New Year’s Eve 2021
Chrissy
‘Wow!’ Chrissy stalled, clutching a box of dusty champagne glasses she’d dug out from underneath the bar, and gawped at Alice emerging from the upstairs flat. Her long legs descended the wooden stairs, her feet turning sideways so her heels didn’t catch in the gaps in between. ‘You look fucking phenomenal!’
Alice beamed, smoothing her green velvet dress so the light rippled over it. ‘Why, thank you!’
Chrissy glanced down at her own outfit, an old Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt over beer-stained black jeans, the same thing she’d been wearing all day. Alice had been helping her get the pub ready for the big night ahead, but she’d made the effort to pop upstairs and get changed, whereas it hadn’t even crossed Chrissy’s mind. And what an effort Alice had made. Her teardrop earrings sparkled as she walked up to the bar.
‘Your full-length mirror’s much better than mine,’ she declared.
‘Is it?’ Chrissy had given zero thought, in her life, to what made one mirror better than another. She almost made a joke to that effect, but felt suddenly self-conscious, in a way she never usually did around Alice. ‘Who you trying to impress, anyway?’ she asked, more sharply than she’d meant. She was tired, she realised, putting down the box to wipe sweat from her face. It had been a long day, and she hadn’t even opened yet.
‘You know I love New Year’s Eve,’ Alice said, touching the locket at her throat. ‘Fresh starts and all that.’
Chrissy softened, giving her a smile. ‘You’ve always been better at those than me.’
Alice reached over the bar to squeeze her hand. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’ She drew back, and then she got that look on her face – The Thinker, Chrissy had dubbed it ever since they’d seen the Rodin statue on a girls’ weekend in Paris. Looks like you when you’re about to get deep, she’d teased Alice at the time, and the comparison had stuck. ‘Although …’ Alice said now.
‘Heeere we go,’ Chrissy said.
‘A proper fresh start might not be a bad idea for you now.’ She held up her palms as Chrissy started to protest. ‘I don’t mean give up the pub or move out of Cromley or anything like that. I know you wouldn’t, and I would not want you to! I just mean …’ She gestured upwards again. ‘It can’t be good for you, living up there?’
Chrissy turned away, opening the glass washer to a cloud of heat. She began emptying it noisily, hoping to drown out whatever Alice had to stay, but the clinks and rattles were no match for her friend. Another one of their running jokes was that Alice’s Lecture Hall Voice was almost as loud as Chrissy’s Rowdy Pub Holler.
‘I was thinking you could get a cottage in the village, and just come here for work. Have some separation. Get away from …’ She paused, and now she did lower her voice, even though they were alone. ‘The memories,’ she finished, as Chrissy gave up on the gin goblets and turned back to face her.
Alice looked so earnest, it disarmed and infuriated her all at once. They had been through everything together, but it was different for Alice; Ethan had never lived inside her head, under her skin; she probably didn’t jump at shadows even now, thinking he was right behind her.
‘Alice,’ she said. ‘You think it’s going to make any difference where I live?’
‘I just want—’ Alice stopped as they heard the front door bang.
Chrissy recognised Leo’s way of letting it ricochet against the wall – this was why there was an ever-growing hole – and motioned for Alice to drop the subject. By the time Leo appeared they were smiling in welcome, but Chrissy felt dread growling in her stomach, as if their conversation had cursed the whole night, the whole year ahead.
‘Hey, Leo,’ Alice said brightly. ‘You alright? Robbie not with you?’
‘Nope.’ He marched towards the stairs, his coat still on, hood up.
Chrissy watched him in concern. ‘Leo?’ she called out, but he was already gone, slamming the door to the flat behind him.
Chrissy and Alice looked at each other.
‘Clearly he’s going to be the life and soul tonight,’ Chrissy said, trying to make light of it. Alice smiled sympathetically, then picked up a pile of beer mats and began weaving around the room, placing them with a soft slap on each table. As she bent forward, Chrissy saw the swing of her locket and felt for the identical one around her own neck, under her T-shirt. Alice had given it to her as a present, on another New Year’s Eve two years before. They each kept pictures of their sons inside, and wore them always, like a promise between them, a bond of trust.
The difference was, Alice kept hers on show. Chrissy preferred to tuck hers underneath her clothes, protecting it from harm, she always said. The truth was, she didn’t like people to notice it too much. Didn’t like them to ask for the story behind her and Alice’s matching silver hearts.