‘I hadn’t met Louise until last week.’
‘She’s fairly new.’
‘Do you like her?’
She answered diplomatically. ‘All that matters is whether Tod likes her.’
‘At the agency Tod’s a fully functioning adult, though he has his quirks. He’s creative and imaginative and popular with clients. I’m interested in why he accepts Louise being so … forceful.’
‘Bossy!’ said Ava, abandoning diplomacy. ‘Sorry, that probably makes me sound horrible. Louise and I don’t really appreciate each other. OK, let’s go with “forceful”. Tod hasn’t had many girlfriends to compare her to so I’ve tried to talk to him about her but he changes the subject.’
‘Perhaps as the relationship’s quite new she’s pushing his boundaries and he hasn’t decided where they are yet?’
More people bumbled up to join what had evidently become the epicentre of the party and a game began that involved a lot of violent swaying and raucous shrieking. Sam braced himself with a hand on the wall behind Ava against the worst of the pushing and shoving. The group was growing and Ava could see Patrick trying to find space in the thick of it.
Sam raised his voice. ‘Speaking of “pushing boundaries” makes me revisit the subject of Harvey. Had any further issues with him?’ Ava had to move her head closer to hear, breathing in a pleasant combination of beer and tea tree shower gel. ‘Whatever you argued over, there was no excuse for violence. The guy needs anger management counselling.’
‘I think he needs more than that.’ It would usually go against her personal code to badmouth an ex-boyfriend but Harvey’s recent behaviour had vanquished any loyalty. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s got a real alcohol problem. He was drinking more and more in the time we were together and behaving badly. Things came to a head so I got out but it hasn’t improved his behaviour. Today he tagged me in a photo on Facebook.’
A long pause. ‘That bothered you?’ Sam frowned, obviously trying to understand the import of Harvey’s action.
‘Oh, I—’ Flustered, Ava sipped her wine, not wanting to explain why her heart had done a double flip before she’d clicked on the link and discovered that the picture was only an old selfie of them kissing at the top of The Shard. ‘It didn’t feel appropriate because I don’t want to interact with him.’
‘You could unfriend or block him.’
‘True.’ But then she wouldn’t know if he did post one of those photos.
‘He still seems to have feelings for you.’
‘That’s the way it goes, isn’t it? Relationships begin by being about chemistry and end up being about compatibility. Sometimes not both of you move from one phase to the other. Sober Harvey knows that Drunk Harvey’s behaviour is tragic but both of them seem to think our relationship’s not over, whereas I know that it is.’
He studied her. ‘That doesn’t seem much justification for shoving you around, and you don’t have to accept that kind of conduct.’
His kindness made Ava almost want to confide in him about Harvey’s frightening threats. But then those playing the game going on around them chanted, ‘One, two, three, four.’ The catcalls and laughter grew louder and a wobbling and flushed Barb came to crouch in front of them.
‘Come on, Sam, it’s you.’
‘What’s me?’ Sam glanced round at the laughing faces.
Barb thrust a sprig of mistletoe into his hand. ‘Patrick rolled a four and you’re fourth along. It means you have to give a Christmas kiss to the nearest woman.’ She laughed a deep, belly-shaking laugh. ‘Looks as if it could be me or Ava. You have to choose.’
It didn’t take Sam long to make up his mind. ‘Ava. May I?’ He held the mistletoe above her head.
The air around them seemed to change, preventing Ava from voicing any of several random and conflicting thoughts. She felt his arms close around her and then his lips were finding hers. Neither hesitant nor intrusive but warm, soft, confident, as if they’d been there before, and often.
Surprise – or something – made her open her mouth to him and suddenly they were involved in a deep, proper kiss. Not a gentle brushing of the lips, not a quick pucker up, but searching tongues.
For several seconds, Ava was physically incapable of pulling away. She was aware of Barb wailing in mock disappointment that Sam hadn’t chosen her, of Patrick grumbling that Sam was a lucky gamer. But the din of the party became distant as if she were once again up in her room listening to it through the cracks between the floorboards.
Then it was over. Sam gently removed his arm from around Ava in order to calmly shake the dice onto the floor in front of them. ‘Three.’
‘One, two, three,’ everybody shouted. Then the mistletoe moved on to a man Ava didn’t know, who planted a big jokey smacker of a kiss on Barb and made her shriek with laughter.
Ava sucked in a couple of breaths, waiting for her heart rate to steady. It was the surprise, she told herself. And you made a fool of yourself by kissing him back so enthusiastically. He’s probably not sure whether to feel embarrassed, amused or invited. She tried to make herself look at Sam and laugh it off. But she couldn’t. All she could feel was his mouth on hers.
Bloody Christmas. When she was directing all her energy to making a success of her life, or just surviving, Christmas made it not only socially acceptable, but actually required, to kiss a lovely man.
A kiss that accelerated her pulse and snatched her breath. She didn’t have room in her life for a distracting man. Men wanted to be the centre of your universe and Ava had too much space debris in her orbit, not least the fact that her Christmas kiss had come from the man her friend was crushing on.
Sam put his mouth close to her ear. ‘Hot.’
Chapter Seven
Not dating at Gaz’s Caff
Sam knew that he shouldn’t have gone for it quite as he had. But, hey, it was Christmas. Ava’s entrancing mouth was incredibly alluring. When her lips had parted he’d recklessly followed his inclination.
He definitely shouldn’t have commented, even though he’d picked up a flustered vibe from her and that didn’t happen when a girl felt nothing for you. But now, avoiding his eyes, she was following the progress of the game with a fixed smile, every line of her body saying ‘awkward’. When she saw that the mistletoe was beginning to make its way back in their direction, she glanced at her watch, climbed to her feet and picked a path through the bodies.
As she slipped out of the lounge, Sam felt her disengagement sinking through him like bad news. Had a kiss – even a burning hot kiss – been worth the snapping of that thread of connection between them?
He breathed in slowly.
Connections could be re-established. He couldn’t regret that kiss.
It was some time before Sam saw Ava again, long after he’d come to the regretful conclusion that she must have hidden away in her room. The party was winding down and people were digging out their coats from the heap in the hall.
In sole possession of the large sofa, Sam was enjoying a contemplative JD Honey he’d liberated from Patrick’s stash, thinking, reluctantly, about starting a Christmas shopping list on the Waitrose site. Would Mum and Aunt Van prefer turkey or duck? He liked duck but was cranberry jelly eaten with it? And stuffing? Would they feel cheated if he didn’t buy a Christmas pudding? Nobody ever seemed to like eating the damned thing. Maybe he could find an app that would take the painful guesswork out of being the best Christmas host he could be. Help him to make it the most special Christmas his mother had ever known.
Then Ava appeared in the doorway, gaze flitting around the party debris. After a hesitation, she crossed to where he sat.
‘Do you know where Patrick’s gone? He was chatting with me and Izz in the kitchen but he’s vanished.’ She was at least managing to meet his eyes again.
‘Haven’t seen him for ages. What’s up?’
She looked away. ‘I wanted to ask him something.’
‘If you can’t find him, he may have already g
one to his room on the top floor. Is it something I can help with?’ Patrick might not thank them for interrupting him in his bedroom, as he’d consider going to bed alone after the party a colossal failure.
‘Izz.’ She grimaced.
He tried to read her expression. ‘Is she OK?’
‘Well …’ She scratched her nose and looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t really want to tell you, you being her boss. She’s not as tipsy as Tod was but she claims she can’t get upstairs and, at the moment, she’s trying to go to sleep with her head on the kitchen table.’
He sucked in a breath to keep from laughing. ‘Are all your friends drunks?’
Ava’s eyebrows lifted like commas of dismay. ‘Izz and Tod aren’t drunks! It’s damned Christmas. Too much alcohol and too much stupidity. Too much Christmassing. Too many excuses for behaving as we usually wouldn’t.’
If that was a veiled shot at their kiss, he decided not to acknowledge it. ‘Don’t worry, I do see the difference between a few Christmas drinks and habitual alcohol abuse. What happens at a Christmas party stays at a Christmas party and my memory will be expunged the instant we’ve seen her to bed.’ Reluctantly, he rolled to his feet and tossed back the last of the JD Honey. ‘I’ll help. But I need to see someone about my hero complex.’ At least that got a smile out of Ava as she led him away on their rescue mission.
In the kitchen, they found Izz folded peaceably onto a wooden chair, her cheek pillowed on her arms on the table.
Ava shook her friend’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Izz. I can’t leave you here. Sam’s come to help you upstairs.’
Sam positioned himself so that he could hook Izz’s arm around his neck and help her to her feet.
‘Hello, Sam!’ murmured Izz, sounding delighted to find him somehow in her embrace. ‘It’s a good party.’
Sam caught a stifled snort of laughter from Ava as she positioned herself at her friend’s other side.
‘It was a good party,’ Sam agreed. ‘But now it’s bedtime. You need to go back to the room you’re sharing with Ava,’ he added, in case Izz got the idea that she was being invited into Sam’s bed. ‘Ava wants to go to sleep and she can’t leave you down here on the table, can she? Ouch!’ He bounced uncomfortably off a doorjamb.
‘It’s a nice table.’ Izz seemed disposed to see the good in everything. ‘This is nice stair carpet. Nice flat. Patrick’s nice, too, isn’t he? When you get to know him. Isn’t he, Ava?’
‘Oof,’ Ava panted, as she banged into the banisters. ‘Yes, very nice. Don’t lean back!’ She let out a small shriek of dismay and Sam had to shoot his arm around her and catch the opposite handrail to have any hope of preventing them all being pulled backwards down the few stairs they’d so far put behind them.
He paused, panting. Nearly six feet of squiffy woman was definitely not an aerodynamic positive.
Izz’s arm tightened around his neck. ‘Hullo, Sam,’ she breathed.
Choking back another laugh, Ava came to his rescue. ‘Izz! It’s not nice to take advantage of a man when you’re drunk. Now lean forward a little bit – yes, like that! Just a few more steps now.’
Finally, panting, they got Izz up the stairs and along the landing to the door of the room Patrick had designated as theirs. Ava slapped at the light switch, then, with a last concerted heave, they let Izz down onto her bed.
‘Holy crap.’ Ava was breathing hard, her hair slipping from its clasp to curl down beside her face. ‘I’m glad she doesn’t do this very often.’
Sam could only agree. Relieved of his burden, he waved a tired hand and backed out of the room.
‘Goodnight,’ he heard Ava call softly, as he closed the door.
Sunday 9 December
Ava awoke slowly, aware of more traffic outside the window than there should be in School Road and an insistent, regular noise. Her memory began trying to supply her with facts. The party at Patrick’s. Sleeping over at Patrick’s. Izz …
She groaned.
The noise was Izz snoring. Like a tractor. A tractor that had had a lot to drink and was now lying on its back, snoring.
‘Izz!’ she hissed, experimentally. ‘Izz, turn over. Shh. Shhhhhh.’
Izz just carried on emitting ‘Rnnnnnnnnnh … hnnnnnnnnnh’ at steady intervals.
Ava found her phone and checked the time. Not long after seven. She’d only had about four hours’ sleep. She turned over, curling up small against the draughts swirling around the room, wishing she’d brought a glass of water upstairs with her last night as, although she’d not overdone it to the same extent as Tod or Izz, she was conscious of an unhealthy alcohol thirst. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore both her thirst and the rrrrrrnnnh … hnnnnnnnh increasing in volume from the opposite bed, and drift back to sleep.
Deep breaths … in-two-three-four … out-two-three-four … don’t think of that kiss.
Rnnnnnnnnnh … hnnnnnnnnnh
In-two-three-four … out-two-three-four … The kiss would hurt Izz’s feelings if she got to hear of it. Lucky that she’d been elsewhere when the kiss had grabbed Ava up out of her worries and shocked her libido into life.
Rnnnnnnnnnh … hnnnnnnnnnh
Her phone chirruped a loud text message alert. Ava jerked into a sitting position, muttering darkly.
Izz started awake and up on her elbow, gazing down with puzzlement at her jeans and top, visible in the light filtering in from the landing. Then she let her eyelids down again on a groan. ‘Your phone, Ava. It woke me up.’ She sounded so aggrieved as she shifted and stretched on a series of grunts and groans that Ava forgot her irritation and grinned.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I hadn’t thought to put it on silent.’
Within three seconds, Izz had settled back into a peaceful routine of rnnnnnnnnnh … hnnnnnnnnnh.
Ava looked at her phone screen and sighed. Harvey. A message and an image. Stomach sinking in anticipation, she opened it.
A pain began behind her left eye. Now she knew she looked like that when she did that she’d probably never do it to anybody again.
I thought you were going to delete those? she texted back frantically, wishing she hadn’t been right when she’d doubted Harvey’s good intentions.
Oops. lol.
Are you drunk this early in the morning?
It’s morning? Haven’t been to bed. How would you like it if I sent this pic to your dad? Would bigshot Met Commander Graeme like seeing exactly how his little girl has grown up?
Ava licked suddenly dry lips. Her dad had survived thirty years in the Met without a speck of dirt adhering to him. The idea of him being humiliated along with her filled her with dread. This shitty situation wasn’t showing any signs of letting up.
Neither were Izz’s excruciating snores – rnnnnnnnnnh … hnnnnnnnnnh.
Dragging her clothes on under the duvet to avoid the worst of the room’s frigid air, Ava slid her feet into her boots, pulled on her coat, and went downstairs in search of a gallon of water.
It took a little investigating of Patrick’s dubious kitchen cabinets before she discovered a pint mug that looked clean. She was just emptying it of cold water for the second time when a voice behind her made her jump.
‘Are you OK?’
Ava snorted water up her nose. ‘Fine.’ She wiped inelegantly at her face with the back of her hand and offered Sam a squinty morning smile. He was wearing a different T-shirt – this time the slogan said I’m not strange, I’m gifted.
‘Why are you up so early?’
‘Izz snoring, cold room, thirsty.’ Ava was beginning to feel more human now she was rehydrating. ‘Why are you?’
He glanced blearily at his watch. ‘I need to get home and I need breakfast inside me to get me through the journey. Want to join me?’ He began to thrust his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. His hair was only finger-combed and stubble shaded his jaw but otherwise he looked none the worse for a few beers and a night in whatever accommodation Patrick had allotted him. That was men for you. A wa
sh, a pee, and they were ready to face the world.
‘Um.’ Ava tried to focus on the discarded cans and bottles strewn around the room, along with two non-matching abandoned shoes. A huge caffé latte and maybe a salmon bagel seemed eminently more appealing than hanging around amongst the hangovers. ‘OK. I’ll have a go at waking Izz to see if she wants to come.’ She finished the second pint of water, rinsed the glass and refilled it for Izz, then yawned her way back upstairs.
Nothing had changed in the bedroom, unless it was that Izz’s snores had actually increased in volume.
‘Izz!’ Ava hissed. ‘Izz! Izz!’ She gave Izz’s shoulder a hard shake.
‘Wha’?’ Izz didn’t even open her eyes.
‘I’m going to a café to have breakfast with Sam. Want to come?’
‘Wha’s the time?’
‘7.26,’ Ava reported, precisely, consulting her phone.
‘In the morning?’ Izz settled more deeply into her pillows. ‘Too early. Not even daylight.’
‘OK. I’ll be back in an hour or so.’ Ava doubted that Izz would be awake in an hour, or even three or four, but she found a couple of paracetamol in her bag and left them, along with a drink of water, beside Izz’s slumbering form.
Creeping along to the bathroom in the silent house, Ava washed away the make-up she hadn’t quite cleansed away last night, brushed her teeth and clipped up her hair, grabbed her bag, then trod softly downstairs.
Sam was sitting on the kitchen table frowning over his phone when she found him. He slid the handset into his pocket. ‘Are you coming back here after breakfast?’
‘Yes. Izz isn’t exactly a morning person and she’ll be out for hours. Also, I need to check that Tod’s OK.’
Opening a kitchen drawer, Sam found a key on a green tag and tossed it her way. ‘I’m going straight to the tube so you’d better take one of Patrick’s spares. Put it back in this drawer before you leave to go home.’ He was obviously au fait with Patrick’s systems.
The Christmas Promise Page 6
