There’s a week to go before Christmas and I need to study for end-of-term exams. The prospect of lying in bed listening to Jess and James together isn’t exactly appealing. I decide I might as well just head back, see my mum, get some decent work done and enjoy some meals I don’t have to cook myself before next term starts. I pick up my notes and textbooks, and shove them in an overnight bag with a bunch of T-shirts, jeans and stuff. I message Mum to make sure she’s okay with me turning up out of the blue. She doesn’t reply. I think given past performance she’ll probably be okay with it, and I pull the door on Albany Road closed behind me.
I always forget how full-on Christmas is in Canterbury. The market stalls are crammed with cinnamon-scented lebkuchen and painted wooden toys. Pubs are stuffed with people in striped Breton tops and deck shoes sipping mulled wine and having leisurely lunches. The university has broken up for the end of term, but the place is still full of students. And my mother is at home, where she’s gone all out with a massive eight-foot fir tree decorated with tasteful silver baubles. She has a house full of guests from her art class.
‘It’s so lovely to have you here, darling,’ she says as she shuts the door behind me, then pulls me in for a hug. The kitchen is jammed with people who all seem to know who I am. I’m touched that she seems to have got her head round the idea of nursing at last, and she’s proudly telling everyone that yes, this is Alex, and yes, he’s the one who’s retraining as a nurse. It’s sweet, if a little bit overwhelming. Eventually I escape upstairs. Mel texts to say she’s checking in to make sure I’m surviving.
I point out that she owes me one. Or several.
I don’t even manage a week before it all gets too much. I hadn’t made any promises about staying for the whole of the holidays because of work. Mum’s already got plans to spend the whole of Christmas Day helping at the soup kitchen in town, so I don’t have to feel guilty about dropping her in it and leaving her alone. She seems pretty easy-going about it.
‘You could always stay here for Christmas, darling,’ she says, standing in the doorway watching as I shove things back into the overnight bag. ‘I’ll be back by six. Or you could come and help. They might need a spare nurse.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s all right, honestly. I need to go and say goodbye properly to the guys in the house and get myself settled in the new place.’
‘What about Christmas?’ She looked concerned. ‘I hate to think of you sitting there in that place all by yourself when there’s a perfectly good bed down here. And I’ve got the Bridge Club gang coming around on Boxing Day for a buffet.’
‘I won’t be alone, honestly.’
I don’t have a clue if anyone’s going to be around over Christmas. I’m half thinking I might just pick up some agency shifts and get a bit of money behind me before term starts. Thanks to Becky’s ridiculously low rent, I’ve managed to keep a hold of a decent chunk of my back-up savings, but once I move they’re going to be dwindling away rapidly. If I work all over the holidays, not only will I have a decent chunk of money behind me, but I’ll have managed to avoid any awkward encounters with Jess and James too. Bonus. I’m a genius.
I head back home – well, home for now – to Albany Road and manage to lose the time leading up to Christmas in work and revision. Rob’s working really long hours, Emma’s nowhere to be seen, I think because we’ve both been skirting around each other a bit, and Becky’s gone on a trip up north to see her parents, so there’s a weird sense of anti-climax.
As I get to my room, I get a call to say that Abeo, Oli and I passed the landlord’s reference checks without event. It feels a bit strange and final. We just need to sort a hire van so we can move in three days before Christmas, and then nip to IKEA and pick up the essentials. The thing I’d taken for granted living in Becky’s place was that the house was fully furnished, with everything her grandparents had left there. We didn’t have to buy so much as a can opener. I think I took a lot of things for granted in Albany Road.
The Christmas work lunch is legendary, apparently. Everyone comes, and they hire a whole restaurant and take it over for the afternoon. But I’m just not in the mood. A waiter passes as I’m escaping to the bathroom, offering me some sort of twiddly-looking canapé. I shake my head and lock myself in the cubicle, sitting down on the top of the loo seat. Elton John’s playing through the speakers, and I listen as two of the women from editorial come in, chatting about an author they’ve had a nightmare time with. I sit, silent and patient, and they wash their hands, reapply their lipstick, and leave, still grumbling about how late he was delivering his last manuscript, and how it had screwed everything up for next spring.
Once I’m sure it’s quiet, I let myself out of the cubicle and wash my hands and face, looking at myself in the mirror. I look tired, and a bit miserable. It’s Christmas, I’m living in London, and this is everything I ever dreamed of. I think about this time last year and how I was giddy with excitement, wide-eyed, ready to soak it all up. Right now I’d like to just slink off somewhere on my own and have a rest. It’s probably just end-of-year tiredness, I tell myself, squaring my shoulders as I look at myself in the mirror. I add another layer of red lipstick as a protective barrier.
I make my way back downstairs and lean over the shoulder of Jav, who is wearing a purple Christmas crown.
‘I’m feeling a bit sick,’ I say, quietly. ‘I don’t want a massive fuss, so I’m just going to sneak off now before they do pudding. Will you let people know if they ask?’
She nods, waving the glass of Prosecco in her hand. ‘You sure you don’t just need another one of these?’
‘Definitely not.’ I shake my head.
As soon as I get outside into the fresh air I feel more human. I check the map on my phone to make sure I’m walking in the right direction, and decide I’ll set off home through Hyde Park.
The bare trees are silhouetted against a silver-grey sky. Dogs scamper past, their owners carrying long plastic ball throwers and dressed warmly against the December cold. I’m in a dress covered in tiny, Christmassy stars, with my big red coat over the top. I’ve changed my work shoes for trainers, carrying them over my shoulders in a rucksack. I watch a couple walking past, his arm around her waist, and I feel a pang of guilt. Sophie says James has been fine at work, but I still wonder if I should have let him down more gently. But I think about Nanna Beth, and how she told me to remember I only have one life and that I should leave it with as few regrets as possible. It’s funny, but as much as Mum and Nanna Beth seemed to like him, I didn’t love him – I mean I liked him, and he felt safe and secure, and all those things … but I definitely didn’t love him. And being together with the wrong person was a million times worse than being single.
I walk past the bike hire rack where Alex and I hired Boris Bikes on one of our first outings together. I feel like he’s been avoiding me, but when I tried to skirt around the question with Becky – trying to make it sound as casual as possible, she just made non-committal noises about him going back to his Mum’s place to study.
‘We’ve got someone coming to have a look at the room,’ she’d reminded me that morning over breakfast. I’d looked up, confused.
‘What about the girl Emma knew?’
‘Mmm,’ Becky had said, looking dubious. ‘Dan’s a friend from work. He’s split up with his boyfriend and he’s staying on a friend’s sofa. I’d be doing him a favour. And after the whole –’ she’d raised her eyes towards the ceiling and waggled a finger back and forth, motioning in the direction of Alex and Emma’s rooms ‘—Well, the whole situation, I think we want minimal drama, don’t you?’
My eyes widened in surprise, and Emma had met my gaze with a knowing look. I’d had no idea she’d known what was going on.
I stop to sit on a bench. My breath clouds in puffs in the freezing air. A family walk past, the children dragging sticks, the parents doubled over with laughter at their antics. That’s the kind of family I want, I find myself thinking. And then it hits me. It’s almost Christmas, and I’m here, alone, in London. I’ve got nobody. Publishing is full of women and gay men as far as I can see, so the chances of meeting someone at work are non-existent, and there’s nothing on this planet that’s going to convince me to try online dating again.
I’ll just have to spend the rest of my life alone. Maybe I’ll get some cats. Or a dog. Except I’m never going to be able to afford to buy a place. I give a massive, gusty sigh. Maybe I should just jack all this stuff in and go back to Bournemouth. If I went back to marketing, I could get a decent job and save up a deposit. I could even – I grimace at the prospect – move back in with Mum for a bit while I save.
I’d have to be pretty bloody desperate for that. I watch as two swans circle gracefully on the pond, and I pull out my phone to take a photo, editing it quickly then uploading it to Instagram. Sophie likes it almost immediately, and leaves a comment underneath.
That doesn’t look like a publishing party.
I type a private message back.
I ducked out. Couldn’t face it.
What’re you up to now? Soph types.
Heading home. Having a bit of a walk and a think.
Sounds better than my afternoon, she types, after a moment’s pause. I’ve been on the bathroom floor hugging the loo for the last four hours. This is hideous.
I look over at Kensington Palace as I walk towards Albany Road and think of the Duchess of Cambridge and her hyperemesis gravidarum. Imagine being in the public eye like that and just wanting to lie on the bathroom tiles dying quietly, but instead having to get up, plaster on a happy face, and shake people’s hands. When I get closer, I realise there’s a huge pine tree outside the Orangery at the palace, dotted with a million fairy lights.
There’s a street vendor wearing a thick woollen cap and fingerless gloves, selling hot chestnuts. He offers me some, and I take out some money and buy a little bagful, stuffing them in the pocket of my coat. They glow in there, keeping me warm, as I head back to Albany Road. But something tugs my feet in another direction. I walk past shops lit up with decorations and buy a copy of the Big Issue from the man who stands outside Queensway station. My phone rings, and I almost drop it in surprise when I see it’s Mum.
‘Hello, love,’ she says, ‘I can’t talk long.’ She always starts calls like that. I don’t know why she doesn’t call when she’s not busy, but she seems to like living her life pressed up to the edges of things.
‘Hi,’ I say, holding the phone with one hand and pressing the button at the traffic lights with the other. A little girl looks at me crossly and presses it again.
‘I was supposed to do that, wasn’t I, Mummy?’
I look at the mother and pull an apologetic face. She shakes her head, laughing. ‘It’s not a problem, honestly,’ she says, taking the little girl by the hand and pushing the pram across the road.
‘What’s happening with Nanna Beth?’ I ask.
‘Oh she’s fine, absolutely fine. I told her you and James might be coming down at Christmas to see her.’
‘Just me,’ I say, quietly. I walk past wildly expensive double-fronted houses with huge real Christmas trees in the bay of each matching window.
‘Oh that’s a pity,’ says Mum, and she sounds genuinely distraught. ‘What’s James doing?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘What do you mean?’ There’s another pause, and I can almost hear her brain cogs whirring. ‘Oh no, Jess. He hasn’t finished with you?’
I give a snort, which I hope she can’t hear.
‘No, Mum, I finished it,’ I say.
‘For goodness’ sake. Whatever for?’
She sounds completely astounded. There’s no way on this earth that my mother, who likes to know which side her bread is buttered on, and who dreams of finding a nice, solid, stable sort of chap to rely on, could ever imagine ending things with someone like James.
‘I just didn’t think it was going to work out.’
‘You didn’t give it enough time,’ she says, flatly.
‘No, I just realised that I didn’t actually love him. He’s nice, but you can’t just marry nice, and that’s what I would have ended up doing.’
‘Oh, Jess,’ she says, again. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘I dunno,’ I say, stopping at the edge of Little Venice and looking at the canals. The late afternoon light is glowing on the water and it looks as if someone’s spilled a pot of gold, which is floating on the top of the water, flashing dazzling soft light everywhere. I want to take a photograph before the sun drops down behind the buildings in the west.
It’s weird. All this build-up to my glamorous new life in London, and I suspect I’ll end up sharing Christmas lunch with Nanna Beth and Cyril and my mother (unless she got a better offer) in the sheltered accommodation dining room.
I say my goodbyes, and hang up. I snap several photographs and head for the café where Alex and I always liked to sit and share an after-walk coffee and a brownie. It’s half three, and it closes at half four in the winter, just before it gets properly dark.
‘Hello, my love,’ says Lona, the owner. ‘What are you after? Where’s Alex?’
I shrug. ‘Not sure, actually.’
‘Haven’t seen you two for a while. Have you had a falling-out?’
‘No,’ I say, taking a cup of coffee and tipping in sugar. ‘Just busy with work and stuff. You know Alex is moving across town?’
She nods, thoughtfully. ‘He’s a nice boy.’
‘He is,’ I agree. But Becky let slip that things might be back on with him and Emma, and things are moving on. I wonder if maybe I should, too. Becky’s never there, and while I like Rob, he’s not around that much. Whoever moves in, it’s going to feel pretty strange. I realise I’m going to miss Alex.
Maybe I should just head home for a bit. I sip my coffee and look out at the canal. Maybe I’m just having a wobble, because it’s been almost a year and I still feel a bit like the new girl at work.
I look at my phone, and see a new message from Gen.
Oh my God I got the part. I GOT THE PART.