Izz managed a smile. ‘Well, thanks. Even if you’re not Sam.’
Chapter Five
Princess Leia Claus
Saturday 8 December
‘I hate Tod’s geeky comic stuff and I hate fancy dress.’ Izz was dressed up as Mr Punch, black lines drawn either side of her mouth and a pointed hat making her tower to new heights. Cropped trousers, a ruff collar and a few brass buttons completed her outfit.
Ava lowered her voice as they trailed Tod and Louise past the ‘Impressions of Balham’ friezes along Balham Station Road. ‘If you hate Tod’s geeky comic stuff and fancy dress and I don’t like Christmas, maybe we shouldn’t have agreed to come to Tod’s comic club’s fancy dress Christmas thing? I could have stayed home and attended to the depressing business of listing samples on Etsy.’
Izz held onto her hat as a sudden gust of wind threatened to snatch it. ‘But then we wouldn’t have been invited to Patrick’s party.’
Ava refrained from confessing that the idea of Patrick’s party wasn’t exactly filling her with joy. She knew exactly what – or rather who – attracted Izz to Patrick’s Christmas gathering. Sam. ‘At least we can dress normally for that. Anyway, don’t I look just as ridiculous as Princess Leia Claus? My hair looks stupid in two doughnuts and everyone will think my robe’s a red toga.’ Shortage of money rather than time had dictated Ava’s costume, made from fabric once bought as a backcloth for a wedding fayre. The white cotton wool trim she’d added was already sticking messily to everything.
But Ava was glad to have something to joke about. Earlier in the evening, she’d found an opportunity to get Tod alone and tell him about Harvey’s pictures. The horror on his face as he’d breathed, ‘Oh no. Wow. He could do anything with those, Ava,’ had made her feel a bit as if she were holding a wasps’ nest. It was only a matter of time before the contents stirred, pouring forth to attack her with stinging venom.
‘No, you look great,’ Izz declared. ‘I just wish I’d got a better costume because now Sam says he might drop in to BalCom. He’ll see me looking like a dork.’
Ava’s head swivelled. ‘Since when is Sam dropping in?’ She could completely understand that Izz didn’t want Sam seeing Izz looking like a dork. Ava had just this second discovered that Ava didn’t want Sam seeing Ava looking like a dork, either.
Izz sighed. ‘Once Tod knew that you and I had been invited to Patrick’s, he jumped in and invited them all to come to the Unwashed Geek’s Comic Club of Geekland before heading to the party, and I didn’t have enough time to get a better costume.’
‘Fantastic,’ muttered Ava, tripping over her hem.
‘Excuse me.’ Tod marched back towards them, fists lodged indignantly on hips. He was looking really cool as Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas; Louise had forced on one of those bald head things and covered his face and neck with clown white. The black make-up stitches either side of his mouth looked almost real.
But then Louise was into cosplay, which was almost worse than being a comic geek. Especially when she felt the need to explain for the twentieth time that cosplay was derived from the words ‘costume’ and ‘play’ and how it differed from merely wearing Christmas or Halloween costumes – hardly at all, in Ava’s opinion.
‘Excuse me,’ Tod repeated, severely. ‘Please don’t refer to BalCom as “the Unwashed Geek’s Comic Club of Geekland”. People will get upset. Our hygiene is more than adequate.’
Izz’s face fell. ‘I was joking.’
Ava linked her arm through Izz’s. ‘So’s he.’
‘Of course I’m joking!’ Tod gazed at Izz in the familiar exasperation of one who had had this kind of explaining-I’m-joking conversation before.
Louise, as Sally the Rag Doll to pair with Tod’s Jack Skellington, and looking surprisingly sexy in the raggy dress, rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, Tod. We’ll miss registering for the costume judging.’ Louise cast her gaze over Ava’s and Izz’s half-hearted costumes. ‘Are you two entering?’
Ava and Izz shook their heads. Ava wondered whether Louise knew that last year the winner had been covered with squirty cream and Christmas streamers while everybody screamed with laughter.
‘Probably best.’ Louise turned eagerly for the fire escape that led up to the function room over the Snooty Fox pub, BalCom’s usual meeting point.
Behind Louise’s back, Tod frowned at Ava and Izz. Ava blew him a silent extravagant kiss in return, which, unfortunately, Louise turned around in time to see.
In the bar of the Snooty Fox, Sam and Jake were fortifying themselves for the evening to come.
‘Remind me why we’re going to this thing?’ Jake crossed his eyes to make a bamboozled face.
‘Because Tod asked us and Tod’s a co-worker so deserves our support. And because once Patrick had invited Izz and Ava it was obvious that if they can attend the comic thing and Patrick’s party, then, unfortunately, so can we.’
‘Not because Izz’s got the hots for you and you can’t resist seeing her twice in one evening?’ Jake winked.
Sam opened his mouth on an arctic retort about Ava being much more his style then remembered how ridiculous it would make him look to be pursuing a woman who wasn’t currently dating. Also, that he was temporarily Izz’s employer. ‘Let’s have another beer.’
When they finally got around to following the cardboard ‘BalCom’ arrows to the foot of an external metal staircase, passing a Superman and what looked like a giant green slug coming the other way, it was to find Tod leaning miserably against the dirty red brick wall, eyes closed in the black skeletal eye sockets of clever make-up. Sam probably would have walked straight past without recognising him if not for Ava in a curious long red robe patting Tod’s arm. ‘Do you need to throw up?’ Izz, standing silently to one side, went scarlet when she saw Sam.
‘I’m not that drunk,’ Tod protested, slightly slurred. ‘Maybe it’s a food allergy.’
Louise, in a costume as impressive as Tod’s, was almost dancing with rage. ‘Somebody’s obviously put something in his drink. Eh, Ava? He never gets like this!’ Louise all but barged Ava out of her way as she took over the arm patting.
Ava arched indignant eyebrows. ‘As we’ve known Tod a lot longer than you, Louise, I can assure you that occasionally he does get a bit tipsy.’
‘You would say that. You’ve obviously got a thing about him.’
Ava’s eyes widened to cartoon proportions. ‘Tod’s one of my best friends – we don’t have “things” about one another. And why would I spike the drink of someone if I did have a thing about him? If I ever did anything as stupid and irresponsible, which I don’t. Lighten up, Louise. It’s Christmas and Tod just did a few Jägerbombs with his mates.’
‘And a couple of bottles of Peroni,’ Izz added, helpfully.
Tod gave a giant burp. ‘I’m not that drunk. I just feel a bit nauseated. I’ve probably eaten something I shouldn’t have.’
Louise promptly put her rage dance into reverse and got out of range.
Ava frowned at her.
‘Having fun?’ queried Sam, mildly. ‘Are you Mrs Claus in her dressing gown?’ he hazarded, to give himself an excuse to keep looking at her robe thing, which, though dotted with mangy cotton wool, skimmed and draped her body, somehow defining it at the same time as covering her from neck to toe.
Ava seemed to notice him and Jake for the first time. ‘No fancy dress?’
‘Too short notice,’ put in Sam smoothly. ‘Nothing would have pleased me more than wearing Santa’s dressing gown, otherwise.’
He thought he caught a glimmer of a smile. ‘Actually, I’m glad you’re here. We could use your help to get Tod to Louise’s.’
Jake groaned.
Sam sighed. ‘Is it far?’
Getting Tod to Louise’s flat was tiresome, not because they had to stop a couple of times while Tod battled waves of nausea, nor because Sam and Jake had to keep Tod on the pavement as he was inclined to weave. It was because Louise stalked
beside them in furious silence and it was left to Ava to direct operations. ‘It’s around this corner. Up the steps with the green railings.’
Helping Tod up the concrete flight to a yellowing PVC front door, Sam and Jake paused while Louise unlocked it and Tod repeated, ‘I’m not that drunk.’
Shunting back and forth, they threaded him through the doorway. Louise thrust open a door to a bedroom, and Tod zigzagged over the threshold and flopped unceremoniously onto the quilt. ‘I’m not that drunk,’ he said again.
‘Thanks,’ Ava said, as, breathing heavily, they stood back to survey Tod, who, despite his declarations of sobriety, looked asleep already.
Louise ushered them out of the bedroom. ‘You two will have to bunk up together, Ava and Izz, because I’m not sleeping with him tonight! That’s if you still want to stay,’ she added, pointedly.
Ava exchanged a look with Izz, whose pencilled-on puppet eyebrows had nearly disappearing into her hair in alarm at the idea. Ava tried to be diplomatic. ‘We could stay if you think you might need help with Tod. Otherwise, it might be better if we grab our overnight bags and go.’
‘I’m sure I can cope. You go and enjoy your party.’ Louise evidently harboured no desires to have Ava and Izz as guests now that her evening had reached a premature end. In fact, she fetched their bags for them.
Ava found herself backing through the front door. ‘We’ll be in touch in the morning to see how Tod is.’
Louise gave an eloquent snort and soon Ava and Izz were on the outside of the closed door with Sam and Jake, who hadn’t even been thanked for dragging poor Tod around the streets.
Chapter Six
A Christmas kiss for Ava Bliss
‘I think we’re dumped,’ Sam observed.
‘Wow,’ breathed Jake. ‘Scary girlfriend.’
Suddenly realising she was still in her Princess Leia Claus robe, which was looking more like a moth-eaten dressing gown every moment, Ava groaned. ‘I wish she’d given us a chance to get changed.’
‘You’ll be able to use a room at Patrick’s.’ Sam stood back to allow the two women down the garden path ahead of him. ‘It’s on Bedford Hill.’
Patrick’s place proved to be two floors over a shop, handily situated for Balham and Clapham South tube stations and within sight of the railway bridge, its high-ceilinged rooms currently populated by a significant number of partygoers eating pizza.
‘Thought you bastards had been kidnapped by the comickers,’ roared Patrick, as they stepped through the open door. Spotting Ava, he switched swiftly to charm mode, taking her hand to kiss theatrically. ‘But good things are worth waiting for.’
Sam snorted. ‘Cheesy.’
Ava stood back and glanced at Izz, obliging Patrick to kiss Izz’s hand, too. Izz went pink.
‘Sorry we’re dressed so stupidly. Tod’s comic book party was fancy dress. Is there a room where we can change, please? We were going to stay at Louise’s but Tod had one too many.’
Patrick tucked Ava’s hand into the crook of his arm. ‘I’ll show you to a room you can use. In fact,’ he added, ‘I have more rooms than I know what to do with. You can stay here tonight.’
Ava regarded him dubiously. ‘We can get the bus home.’ The idea of paying for a cab gave her a pain in her bank account.
‘Aha!’ Patrick waved his finger theatrically. ‘But … the bus drivers have come out on strike tonight. It’s all to do with their pensions and our glorious mayor. The last tube service is just after midnight so it’s a good job Saint Patrick’s here. Just stay. Other people are staying – Sam for a start. Everyone’s very friendly.’ He gestured extravagantly in the general direction of the babble coming from the other rooms.
‘Well—’ began Ava.
But Izz was looking relieved. ‘It’ll be much easier to get home in the morning, won’t it, Ava? If you’re sure you don’t mind, Patrick?’
‘Not in the least. Who are you meant to be, Ava?’
Giving up on getting home that evening, Ava looked down at her ridiculous costume, heat rising in her face. ‘Princess Leia Claus.’
‘Shame you didn’t pick the Princess Leia slave girl outfit.’ Patrick began towing her over turquoise carpet to a staircase that looked as if the corners had gone uncleaned for about a decade. Izz and Sam followed.
When they’d climbed the stairs and reached the end of the landing, Patrick threw open a white-painted door. ‘Here we are. Best room in the house. Hope you girls don’t mind sharing. Not all the rooms have beds.’
Ava stepped inside. It was, she saw with relief, actually an OK room. The twin beds were made up with quilts that didn’t match but looked clean; there were curtains.
Izz dropped her bag on a bed and thanked Patrick, who lounged in the doorway.
‘You’ve really saved us,’ Ava agreed, wondering whether Patrick thought he was going to continue to lean in the doorway and watch as they changed their clothes.
As if reading her thoughts, Sam put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and eased him back. ‘We’ll let them sort themselves out, shall we? The bathroom’s two doors down, ladies.’
‘Thanks.’ Ava smiled gratefully as Sam reached in and shut the door. The sound of the men’s voices receded down the landing.
‘Thank goodness we can change.’ Izz divested herself of her puppet costume. ‘I’ll go wash this stuff off my face and put on some proper make-up.’
Ava sighed as she thankfully dragged off the red robe, examining her surroundings as she did so. The building was obviously old and had been gracious but the room wasn’t warm; old-fashioned sliding sash windows allowing in more draughts than the big ugly radiator could counteract. The room’s pleasantly fusty smell made her nostalgic for childhood sleepovers in her grandmother’s spare room when both her parents had been on shift. Music and laughter from downstairs filtered up between the floorboards.
She was conscious of a bit of a headache. Hoping it wouldn’t develop into a migraine because prescriptions were expensive, she sank down onto the bed and looked in her bag for paracetamol. Her gaze caught on her e-reader, nestled in its pocket, and she was tempted to burrow straight beneath the quilt with it. But that would be unacceptably rude. So she changed into the jeans and top in which she’d arrived at Louise’s earlier, unravelled her hair from its doughnuts and twisted it up more comfortably behind her head.
Then Izz returned to bundle her costume back into her bag. ‘I wonder if anyone would mind if we grabbed some of that pizza. I’m starving.’
Two hours later, Ava was surprised to find she was actually having a good time. Most of Patrick’s guests were dressed casually so she didn’t feel excluded by a host of fabulous party dresses. She’d encouraged Izz to introduce her to others from the agency that she’d missed at Blaggard’s – Manda Jane and Emily in jeans and boots, and Barb, Jermyn’s business centre manager.
Barb looked her up and down with a knowing grin. ‘Are you with Sam? He’s kept you quiet.’
‘I’m not with anybody. And Sam’s just a friend of friends.’
Barb added raised eyebrows to her grin. In her late forties, built for comfort more than speed, Barb wore purple-framed glasses and a cheery expression.
Manda Jane raised her voice over the music, sloshing a few drops of wine on Patrick’s carpet as she waved her glass. ‘Barb’s fantastic. She can organise anything. We love you, don’t we, Barb?’
Barb accepted an effusive hug. ‘You love the chocolate I keep in my top drawer, Manda Jane. Now move over and give Ava somewhere to sit.’
Barb made Ava and Izz part of a group of women who’d staked a claim to a large area of lounge carpet, scorning the corner sofa in favour of sprawling on cushions, drinking wine and polishing off a pile of onion rings and popcorn chicken that Barb had moved from Patrick’s freezer to his oven until just the perfect crispiness to dip in ketchup and mayo.
Ava estimated that there must be fifty or so people scattered around the flat. They wafted between rooms, drinking, eatin
g, changing the music on the iPod docked to a big speaker. They danced, shouted jokey insults, roared with laughter and occasionally fell over in the flickering candlelight. Izz wandered off in the direction of the kitchen when she heard news of a fresh pizza delivery.
Sam passed through the lounge a couple of times. Faded jeans clung to his long legs and his T-shirt was emblazoned with the legend This way up between two upward arrows. Without a business suit he looked quite unlike Sam the Big Important Man.
He didn’t look any less hot.
When he drifted into the room a third time Barb waved him over. ‘We’ll admit a little testosterone into the group, seeing as it’s you.’
Lowering himself down cross-legged, Sam hooked an arm around her. ‘You’re not too old to have forgotten what testosterone’s about?’
Barb planted her hands on her ample hips and thrust out her boobs, peeping at him from under fluttering eyelashes. ‘I know exactly what to do with testosterone, don’t you worry. Mind your manners or I might give you a demonstration and it’ll take you a week to recover.’
Ava giggled at Barb’s exaggerated vamping.
As the party gained traction the group members shuffled around to accommodate newcomers and Ava found herself sharing a leaky beanbag with Sam.
She’d never seen him without a bottle of beer this evening, and his hair was more in his eyes than usual, but she suspected he was making each beer last because his speech was perfectly controlled when he asked, ‘Will Louise forgive Tod, do you think?’
Ava occupied herself by picking beanbag stuffing off her jeans. ‘He’s not the first bloke whose girlfriend got upset with him over drink, is he?’
Sam leaned closer as someone switched the music volume to ‘blare’. ‘Like Harvey?’
‘Not exactly.’ Ava ignored the warmth that slithered through her at his shoulder brushing hers. ‘With Tod it’s just Christmas. He usually controls his drinking. It doesn’t control him. Tomorrow he’ll be hungover and apologetic and I hope Louise doesn’t make too much of it, because he’s not confident with girls.’
The Christmas Promise Page 5
