The Christmas Promise

by Sue Moorcroft

  She smiled, tidying his hair in a way that only a woman who had built her life around Sam and his mother could get away with. ‘You don’t have to entertain your aged auntie, Sam. Get off over to Ava’s house, if you want.’

  ‘I’m not seeing her tonight,’ he insisted truthfully, slamming a door shut in his mind against a wish to drive to Camden and see what could be retrieved.

  ‘OK, but I want to go to my room and Facetime Neale, so you feel free to do your own thing.’

  Wondering how old you had to get before an aunt would have to stop bossing you about, he yawned. ‘I’ll take the dogs out, then get an early night.’

  ‘Get off then.’ She made a shooing motion. ‘I’m going to talk to my lovely Neale.’

  In defiance of being shooed, Sam got himself a healthy slug of Jack Daniel’s with a chunk of ice and stared into space for a while, feeling like crap and not knowing what to do about it. He sipped the cool liquid that turned to fire as it hit the back of this throat, as if it could take away the taste of Ava. One night and he missed her.

  His phone vibrated with a message.

  Sorry not to have the chance to say bye but was good to meet you. Have tried to persuade Ava to experience Noël en France but she says she has plans so I’m returning home tomorrow. FYI, you were right that I should ask Ava about her self-sufficiency. I discovered that she sometimes needs help, just like anyone else. And makes mistakes, as we all do. Graeme Blissham.

  Ava’s latest ‘mistake’ was too raw for Sam to do more than politely acknowledge the text. He put on his earphones and listened to Radiohead so that he didn’t have to re-hear Ava’s accusation in his ears. He played a mindless brightly coloured game on his phone so that he didn’t have to re-see her horrified expression as she realised her mistake.

  But he couldn’t prevent himself uncomfortably reviewing what he’d said in the heat of the moment … it was natural for you to take the facts at face value and not believe in me … I need you to go away while I calm down … Lots to do. The client paying us is sitting right out there. I’ve got to get back to it as soon as I sort this out.

  Words could be weapons. It was analysed on the No Blame or Shame site. His words had shown her that sorting out the agency’s end of things was much more important to him than sorting out the Sam and Ava angle – which he hadn’t made the slightest attempt to address. Instead, he’d retreated behind a wall of cold, self-righteous anger to hurt her as much as she’d hurt him.

  When the glass of JD was gone he took the dogs out, taking comfort from their doggy grins as they wagged and sniffed in the cold night air. Getting them home and settled in their beds, he took himself off to his bedroom to watch a film. It failed to hold his attention and he took out his phone and glanced through his contacts, wondering what Patrick and Jake were doing. Until Patrick’s confession, their brand of entertainment had always suited his off-duty mood, and the worst he’d have had to put up with would have been incessant talk about the ski trip he wouldn’t be going on over New Year. But because of Patrick’s confession – damn his drunken sense of humour – there was no question of him firing off a What you up to? text, then jumping up to shower and change, making it to central London within the hour. He could only lie here stewing in a welter of betrayal and anger and brooding on where he’d really thought he’d be tonight – with Ava.

  Tonight could have been about celebration and triumph. An expensive meal and superior wine – a proper date, how was that for an idea? – buzzing with the success of the campaign. Even if they’d only curled up here on his sofa with a takeaway and their respective laptops as they stoked the buzz on social media, they would have been curled up together.

  Not furiously apart with miles between them as well as angry words, lies, pretence and a massive question mark over what happened next because they had too many tiny threads tying them together to make a clean break. And a lot of those threads were also connected to other people.

  With a huge sigh he realised he couldn’t put it off any longer, and rang Ava’s phone.

  She picked up just as he thought she wasn’t going to. Her voice sounded small and flat. ‘Hey.’

  ‘It’s probably too late to ring you.’

  ‘I’m awake.’

  ‘Right.’ He rolled down on his pillows, wondering if she was in bed. Picturing her as he’d last seen her there, her golden hair tumbling across her naked body. ‘My mother’s asking whether you’ll be joining us on Sunday or Monday.’ He sounded ridiculously formal, as if he had no interest in her answer himself.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Sweet of her to think of me, though.’ She met his neutrality with her own.

  The awkwardness increased. He cursed Patrick and Izz. If not for those pictures appearing on Jermyn’s server this morning he could be not just with Ava, but in bed with her. The thought tightened his groin. Instead there was a yawning gulf of anger between them that made this conversation feel like chewing ground glass.

  ‘As you’re obviously having trouble saying it,’ she interrupted his thoughts, making him realise that he’d been silent for an uncomfortable length of time, ‘I understand if you don’t want me with your family on Christmas Day. I’ll get Wendy’s hat to you on Christmas Eve. You might have to pick it up, as I expect the couriers are booked. But, anyway, it can be done.’

  Dismayed at the flip in his stomach her words prompted, he answered cautiously. ‘To be honest, I was hoping for the opposite. You know my reasons for wanting to make this Christmas special. For Mum.’ He winced at the way that rider had sounded, as if Ava didn’t matter. ‘She’s looking forward to you being there.’

  ‘I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.’

  ‘I can work around it.’ He was fairly forced by good manners to add, ‘What about you? Can you manage it?’

  Her laugh was no more than a breath. ‘I don’t have high expectations of Christmas. I expect I can faux date one more time.’

  He wrestled with himself. Half of him was still processing his anger. The other half wanted to go to her. Letting those two halves meet was probably a bad idea.

  But, shit. Her father was going back to France, her best friends were spending Christmas elsewhere. What would Ava be doing with herself? ‘Mum would love it if you could join us for something over the next two days,’ he pressed, experimentally. I want it too. But I can’t make myself say it.

  ‘Two of Vanessa’s Rotarian mates are coming tomorrow to buy from my samples. Now that they’ve seen the Alive Today article they want something with an Ava Bliss label before I “put my prices up”.’

  This was an easier subject to deal with. ‘They must think they’re being astute if they’re prepared to make the trip this close to Christmas. Good for your bank account. If they try and buy any of those hats Ruby wore in the feature, charge them double.’

  ‘Is that how big business works? No wonder I’ve been crap at it.’ She didn’t sound as if she cared much.

  The silences punctuating their sentences were becoming painful. He didn’t try again to change her mind about pre-Christmas. She rang off with an abrupt, ‘Well, if that’s it, bye.’

  He got himself another glass of Jack Daniel’s. The idea of her spending Christmas Eve by herself wouldn’t quite leave him, no matter how many times he told himself that she must have friends to hang with and Camden High Street and the markets would be buzzing.

  Another JD and he was falling over from fatigue, but his mind was too active for sleep. He opened his laptop and went on Twitter. Masochistically, he went onto Ava’s page. She was busy retweeting tweets from Ruby, Emily and Manda Jane. They were popping up at the top of her timeline as he watched so she was online right now.

  He retweeted one of her retweets.

  Her tweets halted.

  Feeling like a stalker, he went off her page and began experimenting with hashtags, the Twitter device designed to help people identify trends and join conversations. #RubyGlennister, #BoobyRuby and #RubyGlenni‌sterChristmas wer
e all part of active conversations. Searching further he discovered #AvaBliss, too. It looked as if Ruby herself was using it, chatting to her WAG and footie mates. Whether it was a wish to help Ava or to grow a buzz about the brand preparatory to resurrecting her modelling career wasn’t clear. But, good.

  Ava ought to get something out of this ferocious mess. A line of WAGs, cash in hand, would set her up.

  Sunday 23 December

  It was Sunday morning, the day before Christmas Eve, and the house seemed eerily quiet. If ever Ava had disliked a Christmas, it was this one.

  Even though she was appearing in an article and a Christmas e-card with a celebrity who was trending on Twitter, and her Ava Bliss email inbox was filling up with enquiries and people were even pressing her for bank account details so that they could send deposits to secure a place in her schedule, her best friends were somewhere else and she didn’t know how things would go with Izz in the future – she could hardly bear to think of that. And for the sake of his fragile mother she was going to spend Christmas Day with a man who probably didn’t want to spend Christmas with her.

  The two ladies from Rotary, wearing waxed jackets and scarves with little round bells on the ends, arrived on her doorstep at ten, when Ava was barely ready to receive visitors. The taller of the two stepped forward. ‘I’m Rayne and this is Vicky. Hope you don’t mind us being early but we thought we’d get off into town and see the lights, after.’ They stepped into the hallway without waiting to be invited.

  ‘Of course I don’t mind. Would you like coffee?’ Ava went automatically into looking-after-clients mode.

  ‘Lovely,’ said Rayne, glancing around as Ava led them upstairs. ‘I didn’t realise that your business premises would be an ordinary house. But I expect all that will change soon, won’t it? What’s Ruby Glennister like? Booby Ruby! Not that I usually take much notice of what the celebs are up to.’ She laughed heartily. ‘The photos of you both with the hats instead of bras was funny. Eh, Vicky?’

  Vicky sniggered, eyes shining.

  ‘Ruby’s lovely.’ Ava showed them into the studio, wondering with neck-prickling irritation why they’d viewed the article in Alive Today if they didn’t care what the celebs were up to. ‘She’s been kind to me.’ Then, accidentally-on-purpose forgetting the offer of coffee, ‘What sort of thing are you looking for?’

  Rayne darted across the studio to where the samples waited. ‘Was this the yellow hat that Ruby wore in Alive Today? Isn’t it beautiful?’ She snatched up the stylish straw and plopped it on her head like a child playing dress-up, her curls bursting out beneath the brim.

  Smile glued firmly in place, Ava gently removed the hat and took charge, guiding Rayne towards the stool before the mirror. ‘Shall I take your coat and scarf? Would you like to comb your hair or anything?’

  Rayne giggled, looking abashed. ‘Oh, of course. I’m getting carried away.’

  When she’d tidied herself, Ava set the hat well back on Rayne’s head. ‘If you’d like your curls to frame your face—’

  ‘But that’s not how Ruby wore it.’ Rayne looked childishly disappointed.

  Rayne was never going to look like Ruby Glennister, but Ava repositioned the hat so that it tilted coquettishly over Rayne’s eye. ‘More like this?’

  ‘Ooh, Rayne,’ whispered Vicky. ‘That’s so you.’

  Ava smiled neutrally. There were better colours than yellow for Rayne’s silver hair and light skin. ‘Would you like to try something else? This pale blue—’

  ‘I want this one.’ Rayne preened. ‘I loved it as soon as I saw it on Ruby.’

  ‘If it’s a touch tight—’

  ‘This one.’ Rayne removed the hat and clutched it to her for emphasis.

  Vicky simpered at Ava. ‘I want the black and white one. I think it’s ever so stylish.’

  The looped cocktail hat suited Vicky marginally better than the yellow picture hat had suited Rayne. ‘How does that feel?’

  ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Vicky beamed at her reflection. ‘Rayne, isn’t it gorgeous?’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ repeated Rayne, still clutching the yellow straw.

  ‘So you wouldn’t want to try—’

  ‘It’s not as if we take much notice of what the celebs are doing but we know what we like.’ Rayne beamed approvingly at Vicky.

  Ava, giving up, priced the hats at double what they’d been, exactly as Sam had suggested.

  Rayne and Vicky went into immediate giggles, fingers over mouths, eyes wide with delicious horror.

  Ava waited, curious to see whether Sam would be proved right. Three weeks ago she would have been offering them discounts.

  ‘Well, it is Christmas,’ breathed Rayne, taking a break from round-eyed mock-consternation.

  ‘It is Christmas,’ echoed Vicky. ‘And Ruby wore these actual hats. They are the actual hats?’ she snapped acquisitively at Ava.

  ‘The very same. I can box them up for you if you want to pay now and take them today or you could pay directly into my bank account and I’ll send them to you. P&P is £30, though.’

  A whispered consultation, as Ava brought out flat-packed hatboxes and flipped them into their three-dimensional forms, resulted in the decision that if Rayne and Vicky went to the nearest ATM they could pull together enough cash to take their hats that day.

  ‘They won’t be too much trouble when you go into town to see the lights?’ Ava nestled the canary yellow straw in black tissue.

  ‘We’ll manage.’ Rayne beamed. ‘I don’t know what my hubs is going to say, though.’

  Ava lowered the black-and-white hat into a box lined with royal blue. ‘Hopefully, he’ll say you look fantastic.’ No harm hoping. ‘Got a special occasion coming up?’

  ‘Not really.’ Rayne looked struck. ‘I could wear it on Christmas Day!’

  Ava ran a mental image of Rayne wrestling the turkey into the oven with her Ruby Glennister hat tilted over one eye, and managed a genuine smile. ‘Fabulous!’

  ‘So where’s the nearest ATM?’ Vicky was already halfway out of the door. Ava gave them directions and then was left in the silence of her studio, checking that each hat was secure within its tissue-paper bed before popping the hatbox lids in place. As it seemed the hats were to be dragged around London all day, she tied the lids in place with lengths of ribbon, twisting it through the cheap silver bells that had decorated her studio, glad to have an excuse to get even these meagre Christmas decorations out of her sight.

  When Rayne and Vicky returned they had to exclaim ‘How pretty!’ and take photos on their phones before they finally handed over the money and marched off along School Road with their hatboxes borne proudly before them.

  Heaving a sigh of relief, Ava went back to her laptop. Emily had sent her links to Sunday tabloids running sympathetic stories about Ruby ‘coming out about her boob job’ or ‘ending the lies at last’.

  Bizarrely, people she knew were sending her the animated Christmas card with their own faces featuring on the bodies of the supporting cast and messages like Couldn’t believe this! This is so cool! Wow, how did you get in THIS? It made Ava feel odd all over again, as if Ava Bliss were someone else, not her at all.

  Then she found Ruby had sent her a direct message via Twitter: Hope yr home cos I’m on my way to yours. Rubes xxx

  Half an hour later Ruby breezed in, scattering hugs and kisses along with raindrops from her coat. ‘I ain’t got your phone number. Pop it in there for me.’ She dropped her phone into Ava’s hand. ‘I brought us some champagne, Ava, babes. Ain’t it been brilliant?’

  Bemused, Ava realised that Ruby had a cylindrical carrier dangling from her shoulder by green and gold cord. Inside was an ice pack and a bottle of Cristal.

  ‘Clever, ain’t it?’ Ruby slid the carrier off her shoulder. ‘Nothing worse than warm bubbles.’ Then she hesitated, her beautifully manicured hand on Ava’s. ‘Is it OK to invite meself? Tell me if I’m stopping you doing something.’

  ‘Not a damned thing,’ Ava rep
lied frankly. ‘But I don’t have champagne flutes.’

  ‘Got them!’ Ruby shifted the ice pack to show two glasses nestling below, then picked the foil from the Cristal and popped the cork with an expert twist, pouring the foam into the flutes as Ava held them. ‘Here’s to us, babes. Do you think it’s a good idea for me to wear your hats?’

  Ava dropped down on a chair and took her first sip of chilled champagne, shivering in appreciation. ‘Fantastic. But you know I can’t pay your fees.’

  The point was waved away with a twiddle of the manicure. ‘I want you to pay me in hats. They’re going to be part of my signature look. You make me a hat, I blether about Ava Bliss. No money changes hands.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Except if we decide to run ads. Then we’ll have to talk.’

  Ads sounded unlikely, but as Ava had an inbox full of enquiries to deal with as a direct result of her serendipitous association with Ruby, she could certainly afford to make a few hats for free.

  Abruptly, Ruby changed tack, her eyes glowing with sympathy. ‘Terrible foul up between you and Sam, yesterday. My heart did bleed for you, babes. I just couldn’t think of nothing to say to help.’

  Ava coughed as champagne bubbles collided with a sharp intake of breath. Any residual positivity from selling Rayne and Vicky ex-Ruby hats at a stupid price evaporated.

  ‘I know.’ Ruby looked sympathetic as Ava dropped her gaze. ‘Sam’s lovely but he likes to be on top, don’t he? Figuratively, I mean. I ain’t been under him in reality.’ She paused as if considering the prospect and not finding it unpleasant. ‘What I mean is it would have been better if you’d had a quiet word with him rather than blurting out an accusation. And yellin’.’

  Ave slid a hand over her face. ‘Don’t you think I know? In the shock of the moment I couldn’t see any other explanation for what happened. It was incredibly stupid of me.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Ruby tapped a fingernail on her teeth. Then she brightened. ‘At least you got all this lovely publicity before you pissed him off. You were dead crafty, there.’