mention that they’ve just finished redecorating this room, but the carpet and the new chandelier glinting overhead give her away. ‘You know I never say no to a project.’
‘Of course, we’ll pay for a new carpet.’ Ed brushes fluff off his trousers and gives me a squeeze.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, mate. It was totally my fault.’ Rich insists.
‘Nonsense. Bec’s the one who dropped the glass. We don’t want to put you out.’
‘We can sort it out later. Let’s not let it ruin our evening.’ Izzy brightens. ‘Can I get anyone another drink? Bec, you need a whole new glass, hon. Maybe you should stick to white this time?’
Despite Izzy furnishing me with another, smaller glass of wine, the party breaks up shortly afterwards. Rob has a client early in the morning and the other guests follow him out the door. Ed and I stay another half an hour but the energy’s gone out of it, like flat champagne. When Ed says we should go because he might have to head into the office in the morning, Izzy makes vague noises about staying for one more but I can tell her heart’s not really in it.
‘I’m sorry about the carpet,’ I tell her when we’re standing in the doorway together. Ed’s gone onto the street to flag down our driver so I don’t have to walk in my heels.
‘Don’t worry, you can get me a new one for Christmas.’ She’s staring over my shoulder, tracking Ed’s progress.
‘I don’t mind paying for it.’ I start shivering. It seems to be getting colder.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I was joking. It’s fine.’ Izzy’s face looks pinched. ‘Now, I probably won’t have time to see you before the big day but you’re still coming, right? No last-minute plans to head north and celebrate with Ed?’
‘Of course I’m coming. I come to you for Christmas every year.’ I don’t mention that Ed wasn’t thrilled when I told him I wanted to continue the tradition this year. In the end, he conceded he’d hardly given Christmas with his family – particularly his feral nephews – the best sell. I told him I’d use the time by myself to do some wedding planning and promised to come with him next year. ‘Are you sure I can’t bring anything? I know you said chocolates but I could do starters as well. Or maybe a pud?’
‘You know we don’t do starters on Christmas Day. And Jenny’s already doing the Christmas cake. Chocolates are fine. They’re coming for twelve sharp, does that suit?’
‘I can come earlier?’ Last year, I went over at the crack of dawn and we got tipsy on Buck’s Fizz before she started cooking. It wasn’t the best Christmas dinner but it was a laugh.
‘Twelve’s better. I’m sure you’ll want to spend the morning talking to your family and Ed. Speaking of which, that must be your Uber.’
She points at a black Lexus crawling down the street. It pulls up outside and Ed rolls down the window.
‘Two secs,’ I call. I turn to Izzy, needing to ask. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay with us?’
‘Everything’s fine.’ The note of impatience in her voice makes me feel like a needy boyfriend.
‘Positive?’
‘Look, Bec—’ Izzy’s sentence is cut off by the sound of a small voice calling ‘Mummy’ from inside.
‘For Pete’s sake, it’s like that child doesn’t need any sleep at all.’ Izzy grits her teeth. I look past her and see Tilly’s heart-shaped face peering out from between the bannisters.
‘Do you want me to come in and help?’ I seize the opportunity to get things back on track. ‘I could start tidying up while you put her to bed? Ed won’t mind going home alone.’
‘Thanks, Bec, but I’ve got this. Go home and have a lie-in. Ed’s heading up north next weekend, isn’t he? You should be with him.’
And with that, she steps back across the threshold and closes the door, leaving me standing in the cold.
Seven
Thursday 20 December
4.01 p.m.
On the last day before the magazine closes for Christmas, Tina, our editor, tells us we can all knock off at 4 p.m. I’ve spent most of the day looking up wedding venues and sending the links to Ed anyway. The issue before Christmas always goes to press early and the place is like a ghost ship. Normally I linger in the office, tidying my desk and making sure my inbox is empty. Today I’m first out the door. I leave the rest of the team cracking into a bottle of prosecco sent in by an advertiser and leg it to the lift. If I hurry, I can hit the shops and pick up a few last-minute bits before the after-work crowd floods the high street.
Clearly I’m not the only one to have this idea. I step out of the building into a tide of people with bright scarves and sharp elbows pushing and shoving their way towards Oxford Street. With five shopping days left until Christmas all the shops are open late and the whole street’s rammed. Part of me is tempted to give up and go home. I’ve done all my Christmas shopping already. But I have something special in mind for Tilly. I’m so excited I don’t think the day will be the same without it. I duck into the passageway that leads directly into St Christopher’s Place to escape the tramping feet. It’s not much quieter. The whole square’s lit up like a fairyland and the restaurants are teeming with people and office Christmas parties. I duck past a crowd wearing particularly garish Christmas jumpers and cut up through the back streets towards Selfridges to pick up Tilly’s present.
Despite having to jostle for space when I get there, I find myself pausing outside the entrance, staring at the window display. Mum used to bring Rob and I up here on the first day of the Christmas holidays to see the decorations. Sometimes Rich and his family would come and we’d get a milkshake in the American diner around the corner. Tonight’s futuristic setting of Father Christmas on the moon, complete with shiny red space suit, is a far cry from the traditional windows we used to see in our childhood. But it makes me think of Mum. I smile. She’d be chuffed I was spending Christmas Day with Jenny and David. Which reminds me, I may as well have a browse to see if there’s anything they’d like. I pull open Selfridge’s shiny brass doors and step inside. Before I go to the children’s department, I nip into the books section.