‘Did you use salt instead of sugar again?’ Sarah smiled back, teasing Claire about the time they’d baked with their dad when they were younger and Claire had mistakenly put salt in a chocolate sponge cake mixture.
‘Of course not,’ Claire replied and stuck her tongue out as she unwound the scarf from her neck.
It was like being a kid again, hanging out in the kitchen with her twin as they cooked. Or, more accurately, as Sarah cooked. Claire had done her duties and all there was left for her to do now was eat. Her mouth watered as Sarah took the turkey from the oven and basted it, sending its aroma around the kitchen. Even if it weren’t for the contented smile that was permanently fixed to her face, Sarah looked so happy. The only concession to motherhood that Claire could ever see on her was the bags under her eyes.
Claire shrugged her coat off and draped it over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. ‘Where’s Mum and Peter?’
‘Ava had an unsettled night so they’ve taken her out for a bit. They should be back any minute.’
After years of torturing herself for the mistakes of her childhood, Sarah had closed the fifteen year gap with her family and returned to the fold. The enormity of them all preparing to sit around a dining table at Christmas hadn’t been mentioned, but the atmosphere was undeniable. It was charged with expectation and hope that the past year, a year where they’d all gotten closer, would continue into the next.
‘Hey, Claire,’ Adam said, walking into the kitchen, still dressed in his pyjamas. His brown hair was ruffled and his eyes looked tired as he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too, but what time do you call this?’ Claire raised an eyebrow with a grin and looked down at her watch.
‘I was up all night with Ava while this one slept.’ He nodded at Sarah and rolled his eyes, but his happiness was clear. It was in stark contrast to the air of rejection he’d had when Claire first met him last year after he’d split up with Sarah.
Claire watched as he kissed the side of Sarah’s head before making himself a coffee. Looking at them now, it was hard to believe they’d ever split up at all. They were the vision of the perfect family and it was only enhanced when their mum and step-dad returned with baby Ava. After hugging them hello, Claire stretched her arms out to scoop up her seven month old niece.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ Claire held Ava up to her face, marvelling as she always did at how quickly her features were changing. ‘She looks so different and I only saw her two weeks ago.’
Sarah smiled and slung the tea-towel over her shoulder. ‘I know. She’s growing so quickly and her attitude’s growing with it. She’s a proper little madam.’
‘I wonder who she gets that from,’ Adam said, swilling his coffee in his cup.
‘Must be you. She gets all the best bits from me,’ Sarah replied.
Claire blew raspberries into Ava’s neck, making her squeal. What would her own child would be like, when she eventually got round to having one? Would it inherit her thrill-seeking, free-spirited nature, or the amber eyes that both she and Sarah had? She held her niece in a hug. All this Christmas bonhomie was clearly getting to her, just like it had in the supermarket. It was easy to imagine herself all settled down when she was with Sarah and Adam, getting a glimpse into how her life could be.
Her mind turned to Danny. Their messages had been fun and flirtatious, as had the others she’d swapped with guys on Tinder but this time, she wasn’t just thinking about someone to add to her list of casual encounters. When he’d texted her that morning, wishing her a happy Christmas, she’d started to think that it might be nice to have someone for more than just a fling. Someone who’d be there when she got back from a trip, waiting for her to snuggle up to, someone to share her Christmases with, like Sarah had.
‘You’re so good with her,’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘I can’t wait to see you with one of your own.’
That was the disadvantage of being a twin. Since they’d grown closer, they always seemed to know what the other was thinking, but Claire simply tutted and shook her head as if to say, don’t be so ridiculous.
No boyfriends, no kids. She had an epic trip to Singapore to look forward to and whatever this restless feeling was, she needed to nip it in the bud.
Five
Danny stood in the kitchen after washing the dishes. He remembered the state the kitchen would be in after Christmas as a kid. There’d be mountains of plates, pans, cutlery and glasses, and his mum would almost be permanently attached to the sink. He sighed and dried his hands on a tea-towel, looking at the apron hanging on the back of the closed kitchen door, remembering how she used to wear it like a uniform. Those Christmases were long gone. From the minute his dad had uprooted the whole family to London from the sleepy town of Athenry in Ireland, misery had decided it liked their company.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he smiled after unlocking the screen to see a photo of Claire, pulling a silly face as she held her niece. They’d swapped messages on and off all afternoon and it sounded like she was having a great Christmas. He couldn’t say the same for himself. His dad had refused to entertain the idea of spending the day at Danny’s spacious home, preferring to stay in his cramped, gloomy flat instead. Danny had toyed with the idea of trying to get his dad to move somewhere nicer again. He could get another mortgage with no problems and it galled him to think of his dad living like this, but he knew it was pointless. His dad had vowed never to leave this place after his mum died five years ago and Danny couldn’t see that ever changing.
He made three cups of coffee, adding a slug of whiskey for his grandpa and headed back into the living room. His throat tightened at the sight of his dad, dozing on the sofa with his grandpa next to him. Both men were widowed and both were mere shadows of the men he remembered from his childhood. Was this what life held for him - sitting in front of a box while the world moved past outside?
Dissatisfaction wrenched at him as he set the cups down on the scuffed coffee table. It was as if his dad was intent on simply existing instead of living as he’d used to do. He was the reason Danny got into the world of bar work. Every weekend, he would be made to work in the family pub back home. It was the hub of their little town and his dad had been larger than life itself but nowadays, he rarely set foot outside more than once a week. Danny had fully embraced the hectic, cosmopolitan lifestyle the capital offered but, as soon as he stepped over the threshold to his dad’s flat, he was just Danny. A small town boy with nothing behind him and nothing to look forward to.
‘When’s this young lady of yours coming?’ his grandpa asked and Danny blinked. It was the first thing he’d said for hours.
‘I don’t have a lady, Grandpa. Remember?’
‘Oh, yes. That’s right.’ His grandpa nodded. ‘But why not? Sure, when I was your age I was already married with three boys. Even your Da was married by your age.’
‘I know, but things are different these days.’
‘You still need to find yourself a woman. Settle down, raise a family.’ His grandpa leaned on the arm of the sofa and beckoned at Danny to come closer. ‘Are you...you know. One of those homosexuals?’
Danny laughed. ‘No, grandpa. I’m not a homosexual.’
‘Well at least tell me you’re cleaning your pipes regularly?’
‘Grandpa!’ Danny groaned. ‘Really?’
‘What? Are you a man or aren’t you? Once a day keeps the doctor away. How else do you think I’ve lived this long.’
Danny laughed again, shaking his head. It was becoming a real juggling act with his grandpa. His Alzheimer’s was getting worse and his lucid moments were getting fewer and further between, marred by ever prolonged periods of forgetting who, where or even when he was. But then there were times like this when he reverted back to the Grandpa Gerry he remembered – outspoken and full of bare-faced cheek. Danny looked at him as he slipped back into his vacant expression and stared past the television. The mo
ment was gone as quickly as it had come. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly took it out, grateful for the distraction. Thinking about his grandpa’s deteriorating health was something he couldn’t deal with, not today.
- Soooooo. I was thinking. Maybe we could meet up for a drink or something and do this face to face?
Danny smiled. He was going to ask her the same thing but he liked that she’d beaten him to it. She seemed like the type of woman who could give him the thrill of the chase and give as good as she got - exactly his type.
- Sounds great to me. When are you free?
- Well, I’ve a flight out in a few days so it’s pretty hectic, but I could do tomorrow?
Like his grandpa said, he had to settle down sooner or later and Danny couldn’t agree more. If nothing else, meeting up with Claire would be fun, something to brighten his mood after today. The idea of spending another Christmas like this one made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t want to end up an old man, alone in a flat when everyone else celebrated with friends and family.
Next year, things would be different.
Six
As was tradition, the West End heaved on Boxing Day with shoppers fighting their way through the sales with sharpened elbows and at six in the evening, the streets were still bustling with gleeful shoppers. Claire stood on the pavement, hunching her shoulders against the blistering cold. The Christmas streetlights shone overhead, stretching from lamppost to lamppost, adding to the magical air that London seemed to lend itself to every December.
She looked up as a group of people approached and her heart leapt to her throat until she saw that Danny wasn’t among them. Of course he wasn’t, she was half an hour early. She was the one to ask him to meet but nerves had kicked in, so much so that her family kept asking what was wrong with her. She’d asked herself the same question, too. It hadn’t been an issue when she’d met up with Paolo in Sydney, or Will in Dubai. Why should this be any different? Maybe it was because every time she thought of his picture, the one of him swan diving from a cliff edge and showing off his perfectly sculpted back, her body throbbed with an impatience she hadn’t felt in a long time.
‘Claire?’
She looked up at the sound of the deep voice and her stomach flipped. ‘Danny?’
He was even hotter in the flesh. His dark hair ruffled in the wind and his eyes were big, blue and smiling. His lips were smiling too, and they were the most kissable she’d ever seen. She stopped gawping and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek as a greeting, grateful for the continental gesture that had become so commonplace in England.
‘You’re early,’ he said.
‘So are you.’ Claire grinned.
‘Well that’s because I wanted to be able to run away if you turned out to be a fifty-year old man called Herbert. What’s your excuse?’
Claire laughed, drinking in the soft lilt of his accent. ‘Same. But for me you’d have been a fifty year old woman called Ursula.’
‘My gran was called Ursula,’ he replied with a smile. ‘Though I wouldn’t blame you for running away from her. I used to, all the time.’
She snuck a peek at him as he looked up at the building in front of them, taking a quick but appreciative glance at his profile and the light coating of stubble across his jaw.
‘So, drink?’
Claire nodded and he grinned back before pushing open the door in front of them. He’d suggested the venue and going by its nondescript exterior, she’d assumed it was a closed office rather than a bar. She hadn’t seen anyone going in or coming out of it and a flicker of apprehension crossed her mind as she reminded herself that she didn’t really know him. She’d thrown caution to the curb in allowing him to pick the place they’d meet but when he stood back, holding the door for her to step through into a lobby, her nerves eased. The sleek space held four lifts and obviously expensive artwork hung on the walls. She looked at the man sitting the reception desk and he glanced up at them, nodding a greeting at Danny. With his sharp, black suit and discreet earpiece, it was clear he was some kind of security guard.
‘So, what is this place? I don’t think I’ve been here before,’ she asked as they stepped into one of the small lifts.
‘The Opal Bar.’ He pressed the button for level twenty-two. ‘It’s only been open a couple of years.’
His voice wrapped itself around her and the skin on the back of her neck tingled. The lift was small and being in the enclosed space with him was making her heart pound. It didn’t help when he unbuttoned his coat. His plain, black sweater hinted at the firmness of his body underneath and jeans hung in a way that made her want to reach over and take them straight off.
‘Oh, I forgot.’ Claire reached into her bag and took out a small plastic tub. ‘I’ve brought you a gift. Let’s call it a Christmas present.’
He grinned at the cupcake in the tub. ‘Ah, cheers. I’d wondered how they’d come out.’
He looked straight at her and she fought to control the heat creeping its way up to her face. Danny opened the tub and held the cupcake between his thumb and forefinger, but instead of taking a bite, he held it to her mouth instead. She smiled and took a miniscule bite, keeping her eyes locked onto his and when he lightly brushed his thumb against her lip to wipe away a crumb, her pulse trip-hopped around her body.
Christ, the man was hot.
The lift doors slid open and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Her lip burned from where he’d touched her and, had the lift doors not opened, chances were she would have moved in for a kiss. She needed to keep herself together for a while longer at least.
They stepped out into darkness for a few seconds until Danny flicked a switch and she stared at the space around them. Through an alcove ahead, high stools surrounded a circular bar in the middle of the room and the light fittings hanging from the ceiling reflected off its highly polished surface.
‘After you.’ He grinned and gestured for her to step through the alcove.
Booths with high backed, leather seating stretched along the narrow space beyond the bar, leading to an entire wall of ceiling to floor glass separating the interior bar from the terrace outside.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked as he put his jacket on the bar.
‘We are everyone.’ He pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. ‘It’s closed ‘til tomorrow.’
Claire raised an eyebrow as he stepped behind the bar. ‘Are you allowed to do that?’
‘I dunno.’ He looked around before flashing her a grin. ‘The boss of this place can be a real asshole sometimes, but I won’t tell if you don’t.’
His eyes flashed mischievously as the grin held on his face. He had dimples, right in the middle of his cheeks, and Claire couldn’t take her eyes off them. She leaned into the bar, resting on her forearms as he turned to the small refrigerators behind him. God, his arse was perfection.
‘So, going by your photos I’d have said you were a champagne kind of girl but now I’m not so sure.’ He turned around with a bottle of Prosecco. ‘Will this do?’
Claire nodded with a smile. She didn’t like Champagne anyway. ‘It’s perfect.’
Danny put the bottle and two glasses into a bucket, and stepped out from behind the bar, skipping his eyes down to her feet and back up again, scanning every inch of her body. ‘Shall we go outside? It’ll be warm under the heaters.’
He nodded towards the doors and she shrugged off her coat, letting it fall slowly over her shoulders to reveal her bare arms. Danny grinned and led the way to the terrace.
‘So whereabouts in Ireland are you from?’ she asked as he slid the door open.
‘Athenry, in County Galway. Do you know it?’
‘I’ve heard of Galway, but I’ve never been.’
If she’d have known they made them like him over there, Athenry would have had a pin stuck to it on the huge world map on her bedroom wall. She looked at him and lightly brushed her body against his as she stepped out into the warmth of the heater
s. The terrace oozed sophistication with its own dedicated outdoor bar, high tables and potted plants. She could easily picture it on a hot, summer’s day, packed to the hilt with high flying corporate and media types.
Danny set the bucket down as she perched onto a high-backed stool. She crossed her legs, feeling the material of her demure, over the knee skirt tighten around her thighs. The movement had the desired effect when she saw his eyes flick down to her legs as he twisted the cork on the bottle. She looked at the muscles flexing in his forearms and wondered what she might find under his sweater. A thrill of excitement ran through her. This was what she liked the most - the anticipation and build up. The swirling in her stomach was the closest she’d come to feeling butterflies over a guy for a long time, if that’s what it was.
‘So, how was the rest of your Christmas night?’ she asked as he poured the Prosecco.
Danny shrugged. ‘It was good. I went to the pub after dropping my grandpa home. Some guy proposed to his girlfriend over karaoke but he was so drunk I doubt he’d have remembered any of it this morning.’
‘Ah, the good old drunken proposal.’ Claire grinned. ‘No good can ever come of that.’
‘Tell me about it. You wouldn’t believe the number of times that happens. I wish I could say it was romantic in some way, but...’
He tailed off to hand her a glass and his fingers brushed against hers.
‘But...’ Claire tilted her head to one side. ‘You’re sceptical?’
‘I love you a little bit and I’m a little bit unfaithful, but I can’t be bothered to wait for something better to come along. Will you marry me?’
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ she replied and shook her head with a grin, ‘how could a girl refuse?’
Danny laughed. ‘Okay, I was being flippant. I just don’t see the point unless you know it’s for real. It seems like most people break up and make up more often than I change my pants.’
Claire’s eyes involuntarily flicked down to his crotch. ‘You don’t seem like the type to wear any.’
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