was what I’d wanted to do. That was why I was here.
Jack turned the music up as he navigated through the traffic in the city. There were thousands of people making their way out of London tonight, going home to family.
He glanced over at me. ‘What do you normally do this time of year?’
‘Go home to my parents, or Rick’s parents, it was an alternate-year thing.’
‘The parents fought over you two, then?’
‘No, what I mean is, alternate years his parents came to mine, or my parents went to his. They’re good friends.’
He glanced over again and laughed. ‘Oh shit. Now I get why you’re alone.’
‘I’m disowned.’ I laughed, in a weird way. I’d been trying to laugh it off, but it hadn’t been working. It hurt. ‘I was told to stay away. Mum’s embarrassed by me. She hasn’t worked out how to be in the middle of all the mess I made and she didn’t feel like she could cancel the dinner invitation. So Rick and his parents are with my parents and I’m here.’
‘And his parents?’
‘Think I’ll come around. They say what Rick says; it’s just jitters.’
‘Is it jitters?’
I looked at him, watching him drive. He was more of a silhouette in the dark as the streetlights and shop windows flashed past. ‘No, it’s not jitters. I like him, he is a really nice man, but I don’t love him. Or maybe it is love, but in the way I’d love a friend. I can’t build a life on that. I’d hate him in the end.’
‘Well, I know how that feels.’
‘What do you normally do?’
‘Me?’ He glanced over. It made me realise how rarely Jack spoke about himself. ‘One thing I never did was see my parents. They’d have considered it hell if I brought Sharon over for lunch. Sometimes we took Sharon’s parents out to a restaurant if they came to London, but not every year. Sharon preferred to party Christmas Eve and paid more weight to that than what we did Christmas Day. Christmas and Boxing Day were about recovering.’ He breathed in, like he thought of something else he would say, but he didn’t say it.
‘Do you realise you said that word three times, then?’
‘Oh fuck, I did, didn’t I? Alright, from now on, if either of us says it, the other gets to think of a forfeit.’
I smiled at that, imagining all sorts of forfeits I’d choose for him, while my tummy quivered, wondering what he’d pick for me. ‘I might start using the word to make you give me forfeits.’
He laughed. ‘Then I’d change the rules. I seriously hate that word now. I hate the whole notion of it and everything it stands for.’
‘Ooo, got it. Bitter… much…’
He glanced over at me and laughed, shaking his head.
‘When did you meet Sharon?’
‘The year we started the business up, oddly enough, although now I realise not oddly at all. I met her the night we won our first big contract. Em always had Sharon down as a money-grabbing bitch.’
‘If Emma didn’t like Sharon, why did you go ahead and marry her?’
‘Em is my friend, not my minder. I listen to what she says in business, I don’t listen to her when she is commenting on my private life, and that’s exactly why you’re in this car, Ivy.’
Point noted. I grinned at him. ‘But—’
‘No buts, leave it. I don’t want to talk about Sharon, not tonight anyway. I’ve had my fill of her today.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You don’t need to apologise, just avoid the subject.’
‘We seem to be setting a lot of rules that are narrowing down our conversation, so I’m just going to shut up. Do you have any quieter music on your phone?’
‘Take a look. You can manage the music.’ He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his phone. It had been playing the music via Bluetooth. I opened up his music and scanned through the albums as he drove out of London. I chose Ed Sheeran’s album Multiply, then shut my eyes, listening to the songs as we hit the motorway. The car was warm with the air-con up high and the seat was comfortable.
When I woke up Jack had Maroon 5 playing, and his hand tapped on the steering wheel as he sang along to ‘Sugar’.
I stretched my arms up. I’d dreamt he’d been watching me through the whole of the Monday meeting and then before he closed the meeting he’d walked up, taken my hand and pulled me out of there and we’d run away.
It was sort of real; I was in a car with him.
I looked through the windscreen into the middle of nowhere. We were on a virtually deserted motorway.
‘What time is it?’
‘Hey, sleepy-head.’ He glanced over and smiled then looked at the clock in the dashboard that I could have looked at. ‘It’s eleven-ten. I was just going to stop, stretch my legs and get a coffee.’
‘I need a pee.’
‘That too. These are the last services before the Lake District.’
‘How far away are we from your cottage?’
‘About an hour, maybe a little less.’
I yawned, even though I’d slept for hours. I hadn’t slept well for days. I’d been too messed up over everything going on with Rick.
The services sign was up ahead, and then the white bar signs counted down to the turning. Jack flipped the indicator on and turned on to the slip road.
There were only about a dozen cars parked in there. I guess most people were not in a motorway services at nearly midnight on… I didn’t say the word, not even to myself, he was right, we should treat this like a normal day.
After he parked up, he looked at me. ‘Pull the hood of your parka up, then you won’t have to look at any of that festive shit. I’m wrapping my scarf around my head.’
I laughed.
‘We’re going in, doing what we need to do, then we’ll grab a coffee from Burger King. They’re right by the door and they’ll be quick, and we can drink it out here.’
‘Don’t you want a longer break from the car?’
‘No. I’d rather not put up with that fucking merry music playing.’
He pulled a beanie hat out of his pocket, slid it on and pulled it down to his eyebrows. Then he reached over the back, through the gap between the seats, and grabbed a scarf, folded it double and wrapped it around his neck, then pulled one half through the other. Finally, he settled both his beanie and his scarf so they covered his ears and nearly covered his eyes. ‘I’m ready.’
I flicked my hood up. ‘Come on, then.’ I opened the door when he did.
It was cold outside. I’d swear it was colder than London had been. I shoved my hands into my pockets as I shivered, walking towards the services. He caught up with me and his arm came around my shoulders. It felt nice.
We walked up to the door like that, with me leaning against him.
As soon as we walked in, though, we realised his plan wasn’t going to work, there was a metal grill barring access to Burger King – they’d already closed up and gone home.
Wizzard’s, ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’, played out.
‘Shit,’ he said under his breath.
‘I fancy a change of seat for a bit, anyway, a hard chair in the café will wake me up.’
‘Alright,