by Megan McCoy
“Joanne never seems to have minded all that much,” Graham mused. He was in his late fifties, with grey hair and glasses. “It was difficult for her sometimes when the children were small. But she just seemed to accept that this was the way I earned money, and that was that.”
“Helen says she’s sick of going to functions on her own,” Kane said. “I think this one was the final straw for her, because she had to go to her work’s Christmas party on her own. She said she’s not putting up with it anymore. And the travel editor’s job means a secure salary, so that’ll be handy too.”
“Well, I’d rather do a job I enjoyed for an insecure wage than one I hated for a more reliable income,” Mia declared.
“Kane might not hate the job,” Graham pointed out.
Jerome thought Kane would hate office life. Kane liked to be outdoors, preferring to write about hikes, campsites, and ski fields rather than museums, restaurants and bars.
“Perhaps it’s worth a shot,” he said, “for the sake of the relationship. Kane can always go back to writing if it doesn’t work out.”
He wondered what Holly thought about his job. She’d never said anything to indicate his being away so much bothered her. She hadn’t complained about this pre-Christmas trip to Bulgaria. But so far, they’d just been dating, really, even if those dates usually ended with him staying over at her flat or her at his. From Christmas Eve, things would be different. They’d be engaged.
Then, at some point in the next couple of years, they’d be married. And after that, there’d no doubt be children. They’d never discussed it, but Jerome hoped to be a father one day, and he sensed that Holly would like to have children too.
Holly had a good job and she’d want to keep it once they had kids. That meant they’d need to share the childcare. How would that work if Jerome was away travelling for several months of the year?
Maybe he should start thinking about becoming a travel editor too.
“I bet Helen’ll be fuming that you haven’t been able to contact her on this trip,” Mia said.
“Yep, I’m dreading the earful I’ll get about that,” Kane said.
“Not your fault,” Graham said. “Anyway, it’s been like the old days, when we didn’t have the internet or mobile phones, and you never contacted anyone other than your editor when you were on a research trip.” A wistful expression crossed on his face as he remembered trips from the 1980s.
“You’re the only one who remembers that,” Kane pointed out.
“I am sorry the trip has been difficult,” Boriana said. She looked miserable, no doubt anticipating less than enthusiastic write-ups of the new Bulgarian ski resort.
“Not your fault either,” Graham said.
The traffic started moving again, albeit slowly. Jerome gazed out of the window at the swirling snow. He’d discuss his job with Holly tonight, before he proposed tomorrow. He wanted to know what she really felt about it. She’d also had an office Christmas party to attend while he was away. Had it bothered her that he had been away for it? Or would she cheerfully have taken a friend along, or gone alone and still enjoyed herself? Holly wasn’t needy or whiny like Kane’s Helen, so Jerome suspected she’d partied happily. But he’d ask anyway.
Everyone on the bus became increasingly anxious as poor visibility meant the driver had to drive slowly. Jerome kept glancing at the time on his phone, fearful they’d miss the plane. When they arrived at the airport, the writers collectively heaved a sigh of relief. Their boarding gate would already be open, but they’d have plenty of time to clear customs.
When they entered the airport, though, it was chaos. Crowds of people milled around, and the display boards showed most of the flights as ‘cancelled.’
Including their flight to London.
“Shit,” Kane said.
“I suspected as much in this weather,” Graham said.
“You all stay here. I’ll find out what’s happening,” Boriana told them.
“Shall we get a coffee or something?” Graham suggested.
Jerome looked around at the food outlets. They all had queues of people. “Good luck with that,” he said. He reached in his pocket for his phone. “At least there’s mobile and internet access here.”
They forgot about coffee and checked their phones.
“I’ve got about a million texts and missed calls from Helen,” Kane said.
Jerome was surprised he had no texts or missed calls from Holly. She’d never bombard him the way Helen did Kane, but he’d have expected a text along the lines of, “Hey haven’t heard from you for a few days. Just checking you’re okay.” The texts he’d received were from mates, and he answered them quickly before opening his email.
There were a couple of emails from travel editors asking if he was interested in trips for early next year. One was to Cyprus in March and Jerome liked the sound of that. Three weeks in mild winter sunshine beat a bleak March in England any day of the week. The other was to Croatia in April, which also sounded good.
Should he accept straightaway or discuss the trips with Holly first? Trips like this always got snapped up quickly, and he was already late replying. He tapped out quick emails to both editors accepting their commissions. If, after talking with Holly tonight, they decided a desk job would be better for their relationship, he didn’t need to make any changes straightaway. He could take a long-term view of the career change.
The next couple of emails were about work he wasn’t interested in, and he scrolled further down his inbox. His eyebrows rose when he saw there was an email from Holly. She’d never sent him an email before; she’d always texted or messaged him through Facebook Messenger.
He opened it and began to read.
“Jerome! JEROME!” Graham waved his hand in front of Jerome’s face, startling him. “Did you hear what Boriana just told us? We’ve got to go back to the hotel.”
“What?”
Jerome closed the email quickly and shoved his phone in his pocket. He didn’t want anybody to see the contents of Holly’s email. He felt dazed, embarrassed, a little amused, and, yes, rather uncomfortably turned on as well.
“All flights are cancelled today. The weather’s supposed to deteriorate over the next few hours. But they’re expecting improved conditions tomorrow. Boriana’s got us all on a flight tomorrow afternoon.” Graham patted his shoulder. “Come on, we need to get back on the road or we’ll be stranded.”
“Helen’s going to kill me,” Kane said. “She’s taken Christmas Eve off work and we were going to drop all the presents round to various relatives. Now she’ll have to do all of it on her own.”
“Come on, please, we must move,” Boriana said.
God, they’d lose reliable internet and mobile access as soon as they left the airport, Jerome thought. Holly had sent that email days ago. She probably thought he’d dumped her because of her revelations. There wasn’t time to reply properly to it, and she’d be at work and wouldn’t want to talk about it on the phone anyway. But he could send her a quick text.
“What time will we be back in London tomorrow?” he asked.
“Not till around five,” Graham said.
God, he hoped there were no delays, or he wouldn’t make it to Jonathan’s on time. And he needed to go back to his flat to shower and change first. Not to mention pick up the engagement ring so he could propose!
“Come on, please,” Boriana said again.
“Just a minute,” Jerome said.
He texted as quickly as he could.
Sorry, only got your email just now. No internet or mobile access here all week. There’s a blizzard and our flight has been cancelled. Flying home tomorrow. I won’t have time to pick you up to take you to Jonathan’s because of when our flight gets in, so I’ll meet you there.
“COME ON, JEROME!” Boriana yelled. “It’s going to take us ages to get back. I don’t want us to be stranded and freeze to death on the road.”
Jerome had been about to add something like ‘I’m go
od with what you told me and we’ll talk about it properly soon,’ but he couldn’t hold Boriana and the others up any longer. She’d know he was cool with it anyway, given he was keeping their date. So, he hit send on the text message as he followed the rest of his group towards the airport doors.
4
A Disastrous Dinner
“He definitely doesn’t want me,” Holly said.
She was curled up on her sofa, talking to Erika on the phone. Somehow, she’d managed to get through the workday without crying after receiving Jerome’s message. But as soon as she’d got home she’d poured herself a glass of wine and let the tears fall. She hadn’t switched the Christmas tree lights on; she didn’t think she’d ever felt less Christmassy.
“There is a blizzard in Eastern Europe and a lot of flights have been cancelled,” Erika said. “It was on the news. So, he’s not lying about that.”
“But he’s not picking me up. Doesn’t that suggest to you that we’re not going to spend tomorrow night together? He was going to pick me up and then we were going to come back here. Now we’ll both go our separate ways afterwards.”
“Not necessarily. If he’s taking his car, he can still drive you home. Unless you’re planning to drive as well?”
“All he says is that he got my email, nothing about what he thinks about it. Doesn’t that say something?”
“I shouldn’t read too much into that, Holly. He’s a man. Since when did men pour their feelings out in an email?”
Holly pulled her hair out of the scrunchie and shook it loose. “He didn’t have to tell me his innermost feelings. Just ‘I’m okay with that.’ Or ‘I’m not okay with that.’”
“Look, he’s keeping the date and I think that’s what counts.” Erika sounded impatient. “It would be easy enough for him to cancel if he doesn’t want to see you again.”
“Not if he can’t make phone calls,” Holly pointed out. “And I bet there was some kind of deposit for Christmas Eve dinner at Jonathan’s. Why would he want to lose that?”
“Well, if he didn’t want to see you, he could take someone else,” Erika pointed out. “I think you’re reading too much into this. Watch the news. See the chaos caused by the blizzard for yourself.”
Holly ended the call and half-heartedly set about making dinner. She rummaged in her freezer and dug out some leftover lasagne. She placed it in the oven before chopping veggies and popping them in the steamer.
She was glad now that she hadn’t embarrassed herself further by sending a text or a follow-up email to Jerome when he hadn’t replied. Did he realise how hard it had been for her to open up to him like that, risk being dumped or laughed at? Just some comforting word or two in his text this morning would have helped. Something like, “I can see it took courage for you to write to me, and I admire you for that, but I’m sorry, I don’t think that lifestyle is for me.”
Tears welled up again and she wiped them away fiercely. Perhaps it would be better not to go to Jonathan’s tomorrow night. She didn’t think she could bear the mortification of seeing Jerome face to face, if he was going to end their relationship because she’d told him her deepest secret.
Her phone beeped. She picked it up, hopeful it was another, more expansive text from Jerome.
But it was from Erika. Who’d obviously guessed her thoughts, because she’d written:
Promise me you won’t back out of that date tomorrow night. Because if he’s going to dump someone as wonderful as you for making yourself vulnerable like that, the least he can do is pay for you to eat the best seafood in London.
Jerome had never been so relieved to be back on English soil. As soon as the plane touched down, he was out of his seat and retrieving his bag from the overhead locker. Now he just had to hope his larger bag wouldn’t take ages to appear on the carousel.
Today there’d been no travel hitches. Snow had stopped falling early yesterday evening, as predicted. Their bus had arrived at the airport in plenty of time. The plane had taken off on time.
Last night he and the others had toasted Kane’s final research trip. If indeed it really was Kane’s final research trip – Jerome had doubts about that. He sensed that Kane would dislike an office role, and Helen would find something else to complain about. But he didn’t say anything about that to Kane. He left that to Mia, who was very blunt about it.
When he’d gone to bed, Jerome had re-read Holly’s email a couple of times, glad it had downloaded onto his phone. There was still no mobile or internet access, so he couldn’t click on the links she’d provided. Instead, he’d rested his head against the pillow and thought about what her email meant for him. She wanted him to hold her accountable, provide discipline when necessary. Would he really be able to do that in the way she wanted when the thought of her upturned bare bottom over his knee gave him a hard-on?
Now, back in London, Jerome snatched up his bag from the carousel, cleared customs, and hurried down to the tube station. His flat in Peckham, in southeast London, was about an hour away by tube and train, so he couldn’t waste any time.
Jerome’s original plan had been to book a taxi to Jonathan’s, picking up Holly in Clapham on the way. Then, once he’d proposed, he could order champagne, and they could celebrate their engagement at the restaurant before getting a taxi back to Holly’s.
That wouldn’t work now, though. There wasn’t time. He’d have to drive. He’d still propose to her at the restaurant, but they’d have to take the champagne back to her flat. He figured she’d still be happy with that.
His flat was on the second floor of a Victorian-era terrace house. Like Holly’s, it was one-bedroom, but it didn’t have the charm hers did. No sloping ceilings, and the view from his windows was of rows and rows of houses as far as the eye could see. Still, it was the first place he’d bought and all he’d been able to afford on his freelance wages. When he and Holly married, though, he’d be able to sell it so they could buy something better.
He dumped his bags on the bedroom floor, and headed for the shower. Soon he was showered and dressed in a smart shirt and jacket. He grabbed the engagement ring from where he’d hidden it at the back of his socks drawer, checked he had his wallet, and headed out to the car.
Holly usually only used her car when she was visiting her parents or friends who lived outside London. She rarely drove within London itself, because traffic moved so slowly and it was easier and quicker to get around by tube. But she decided that if Jerome planned to dump her tonight, she didn’t want to have to get the tube home, blinking back tears while everyone around her was in a festive mood. She’d take her car, then she could make a dignified exit.
She dressed carefully, determined to look as beautiful as possible, so that if Jerome did dump her, even he would realise he was an idiot for doing so. She wore a lacy black pleated dress with a shawl, and spent more time than usual applying makeup.
Jonathan’s was on the southern side of the river, near South Bank, so Holly parked in a multi-storey car park only a few minutes’ walk away. The River Thames always looked beautiful at night, but tonight it was extra glorious with all the festive lights. The colours of the London Eye Ferris wheel changed from blue, to red, to green. As she walked past South Bank, all the bars and restaurants were packed.
Jonathan’s seafood restaurant took up the entire bottom floor of a glass and granite building. Holly entered expecting a strong smell of fish, but instead breathed in a fresh, salty aroma that reminded her of the sea. The room she found herself in was long and narrow, with most of the tables already occupied, apart from a small one by the window and a very long one in the centre of the room that looked like it would host about twenty people. A pianist at one end of the long, narrow room was playing Christmas carols. At the other end was a huge Christmas tree with twinkling lights. Streamers and balloons decorated the ceiling, and there were Christmas-themed candles – Santas, trees, bonbons – in the middle of each table.
A waiter incongruously dressed in tuxedo, bow tie and r
eindeer antlers greeted Holly as she walked towards the counter. “Do you have a booking with us tonight?”
“Yes. A table for two. In the name of Jerome Palmer.”
“Just one moment. I’ll check.” The waiter came back seconds later. “Yes, your table is in the window. He hasn’t arrived yet.”
Holly put her coat over the back of one of the chairs at the vacant table with a Santa candle. The tables were arranged so that couples could sit opposite each other and still look out over the river. Her phone rang and her heart thumped when Jerome’s name appeared on the screen. Surely, he wasn’t going to be a total heel and stand her up as well as dump her?
“Holly, it’s me. Are you at the restaurant yet?” Jerome sounded out of breath.
“Yes, I’m at the table.”
“Great. I’m just walking up from the car park. Sorry I’m late; it’s been a hell of a couple of days. See you shortly.”
A minute later, she saw him stride past the window, and felt colour flood her cheeks at the thought of the email she’d sent.
“Holly.” He came up to her, bent to give her a kiss.
It turned into a quick peck on the cheek when the waiter interrupted them. “Can I get you any drinks before you order?”
“Oh. Just a beer for me, thanks. Holly?”
Holly was fluttering inside from nerves and felt she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye through embarrassment. She’d just have the one drink. “I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” she told the waiter, who was placing two shell-shaped menus on the table.
“I was going to order a bottle with dinner.” Jerome sat down opposite her and picked up a menu. “I had to drive here, so you’ll have to drink most of it, though.”
