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Alex’s vision blurred. “Joan!” She handed the box to Lucy and bounced to her feet.
“Wow, it weighs next to nothing,” said Lucy. “Freddie, lift it.”
Alex dove into Joan’s arms. “It’s incredible, but these laptops cost a fortune…”
“I’ve missed out on years of treating you. Just say I’m making up for lost time.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
Joan’s eyes shone. “You want to thank me? Keep writing. Make me even more proud, love.”
“But how did you know what to get?” Alex leaned out of the hug. “Did the instructor at your seniors’ computer class help you out?”
“The instructor? Love, I am the instructor!” She shook joyously with a throaty laugh that drowned out the Carpenters. “Those coffin dodgers do my head in, though. They’re so slow on the uptake sometimes.”
Freddie and Lucy burst into laughter.
“I booked an appointment at the Covent Garden Apple store for when you get home,” said Joan. “They’ll transfer everything you’ve saved on your external drives. And do me a favour, Alex, back up daily to the Cloud from now on.”
“I won’t make that mistake again.” Alex opened the box’s lid just as a phone buzzed and scooted across the coffee table.
“Alex, yours.” Lucy handed the smartphone to her friend. “One guess.” She nudged Freddie’s leg with her foot.
Alex sat back on her heels as she read the text:
‘Someone’s naughty! Tickets to Les Liaisons Dangereuses at the Donmar tucked into my card? You weren’t supposed to do that. Love it! Thank you. Happy Christmas to you and your family. Wish I was there keeping you warm under the mistletoe. I’ll make it up to you on New Year’s Eve, I promise. Missing you, Mouse. Mark xo’
The message arrived with a photo of Mark wearing a crooked red paper hat from a Christmas cracker, captioned ‘Honey, you should see me in a crown.’ He might be out of the loop on all things Doctor Who, but he got her BBC Sherlock fascination…and if his text was anything to go by, how much she fancied him.
She re-read the text twice and swallowed, easing the lump in her throat. “It’s Mark. He’s wishing all of us a Happy Christmas and says he’ll see us at New Year’s.”
“Aw, bless,” said Joan. “I think I’d like this Irish fellow. Send him our love.” She grabbed the two photo albums that stuck out of Alex’s red National Theatre tote.
“Ooh! I knew I forgot something…” Helen set off towards the dining room.
“Anything else you’d care to share, Lex?” said Freddie. “Kisses, hugs, declarations of true love?”
The blonde stopped texting. Her furrowed brow instructed Freddie—not in front of her family.
He crossed his arms. “Spoil sport.”
“Leave the girl to her crush.” Joan waved Freddie and Lucy over. “Come see these photos. Our Alex, such a cutie in her pigtails and striped t-shirts.”
Helen returned, carrying flowers in a simple vase, tied with a wide silver ribbon. “Sorry, my sweet. I forgot to give you these earlier.”
Alex did a double take and dropped her phone in her lap. A snug bundle of snapdragons—as red as a London post box—rose above the glass, their unique blooms bouncing up and down like the jaws of chatty teenagers.
“They arrived yesterday along with a note from Mark, asking us to give them to you today.”
Alex swooned. “They’re gorgeous! But how did he know? I never told him…”
Lucy high-fived Freddie. “Yes!”
“You guys!” A wide smile spread across her flushed cheeks. She pressed one of the soft velvety flowers with her finger, its jaw snapping the tip.
“Seems like a nice lad,” said Michael, patting his daughter on the shoulder.
“And he supports United, Dad! He’s a Red.”
