I looked out of my window the following morning. The sun rose behind the Brooklyn clouds, creating a cold white light over the city. My phone was in my hand, the BBC News app open, and I already knew we wouldn’t be going home today – there was no way. If anything, the snow was getting worse in the UK, and it appeared that the country had almost entirely shut down.
I wanted to shut down. I wanted my sofa and my alone-time. But I also wanted to see more of Elijah, so in that respect this was a good thing. Most of all I wanted to get everyone home to their families, but I didn’t know how, I couldn’t fix it. We just had to wait out the storm. Together.
I didn’t want to see anyone yet, so I curled back into my hotel bed and closed my eyes, letting my thoughts drift away like snowflakes.
I went down to breakfast deliberately late, prolonging my alone-time as much as possible. I showed up to the BA meeting in the lobby with a takeaway box full of bacon, which I munched at the back of the group.
Carl walked past me munching from his own box of bacon, towards the Virgin Atlantic gathering in the bar area. I stopped him. ‘Hey, Carl, is Jon not with you?’
‘No, he has the biggest hangover. He told me to bring him up some bacon after the meeting but I think I’m going to eat it all.’ He grinned and shuffled away.
Maybe Jon won’t even remember what had happened last night, I thought.
My thoughts were interrupted by the nice lady from BA entering the hotel, and we all fell silent so we could listen. My team gathered close.
‘All right, I have some good news. Good news for now, at least. But, please understand, as much as we would love to control the weather, we do not. And your safety is the most important thing for us,’ she started, disclaimering the hell out of the news she was about to deliver. ‘You won’t be flying home today, and the snow is still heavy across Europe, I’m afraid, with no let-up in sight. However, we do have you all rebooked on a flight out on the twenty-third of December, which will arrive into the UK on Christmas Eve morning, BUT . . . this is very much weather dependent, and on whether the runways can be cleared in time, and there’s a chance they won’t be cleared if the snow keeps falling at the rate it is now. So we’re trying to get you home for Christmas but it’s really just a waiting game now. I’d suggest keeping your fingers crossed for rain. Because rain will melt the snow,’ she added quickly, on seeing some confused faces.
‘So, we’re definitely here until the twenty-third, no chance of leaving earlier than that or diverting to somewhere else in Europe?’ I spoke up.
‘Definitely here until the twenty-third, and no chance of getting closer to the UK by other means. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said, and turned to my team. ‘All right. I know you’re disappointed and I know you want to get home, but at least we have more of a solid idea of what our next few days will be like now. We don’t have to be here for a daily update any more. Silver linings.’
Not a single one of them said a word, all of them lost in their own thoughts and worries. I looked at each of their faces and the tiniest ripple of annoyance threaded through me, and was gone as quickly as it had come. I want to go home too, but you don’t see me whining about it, said the thought.
I turned from them. It wasn’t my job to baby them, nor could I say or do much to improve anything for them right now. I checked my phone where I had a missed call, so I moved away from the group and rang the number back.
‘Olivia?’ the person answered. ‘It’s Lara.’
‘Hi, Lara, how are you?’ I answered, surprised to hear from her.
‘I’m good, thanks for asking. Listen, I just spoke with Scheana – you guys are still here?’
‘Yep, we’ve been snowed out of the UK. The airline’s put us up at a hotel in Brooklyn though, so really we can’t complain too much.’
‘Do you know when you might get to go home?’
I sighed. ‘It changes every day, which isn’t anyone’s fault. But now they’re saying the weather is just so bad the earliest we’ll be flying out will be the twenty-third.’
‘Right before Christmas? That’s rough. I hope you manage to get on those flights.’
‘Me too. New York is great, but my team are getting pretty worried about missing Christmas at home, with their families.’
‘I’m sure you all are.’
Well, I wasn’t. Assuming they could still get away none of my family would be in the coun—
Lucy! Lucy was supposed to fly yesterday – I wonder if she’d had any luck. I had to get off the phone with Lara and call her.
‘Listen,’ said Lara, breaking my thoughts. ‘It’s due to get a little snowier here as well over the next few days, so I’m going to head upstate today – this morning – for Christmas with my folks. Scheana and I go way back and I know she wouldn’t want you guys spending Christmas in a hotel.’
‘Well, we might not—’
‘I know, I know, you might get home. But the reason I’m calling is to say: if you’d like to all come and stay in my apartment, consider it yours. I won’t be back until New Year, I have heating, I only have two bedrooms so you guys would have to bunk in together, but it’s a home, not a hotel room. The choice is yours.’
Wow, what a generous offer. ‘Lara, thank you, but it’s really not necessary. This hotel is perfectly nice; we have free breakfast and dinner, so we can’t complain.’
‘I know, and you’re British which means even if it was horrible you wouldn’t complain. But just think about it and call me back within the hour if you want to stay here, and if so I’ll leave my keys with my neighbour. Sound good?’
Lara rang off, but before I could allow myself to consider her offer I needed to check on my sister. I first called my flat, where she was due to stay before flying, and then called my parents’ house when there was no answer.
On the seventh ring Lucy picked up with a ‘Yo.’
‘Lucy? You’re still there. Your flight was cancelled?’
‘Yeah, it sucks. Don’t tell me yours is cancelled again because I am not spending Christmas alone like a fucking reject from life.’
‘Thank you, honey,’ I heard my mum call in the background.
‘Actually it is – the British Airways rep is now saying we won’t be coming home until the twenty-third, earliest.’
‘Are they going to keep paying for your hotel?’
‘Yes, but we just got offered an apartment – a work contact has said we could stay at her place in the Upper East Side if we don’t want to be in a hotel over Christmas. Potentially. So I’m not sure what to do.’
‘Um, obviously stay in the apartment, are you mental? Believe me, my travel-challenged sister; staying in a local’s house – in your case a real New Yorker’s fancy-arse flat – makes for way better memories than just being cooped up in a hotel.’
‘But we’d have to share rooms; we get our own space at the hotel.’
‘God, you and your own space. It’s Christmas, people want to be with other people, not sitting in a hotel room on their own eating endless room service noodles like a total saddo. Let people into your life, Liv. Open the door to the inn. Welcome Mary and Jo-nizzle and all the wise men and their flock.’ Lucy sniggered. ‘Anyway, I don’t care; I want to go to Thailand.’
‘You will. Keep checking back with the airline.’
‘You keep checking back with the airline.’
‘OK, grump-monster, put Mum on.’
With a sigh Lucy left me and Mum came on the phone instead. ‘Hi, honey, how’s NYC?’
‘Actually, it’s kind of fun. If you have to be stuck somewhere at Christmas, this is clearly the place to be.’
‘Did you go to Tiffany’s yet?’
‘No, but that’s kind of why I’m ringing.’
Mum gasped. ‘Jon proposed?’
‘What? No! Mum, of course he didn’t bloomin’ propose, we’re not even going out with each other. I’m ringing to say I’ll be here a few more days. Is there any news on your flight to Lanzarote?’
‘Tenerife, and no. At the moment the website still says it’s running, but it’s not for another four days yet, so we’ll see. Maybe the snow will have melted a bit by then. Your dad and I are in holiday mode no matter what happens.’
‘It’s disgusting,’ said Lucy coming back on the line. ‘They won’t stop playing reggae music and drinking sugar-free margaritas.’
‘Dad’s drinking margaritas?!’
‘I know, and they go right to his head. He is literally asleep all the time.’
‘Why aren’t you at my flat?’
‘Your flat is depressing.’
‘OK, thanks.’
Mum took control of the phone again. ‘Keep in touch, honey, and enjoy these extra days in the Big Apple. This kind of opportunity doesn’t come along often, and you’re with some lovely people.’
No sooner had we hung up than one of those lovely people appeared in front of me.
‘This is bullshit,’ declared Jasmine. ‘Abigail won’t stop crying.’
Behind her Abigail sniffled. ‘We’re not going to be home for Christmas, are we?’
‘We might be—’
‘Bullshit,’ Jasmine repeated.
‘Enough, Jasmine,’ I snapped, glaring at her. ‘You don’t think I want to be going home too? You think I want to be stuck here with you any more than you want to be with me? But we’re all in the same boat so can you please, for crying out loud, wipe that sneer off your face and act like a grown-ass woman.’
We don’t need to evaluate whether or not I can carry off saying the phrase ‘grown-ass woman’, because the message had appeared to hit home regardless. Jasmine’s face had frosted over like it was the runway at Heathrow itself, and she was silently glaring off to the side and refusing to meet my eye. The rest of my team were staring at me, dumbfounded. Even Abigail had stopped crying, and appeared to have the tiniest of smiles on her face.
I flared my nostrils and took a deep breath to calm myself down. I looked away and straight into the eyes of Jon, who was at the bottom of the staircase holding a coffee cup, which he raised to me in silent congratulations.
I would love a Jon hug right now, I realised. I wanted to sink into him and smell his woodsmoky coat and have him look at me with those milk chocolate eyes and for last night not to have happened. I wondered . . . Well, one thing at a time.
‘Listen, everybody, I just had a phone call,’ I said, trying to rally the troops back in. Abigail, Ian and Dee listened dutifully like teacher’s pets (which I loved) and Jasmine pursed her lips and looked down at her shoes. ‘As you know, I had dinner with Lara Green from Green PR the other night. She just called and made us a very kind offer in light of our current situation, which I want to talk to you about.’
My eyes flicked back to Jon, who was yawning like a sleepy pup and rubbing his eyes. Focus, Liv. ‘We’re definitely here for at least another three nights, so Lara very kindly said that if we didn’t want to stay in the hotel she’d be more than happy for us all to stay at her apartment, which is in the Upper East Side. She only has two rooms though, and I assume a living room, so some of us might have to bunk with others. What do you think?’
‘Yes,’ said Abigail, before I’d barely got the question out. ‘I mean, if it’s OK with everyone else. I just don’t want to be in a hotel any more, as nice as it is here; I want to be in a home.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘So that’s one yes. We won’t get the free food over there that we do here, remember.’
‘But we’ll have a kitchen. We could make Pop-Tarts?’ Abigail asked with hope.
I had to smile at that, a girl after my own heart. ‘Yes we could. How about the rest of you?’
Dee was struggling not to look at Ian too much, but said, ‘I think it might be really nice to be back in Manhattan, right by Central Park. This hotel is lovely, it’s been lovely, but if we’re definitely here for a few more days we might as well make the most of New York at Christmastime.’
‘All right, so Abi and Dee are in, and I’m guessing . . . yep, that’s a yes from Ian. Jasmine? What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to stay here.’
‘Jasmine, just come to the apartment, we’re not going to leave you here on your own.’
‘Uh, I’ll be absolutely fine, thanks. I am a “grown-ass woman”, you know.’
‘Come on—’
‘No, I want to stay. You guys go. I can’t understand for the life of me why you’d give up a free hotel room and free meals for some tiny apartment where half of you will be sleeping on the floor, but whatever. I’ll see you on the flight home.’
What should I do? She didn’t need babysitting, and work was over – this was my holiday time now, even if I was here with a bunch of people I’d never choose to spend my holidays with.
‘Fine.’ I nodded. ‘In that case, I’ll call Lara and tell her we’re in. Jasmine, I’ll leave you her address in case you change your mind, and I’ll let the BA rep know that some of us won’t be using our rooms any more. And I’ll ask her to call me with any other updates. Let’s meet back down here at eleven a.m.?’
My team dispersed without another word and I stood on the spot for a moment, lost in thought. Was I really about to leave one of my team behind? But this was New York City; a concrete jungle, but hardly the middle of an actual jungle. I may be in charge, but I couldn’t control everything, the rational part of me told myself. At peace with my decision . . . sort of . . . I looked up to locate the BA rep and my breath caught. Jon. I’d forgotten he was standing there. We looked at each other and for that moment I was transported right back to last night when he was at my door.
‘Morning,’ he said.
‘Morning. How are you feeling?’
He smiled, a little sheepishly. ‘Like I’ve never been so pleased not to have to get onto an aircraft today. Like I need a thousand coffees. Like maybe I shouldn’t have come to your hotel room last night . . . ?’
I wondered if he remembered everything he’d said too. I felt myself blush, but couldn’t help smiling. ‘That’s fine. It’s always nice to have a visitor. And to be fair, you only came to hang around my corridor – I was the one who opened the door and started chatting to you.’
He nodded, noticeably a little embarrassed. ‘Are you leaving the hotel?’
‘Yep. The British Airways rep told us we won’t fly out until the twenty-third at the earliest so we’re going to stay somewhere else. What did Virgin say?’
‘Same. I guess the message is coming from Heathrow centrally. So where are you going?’
‘That woman I met up with for work the other night – Lara? She has an apartment in the Upper East Side, and she’s heading home for Christmas this morning. She thought it would be nicer for us to not have to stay in a hotel over the holidays, and my team think so too. And my sister Lucy, evidently.’
‘That’s a nice offer.’ He paused, staring into his coffee cup. ‘When do you leave?’
‘In about an hour.’ Things were never this awkward between us, and there was now no doubt in my mind that he remembered perfectly well everything he said last night. But I didn’t like it – he was my friend, my Jon, and I didn’t want to leave things this way. ‘Wait a minute!’
‘What?’
‘Jasmine doesn’t want to come; she’s going to stay here.’
‘You’re leaving her with me? Thanks a lot,’ Jon laughed.
‘No, you should come. You should come and stay at the apartment with us, it’ll be so much more fun with you there – you know how rubbish I am with making people feel Christmassy. There are two bedrooms, so some people will have to share.’ I blushed, realising what I’d just insinuated. ‘I was thinking boys in one room, girls in the other.’
‘I think . . . that sounds like a really strange, but fun, way to spend our last few days here. Maybe we could all cook a Christmas meal together?’
‘Sure. My contribution will be pizza.’
‘Wait, what about Carl? I can’t leave Carl.’
‘You don’t think he’d like to befriend Jasmine?’
‘I couldn’t do that to him. Do you think Lara would mind one extra? Perhaps he and I could take the living room floor? If not, I’ll stay here. And resent Carl for a while.’
‘I’ll phone her and ask her now, but I’m sure she won’t mind, she’s really easy-going. Oh this is going to be fun. Go and get packing, mister.’ I went in for a quick hug but he held on and squeezed me tight and I laughed into his neck. There was my Jon hug . . .
Lara was fine with the numbers change, so an hour later, with one last glance around the lobby for Jasmine, in case she’d changed her mind, off our merry band of six went. We piled ourselves and all of our suitcases and coats and belongings and limbs into a people carrier that would take us over the Brooklyn Bridge and uptown to 74th Street.
Lara lived in a lovely neighbourhood – all delicatessens, coffee shops and boutique hotels, as well as residential buildings that had smart entranceways and long zig-zag fire escapes like on the Friends building. Her own apartment block was at the very end of the road, overlooking the East River, and after Lara’s neighbour let us in and we all navigated up the spiral staircase with our suitcases to the apartment on the fifth floor, discussions turned to sleeping arrangements.
‘The girls should just go in one room and the boys in the other,’ said Abigail, to which there were nods of agreement.
‘That might be a little cramped though,’ Jon said. ‘I don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in the living room.’
‘Me neither,’ I added. ‘I mean, instead of, not together.’
‘Maybe we should take turns?’ suggested Dee.
The apartment was lovely. Small, but with a spacious feel. Soft lighting, lots of cushions, and modern art paintings in shades of turquoise on the walls. The two bedrooms led off the living room – one was clearly Lara’s own bedroom, which I thought the girls should take as it seemed the respectful thing to do, and one a guest bedroom. At the other end of the apartment the living room became a kitchen area, where a stack of coffees and hot chocolates had been left for us, together with a welcome note. And in pride of place by the window, ‘A Christmas tree!’ I cried. I was becoming weirdly fond of those.
‘So, um, back to the room situation,’ Ian said, clearing his throat and glancing at Dee, and everyone launched into expressing their own opinions on the situation again.
I pulled Ian aside, out of the door of the living room and into the apartment’s corridor, leaving the others politely arguing about who would take the worst of the bed options. ‘Ian, come on. I know. And you know I know.’
‘Know what?’ he gulped.
‘About you and Dee, of course. I’ve known for a long time, and the reality is that everyone knows.’
Ian swallowed again, his Adam’s apple hopping about nervously. ‘Everyone?’ he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
‘Yes, you’re hardly MI5 agents, it’s obvious you two like each other and we’ve all seen the hand touches, the longing looks . . . Some of us have even heard the successful application to the mile-high club,’ I added, raising an eyebrow.
‘Oh God.’
‘If you want to share a room just share a room, nobody’s going to care, and at least we won’t run into you in the corridor in the middle of the night sneaking off for secret trysts.’
‘I’d better talk to Dee about this.’
‘Do. Why don’t you just come clean, admit you’re seeing each other. Or bonking. Whatever this is, no one cares.’
‘We’re married.’
My jaw might have fallen clean off and rolled away down the corridor. They were what? I stood for a moment just glaring into Ian’s eyeballs while he shuffled uncomfortably. Why – how – why didn’t they invite me to their wedding? ‘You’re MARRIED?!’
‘Shhhh.’
‘What the hell do you mean you’re married? To who?’
‘To each other.’
‘That’s not possible. You don’t even live together!’ Ah-ha! Liars! I knew they’d invite me to their wedding if they were really getting hitched.
‘Actually we do. Dee still has her Balham house that she rents out, and we both live at my – our – place in Forest Hill.’
‘But you rarely leave work at the same time or arrive together?’ Wait a minute; they were only ever five or ten minutes out from each other . . . ‘How long have you been married?’
‘A little over a year.’
I sat down on the floor in shock and rested my back against the wall. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? We would have been happy for you. We would have wanted to get you a wedding present.’ We would have come to your effing wedding whether you liked it or not.
Ian sat down next to me, his face pale and his skin clammy. More so than usual. He looked really tired all of a sudden, very much like he’d been carrying a huge secret around for a long, long time. ‘This wasn’t either of our first marriages, and for both of us the previous ones had ended pretty horribly. So we wanted to be cautious, and we agreed to keep it quiet while we were dating.’
He rubbed his cheeks and looked at me, searching my face for validation that what he’d done wasn’t crazy. ‘That way if it ended nothing would have to change, nobody would be any the wiser.’ I nodded, trying to show understanding, and he kept trying to justify himself, though I’m not sure it was for my benefit alone. ‘No one at work would give us pitying looks or take sides, or say we shouldn’t be on projects together because it might cause problems, or maybe we shouldn’t both work here at all.’
‘I understand that . . . ’ I soothed. The fudge I did, they were flippin’ married?!
‘Then we got engaged, we had a very very quiet and private wedding ceremony, and we just didn’t feel the need to change the set-up.’ He was silent for a long moment, and finally added, with a sigh, ‘We like to be private.’
‘You did it on a plane,’ I pointed out.
‘That was an exception . . . Dee’s taking these contraceptives which she says make her extremely horny at the moment—’
‘Whoa, urgh, enough. But didn’t you get sick of all the sneaking around?’
‘It’s only on work trips that it’s even an issue. Day-to-day we’re a totally normal couple; we just don’t draw attention to it in the workplace. Well, we thought we didn’t. What can I say, I love my wife, and I guess it shows.’
‘Oh my god,’ I laughed, shaking my head. ‘You totally love Dee, and she totally loves you, and you’re married – for God’s sake just tell the others and share a goddamn bedroom.’
‘All right.’ Ian nodded, taking a deep breath. ‘OK, I will – we will. I’d better just have a chat with Dee first.’
We went back into the apartment. Jon stood in the kitchen making a round of hot chocolates, talking animatedly about something to do with reindeers. ‘Hey,’ he said, on seeing us. ‘What do you want to drink? Lara doesn’t have any tea – apart from a truly disgusting-sounding herbal thing – so it’s coffee, hot chocolate, or, well that’s it.’
‘I’ll pop over to the 7-Eleven in a little while and get us some supplies. But for now a hot chocolate would be great. What are you all talking about?’
‘Jon had an idea,’ said Abigail, whose pink eyes were make-up free. She was tired, and worried, but putting on a brave face, and I had a feeling that Jon’s idea might be something he thought would cheer her up.
‘What’s your idea?’
‘All right. It’s December the twentieth, and what would I be doing if I was at home right now? Probably eating a lot of stuff, Christmas music would be on constantly; I’d be wrapping presents, and pretty much drinking all day. Usual pre-Christmas preparations. So I was thinking, how about this afternoon we go out and do a bit of Christmas shopping, then this evening we could have a mini Christmas party. Just us, but with loads of drinks and nibbles and games, and try and forget the fact that we’re not at home with our families, because being in New York at Christmas is pretty special too.’
‘You wouldn’t mind spending an evening in? I thought you were all about making the most of the Big Apple?’
‘Are you kidding? We’re in a real New York apartment! We’re about as Big Apple as you get – we’re basically Friends right now, just in the Upper East Side.’
I looked around at the six of us – Carl, by the window, munching on another big bag of Cheetos, Abigail stirring her hot chocolate and looking through Lara’s bookshelf (which I’d so have to do later), and Dee and Ian, who took the moment of calm to sneak off into one of the bedrooms and have a good talk. I hoped. ‘If we’re like Friends, who’s who?’
‘Well, Carl is obviously Joey because he’s a total ladies’ man.’
‘Of course.’
‘The two lovebirds are Monica and Chandler.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Abi would be Phoebe, I guess, because she’s out here learning to make it all by herself, and you know, Phoebe used to be homeless. OK, that one’s a bit tenuous.’
‘And us? Gunther and Janice?’ But I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
‘Ross and Rachel, of course.’
Shaking my head, and shaking it off, I turned and started putting things back in their place on the kitchen counter. ‘I don’t think we’re Ross and Rachel.’
‘I know you don’t. Consider us season one Ross and Rachel. All right, anyone need a hot chocolate top-up, or are you ready to hit the shops?’
Season one. When Ross is in love with Rachel, and she doesn’t know it, but he’s always been there.
Dee and Ian emerged from the bedroom at that moment looking nervous. ‘Can I have your attention please?’ asked Ian.
‘Ooo, those pigeons are doing it!’ laughed Carl from the window.
‘Has anyone ever read any Jackie Collins?’ asked Abigail. ‘Lara has so many of them; I might give one a try.’
‘Yes, do it, they’re great,’ I said.
‘Everyone shut up and listen!’ commanded Dee, blushing, and then, chin held high, she took her husband’s hand for all to see. ‘We have something to tell you . . . ’
We left the apartment in a gaggle of all six of us, and for a moment I forgot that I wanted to be on my own over the holidays. As we walked down the street, Abigail quizzing Dee and Ian on everything to do with weddings and marriage and Carl listening and contributing nothing, Jon turned to me, blowing on his hands in the cold.
‘Are you seeing Elijah today?’
‘I asked if he wanted to come by later on for a few drinks. I mean, his travel plans have been ruined as well. Are you OK with that?’
‘Sure.’ Jon shrugged. ‘But I get you for a few more hours, yes?’
‘Yes.’ I had to admit that I was a tiny bit flattered.
‘When we get down to the end of Central Park I need to steal you away.’
‘All right,’ I agreed, intrigued.
And that he did. We stood outside the big glass cube that was the Apple store, and agreed to all split off and meet in a couple of hours back in the same spot. ‘So what do you have planned?’
Jon gestured across the street. ‘What do you see here?’
‘The Plaza hotel.’
‘Which is . . . ?’
‘Massive.’
Jon laughed. ‘True, and also flippin’ expensive. But do you remember what film it was used in?’
‘Was it the one Macaulay Culkin stays in in Home Alone 2?’
‘It is! I knew you were a secret Christmas nerd.’
‘I’m getting there – slowly but surely working my way through those Christmas Classics people go on about watching, year on year. This is cool though. Shall we have a photo in front of it?’
‘Even better – let’s go in.’
We spent a good half an hour wandering between the various floors and walkways and eateries within the hotel before coming to the conclusion that as nice as it was, we’d seen enough of the inside of hotels for this trip and it was time to get back out on the streets of New York to stand under some more fat snowflakes. We strolled down Fifth Avenue like we were strolling down our local village high street.
Now we were shacked up in an apartment I suddenly felt like I belonged here – this was my home. I liked the idea of being Lara – with her apartment all decorated to her personal taste, that she (presumably) owned, a short walk into an amazing city, full of life. It appealed to me, and made me feel excited and inspired, even though . . . even though it was a far cry from that big house in the country that was part of my game plan. I think my heart was wanting me to realise I was a city girl.
‘Look at this window display.’ I stopped mid-wander and moved closer to the shop we were passing, pressing my fingertips against the glass. Behind was a tiny ornate white wrought iron fence and gate protecting a miniature turquoise Christmas tree. It was like the Sylvanian Families were recreating a scene from The Nutcracker. In front of the Christmas tree was a little sea-glass-blue box the size of a thimble and wrapped in thin white ribbon. ‘Wait . . . ’ I stepped back and looked up at the façade, reading the words engraved into the wall above the door. ‘We’re at Tiffany’s!’
I stepped in through the door before Jon could say a word and was met with a rush of warmth, both in temperature and a feeling of golden era welcome. I removed my gloves and gazed around at the twinkling display cabinets and happy tourists (and the occasional actual shopper).
‘Good afternoon.’ A lovely man in a turquoise tie and a grey suit greeted us.
‘This is Tiffany’s!’ I said by way of reply, and then turned back to Jon. ‘My dad proposed to my mum right here! With this ring.’ I pulled Mum’s ring off my finger and held it out to show him.
‘Really? Then we need a photo to send to them. Would you like us to recreate it? I could get down on one knee, and this nice gent could take the photo.’
‘No,’ I said quickly, afraid of the implications. But . . . I would like to send my parents that photo. ‘OK then.’
We posed for the photo and having Jon kneeling down, holding a ring up to me, all chocolate-eyed, made me a bit light-hearted, and – oops – I nearly said yes.
‘Do you know Tiffany’s does a free ring-cleaning service?’ said Jon, fountain of knowledge, when the nice assistant turned away to take an identical photo for some other tourists.
‘How do you know that?’
‘My brother only agreed to marry his fiancé once he had a Tiffany ring, and now he waltzes into Tiffany’s in the Royal Exchange every time he comes up to London to claim his little slice of VIP action. You want to have yours cleaned?’
‘I don’t know if it really needs it, Mum hasn’t worn it for years.’
‘Come on, it’ll be fun, you get a free drink while you wait, apparently.’
‘Ooo, do you think they’ll have wine?’
Jon laughed. ‘Maybe.’
We stepped into a lift which had a very smart man inside whose whole job appeared to be to take people from floor to floor and be generally very suave. Like those cast members at Disneyland who work on the Hollywood Tower of Terror ride, but without the creepiness.
On the sixth floor we exited the lift into a long room beautifully laid out with cream and jade velvet lounge chairs, Christmas trees sprinkled with silver and Tiffany-blue decorations, and individual wood-panelled booths that lined the walls. We gave our names to the gracious reception lady who told us to take a seat and someone would be with us as soon as possible, and by the time we’d sunk down into some chairs by the window I’d made up my mind: ‘I’m moving to New York and working at Tiffany’s.’
‘Oh OK. Why? That’s quite a departure from what you’re currently doing.’
‘That’s exactly why I want to do it, it’s so relaxing here. I want to work in the lift.’
‘Good afternoon, sir, madam, can I get you something to drink?’ asked another smart gentleman carrying a silver tray.
‘Can I have a red wine, by any chance?’ I asked.
‘Certainly, and for you, sir?’
‘A coffee would be great,’ said Jon.
‘Of course, regular or vanilla?’
‘Yum, vanilla please.’
Mmm, that sounded nice. ‘Excuse me, can I have one of those too, please?’
‘Instead of the wine?’
‘No, as well as, please.’
Shortly after receiving our drinks, we were taken to one of the booths, where a woman shook our hands and begged us to sit down. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Forest, and sir, my name is Calinda, I understand you’re here to have your jewellery cleaned today with our complimentary service?’
‘I have a Tiffany engagement ring,’ I said proudly, holding out my mum’s ring.
‘Congratulations,’ said Calinda, with a pleasant, genuine smile. ‘To both of you.’
Jon and I locked eyes. I opened my mouth to correct her but Jon beat me to it with a bold, ‘Thank you!’
‘What a beautiful ring. Have you guys had the wedding yet?’ smiled Calinda.
‘No,’ said Jon, taking my hand and holding it in his, like it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘We can’t quite decide on the theme, can we, sugarlips?’
‘Um . . . ’
‘What’s on the shortlist?’ asked Calinda, studying my ring through a mini eyeglass.
‘Well,’ Jon launched into it and I just stared at him, taking in his words in amazement, ‘I think what we should do is have the ceremony in England sometime in the autumn, because autumn light is always beautiful and don’t you agree she’d look beautiful in it? Now, Olivia is really into books, and there’s a place called Dartmoor, it’s a national park, very rugged and windswept and hilly, in the south-west of England, and on top of one of the hills there’s a tiny little stone church, and when I look at it I just think of her up there, all white-dress-billowing-in-the-wind, and imagine it to be very Heathcliffy or Poldarky or something. I’m not as well read as my fiancée, but I think it’s up her street.’
‘It sounds perfect,’ I said, and in that moment I would have married him – it was just me and him by that church in the autumn light. Wow, Audrey Hepburn was right, there really is just something about Tiffany’s. I moved an inch closer to Jon.
‘That sounds like your answer,’ smiled Calinda, and she popped my ring into a grey, felt-lined box and handed it to her assistant, who took it away for cleaning.
‘And then,’ he continued, ‘the honeymoon. She likes cities, but she likes having some peace and quiet, so I’m thinking somewhere like Hawaii, because that’s a good mix, isn’t it? And I don’t think she’s been there.’ He looked at me and I shook my head. ‘So maybe she could find some new books to read, about there, as well.’ He sat back, satisfied.
‘Wow,’ said Calinda, turning to me. ‘If you change your mind, honey, I’ll marry him for you. So what’s your idea?’
How did he come up with all of that on the spot? I wracked my brain and then blurted out the first thing that came to me. ‘Family is really important to Jon, and he has a lot of them, so I think a wedding and reception at his parents’ house in Cornwall would be nice. Or perhaps down on the beach. In the snow. But it doesn’t snow often in England, I suppose – now is an exception. And all his nieces and nephews, and my sisters, could be part of the wedding party, and – no work colleagues?’
Jon laughed. ‘No work colleagues. Except for Kim, and maybe Carl.’
‘Absolutely. Kim would be my bridesmaid, along with my two sisters. But Kim would be my favourite one. OK, deal.’
‘Where do you think we should honeymoon?’ he asked, an amused smile playing on his lips, his arms folded in front of him.
‘I’m really enjoying New York, actually. So maybe here.’
‘You are?’
‘Yep. It’s very . . . Christmassy.’
‘Oh my god, you two are so in love it’s going to make me cry,’ shone Calinda, handing back my ring, which sparkled brighter than the star atop the Rockefeller Christmas tree. ‘Congratulations again, and if you do end up honeymooning in New York, be sure to come in and say hello.’
‘We will,’ I said, standing up and admiring my mum’s ring on my hand. ‘Thank you. Come on, darling.’
We rode in the elevator in silence, Jon smothering his laughter, and as soon as we were out on the street I thwacked him one with my sparkling new hand. ‘You are such a—’
‘Now now, don’t be upset just because my idea for our wedding and honeymoon was way better. Come on, let’s meet the others, get a shit-load of food and drink, and go back and play Monopoly for a few hours like a proper family at Christmastime.’
‘I have never seen such brazen disregard for the rules in my life. You are the biggest bank robber since Butch Cassidy, Olivia Forest!’
I gasped at Jon and held my Monopoly money to my chest. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing – I earned this fair and square. It’s not my fault you’re the worst estate agent in New York City.’
Abigail laughed and popped another star-shaped mini-pretzel in her mouth. I was pleased to see that she’d loosened up a bit after a couple of glasses of red wine, and for once she seemed to genuinely be having fun without thoughts of her long-lost love clouding her.
Dee looked up from where she was leaning against Ian’s legs. ‘Guilty until proven innocent. Show us how many hundred-dollar notes you have in that pile.’
‘I don’t have to show you anything,’ I protested. Jon lunged at me, grasping for my wad of cash and I fell back, laughing and holding it away from him as best I could, while feeling acutely aware of our close proximity right now. My laughing died down and I blushed, turning my head from him, before being saved by the bell.
‘That’s Elijah,’ I breathed, struggling out from under Jon and walking briskly to the door without looking back.
‘Oh, Elijah,’ chuckled Carl. ‘I forgot he was coming, did you, Jon?’
I didn’t turn to see what Jon’s reaction was. I think I already knew.
Elijah greeted me with a swift kiss and then looked around him with a whistle. ‘Now this place is sweet. My place is like, a hundred times smaller, but small is cosy.’ He grinned at me. ‘Hey, what are you all doing?’
‘Playing Monopoly,’ answered Abigail, far braver to speak up after a couple of glasses of wine. ‘You want to join in?’
‘Geez, how bored are you guys? I thought you were having a party!’
‘We’re near the end – I’m winning,’ I said, and rolled the dice . . . and landed straight on the ‘Go to jail’ square.
There was whooping all around and Jon cheered. ‘Get in the slammer, you dirty thieving wench, I bloody knew it!’
‘I am innocent, this is a conspiracy, you’re all just jealous of my fame and wealth.’ I was so not innocent; I’d been sticking my sticky fingers in the bank money for five turns of the board.
‘What will you give me for my get-out-of-jail-free card?’ asked Jon, and I laughed him off, embarrassed.
‘I don’t need your charity; I’ll be fine serving my time.’
Elijah nuzzled into my neck and purred, a little loudly, ‘I knew you were a bad bitch.’
I cringed and pulled away, blushing at the brief look Dee and Abigail gave each other. I couldn’t look at Jon. ‘Shhh, these are my colleagues,’ I hissed, sounding more annoyed than I intended to. ‘Let me get you a drink.’
We put aside the Monopoly board for now and someone cranked the Christmas music up a little. Elijah was wandering about the living room and I suddenly felt uneasy. Elijah seemed great – trustworthy, kind, yummy as hell, but I didn’t really know him and I felt bad about inviting him into someone else’s home.
Jon caught me keeping an eye on Elijah from the kitchen, and he immediately went over to him and struck up a conversation. I tried to lip-read the conversation, praying that Jon wouldn’t mention Tiffany’s, because, well it would just be a bit awkward to explain, wouldn’t it? Not that Elijah deserved any kind of explanation – we barely knew each other – but I’d just feel better if the two of them were separate. I was about to go on in and break them up, but Jon appeared to be trying to be polite, with a fixed smile and arms folded across his chest, and Elijah was smiling. Perhaps they were getting on?
A few drinks in, ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ blasting from the stereo, and everyone was getting in the Christmas spirit. Dee and Ian were showing off their jive moves (they’d been taking classes together!) in the middle of the living room, while Carl, Jon and Abigail were laughing at a handful of jokes they’d stolen from inside the box of Christmas crackers. As for me, I was just trying to keep an iota of professionalism around my colleagues when what I really wanted to do was continue with that kiss Elijah and I started last night. And the night before.
Instead we sat close, talking, laughing, looking at each other’s lips. He rested his hand on my upper thigh and I couldn’t think about anything else. Well, almost nothing else. I really really really really wanted to climb onto his pe—
The doorbell buzzed and I stood up quicker than a jack-in-the-box and rushed over to the door, signalling for someone to turn down the music.
‘Hello?’ I spoke into the intercom.
‘Hey, this is Jay and Adam and Frankie, Merry Christmas!’ said a male voice with a slow, Southern-drawl accent.
‘Who?’
‘We’re here to see Elijah.’
I turned back to Elijah. ‘Did you invite some people over?’
‘Yeah, you said we were having a party. That’s OK, right?’
I hesitated. ‘I don’t think it is. This isn’t our apartment; I don’t think we should invite more people in, especially people I don’t know.’
Elijah laughed. ‘You are such a goody-goody.’
‘Yep, yes I am.’ I stood firm. ‘How about we head somewhere else though?’ Maybe somewhere away from my colleagues, and from Jon, so I didn’t feel so exposed.
‘Yes,’ Elijah agreed, a little too emphatically. ‘Finally. Let’s go down to this bar near my place, it has a club attached that we can go to later. It’s called X & Y. You’ll like it; it’s very New York, very Christmassy, all that shit.’
‘Let’s all go,’ said Jon, standing up, not taking his eyes off Elijah.
‘No, really, Jon, you guys stay and have fun.’
‘I want to go clubbing,’ he said, sounding really convincing.
‘Yes, let’s go to a bar and a club and dance!’ whooped Abigail. ‘I’ll call Jasmine; she might want to join us . . . Nope, no answer.’
I was thankful she wasn’t coming, but I really should check in with her tomorrow, just to make sure she was OK.
‘Hellooooooooooo,’ called Jay through the intercom.
Elijah leant past me and spoke to Jay. ‘Change of plan. We’re coming down and going to head back to X & Y.’
‘Sweet. The neighbours here think I’m trying to rob them.’
So off we went, travelling on the subway downtown with Elijah and his friends, who were nice enough, and all dressed similarly to him, but seemed utterly uninterested in knowing our names.
We arrived at X, the bar-side of the complex, and went down into a basement area that was filled with loud music and plenty of liquor. It didn’t feel very New York, or very Christmassy, and as hot as Elijah was I was beginning to wish he cared more about what I wanted to do, especially since I was here for such a short amount of time.
I sighed. That wasn’t fair, I was being a brat. We were different people and he was just showing me his favourite places – it wasn’t his fault they weren’t living up to my ideals of ‘real New York’.
I broke out of my mild funk when Jon brashly ordered a round of shots, which was unlike him. Perhaps this would loosen us both up? But then something else arrived to put a smile on his face . . .
‘Is there one for me?’ asked a female voice and we all turned. ‘Hey, guys!’
It was Dani, who waved at the table, and Jon stood to embrace her and offer her his seat. Elijah’s friends perked up at the addition of this unrivalled hottie, and she was immediately swamped with introductions and jokes and questions.
‘Hi, Dani,’ I called across the table. I didn’t know Jon and she hung out outside work.
Dani faced me, big smile. ‘Olivia, you look great. I know you’re probably all worried about getting home, but I was so pleased when Jon said you were stuck here for a few days because then I get to see you again!’
She was so infuriatingly nice. I really liked her, so the fact I didn’t welcome the sight of her was odd. I’d never been one to feel threatened by another woman just because she was attractive. Good for her! Maybe I was just getting tipsyyyyy. I reached over and gave her a huge hug as an apology for the affronted thoughts I’d had about her in my mind that she didn’t know about anyway, and she laughed and hugged me back.
Jon seemed more occupied with her there, all leaning in and draping his arm on the back of her chair and smiling while she talked. I was focusing on Elijah, I really was, but I kept catching snippets of Jon and Dani’s conversations.
‘Have you been here before?’ Jon was asking her.
‘You mean, “Do I come here often?”’ she teased back, and laughed her infectious laugh, running a hand down Jon’s arm. ‘I’ve been once or twice. Thanks for the invite.’
‘I’m glad you could make it; I know it was pretty last minute.’
I dragged myself back to my own present. It was good they had each other to talk to, and that they’d all but forgotten me. It meant I could pay attention to Elijah without feeling like I was being watched.
A few drinks later and Elijah led us all down a corridor to Y, the nightclub. The club had no windows and the darkness was only tolerable because of the pools of amber light that swam like fire over sweaty arms, close kissing and a rock band that occupied a small stage at the front of this sweat fest.
Elijah leaned in and bellowed something in my ear that sounded like ‘These are my buddies’ but could just have easily been ‘Here are my bunnies’ or ‘Sneeze on my nuddies’. We all moved into the dance-floor area and drifted into whatever pockets of space we could find. Dee, Ian, Carl and Abigail stayed together, rocking away like the funny drunken fools they were, and Jon danced close to Dani. They kept grinning at each other, and laughing every time one was moshed in the back and they tumbled against each other. Not that I was paying attention, of course.
The band was loud and rocky, and the noise filled my ears so entirely that I couldn’t have heard Elijah even if he had been trying to talk to me. Instead we kept our eyes on each other and in the middle of the crowd our bodies, along with everyone else’s, pulsed to the heady sound of the guitar.
He moved closer to me and we danced facing each other, skin and bones. I could feel my forehead perspire in the heat and it began to not matter where I was in the world: I was right here in this moment.
Elijah leant in incredibly close and we danced for a moment with our foreheads almost touching. I watched his lips, willing them on me, heat radiating from both of us. Without a word he trickled his hand down my arm, took my hand and we both exited the crowd, moving to the darker edge of the room. I looked back at Jon, I don’t know why, and there he was: kissing Dani. His hands were cupping her face. She held onto his back.
Oh. Well, how could he not have been attracted to her? Look at her. I don’t know why I was being so silly. Jon was my friend and I was pleased he was having fun. Really, I was. Dani was nice. And though I thought he’d had feelings for me I’d been adamant I hadn’t had the same feelings for him. So now I was free to be with Elijah . . . not that I ever hadn’t been.
Elijah. No more Jon. Elijah.
Still no words were exchanged but he and I moved to a position where my back was to the wall, and he covered me like a blanket, pressing against my body, which in turn pressed against the cool brickwork. We kissed, slow, fast, hard, soft, breathing each other in.
It was the middle of winter but I was on fire. I ran a hand up his back and through his hair, but he took my arms and pinned them above my head. I felt drunk. Things were blurry but perfect.
‘Do you want to get out of here? I live right around the corner.’
Part of me didn’t want to break the intoxicating spell of being here, in this hot, amber glow, the music guiding my mind and body, but another part of me definitely wanted to keep going, keep moving, and get out of here with him.
I caught Dee’s eye and waved, and she nodded back – we understood each other. I didn’t look back at Jon.
We exited the club and the cold air and wet snow hit us with surprise. I was so hot and sticky that for a moment I’d felt I could have been in a club in Cuba and had all but forgotten it was just days from Christmas, and we were in New York. The chill cooled my perspiration rapidly and silently Elijah pulled me in under his coat and we raced around the block.
Under the wing of his leather jacket I smelled his smoky aftershave and his sweat (which I know doesn’t sound sexy but in that moment I was all about the animal instincts). His slim, hard body pressed against mine and my fingers could feel the ripples of his sides through his shirt. He smiled at me.
His apartment block was smaller than Lara’s, dirtier, and you went in through a back alley, but I felt safe with Elijah, and when he unlocked his door I barely noticed the size or look of his place because I didn’t want to keep my hands off him any longer.
We kissed and he slammed the door shut behind me, and I curled my fingers up under his hair, pushing his face deeper into mine in the dark. He pressed me against the wall again – his signature move? – and trailed his hands and his kisses down my neck and chest.
I pushed him away and turned to face the wall, leaning my hands against it. ‘Undo my dress,’ I instructed. He obliged, his hands pulling down the zip and then resting on my hips, and his mouth showering my back with rough kisses. I wanted this, my body needed this.
‘I knew it,’ he growled.
‘Knew what?’ I said, turning to face him and pulling the straps of my dress down, revealing my bra. He straightened up and cupped one of my breasts while leaning in for another kiss.
‘That you were a dirty little whore at heart.’
Um. ‘What?’ I pulled my head back.
Elijah grinned and stepped in closer, pressing his body against mine. I ignored my flicker of doubt and let him kiss me again – so he liked to talk dirty? All right, mister, but on my terms. I pulled my lips away and did one of those breathy exhales in his ear like in a Britney song. ‘I’m going to ride you like an escalator,’ I purred. (Now, what I was going for here was ‘ride you like an elevator’, but at the very last second my British brain wanted to say ‘lift’ which is a far less sexy word, so I did a quick switcheroo and ended up at escalator).
‘Oh, you want it,’ Elijah said, his hands exploring, and another tiny surge of unwelcome annoyance went through me. Yes, I think we’ve established that, you’re not some woman-whisperer who’s figured out my naughty little secret.
‘You want it,’ I countered.
‘Feminist, my ass, you’re begging for it, you sexy little whore.’
‘WHAT?’ Enough. That doubt was more than a flicker now, and I pushed him away from me. ‘Did you actually just call me a whore – twice – and say I wasn’t a feminist because I like sex?’
Elijah’s come-to-bed eyes remained and he drew back closer to me with a laugh.
‘No, wait a minute – do you think women should not want, or like, sex?’
‘Of course they should . . . ’ His hands covered me again but it didn’t feel sexy any more.
‘But if they do, they’re not feminists, is that right? They’re whores?’
This time he stopped and stood back, exasperated. ‘Come on, babe, you can’t stand there and pretend you don’t need a man when you’re basically pleading with me to sleep with you.’
I pulled my dress back up and my loins turned to ice quicker than you could say ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’. ‘What do you think a feminist is, exactly?’ I demanded.
He shrugged, and suddenly in that moment, with his shirt open and his penis deflating, he looked less like a sexy, scruffy rock god and more like a naughty boy who hadn’t washed for a few days. ‘Someone who thinks women are better than men?’
I was lost for words, and while I tried to find them again I also gathered my things up from the floor of his titchy, crappy little apartment. ‘No,’ I stated. ‘Nope, that isn’t it at all. It’s someone who believes men and women are equal, and if you were a real man, you would believe that too.’ Like Jon does. The thought entered my head, unbidden. Like Jon does.
‘I do think that . . . ’ he said, lamely.
‘No you don’t,’ I sighed. ‘You think a woman is a whore if she likes sex. But you don’t think a man is a whore, do you? Newsflash, a sex worker is the last person who is actually likely to enjoy doing you. Thicky.’
Elijah lit a cigarette, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. I was pretty sure he’d be calling me ‘crazy’ to his friends tomorrow. I looked him up and down, straightened my bra, and tossed my hair back from my face. ‘Well guess what, Elijah, I love sex. I love it and I’m good at it and I don’t need the lights out, or for you to pretend you don’t see my cellulite. I’m great at sex, but oops – you missed out.’
‘Wait a minute, O, no need to be all crazy and storm out of here.’
There it was – crazy. ‘Goodbye, Elijah. And I hope this is how you remember me: not begging for it, but walking away from you. This is what a feminist looks like.’
And I left the building with not even a parting Merry Christmas for him and his shocked, sulking face. It was the last time I saw him.
Back out on the street, in the dark, with plump snowflakes falling on my head and Christmas decorations behind the glass of people’s windows, I felt, oh, very alone. This is what I wanted though, wasn’t it? To be alone, to have everyone go away and not bother me until I was ready? I got out my phone and called Dee’s number. A tear escaped my eye and I wiped it away in anger.
‘Hello?’ Dee answered, shouting over music.
‘It’s Olivia,’ I answered, trying to control my wobbling voice. ‘Are you guys still at Y?’
‘Liv? I can’t hear you very well. We’re still in Y, but we were thinking of heading home soon. Where are you? Where’s Elijah?’
‘I’m going to come home with you all, OK? Can you meet me outside in like . . . ’ Another tear plopped out. Dammit. ‘ . . . in five to ten minutes?’
‘Sure, see you in a mo, hun.’
I hung up and crouched on the ground, putting my head in my arms. I had to pull it together, I didn’t want them all to see me like this – I’d already made a fool out of myself and crossed the professional line by hooking up with someone on a work trip. I was an idiot.
I became aware of somebody pacing back and forth past me, muttering. ‘Sexy bitch, sexy bitch, hello, sexy bitch.’
Bringing my head up I looked straight into the eyes of a man, probably in his late fifties, with stained clothing and a nervous twitch. He was chewing his cigarette and looking at me. ‘Sexy bitch.’
‘Go away please,’ I said, firmly.
He came closer, leaning over me. ‘Do you want dick?’
My heart began to pound, with fear, with frustration, with anger. ‘No.’ I stood up to move away but he stood in front of me. He didn’t seem so frail now; now he seemed taller than me, tougher than me.
‘Want a bit of dick, sexy bitch?’
‘Go away.’ I tried to push past him but he pushed me back to the ground and I banged my head against the wall on the way down. The man glanced around and then bent down towards me with a look that I knew wasn’t compassion or concern.
He leered closer and I felt like I wanted time to stop. A red rage was brewing in me but I just needed a moment – could someone just give me a moment to gather my thoughts?
But there were no moments, no time for reflecting or feeling sorry for myself, because I had to get myself out of my mess. I opened my mouth and bunched my fists and was about to fight back when the man suddenly hurtled to the side.
I watched him, confused, as he stumbled and fell away from me, and only when I was swept up off the ground by two strong arms did my eyes leave the man and my face bury into a familiar woodsmoke coat.
Jon held me close. I dug my face further into his chest and I didn’t have the strength to look out again, but I heard shouting, felt the bump against Jon as the man clearly tried to fight back, but Jon shielded me and let his back take the force, and then we were gone, back on the main road, back to where Christmas music seeped out of restaurants and bars and the noise of people chattering drowned out the noise of my heart racing. Only then did we stop walking.
I looked up at Jon, sniffling. ‘I don’t need saving. I can save myself,’ I said, my voice small as he put me down on the ground.
‘I know you can, but that doesn’t mean you always have to,’ Jon said kindly, though I didn’t feel I deserved it.
‘Where’s everyone else?’
‘They carried on back to the apartment; I said I’d meet you.’
‘Why?’
‘When Dee said you called I figured something must be wrong. And I thought you’d maybe rather see me than a bunch of your colleagues. To save face, and all that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘No, but, thank you for meeting me, and for . . . that . . . with that guy.’
Jon pulled me in close again and we stood quietly for a bit while I stopped shaking.
After a while I pulled back. ‘Where’s Dani?’ I asked.
‘She went home.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’
The snow was melting on my head and dripping onto my eyelashes. ‘We’re getting really wet.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘And cold. And my head hurts.’
‘Do you want to get it checked, or shall I take you home?’
‘No, and . . . no. It was just a bump but I don’t think I want to face everyone yet. I might want one more drink, to calm the nerves. Somewhere a bit quieter than Bar X?’
‘All right,’ said Jon. We began walking up the street, him never taking his arm out from behind me. ‘I know just the place.’
‘You really did know just the place,’ I said, sinking into a leather chair by a window, looking out over a rooftop terrace that was sprinkled with fairy lights. A candle flickered on the table between us, and gentle, quiet music was being played on a piano across the other side of the lounge. And on all the walls: books, books, books. ‘How did you know about this?’
Jon hesitated. ‘This . . . is where I knew I always wanted to take you, if we went on a date.’
‘Oh.’ Oh.
‘I knew as soon as I heard the name the Library Hotel that this would be somewhere you’d like, so on an evening off from the conference last Christmas I came here to check it out, came up here to the Bookmarks Bar, and thought, yep – one day I’ll bring Liv here.’
I sipped my Tea S. Eliot cocktail (made with Earl Grey and vanilla-infused vodka). ‘You thought about bringing me here . . . last year?’
Jon nodded, watching me carefully. ‘Yep. Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?’
‘With Elijah? No, not really.’
‘Did you fart again in front of him?’
‘Worse – I sharted.’
Jon laughed and I watched him for a moment. He knew me.
I sighed. ‘Arrrgghh, what was I thinking?’
‘You were following what your heart wanted,’ he said, kindly, his eyes moving away from me to look down at his drink – a Tequila Mockingbird.
I think I was ignoring what my heart wanted. I’d been so obsessed with finding ‘the spark’ and feeling that ‘instant attraction’. It was only now occurring to me that the thing that instantly attracted me to men, since Kevin and I had split, was their unavailability. I’m not talking married or attached men, but without fail they were always people that would never in a million years become the thing that scared me the most: A Relationship.
I’m not denying I had a great time with most of these men, for the short time they were part of my life, and they were healthy, happy choices at the time. But when they had to get back on their plane, or it was the end of the night, or I was moving on, I never once looked back and wished they’d stuck around.
‘I’m not feeling entirely blue over Elijah, by the way,’ I said, suddenly. ‘I mean I was – I’m human and the whole thing was a bit humiliating. Never nice to realise you’ve made a massive mistake, is it?’
‘So he was a mistake?’ Jon asked, his voice soft.
‘Very much. But thankfully he showed his true colours before things went too far.’ I could tell Jon was concerned, and unsure about exactly what I meant, so I clarified, ‘Don’t worry, he didn’t do anything too bad, he just doesn’t understand women as much as he thinks he does. The words “whore”, “begging” and “crazy” were used. He’s not exactly HeForShe.’ I took a gulp of my drink and waved my hand to brush this aside before Jon could get too riled on my behalf. ‘Anyway, Elijah is just a fuckboy and he’s gone now. Tell me about Dani. You two seemed to be hitting it off.’
Jon shrugged and looked down at his drink, and I watched his kind face fall into his thinking expression. Dani was lucky to have him.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We were both just a little merry.’
‘But she went home?’
He nodded.
‘Did you ask her to go?’ I pried. This was so none of my business, but my filter had come off and I was too exhausted to put it back on.
‘Actually, she excused herself. When I said I was going to leave the club to meet you.’
Oh, I was the worst. Dani was truly a nice girl and I cringed at the thought of her going home alone, resenting me. I really needed to figure my shit out. ‘Sorry, Jon.’
‘Nothing to apologise for,’ he said kindly. ‘Now, since we’re already feeling bruised-of-heart and kind of tipsy, do you want to tell me what else you’re feeling blue about, while you’re at it?’
‘Haha, well it is Christmas, after all, so why not?’ I took a deep breath. ‘I feel blue because . . . I’ve tried very hard for a long time not to need to be co-dependent, and I kind of just realised that my reasoning all stemmed back to one thing: Kevin. So in a way, I hadn’t let go at all, and that makes me angry.’
‘All right. Sometimes it’s good to be angry. Fuck you, Kevin.’
I smiled. ‘Have I ever really told you about Kevin?’ Jon shook his head. I took a sip of my drink and looked out of the window for a moment. Was I really going to tell Jon everything? I took another sip. Yes, yes I was. ‘Kevin and I were together for years – we met just after uni. We were even engaged for a short while. He was a bit rubbish with money, but we were happy, and committed, and we were saving, slowly but surely, for our future, our family, for that house in the country.’
‘Ahh, the notorious “house in the country”.’
‘I helped him pay off his debts, we put everything into a joint bank account, we actually had quite a healthy deposit building up for a while there. I felt completely secure, he was my other half, our families got on, our friends got on. I think you met him, once, didn’t you? At post-conference drinks in London, the first year we knew each other? You probably don’t remember.’
‘I remember,’ said Jon. ‘I didn’t like him very much.’
‘You didn’t?’ I was surprised. ‘Everyone liked him – he was funny and charming, and very quick to buy the rounds.’
‘I remember thinking he was a bit showy, like it was all about appearing to be everyone’s best friend.’
Jon’s candour stung a little, but I had to admit that he was right on the mark. I wondered if Kevin’s personality had been that obvious to everyone – everyone except me, that is. ‘Well, I liked him. I thought I was in an absolute winner of a relationship, and I was happy and excited and, oh my god that House in the Country. It was our dream, and we were nearly there.’
‘It was both of your dreams?’
‘Yes,’ I answered honestly. ‘That’s one hundred per cent what I’ve always wanted. It’s what I had wanted. With him.’
Jon broke into my thoughts after I’d gone silent for a few moments. ‘Come on then, hit me, let’s smash this dream; what happened next?’
‘Ah, now that’s where he upped and left me, out of the blue. I came home one day from work and he’d moved out. He left me a note, full of apologies, full of excuses and I was just completely blindsided. It was like . . . he’d never cared at all. All that time and energy and years and love and he was just gone.’ I let out a long, noisy sigh and shook away the tears that threatened to spill again.
Jon looked perplexed. ‘But . . . why . . . ’
‘Why did he leave? I think “the dream” was just all too much. All the talk of the future, which he’d been completely into at the time, got on top of him and he panicked. The money was a big thing too. He could never quite crawl out of debt and he could also never quite face the fact that he really had to. So he left, and he took way more than his fair share of our house deposit with him.’
‘He did what? That’s not legal, surely? I’ll kill him, and get the money back, and then we’ll get you that house.’
I locked my knees in with Jon’s. He was so comforting to be around. ‘He’s long gone, but thank you. And I couldn’t get the money back because we both had ownership of the account – there’s nothing at all the bank could do. I looked into whether I could take legal action but it was estimated that the fees wouldn’t be that far off my half of the house deposit anyway.’
I met Jon’s gaze and we stared at each other for a moment. I was drained. ‘I thought I was doing everything right ever since. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t wallowing in self-pity, I was building myself back up and not letting myself get attached to anyone again.’
‘Saving up ever since for that house in the country?’
I couldn’t help but start laughing. Was I imagining it, or did getting things off your chest make you feel like you’ve lost twenty pounds?
Jon’s concerned smile turned into that big delighted one that I was so fond of. ‘This isn’t some kind of Miss Havisham thing, is it, where you’ll buy the house and whack on a wedding dress and then sit waiting for him to move in for the rest of your life?’
‘No. I think I’ve spent enough time basing life choices around him. I bet he sure as hell isn’t basing much around me.’
‘Then more fool him,’ said Jon, and asked for a couple more drinks from the bartender. ‘One more, then shall we go home? Start New York afresh tomorrow?’
I nodded. ‘Thanks, Clarence.’