by Lacey London
Grabbing a scarf, I feel around in my handbag for my gloves before flicking off the bedroom light.
‘How are we getting on in here?’ I ask, smiling proudly at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. ‘Nearly ready?’
‘Getting there…’ Oliver mumbles, looking up from the breakfast table and smiling. ‘Noah’s just putting his shoes on.’
Quickly snapping a picture of the tree on my phone, I snatch a piece of toast from Oliver’s plate and lean against the sink. Noticing the pile of screwed up paper balls in the bin, I take one out and smooth out the creases.
‘What are all these?’ I mumble to Oliver, holding it up for him to see the page of messy squiggles.
Putting down his fork, he takes the page and throws it straight back into the bin. ‘It’s for the interview tomorrow.’ He replies, pushing out his chair and dumping his empty plate in the sink.
‘Interview?’ My brow creases into a frown as I try to work out what he’s talking about. ‘What interview?’
‘Suave want all employees to re-interview for their positions.’ He rubs his face and lets out a tired groan.
‘That’s ridiculous!’ I retort angrily. ‘Why haven’t you mentioned anything before now?’
‘I only found out a few days ago and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.’ He tries to keep his voice light, but I can tell that it’s bothering him.
‘You never had an interview in the first place, so you should be exempt.’
Many years ago, Oliver was headhunted by Suave from another company, so to make him practically audition for his position is ludicrous.
‘What does Marc have to say about this?’ I tap my nails on the counter as I wait for him to respond.
Oliver shrugs his shoulders and lets out a huge yawn. ‘Marc can’t really say anything, because he has to re-interview too.’
I open my mouth to reply when Noah comes bounding into the kitchen.
‘I’m ready!’ He announces, holding his Advent calendar in the air. ‘Can I have my chocolate now?’
‘Yes, just don’t give any to Pumpkin.’ I warn, abandoning my toast to go in search of his coat.
Today I am heading to the florist for the afternoon shift, but first I must drop Noah with Gina and meet my mother for brunch. With it being Oliver’s day off, he could easily take Noah to nursery himself, but going to Auntie Gina’s is Noah’s favourite part of the day.
Grabbing my handbag, I haul it onto my shoulder and tear the to-do list from the fridge.
‘Don’t worry about this stupid interview.’ I nuzzle my face into Oliver’s neck and give him a quick squeeze. ‘It will just be a formality.’
‘Here’s hoping.’ He grabs a bottle of water from the dining table and takes a big slug. ‘I just can’t help thinking about all those redundancies they’ve been making lately…’
‘It will be fine!’ I trill, stretching my lips into the most positive smile I can muster. ‘I promise!’
Nodding in response, he tilts his head up and kisses me gently on the lips. ‘And if the worst happens, there’s always loads of work back in Texas.’
I pause with my hand on my zipper and frown. ‘What does Texas have to do with anything?’
‘I’m just saying.’ He holds his hands up in his defence. ‘There doesn’t seem to many other job offers in the city, but each week I get spammed with messages from companies back in America.’
My skin prickles as I lock eyes with my husband. ‘What are you saying?’ I stammer, suddenly feeling a little nauseous.
‘I’m saying that it’s an option, you know, if all else fails…’ Oliver holds my gaze and takes my hand in his. ‘It won’t come to that though. I’m sure of it.’
‘Too right it won’t come to that!’ I laugh nervously and motion for Noah to put his coat on.
Oliver and I have tried moving away from London before and it was a complete disaster, there’s absolutely no way that we are doing it again now that we are finally settled.
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Scooping up Noah for a kiss, Oliver ushers Pumpkin out onto the balcony. ‘Have a great day, Noah. Remember to be a good boy, because that elf right there is watching you.’
Noah strains his neck to look at the frankly creepy elf that we sat on the kitchen cupboard last night.
‘I’ll be good.’ He confirms, his eyes narrowing as he tries to decide if he likes our resident imp or not.
‘That’s my boy!’ With a final high five, Oliver gives me a quick hug and holds open the front door. ‘See you later!’
Taking Noah’s lunchbox from him, I smile anxiously and wish him luck in his meeting. As the door slams shut and Noah races for the stairs, Oliver’s words ring through my mind. There’s always loads of work back in Texas. If he thinks we are packing up our lives and moving five thousand miles away, he’s got another thing coming. No, it won’t come to that. I won’t let it.
Coming to a stop at the top of the stairs, I pause to admire the intricate reef on Gina’s door before pressing the bell. I can already hear raised voices coming from inside, which is never a good sign before 9 o’clock in the morning. Clearly finding the sound of an irate Gina funny, Noah looks up at me and sticks out his tongue before bursting into laughter.
‘Hey!’ I smile as my good friend and Gina’s husband, Marc, throws open the door. His usually perfect comb-over is unkempt and the bags under his eyes are rivalling my own. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’
Shaking his head in response, he attempts to straighten out his crumpled shirt.
‘Didn’t Oliver tell you about the re-interviewing?’ He asks, stepping to the right to allow us inside.
‘He told me, but I didn’t think it was all that serious. I just thought it was, you know, procedure.’ I dump Noah’s lunchbox on the floor, taking care not to knock over the giant, pink Christmas tree.
‘Oh, it’s serious. This is our one shot at keeping our jobs.’ Marc tucks his shirt into his trousers and raises his eyebrows. ‘All employees have been given the morning off to prepare.’
I open my mouth to speak, but close it again when I realise that I don’t know what to say. Clearing my throat, I bite the tip of my fingernail and frown. ‘They won’t let you two go though. They can’t.’
Marc pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. ‘Nothing is guaranteed. People a lot higher up than us have been laid off…’
As the door closes behind us, I watch Noah run into the living room to join the children and pull Marc to one side.
‘What the hell is going on at Suave?’ I rest my hands on my hips as Marc shrugs his shoulders and pulls out two seats at the dining table. ‘I know that all businesses are feeling the pinch at the minute, but this is getting scary.’
‘Suave’s in trouble, Clara. Like, real trouble.’ His face falls as he holds his head in his hands and sighs. ‘They’re having to cut down the work force by almost half just to stay afloat.’
‘That’s crazy! How has this happened? I thought the company was going from strength to strength?’ I lean closer to him, not wanting the kids to overhear our conversation.
‘It started with the Giulia Romano collaboration. They poured so much money into that collection. The television marketing, the magazine campaigns, the ridiculously expensive launches…’
I nod along as I remember just how excited everyone was that Suave had teamed up with the one and only Giulia Romano. We thought this was the deal that would take Suave into the fashion stratosphere. In an unfortunate turn of events, Giulia was hit with a sex tape scandal just before the release went to press and things went rapidly downhill from there.
A part of me still thinks that the coincidental timing of this explicit video coming to light had more to do with Giulia’s publicity team than a scorned ex-partner, but what do I know? I’m guessing they thought it would help to increase her profile, when in reality it did quite the opposite.
We both look up as Gina totters into the kitchen. With art
ificial snow sprayed in her black hair and Christmas tree baubles stuck to her dress, she looks like an eccentric Blue Peter presenter.
‘Good morning!’ She flashes me her familiar grin and holds up a coffee mug. ‘Do you have time for a quick drink?’
I glance down at my watch and nod. ‘Go on then.’
The three of us fall into silence as Gina fires up the coffee machine. Talk about a depressing start to the day. I was hoping Marc would reassure me that everything was going to be OK, but now I am even more worried than I was before.
‘The tree looks amazing!’ I say brightly, in a desperate bid to raise the atmosphere in the room. ‘Did the kids help to decorate it?’
‘Yeah, we are literally just finishing up.’ Gina hands me a steaming cup and curses as a series of bangs come from the living room. ‘One minute...’
Popping her head around the doorframe, she wags her finger and puts on her sternest voice. ‘I am not going to tell you again, Madison Milan Stroker! Do not try and sit Melrose on that tree!’
I flash Marc a quizzical look which he returns with a shake of the head.
‘Don’t ask.’ He grumbles, digging out his phone and scowling at the screen.
‘What do you think of all this re-interviewing nonsense?’ I ask Gina, as she drops down onto the chair beside me.
‘I don’t know what to think.’ She reaches over and pulls a tray of snowman shaped cookies off the counter. ‘I’m just glad we don’t all still work there. Can you imagine the catastrophe? Every single one of us could be jobless at Christmas! I mean, do they even have a bloody heart?’
She’s right. A few years back it wasn’t just Marc and Oliver working for Suave, it was all of us. Suddenly feeling rather grateful that things aren’t much worse than they could have been, I find myself feeling a little better. I guess every cloud has a silver lining if you look hard enough.
‘We can’t afford for me to lose my job, Clara.’ Marc cracks his knuckles and looks down at the ground. ‘We really can’t. We don’t have any savings to keep us going, we would lose everything.’
Gina pushes her coffee mug away and leans back in her seat. ‘He’s right. We’re not in the same position as you guys. It would ruin us.’
Feeling a little guilty, I look down at my wedding rings and feel the blood rush to my cheeks. It’s no secret that Oliver and I have more money than Marc and Gina. Between you and I, Oliver brings home a pay packet large enough to feed a football team, but that doesn’t mean we would be able to survive for long without any money coming in. A luxury apartment in the centre of the city doesn’t come cheap and when you factor in the cars and everyday living expenses, we would be bankrupt in a matter of months.
The reality of not being able to pay our bills hits me and my skin prickles with fear. We would have to move. We would have to completely change our way of life. Sensing an impending panic attack, I try to steady my breathing.
‘Let’s try and figure this out.’ Marc opens a drawer and grabs a notepad and pen. ‘If the worst was to happen, where would we stand?’
Frantically jotting down numbers, he brings up his internet banking on his phone.
‘There’s no point checking the savings account.’ Gina shakes her head sadly. ‘We’ve already spent whatever savings we had on Christmas gifts for the kids…’
‘Maybe we could take them back?’ Marc ponders, tapping his pen on the table as he talks. ‘I mean, what’s more important, a roof over their heads or the latest Barbie doll?’
‘No!’ I exclaim, a little louder than I mean to. ‘It won’t come to that!’
Gina looks at me for a moment longer than necessary and eventually nods. ‘Clara’s right. It won’t come to that. We are getting ahead of ourselves. Suave would be insane to let you go. You’re the one who gets them all their best contracts! Ethereal, Emilio Vialli…’
‘Giulia Romano…’ Marc interrupts, covering his eyes with hands.
The table falls into an awkward silence and I sip my coffee quietly. They can’t hold Marc responsible for that, can they? How was he to know that she would be plastered all over the internet with her legs behind her head on launch day?
As I try to convince myself that everything will be OK, a whoop of delight stops my train of thought. Straining my neck, I can’t help but smile as I take in the scene in front of me. Four little faces are stern with concentration as they put the final baubles on the tree. Noah laughs with glee as Madison lifts him up to place a trinket in the last empty space. MJ and Melrose let out a cheer as he slips the ribbon over the branch and claps in celebration.
A steely determination washes over me as I clap along with them. I don’t care what happens with Suave. Those kids deserve a fabulous Christmas and I’m going to make damn sure they get it…
When it snows you have two choices.
You can shovel or you can make snow angels…
Chapter 6
Stirring a tiny plastic spoon around my gingerbread latte, I rest my chin in the palm of my hand and look out of the window. Where the hell is she? I have been sitting in this café for fifteen minutes and there’s still no sign of her. Usually I wouldn’t mind, but this place is really starting to give me the creeps. Only my mother could choose a place like this.
End of the Road. The name says it all. Set on a dead-end street, End of the Road is supposed to be an alternative, bohemian inspired café. I was actually really looking forward to experiencing their homemade vegetarian sausages and vegan friendly carrot cake, but now that I am here I seem to have lost my appetite. From the grubby tables to the heavily pierced waiter who has a rather awful curse word tattooed across his forehead. Literally everything about this place makes me want to turn on my UGGs and run away. To be fair, they have tried to add a bit of Christmas cheer to the place with the addition of a singing Santa and the odd piece of tinsel, but Santa’s grotto it most certainly is not.
Pushing my polystyrene cup to the edge of the table, I am about to reach for my coat when I spy my mother’s familiar face racing down the street. Well, the face is familiar, but the green hair extensions are completely new.
‘Clara!’ My mum throws open the filthy door and throws her bag onto the seat opposite. ‘Terribly sorry to have kept you waiting. I got carried away at the tattoo shop.’
I screw up my nose as I try to work out what I want to address first. The green hair, the tattoo shop or this damn place. Deciding to take it from the top, I flash her a glare and lean back in my seat.
‘What’s with the hair?’ I ask, unable to contain my repulsion. ‘Why is it green?’
‘Isn’t it fabulous?’ Shaking her head from side to side, she lets out a chuckle and peels off her coat. ‘I was going to go for red with it being Christmas and all, but Declan talked me into green! You know what he’s like!’
Being completely lost for words, I manage a thin smile in response. I most certainly do know what he’s like. Over the past twelve months my mother’s hair has been every colour of the bloody rainbow. Believe it or not, my mum hasn’t always been the carefree spirit that she is today. Rosemary Andrews used to be the total opposite of the woman who sits before me. I’ve told myself that it’s a mid-life crisis, that it’s a rebellious phase or a fad that she will soon tire of, but it has been almost five years and she is still maintaining this façade.
‘So, how are you?’ She whispers, adjusting her blouse and picking up the menu. ‘Is Noah excited for Christmas?’
‘We’re not talking about me just yet!’ I scowl as I narrowly avoid dipping my sleeve in a dollop of sticky ketchup. ‘Firstly, we need to clear up what on earth you were doing at a tattoo parlour and secondly, why you brought me to this dump.’
‘It’s not a dump!’ My mum sticks her tongue out and hits me on the arm playfully. ‘I was recommended this place by Buster at the shop. His daughter works here on Sundays.’
‘Fascinating.’ I grumble, still not impressed. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re getting another tattoo…’
>
She raises her eyebrows teasingly and beckons over the waitress. ‘Just a tiny one.’
‘Why?’ Quietly cursing, I wait until she has placed her order before venting. ‘In fact, never mind why, just tell me what the hell it is.’
Diving into her handbag, she feels around for a moment before producing a hand-drawn image on a piece of paper. Her face lights up as she looks down at it, like it’s the most captivating thing in the world. Smoothing down the edges carefully, she slides it across the table.
Not being able to work out what it is, I slip on my reading glasses and squint at the page. ‘Is it a hashtag?’ I manage eventually, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. ‘You don’t even use Twitter!’
‘Of course it’s not a bloody hashtag!’ She retorts, snatching the paper from me roughly. ‘It’s a snowflake.’
‘A snowflake?’ I repeat dubiously, not being at all convinced the black squiggle looks like anything other than indecipherable mess that it is.
‘It’s a Christmas gift from your dad.’ She smiles smugly and carefully places the paper back into her purse.
I raise my eyebrows at the thought of my dad commissioning an inking for my mother.
‘I’m being serious!’ She accepts a cup of pomegranate tea from the skinny waiter and slips him some coins. ‘He actually helped me to choose it. He said it reminded him of me, because all snowflakes are unique in their own way.’
‘As cute as that is. How about you put it on the wall in a pretty frame rather than actually on your body?’ Honestly, sometimes I feel like I am the parent and she is the child.
‘Can I tell you a secret?’ She whispers, her eyes sparkling as she rests her elbows on the table. ‘He is going to get a matching one!’
I stare at my mother and try to regain the use of my tongue. ‘Say that again?’
