‘I'm not scared,’ I say.
‘It would be totally understandable if you were,’ Amy says. ‘After what happened.’
I shake my head. ‘It's got nothing to do with that.’
Amy looks sad. ‘Of course it has.’
I stuff the rest of the burger into my mouth and ignore her.
*
‘Excuse me,’ I say for perhaps the hundredth time. ‘Do you care about sick children?’
The guy in the red trousers and flashing Rudolf antlers looks me up and down, but doesn't stop. I shift from foot to foot and wonder how much longer until my break.
‘I swear to God,’ Amy says, appearing next to me. ‘They're paying eight quid for a glass of mulled wine and then shrugging at me and my bucket.’
‘Right?’ I say. ‘What happened to the Christmas spirit? And don't say they're drinking it.’
Amy pretend-pouts. ‘If you set them up, you should let me knock them out.’
‘Excuse me,’ Amy says to a woman carrying a Louis Vuitton bag. ‘Do you care about sick children?’
‘Get a proper job,’ she says.
‘What the –’ Amy starts to say, but I grab her arm and she says, ‘What?’
‘Joe.’
He's standing in the doorway and shaking the snow off his coat. And his hair. He stamps his feet and shakes himself again and I look around as if I can actually go and hide.
‘You're going nowhere,’ Amy says. ‘Look at him.’
I'm looking at him. He's completely gorgeous. My stomach bursts with butterflies and I press my thighs together.
He spots me and gives me a sort of tentative smile. I think my mouth is hanging open.
‘Smile,’ Amy hisses at me and then crosses back to her spot near the bar (the theory being the customers will drop their change straight in the bucket).
I try to smile, but it doesn't feel quite natural. I want to think of something scintillating to say to him, but all my brain comes up with is 'Excuse me. Do you care about sick children?' so I keep my mouth shut.
He comes over. ‘Hey.’
I can smell the cold air on him. I want to press myself against him and not only because it's so hot in here.
‘Hi.’
‘I'm really sorry about last night,’ he says.
I just nod. ‘No worries,’ I say. ‘I can't really talk now though. I'm working.’
It actually comes out much more brusquely than I meant it to. Or maybe not. Joe looks slightly taken aback. ‘Are you due a break?’
‘I don't know,’ I say. ‘I mean, I am. But I don't know when. I don't even know what time it is.’
‘It's just gone eight.’
I stifle a groan. We've only been here two hours and we've got another three to go.
‘I'll just go and get a drink, I think,’ Joe says. ‘Do you want one?’
‘I'm not allowed,’ I say and then curse myself for sounding about twelve.
I ask every single person who comes through the door if they care about sick children and actually get a few contributions to my bucket. I couldn't believe it when Patrick told us what we had to say. He said it's been tested and found to be the most effective wording, but it doesn't seem to be doing the trick here. My scornful looks to donation ratio is about seven to three.
I'm a bit overexcited after someone's put a fiver – a fiver! – in the bucket, when Amy comes over.
‘Put him out of his misery, will you?’ she says, nodding towards the bar. I look over and see Joe leaning on a bar stool and talking to Patrick.
‘He looks fine to me.’
‘He's not. He's confused. As far as he's concerned, you two had a great time, you were about to go on a date, he had to cancel and now you won't give him the time of day.’
‘If he hadn't cancelled –’
‘You probably would have,’ Amy says. ‘You forget how well I know you.’
I shake my head.
‘Look, I'm not saying you have to go out with him again, but he's a nice guy and he really likes you. Just go and have a drink with him.’
I sigh. I don't want to.
‘You'll get to sit down...’ she says, shaking her bucket at me like a pom-pom.
As I stand behind Joe, waiting to be served, I notice he's had his hair cut – there's a strip of white skin at the nape of his neck that I'm sure wasn't there before. I want to run my finger along it.
‘Ella, I'll get it,’ Patrick says to me.
Joe glances round and smiles at me, but it's not one of his usual beaming grins, it's much more half-hearted. I try to smile back, but I'm not sure I quite manage.
As soon as the barman's finished pouring my glass of red wine, I pick it up and gulp it.
‘You okay?’ Patrick asks me, frowning.
I move around so I'm standing next to Joe, but I can't bring myself to look at him again. Not yet.
‘I'm not a big fan of charity collecting,’ I say.
‘I know,’ Patrick says. ‘Sorry. But it's good to get in with these charities – they do a lot of corporates. You never know, they could book us for Movieoke next.’
I nod and drink some more wine.
‘Joe was just telling me he went to see the new Jason Statham last night,’ Patrick says.
I'm about to say I've never seen a Jason Statham film when I realise. Last night. Joe went to see a film last night. When he was supposed to be having dinner with me. He told me he had a family thing and then he went to see a fucking film?
‘I'm going to go outside for a bit,’ I say. My voice sounds strained, even to me.
‘Are you not feeling well?’ Patrick says. ‘Take Amy with you if you need to.’
‘I'm fine,’ I say. ‘Thanks. It's just hot in here.’
I cross the bar and pass Amy, who seems to be having a heated debate with some blokes in braces. Good. I don't want to talk to her right now. I don't know why I listened to her in the first place. I should have trusted my instincts. I'm so embarrassed and angry at myself. And at Joe. If he didn't want to go out with me, why the hell did he ask me?
When we arrived earlier, the ice rink outside was just being set up, but now it's open and it looks magical. The barriers surrounding it are strung with white icicle fairy lights and the helter-skelter on the green just behind it is lit up in red and white.
I flop down on a wooden bench seat under the awning of the bar and watch the skaters. A few people are skating properly in the middle, but they're outnumbered dramatically by the ones hanging on to the barrier and shuffling around the edges.
'It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year' is playing and the lights are flashing from blue to green to red. My vision starts to blur as my eyes fill with tears and I down the rest of my wine practically in one. I want to go home.
‘Ella.’ Joe sits down next to me. ‘God, you're freezing!’ he says. He starts to take off his coat.
‘I don't want it,’ I say. ‘I'm fine.’
‘I only just realised... about the cinema... When Patrick mentioned it, I wasn't thinking –’
‘It doesn't matter,’ I say. ‘Honestly. Go back inside.’
‘No, listen. I didn't even realise at first what he'd said. I was thinking about you. About how pissed off you were. And... I was feeling a bit pissed off too, if I'm honest.’
‘With me?’ I say. I look at him for the first time.
He nods. ‘Yeah. Because all I did was cancel dinner. It wasn't my choice. I would much rather have been with you.’
‘But you went to the cinema instead,’ I say.
‘Not instead of going out with you. Instead of going to dinner with my dad.’
I frown. ‘What?’
He shakes his head. ‘I bottled it.’
I stare at him.
He leans his elbows on his knees and looks over at me. ‘Pathetic, huh?’
I frown. ‘Why?’
He sighs, heavily. ‘He wanted me to meet some new business partner. Said it would be an exciting opportunity for me. And I
was worried I wouldn't be able to say no. That I'd end up agreeing to join the business and then... that would be it. I'd be stuck. So I went to the cinema instead.’
I laugh. ‘To see a Jason Statham film?’
He runs his hand through his hair, leaving tufts sticking up at the crown. ‘Yep. Sort of a punishment thing.’
‘What did your dad say?’
‘I haven't spoken to him yet. Avoided him at home – he's been at work most of the time anyway – and haven't answered his calls.’
‘Wow,’ I say.
‘Yeah. I know. Can you believe he thinks I'm irresponsible and I run away instead of dealing with stuff?’
‘Amazing,’ I say. ‘He doesn't know you at all.’
Joe shakes his head and grins at me. ‘So.’
‘I'm sorry,’ I say. ‘I overreacted. But... it was a big thing for me agreeing to go out with you.’
‘I get that,’ he says. ‘I do.’
He takes his coat off and drapes it round my shoulders. ‘I felt guilty for not giving it to you the other night.’
I smile. I want to tell him he warmed me up in other ways, but I don't.
I stare at the skaters on the ice rink. ‘Since my parents died,’ I say, ‘that's kind of how I feel.’ I point. ‘I'm just clinging on. And I'm waiting for the ground to slip out from under me.’
I look at Joe.
He nods. And then he says, ‘Fancy a go on the helter-skelter?’
The next three hours pass a lot quicker than the first two did. Joe hangs around for a bit and then once he's gone I distract myself from the mind-numbing boredom of trying to collect for charity from people who really don't want to be reminded about sick kids while they're out on the piss, by thinking about Joe. Wedged between his legs on the helter-skelter, his arms tight around my waist, his breath hot on the back of my neck. Feeling his erection pressing against my arse and wishing I could just forget about the job and go home with him. Or take him home with me.
And he asked me out again. I said yes, of course. Chapter 6
I see Joe as soon as he turns the corner and I'm not sure how to arrange myself while I wait for him to reach me. He's looking past me down the street, but then he sees me and his face transforms. He really is sickeningly gorgeous, in his big black coat, red scarf and beanie hat. I can see people checking him out as they pass him. It's not just his looks, it's his confidence; he is totally at ease with himself.
‘Hey,’ he says as he reaches me. I’m stamping my feet against the cold. ‘You look freezing.’
He wraps his arms around me and rubs his face against mine. His skin is warm. How can it be warm?
‘Are we eating here?’ he asks me, pointing at the Italian restaurant I'm standing in front of. The windows are steamed up and the smell of garlic has been driving me mad. I'm so hungry.
‘No, it's full,’ I tell him. ‘I asked before you got here.’
‘Do you want to walk along Deansgate and find somewhere?’
We cross Blackfriars Street and head towards Kendals. There are only a couple of shopping days left before Christmas, so it's really busy, but there's a sense of excitement – and, yes, panic – in the air.
We try a couple more restaurants, but everywhere is rammed. We end up in St Ann's Square at a pizza stall in the Christmas market.
‘It's a bit cold to sit outside,’ Joe says.
‘We could get it to take away. And eat it after.’
‘After what?’ Joe asks.
I raise one eyebrow.
‘Right,’ he says, grinning. He orders the pizzas and we practically run up Market Street towards my flat.
‘Amy? Lee?’ I shout as I open the door. ‘They're not here.’
Joe shuts the door behind us and I push him up against it, pulling his coat off, undoing his trousers, kicking off my boots.
We drop our clothes on the way to the bedroom and by the time we hit the bed, we're both naked.
Afterwards, I fetch the pizzas from where we abandoned them on the hall floor and bring them into bed along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘I could get used to this,’ Joe says, tipping his head back to lower a huge slice of pizza into his mouth.
‘The pizza? The wine?’ I ask.
‘The pizza, the wine, you.’ He kisses my shoulder. ‘I love these freckles. I always wanted freckles.’
I tip my head back and look at him. ‘You haven't even got any freckles? God, you really are perfect.’
He laughs. ‘Oh, I'm not perfect. I'm far from perfect.’
‘Really? How?’
‘I bite my nails.’
‘Oh, pfft. Everyone bites their nails.’
‘Toenails?’
‘Ew!’ I laugh.
‘If I'm in a restaurant and they start clearing up around me, it completely freaks me out.’
‘Big. Deal. Tell me something bad you've done.’
‘I stole a CD from a shop.’
‘A CD? When you were a kid?’
He frowns. ‘I was maybe seventeen?’
‘Teenagers steal. Doesn't count. Something worse.’
He lowers his head then looks up at me from under his long eyelashes. ‘I killed someone once...’
My stomach clenches, but Joe grins. ‘I didn't kill anyone.’
‘Phew.’
‘I've thought about it a few times. My dad, mostly.’
I open my mouth to speak. Joe says, ‘Shit. I did it again.’
‘It's “Oops, I did it again”, Britney,’ I say.
He reaches over and hooks his hand round the back of my neck, pulling me towards him. ‘I really am sorry. I almost never make inappropriate comments about parents and death when I'm not with you.’
I pick up a slice of pizza and cram it in my mouth, shaking my head. ‘That's good to know.’
‘I think it's one of those things when you know you shouldn't talk about something so your subconscious fixates on it, you know.’
I swallow the pizza. ‘We can talk about it.’
Joe shakes his head. ‘You don't have to. It's none of my business.’
I feel like the pizza's stuck in my throat, but I want Joe to stop worrying about it so I take a deep breath and say, ‘They were in Rhodes. They'd been going there for years. They always hired a scooter. Cos my dad had one when they were first going out together so it was a nostalgia thing, you know?’
Joe reached over and held my hand. I look down at our fingers.
‘You know what's coming, obviously. They crashed. They died. Mum immediately, Dad later in hospital.’
‘In Greece.’
I nod.
‘Did you get to see him before...?’
‘No. It was the next day. I got there the day after.’
‘I'm so sorry, Ella,’ he says. He squeezes my hand and for a second my throat's so tight I can't speak.
‘You're an only child?’ he says.
I nod.
‘I can't believe you had to deal with that on your own.’
I shake my head. Apparently I've lost the power of speech.
‘What about aunts or cousins or something?’
I count to three as I breathe in and three as I breathe out then say, ‘Not really. There's a couple of people, but we're not close. I tried for a while to see them more, but it was too forced, so... Now it's just me.’
I try to smile, but I can't quite make it work. Joe pulls me against him and my hand slides across his stomach.
‘I'm so sorry this happened to you,’ he says.
I press my face against his neck. I love the way he smells there.
‘I don't even know how you begin to deal with that kind of thing alone,’ he says, but his voice is starting to waiver.
I run my tongue along the edge of his earlobe and he says, ‘We can, ah, talk more about this later if you...’
I slip my hand under the duvet and the subject is finally changed.
Chapter 7
‘Oh my God!’
; ‘What?’ Joe says. He walks across the kitchen in just his boxers and joins me at the window. It's a good job we're not overlooked at the front of the flat. ‘Wow, it's really coming down.’
I noticed earlier that it had started to snow, but now it's pretty much a blizzard.
‘You should go before you get stuck here,’ I say.
He wraps his arms around my waist. ‘And leave you here alone in your sexy robe?’
I laugh. My threadbare dressing gown is far from sexy, although if I let myself think about what Joe did with the belt once we finally got the knot undone I won't be able to stand.
Joe's stomach rumbles against my back. ‘We ate all the pizza, right?’
‘Yeah, but I could make toast or something?’
I glance over at the microwave and notice the time. It's late.
‘I wonder where Amy and Lee are,’ I say. ‘They should be back by now.’
‘Where were they going?’
‘Some stand-up show? Lee wanted to check it out cos it has an open mic night.’
I rummage for my phone in the pile of our clothes that I transferred from the floor to the sofa and text Amy asking where she is and if everything's okay.
‘The bread was a bit mouldy, but I just cut the green bits off,’ Joe says. He's opening and closing cupboards.
‘Plates?’ I say. I open the right cupboard and hand them to him as he goes to the fridge for butter.
I suddenly feel completely freaked out. I only just met this guy and here he is in my kitchen like we're a proper couple, like we've been together for ages, like this is a relationship. I grab hold of the countertop and take deep breaths.
‘Are you okay?’ Joe asks.
‘Freaking out a bit,’ I mumble.
I glance over at him and he looks confused. ‘Is this too much? Do you want me to go?’
I tell myself that it's only temporary. That soon he'll be in Botswana and I'll be fine.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I'm okay. Thanks, though.’
‘Should I go and put some clothes on? Would that be better?’ He grins.
I laugh. ‘No. That would be a shame.’
‘Why don't we just sit on the sofa, eat the toast, have a cup of tea, watch some TV?’
All I Want for Christmas: a funny and sexy festive novella Page 4
