Every Day in December

by Kitty Wilson

  ‘Yeah, I like her. But that’s not fair on Jessica, you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t know. Jessica is gone, the only people you aren’t being fair to right now are you and Belle. You shouldn’t be playing with her if you don’t mean it.’

  ‘I’m not playing with her.’

  ‘How many days have you spent with her since you landed, hmmm? Anyway, taking your personal feelings out of it, I wanna talk about mine. And mine are that my nephew, you’ve met him, Mark, he hasn’t got no time for books, he’s all about the football and that. Fair enough, I can see where my man is coming from. But he’s only eight and turns out your Belle rocked up to his school soon after I knocked her back, like soon, and Mark loved it. Something she did really connected with him. He made his mum go and get him some of the plays in graphic novel form and he’s eating them up. I don’t know what she did but she did good. So, I want to talk to her again, not about money for app funding, but maybe about how me and her can team up, get her into schools doing this regularly, use my name, work together, get things done.’

  ‘That sounds very much like a plan she’d like. To be honest she’s all about the schools, the app thing she thought would be her starting point, and I pushed it, trying to monetise the sheer volume of work she has done.’

  ‘Well, that work serves her well and I can help her get more established, if she’s interested. Her knowledge and my rep should be a bold combination. And I’ll make sure she knows it’s not because of who she is, who she knows, but because she’s worked hard and all that knowledge that’s her own. So, can I have her number?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ A huge smile spreads across my face. Belle recognised for who she is, what she knows and does, is exactly the lift she deserves.

  Hey, hope you’re doing okay? You’ll never guess who I’ve just heard from. Jamal. Jamal wants to work with me. How amazing is that?

  ‘Amazing and well-deserved,’ I type out and then delete. I need to put space between us. Even if I am staying in the UK, Belle needs a man in her life without my issues. She’s had enough of those to last a lifetime. She doesn’t need me and my over-emotional head dragging her down, not when she is about to fly. I need to break these bonds now. She hadn’t seen me as I was in the run-up to Jess’s death, eaten up with jealousy and doubt. I need to make her see me for the arse I am – jealous, controlling, the Leontes-in-training rather than the man I suspect she sees now. I need to cut the cords, make sure she frees herself up for a future she deserves.

  Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love.

  * * *

  December Twenty-eighth.

  Belle.

  Hey, I don’t want to be a freaky stalker but are you okay?

  I send another message to Rory. I spent most of yesterday evening watching my phone, waiting for him to answer. More than a few times, I watched those dots move, indicating he was typing a response but nothing came through.

  It makes it harder somehow, knowing he’s on the other end of the phone and that whatever he has to say to me is so bad he can’t bring himself to send it. I’ve been spoilt by his company this month and know he’ll be going back to Australia soon and it will hit hard when he does, but this I’m not prepared for.

  I don’t know whether I should worry about him or be hurt that he appears to be ghosting me. I resolve to give it one more day before I get really panicky. All sorts of things can come up. Christmas is a difficult time of year for many people and it’s quite possible that he’s run off his feet professionally. I hope his absence doesn’t mean something has come up with Alison. There are lots of reasons for him not answering and all of which mean it will not be helpful for me to be pestering him. Plus, it’s probably better for my crush if I don’t spend as much time with him.

  It’s just that it bites. And I’m worried.

  His very personality type dictates that it’s unlikely he is ghosting me. If I have done anything to offend him, it’s far more likely that he’d tell me directly, in a slightly apologetic manner, that he thinks it will be best if we don’t spend time together.

  Ghosting is very definitely not a Rory Walters thing.

  And as Daddy dearest frequently likes to tell me, the world does not revolve around me.

  However, knowing it may have nothing to do with me doesn’t stop me feeling all those emotions you get when someone ignores you. The inadequacy, the paranoia, the anger. I’m spiralling through all of those feelings so I do the thing I always do in times of trouble, I curl up in my bed – to my shame with my phone right next to me so when he does get in touch I can see it – and pick up my well-thumbed copy of Antony and Cleopatra. I figure it’s time to throw myself back in again from the very start. After all, I may have missed something the first few times around.

  I’m at the bit where Antony has had Caesar’s messenger whipped when my phone beeps. I’m so tangled up in my bedding I jump an inch or two in the air, the phone goes flying and I catch my foot in the duvet and land thwack on the floor, the phone hurtles into the air, I change my direction, shape my body into a preposterous angle and reach ready to catch it and … miss.

  Thwack.

  I always was shit at netball.

  Untangling myself from the covers before I trip myself over again, I grab my phone, right myself on the floor and look at the screen.

  Still mad excited about the Jamal thing. You so deserve this. What you up to today? If you not mixing with mega-stars or working one of your zillion secret jobs obvs. Wanna come play?

  It’s Luisa.

  Ding dong.

  ‘Belle, Belle! Come in.’ As Luisa opens the door Marsha propels herself through it and barrels into me, hugs my legs super tight and then grabs my hand and tries to drag me through the hallway.

  ‘Woah.’

  I dig my heels in to try and slow her down. Almost-five-year-olds may not be very big but don’t ever be fooled into thinking that they lack strength.

  ‘Mummy and Daddy bought me a pony for Chrissmas!’ she shouts as I pull her back towards me.

  ‘You bought her a pony?’ I ask Luisa.

  ‘Fuck no!’ Luisa mouths over Marsha’s head. ‘Yes, we did, you’re going to love GeeGee,’ she says out loud.

  ‘You’ll love her and love her and love her,’ Marsha declares, tugging on my hand again.

  ‘And you keep the pony in the kitchen?’ I ask, the corners of my mouth twitching. ‘Does it try and get in the fridge?’

  ‘We do. And of course not, she’s very well trained. She’s very happy in there,’ Luisa replies.

  ‘Oh my goodness, she is magnificent,’ I say as we enter the kitchen and Marsha pulls my arm half out of its socket in her quest to get me to see GeeGee, her beautifully old-fashioned rocking horse. ‘And what a wonderful name.’

  ‘Yes, we’re going to get her a stars and stripes bikini and give her a pole for her birthday.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mummy! She wants hay for her birthday. Horses don’t wear bikinis!’

  ‘No, they don’t. I thought you would have known that, Luisa,’ I say in my most playground ner-ner voice, trying not to giggle. ‘So with GeeGee here, I guess you won’t be interested in any presents in my bag?’

  Marsha stops lovingly stroking GeeGee and boings over to my side. ‘What is it? What is it?’

  ‘I tell you what, if you have your present from Belle now and we give her hers, will you go and watch a movie whilst we catch up?’ Luisa asks and Marsha looks at her mother suspiciously.

  ‘If I don’t watch a movie will I still get presents?’

  ‘No,’ says Luisa firmly.

  I open my eyes wide at her. ‘Look, it’s day five of the Christmas holidays, I’ve forgotten what adult company is, Remi seems to been superglued to the office chair and I need half an hour with my best mate and preferably six dozen Christmas cocktails,’ she explains.

  ‘Well, in that case…’ I crouch down to Marsha. ‘Let’s make Mummy happy. How about we do the presents then I�
�ll chat to Mum a bit whilst you watch any movie you want and then we’ll have fun. What do you think?’

  ‘Okay.’ She gives me her cutest look.

  ‘Go and get Belle her present first,’ Luisa says to her daughter who flashes a grin and turns to run from the room. Luisa pulls open the fridge door and takes a glug of wine from the bottle.

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Seriously. It’s medicine.’

  ‘It looks like it’s medicine that should be shared.’ I grab a glass for myself and another for her from the cupboard. ‘Fill, then we’ll chill and do twixmas stuff.’

  ‘Twixmas stuff like lying on the sofa drinking and binge-watching TV?’

  ‘Oh yes, baby, that is how we are spending today.’

  ‘Oh my God, can we? Can we really?’

  ‘Yep!’

  Remi wanders into the kitchen and heads towards the coffee machine. ‘Hi, Belle, how’s tricks?’

  ‘All good. Are you mad busy today?’

  ‘Nope.’ He slips his arm around Luisa’s waist and pulls her towards him.

  ‘Excellent, then you are on Marsha duty whilst wifey and I have the day off to talk all things gal.’

  ‘Yes.’ Luisa smiles. ‘We’ll be curled up in the living room, drinking and watching romcoms and action movies, maybe talking about willies.’

  ‘Nice.’ Remi says. ‘Mine’s huge, by the way. Like a tree trunk.’

  ‘It is.’ Luisa nods and I faux gag.

  ‘Seriously, me and Marsh will have the best day, won’t we?’ he continues, addressing his daughter who has come bowling back into the room.

  ‘I’m having fun with Belle today.’

  ‘Have fun with your dad instead? We could go try out the ice rink at Cribbs?’ Remi counters.

  Marsha looks conflicted.

  ‘Hey, you go with your dad today, and I’ll come back another time and make sure we have a me and you day then. What do you think?’

  ‘Two fun days, yay!’ She jumps up and high-fives me and then hands me a scrabbled together wrapped present that looks as if she has used an entire roll of Sellotape to wrap it. ‘Look, I’ve got you your present. You’re going to love it.’ I do love it immediately. I can picture her, tongue out the corner of her mouth, as she wrapped this.

  ‘I don’t want to cut it.’

  ‘I think you’re going to have to,’ Luisa says, fishing a large pair of scissors from a drawer.

  ‘Yes, don’t be silly, Belle. You can cut the paper. It’s a salt-dough snowman and Mummy says you’re very fond of them.’

  ‘Oh I, am,’ I say, willing myself not to look at Luisa, whose smirk I can see out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘Well, I knew that, cos we make them every year,’ Marsha replies. ‘So here is one just for you.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ I cut through the masses of tape, far from easy, and unwrap myself the most perfectly imperfect salt-dough snowman I have ever seen, with an adorable lopsided grin.

  ‘So, spill!’ says Luisa who, after giving me another present – Tudor style pottery, God love her! – has made us both get into pyjamas to make sure we maintain the correct mood for the afternoon. And then she insists we do a couple of Jägerbombs, to take us back to our student days and get fully into twixmas. ‘I haven’t seen you since the party and I know you have news. I want to know what happened down the end of our garden.’ She nods in the direction of her hut. ‘And what’s happening with Jamal? I thought he had binned you?’

  ‘Ouch. Nice. Not really binned, more never even bothered to take me out of the packaging. But we can forgive him for that.’

  ‘We can forgive him if he’s going to give you several thousand pounds.’

  ‘Always little Miss Business.’

  ‘It’s far easier to have morals with money in the bank.’

  ‘Disagree. Anyway, he’s still not going to fund my app.’

  ‘Well then, why message you?’

  ‘Because he has an even better idea, and one that I much prefer. But I do want to talk it through with you, you being my number one business mentor person.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Don’t want that Rory Walters waltzing in and stealing my crown.’

  ‘Honey, no one can steal your crown.’ I lean across the duvet covering us as we lie at opposite ends of the sofa – just like we did as students – and deliver a great big sloppy kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Hmm, I love it when you kiss me like that,’ she says in a weird vampy voice straight out of the Hammer School of Horror. ‘But I love it more when you make me money. So, what is his plan?’ Her voice reverts back to normal for the question.

  ‘It’s that we join forces to roll out a Shakespeare programme to schools. He gives his name and his support, ties it in with the fact that the RSC are having him in Coriolanus next year – Tullus Aufidius, although that’s on the DL for now. It’s not been announced and he wants to do it as Jamal Clarke not as Jamal, if that makes sense. But I love that he recognises that his celebrity doesn’t entitle him to dethrone actors who have worked for decades perfecting their craft to get the top roles. That his ego understands. I think that bodes well for us working together, what do you think?’

  ‘Yep, but he has a reputation for being pretty sound, doesn’t he? My understanding is he wants to get involved but not dominate. Something lots of people could take on board.’

  ‘Yes they could…’ I stage wink and double point at my best friend.

  ‘Maybe. So, he supports your schools programme? The one you’ve already set up?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve had a small degree of success and word is getting around Bristol, but his name attached would give me immediate kudos, and kids will be eager to engage once he’s given it his seal of approval. From what he has said so far, I do all the work on the ground, go into all the schools and deliver the actual programme, he promotes it all over his socials and on any media he does, and occasionally he’ll come and join me presenting the workshops, give it a bit of star appeal. On top of which, he’ll write it off as a charitable expense and pay me a salary so I can roll the programme out to schools who don’t have the budget to fund workshops, which is exactly the kind of schools I want to target but can’t at the moment because I need to feed myself too. It’s going to be immense.’ I’m so excited my voice is high-pitched, the words are pouring out at speed. Having Jamal on board is a game-changer.

  ‘And did Rory have anything to do with this?’

  ‘No. In fact, Jamal made a point of it. He said he was grateful that Rory flagged me up but it was my work in the schools in the run-up to Christmas that turned his attention to me. He heard about me speaking at Mandela City Primary and apparently, his nephew loved it. Told him all about it and that prompted him to have a rethink about the best way to use me—’

  ‘Don’t suppose he wants to use me?’ Luisa says filthily. ‘He’s my celeb pass. Those shoulders!’

  ‘I think he’s good on that score, he’s taken. Anyway, as I was saying … use me and my knowledge in a way to benefit the community. He says that whilst he initially agreed to meet me because of Rory and the Shakespeare link he had decided not to get involved because he felt I could easily source the money for an app in a more traditional way and he was worried about the whole apple-fall-from-the-tree thing, so thanks, Dad. But when he saw how enthused his nephew was he thought I was worth a gamble. He wants me to know…’ I have a grin as wide as the Pacific at this point, ‘…that my merit got me back on his radar and nothing else. It was as if he knew how important that was. I appreciated it. I really think this is going to work.’

  ‘No doubt. Look back to where you were less than a month ago, no job and me bitching at you to monetise this thing, and now here you are, in league with the biggest superstar this city has seen since Massive Attack and on your way to realising your dream. So, now you build upon the dream. What’s your next step?’

  ‘Seriously? In an ideal world, I’d hire a couple more people who really know their stuff, expand my work into
a handbook for them and get this rolled out nationally. I think it could work; I really do.’

  ‘Excellent. This is awesome.’

  We giggle and she leans forward again and envelopes me in a huge hug, kissing the top of my head.

  ‘I’m so proud of you, Bells, I always knew you were going to make this work. Bloody superstar.’ We sit like this for a minute or two. I love this woman. She lets me go and sits back down her own end of the sofa. ‘Now, we’ve taken care of the important stuff, let’s talk the fun stuff.’

  ‘And what’s that then?’ I say warily.

  ‘That? Why, Rory Walters of course. What is going on there? I like him. I always liked him but I saw a whole new side to him at the party. He was relaxed, so at ease, really good fun. And we did good, didn’t we?’

  ‘Oh yeah. You always do good. Your Christmas Eve Eve parties are one of my favourite things about Christmas.’ I breathe a sigh of relief. The thing with Luisa is that she knows me so well, sometimes I’m scared she can actually read my mind. And then I would be in trouble.

  ‘Mine too, but I hope you appreciate the effort I went to on Cupid’s behalf this year. Poor Remi spent most of the evening banning people from the Nordic hut so we could keep it for the two of you. He wouldn’t start his set until everyone there knew the hut was out of bounds. I hope to God you made a good use of it.’

  I thought back to that evening, so recent and yet feeling like worlds away and know I have another silly grin on my face. But I can’t help it. It had been such a special evening.

  ‘Oh my God, you did! You did! You had sex in the Nordic hut. I’m putting those rugs in the bin now, but so well deserved. I can’t remember the last time you had sex.’

  ‘Neither can I, but you can keep your rugs. We didn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean you didn’t? You didn’t what?’

  ‘Didn’t have sex with Rory in your hut with a party full of people in your house that could come in at any point.’