The man with the perma-tan throws the rest of his drink back and wraps his coat around his shoulders like a cape. He leers at me as he struts past on his way to the door.
‘What was that all about?’ Ed stares after him as he leaves.
‘Nothing. Are you really having a scotch? You’re brave.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ed waves the bartender over.
‘It must have been about four when you finally made it into bed.’
‘I’m hardcore,’ Ed says, with a slightly fragile-looking grin.
‘Was Izzy similarly incapacitated?’
‘I hardly saw her.’ Ed orders our drinks. He can say what he likes about being hardcore but his hands are shaking. ‘Why, what has she said?’
‘I haven’t spoken to her today.’ I don’t mention that she hasn’t replied to my messages. Is she really that hacked off about a carpet? There was that time at school she refused to speak to me for ages because I bought the same Jansport rucksack as her. So maybe she is. Ed’s expression relaxes as he takes a sip of his drink.
‘Shall we go to our table? I hope you’ll like this place. One of the guys from work recommended it.’
I follow Ed to the lectern by the entrance where he gives our names. A moment later, the maître d’, a man with the stereotypical slicked-back hair and pencil-thin moustache of a French waiter, leads us to a table by the window. I can see the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral and the glitter of the city lights laid out before us.
‘What a view,’ I say.
‘I second that.’ Ed smiles at me and I blush.
‘So how was your day?’
‘Long and painful.’ A waiter is hovering at Ed’s shoulder. ‘Red or white?’ Ed asks me.
‘Either.’
‘We’ll have a bottle of the Chablis.’ Ed points at the menu. ‘And can we get some bread to go with it?’
‘I’m starving,’ he says when the waiter’s gone. ‘I didn’t even get the chance to leave the office at lunch today. Flat out. How was your day?’
‘Good. I finished all our wrapping. I’ve put the stuff for your family by your suitcase. I added some chocolates for your mum.’
‘Thank you.’ Ed takes my hand across the table. ‘She’s going to need the sugar to deal with the nephews.’
‘I got an extra large box.’
‘Superstar. Next year you can give it to her in person.’
I don’t want to reignite that discussion. ‘On another note, I think I might have found us a wedding venue.’
‘Really?’ Ed lets go of my hand to dive into the breadbasket.
‘Okay, so it’s in Surrey. I did look at London but everything seems to cost a fortune. I figured Surrey wasn’t that far for people to come.’ Ed looks a bit doubtful. ‘It’s this beautiful old stately home and they’ve got a chapel on site if we want. The grounds are gorgeous and you get the use of all the rooms in the hotel as part of the package.’
‘I guess it depends on how much you reckon your dad’s prepared to fork out,’ Ed jokes.
He sees my face and winces. ‘I’m sorry, baby. Bad joke. He might surprise you though.’
‘Unlikely. You know he’s always complaining about how much things cost in Dubai. Anyway, this place is surprisingly reasonable. I’ve made us an appointment to go and see it the second weekend in January.’
‘You know January’s going to be pretty busy for me at work.’ Ed picks up the menu. ‘I’m not sure I’ll have that much time.’
‘We can fit it around your work,’ I know he’s a workaholic but I shouldn’t have to sell this. ‘It’ll only take a couple of hours.’
‘Sure.’ Ed starts flicking through the pages. ‘But let’s not become one of those couples who can’t talk about anything but their wedding. I’m knackered. Shall we skip starters and go straight for mains?’
And he holds up his hand to order before I can answer.
9.54 p.m.
I wait until we get home to give Ed his Christmas present. I was going to do it at the restaurant, but he seemed distracted and I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I don’t like to blow my own trumpet but I’m sure he’s going to love it. Ed’s wallet was a gift from his dad before he died and it’s falling to pieces. For Christmas, I got him an exact replica and had his initials embossed on the front. I can’t wait to see his face. I wait until he’s in the bathroom, then I lay the distinctive Smythsons blue box on his pillow and lounge on the bed next to it. In short shorts and a camisole, it’s the best I can do seduction-wise on short notice. When he comes into the bedroom, wearing his pyjama bottoms, his face doesn’t disappoint.
‘What’s this?’ He comes to his side of the bed and picks it up.
‘Open it and see.’
When he pulls the wallet out he can’t stop stroking the leather, twisting it around and examining it at every angle.
‘I noticed the one from your dad came from Smythson,’ I explain. ‘This should be an exact replica.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Ed sounds almost choked. ‘It’s perfect. We’ll have to get you a matching one.’
‘You know I can’t be trusted with something that nice. I lost my wallet twice last year,’ I remind him. ‘Why don’t you switch all your stuff to it now? Or I can do it for you.’
I reach for his wallet but he moves it out of range.
‘I’ll do it in a minute. I need to thank you first.’
He starts kissing my neck, burying his nose in my hair. ‘You smell so good.’ He slips the strap of my vest off my shoulders and starts kissing my neck.
‘Hey, what about my present?’ I joke. But he dips his head lower.
‘All good things come to those who wait.’ He slips his fingers under my shorts, down into my knickers, pushing the flimsy cotton away. His breath is warm on my face as he whispers in my ear: ‘I can stop if you want but…’
I pull him on top of me. I want to feel close to him.
‘Who needs presents anyway?’
10.33 p.m.
‘So do you want your present now?’ Ed props himself up on his elbow. He seems to have cheered up since the restaurant.
‘You mean that wasn’t it?’
‘Ha ha.’ Ed gets up and goes over to the chair where his suit jacket is hanging. He fumbles in the breast pocket and pulls out a thin, white envelope. He hands it to me with a flourish. ‘There you go.’
I look at the envelope. For our first Christmas together, he took me to Paris, but his current work schedule doesn’t allow much time for romance. Last year he got me the same perfume as his secretary. I know not to get my hopes up. It’s not his fault. I haven’t been into Christmas since my mum died anyway. I slice open the envelope with my fingernail and two tickets fall out.
‘Les Mis.’ Ed beams. ‘I remember you saying you’ve never seen it.’
‘They’re amazing.’ I give him a huge smile. It’s Phantom of the Opera that I’ve never seen but Ed looks so pleased with himself, I don’t want to burst his bubble. ‘I can’t wait. We could make a real thing of it. Do dinner first and have champagne at the interval.’