Chapter 15
GREG
‘Speaking of Christmas,’ Isobel says.
‘It thought we were talking about sausage?’
‘Youwere talking about sausage,’ she says, poking my thigh with her toe. ‘I was talking about Christmas.’
‘Bah humbug.’
‘You’re not a fan?’
I shrug in answer. ‘I’m a fan of the holiday part of Christmas. The commercial side of it and the fake goodwill-to-all-men thing is a bit much.’
‘Don’t tell me, you’re one of those anti-Christmas types. Please don’t say I’ve been shacked up with Scrooge.’
‘What I most like about Christmas is the number of people requiring bespoke cabinetry and furniture installed in time for Auntie Margret and Uncle Fred and whoever else is coming to stay for Christmas dinner. It’s good for business, see? And I’m also glad of the quiet period following when I can have a little time to myself.’
‘Which you’re planning on...?’
‘A cocaine-filled week in Ibiza.’ Her head whips to me, her expression aghast. ‘Not really. Those are my summer plans.’
‘Har, har. Very funny. So you’re planning on spending Christmas here alone with peace, solitude, and your hand for company?’
‘No. I’ll be at my sister’s place, spending time with her brood.’
‘That sounds nice.’
I find myself sighing, mostly because Christmas seems like an anticlimax compared to how I’m spending my downtime currently. A warm fire, warm wine, and hot woman. ‘Christmas as usual,’ I reply noncommittally. ‘My sister has a couple of teenagers, Ailish and James, and there are usually her husband’s parents and sundry hangers-on all there for a feed.’
‘Nice. A family big Christmas.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m an only child. My mother passed when I was twenty-two.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
She smiles sadly. ‘Thank you. There was only ever the two of us, so I’ve spent Christmases since with friends. This year will be no exception as I’ll be spending the day with Mo and his motley crew of friends. And the caterers. He’s that kind of friend. He likes to say he’s the only Hindu gay in the village, not that Chelsea is anything remotely like a village. Well, not really. But mandatory Christmas cheer starts next week.’
‘He’s keen. There’s three weeks yet.’
‘No, I meant the dreaded holiday party season starts. Drinks, sequins, and—’
‘People shagging on the manager’s desk?’
‘Thankfully, the company I work for hosts its Christmas party at a hotel. Still, there’ll be flirting and even a littleho-ho-ho-ing. Drunkenness and vomiting in potted plants and lots of embarrassed faces the following Monday morning.’
‘Ho-ho-ho-ing, eh?’
‘Not for me,’ she answers primly. ‘Last year, I took my then boyfriend. It was early days for us, but he’d already invited me to spend Christmas with his family in the Cotswolds. We’d only been dating a few weeks.’ She shrugs before taking a sip of her mulled wine. ‘I took it as a good sign. Besides, he’s a chef, so I thought the food would be good, at least.’
Her tone is filled with false levity. ‘I’m takin’ it wasn’t a good sign.’
‘Not quite as revealing as me and, oh, around fifteen people, finding him kissing one of the junior ad execs.’
‘What a bastard. I take it you saw the real him after he imbibed a little too much Christmas cheer?’
