Send help: we’re still in New York.
Kidding! I’m happy to report that everybody else arrived home safely on Christmas morning, and apparently had a blissfully traffic-free zoom around the M25 as they headed to their respective destinations. Even Ross and Abigail made it back on the day, just, with her staying by his side and travelling home via a few other countries en route. By the time Jon and I returned in the early hours of 27 December, the snow had all but melted, leaving slush by the roads and a thin white powdering on England’s highest peaks.
My New York Christmas was merry, bright, and more fun than I’d ever comprehended it could be. Jon, Anne and I spent the big day getting fully into the spirit. After our festive ‘lunch’ I even had a go on one of the Salvation Army’s bells. And I didn’t miss my sofa for a second!
Well, that’s not quite true. Boxing Day was spent doing Christmas my way: we flopped on the sofa and stared at the TV in companionable silence. But by the late afternoon I was itching to get back out there, and Jon and I spent a fab evening in matching blue hoodies watching the Knicks game at Madison Square Gardens.
We’d said goodbye to Anne the morning of Boxing Day at Grand Central Station. She was missing her sunshine and shorts, and wanted to enjoy it while she could before coming back to England for her two-week visit at the end of January. And now here we were, the evening she was due to fly in. Jon and I were in a shabby-chic gastro-pub in West London to celebrate Abigail and Ross’s engagement drinks, and in a little while we’d be moseying to Heathrow to pick up my big sister.
As for my little sister, she’d reluctantly put Thailand on the back burner following an unexpected Christmas with the parents. But she’d told us, in no uncertain terms, that as soon as Anne left she was off, and we shouldn’t expect to see her again until next Christmas. When maybe she could be persuaded to come home again . . .
I was listening to Abigail give a speech about her husband-to-be when Jon returned to my side with a fresh glass of champeroo for me. Could he be any more perfect?
‘Listen to her,’ I whispered. ‘She’s so much more confident now when she’s back in her comfort zone.’
‘I think she’s more confident after you pushed her out of it, in New York,’ he replied, taking a long drink of his Coke. Jon was designated driver tonight, so Anne and I could catch up in the back of the car on the way home. He grinned that big grin, which is only for me, and looking at him I can’t believe I never realised how much I loved this guy. Look at that face! I could just squash it and kiss it and stroke his hair and then squash his face again. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
‘I was thinking she’s going to make quite a public speaker one day,’ I lied, turning back to Abigail.
Jon slipped a big, warm hand into mine just as Kim appeared, still looking bronzed and relaxed from her adventure in the Caribbean.
‘Those two are too cute, I’m going to have to vom my head off,’ she said.
I looked around the room. Dee and Ian, fully out of the closet as a married couple, were making up for lost time and subjecting the rest of us to as many PDAs as possible, barely stopping for the speeches. Jasmine was there, smiling. Actually, she’s been making a big effort lately. We both had. She’s been trying hard to stop acting like a petulant little sister, and I’m trying hard to not treat her like one.
Scheana was, at the risk of sounding clichéd, glowing. She looked a million dollars with her tiny baby bump, and after the success of Lara Green PR, and New York in general, she’d had a quiet word in my ear one day at the office. She was going to need someone to be her maternity cover, and she could think of nobody better suited than ME. ME.
Jon plucked a glass of champagne off a passing tray and passed it to Kim. She accepted it, and then excused herself, saying, ‘Just going to the loo.’
‘Do you want me to hold your glass?’ I broke away from Jon and followed her.
‘No no, that’s OK.’ She kept walking, not looking back at me.
‘Kim?’ Never one to shy from following someone else into a bathroom, I stayed at Kim’s heels right up until the cubicle door, when she double checked nobody else was in the room and then faced me.
‘Look. Don’t ask questions, but I’m just going to chuck most of this champagne away and top it up with water.’
‘Why—’ I gasped. ‘Are you with child?’
Kim rolled her eyes and looked around again, lest anybody had sneaked in through the window. ‘Yes. Probably. I mean, yes, but only by a few weeks so I don’t want anyone to know yet, and you know what it’s like when you have a soft drink at a work event and suddenly you shoot to the top of some secret who’s-preggers office poll.’
I burst out crying, which was a bit over the top but the two champers I’d quaffed already was giving me all the feels. ‘We’re having a baby,’ I choked, patting Kim’s still-flat stomach.
She laughed, and on came her waterworks, and as we hugged, crying, in that slightly grotty pub bathroom, a sea of memories of us doing just this at different stages of our lives swam by. That time we were both too pissed and kissed each other to impress some boys and then felt like horrible anti-feminists. That time Kim got engaged to Steve and she was crying with happiness, and I was pretending that was why I was crying too. That time I split up with Kevin and she took me on an all-night bender. And all those other times where you’re on a night out and can’t help but have a quick wee and a cry with your best buddy for no reason.
I pulled back, sniffling. ‘Did this happen in Antigua?’
‘I think so.’
‘See, if you’d come to New York you’d still be able to drink champagne.’
She wiped her eyes, a light, happy smile coming through the tears, and picked up her champagne flute again, moving towards the sink. ‘I know. And now, infuriatingly, I have to spend the next seven to eight months drinking bloody orange juice at every major celebration.’
‘Well, don’t waste it.’ I took the glass from her and knocked the fizz back. ‘What? I’m getting in the fake-Christmas spirit!’
‘What time do you leave for the airport?’
I checked my watch. ‘Oh, very soon actually. I can’t believe my whole family is going to be together again, it feels like it’s been so long. They have no idea what’s going to hit them, my flat is decorated head-to-toe. It looks like the Christmas department in Macy’s.’
‘Good for you! A month later than the rest of the world, but you got there in the end.’
‘Next Christmas I’m not missing out. I’m going to make sure we’re all together, all of us. Everyone. My family, Jon’s family, your family.’ I patted her belly again. ‘I’m so happy for you and Steve, and me, having a baby . . . ’
‘I’m so happy for you,’ Kim said.
‘Why?’
‘Because you had a merry Christmas. And I have a feeling that this year’s Kim and Olivia Christmas Twosome Party might have more than one candle on a plate and ‘Let It Go’ on loop. And you might even have something better than that crap Christmas tree.’
‘Hey! My Christmas tree is perfect, and it’s coming out every year.’
Kim laughed. ‘I still can’t quite believe it.’
‘What?’
‘That you now believe in Christmas. It’s a Christmas miracle!’
It may be close to a year away, a year of big changes for all of us, but next Christmas couldn’t come soon enough. I was already itching to go back to New York in December, leading the Girls of the World trip once again, returning to my Central Park, to my Empire State, to my 30 Rock, to my mistletoe on 34th Street.
The End
(Merry Christmas!)