The Mistletoe Pact by Jo Lovett
Now – January 2022
Evie
‘Miss, have you taken your husband’s surname?’ Jake, one of Evie’s Year Ten pupils, yelled as she walked into the classroom on the first morning of term. Yep, there was nothing like a drunken Vegas one-night marriage for making the first day back at work after the holidays even more of a joy than usual. Why had she and Dan posted so much stuff on social media and why had the mother of one of her pupils had to stumble across it via a mutual friend and tell the world about it?
‘No husband, just a joke,’ she said, giving Jake the evil eye. ‘And can I ask why you were yelling?’ Evie had developed an amazing glare over the years, and, thank God, it was working right now. She glared at everyone else, for good measure, and then clapped her hands. ‘Right. I’d like to see everyone’s Christmas coursework, now.’
Unfortunately, she couldn’t glare at her colleagues in the same way.
‘Oh my God, Evie,’ her friend Priya said, really loudly, as soon as she set foot inside the staff room at morning break, ‘no-one gets pissed-married in Vegas. He was total sex-on-legs. Who is he?’ The heads of the majority of the people in the room, including two of the three deputy heads, turned in their direction.
‘Ha,’ Evie said, thinking Shut up. ‘Old friend. Just one of those things. You know.’
‘No, I don’t know. You’re the first person I’ve ever known to get married in Vegas. And pissed-married. That had to have been a big morning after.’
‘Yeah, it was,’ Evie said. ‘But, you know.’ She moved in nearer to Priya and hissed, ‘Shhh.’
‘Oops, sorry,’ Priya said, grinning in a very un-sorry-like way. She pulled Evie over to a table in a corner and, at least speaking at normal – instead of fog-horn – volume, said, ‘So tell me everything. Your messages were far too short.’ Priya had been one of the many people who’d WhatsApped Evie asking for details and Evie had gone very succinct on her replies.
‘Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. Just a one-night stand that involved a ridiculous joke marriage that turned out to be legal so we have a bit of admin to do to sort it out and that’s all.’
‘So are you seeing him again?’ Bloody hell. Good job Evie liked Priya a lot, otherwise right now she’d be finding her really irritating.
It was a relief to get to Friday evening after what had felt like a very long four-day first-week-back full of drizzle, over-lively kids and staffroom gossip about Evie. Hopefully by Monday morning they’d have stopped talking about her, because surely there was nothing more to say now.
Evie was going out tomorrow evening, to a Mexican restaurant with some old university friends who also lived in London. This evening, she was knackered and she was going to be firmly on the sofa in the sitting room of her shared flat, with the remote, a takeaway and a large glass of wine, hoping that her flatmate Josh wouldn’t get home with his latest ‘shag-for-the-night’, as he called his succession of very handsome boyfriends, before she’d gone to bed. Their other flatmate, Mia, was away on business.
Her phone rang as she was grappling with Netflix decision-making: film or start a drama series. She picked it up and saw Dan’s name on the screen. And, pathetically, she felt it right to her centre. Literally. Just reading his name. A tiny flicker of hope and warmth.
She swiped right and said, ‘Hi, Dan.’
‘Hey, Evie. How are you? How’s your week been?’
‘Good, thanks. Happy New Year. How are you?’
‘Also good. And happy New Year to you too.’ Dan paused and Evie curled her legs under her so that she was more comfortable. She always enjoyed talking to Dan and it was nice to hear from him. That was an understatement, actually. ‘I’m calling with good news.’
‘Okay, great.’ News. The annulment, obviously. He hadn’t called for a chat after all. It had been stupid of her to think that he would have done.
‘The attorney just called me and we just need to sign some documents, which he’s sent over, and then he’ll submit everything and the courts should decide within hopefully a couple of weeks and then we should officially be no longer married. I’ll sign them and send them on to you.’
Evie uncurled her legs, sat up straight, and said, ‘That’s fantastic. Great. Thank you for letting me know.’
‘No problem. So, yep, I just wanted to set your mind at rest. I’ll let you get on with your evening now. I hear that Sasha’s planning a big engagement party, so I might see you there.’
‘Yep, probably. Thanks again. Have a lovely weekend.’
‘Bye, then.’
‘Bye.’
And that was that.
Evie felt really lonely all of a sudden. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to stay in by herself this evening?
She shook her head and pointed the remote again. She could totally find something absorbing and uplifting to watch on Netflix.
The front door crashed open and the sounds of Josh’s voice and another man’s filled the hall. Evie turned the sound up on the TV. She really wasn’t up for being around two people on a first date right now.
‘Hi, Evie.’ Josh and his partner – a tall, slim man wearing a well-fitting navy suit and a well-trimmed beard – walked into the room. ‘I thought you were out this evening. This is Marc.’
‘Hi, Josh, hi, Marc. In this evening, out tomorrow.’
‘Oh, okay, well, in that case we’ll take ourselves into my bedroom. Don’t mind us.’
‘See you in the morning,’ Evie said. She did love Josh – they’d been friends since uni and she’d lucked out massively when, a few months after she’d moved to London, he’d offered her the single bedroom in his Wimbledon flat at well below market rent. He’d been fantastic to live with during lockdown, because never a dull moment, but also he was kind of similar to her mum as a housemate; she’d basically gone frying pan to fire when she’d moved to London from her mum’s. Josh was not tidy and he went through men at about the same rate Evie went through magazines (and she liked a magazine).
Right now, she could really do with a celibate, anally tidy flatmate.
Especially because Josh’s success with men reminded her that she really, really did not have a man herself, and that she was really, really bad at one-night stands, because she was still feeling bereft after the Vegas-Dan thing. She needed to move on from it as soon as possible.
* * *
The following Tuesday, Evie arrived slightly late for the regular weekly badminton group session that she’d started in September on a get-fit drive for the new school year. If she was honest, it hadn’t had much of an impact on her fitness, but it was strangely addictive. There was a seventy-two-year-old ex-GB player in her group, and Evie was going to beat her one day if it killed her.
There was also a lovely man called Matthew, who had an astonishing memory for not-that-funny-but-very-clever one-liners – literally at least five of them on the subject of badminton alone – and wore pristine and – as far as Evie could see – different kit every single week. He’d asked her out before Christmas, which was lovely of him, but she’d turned him down because she didn’t really feel a spark with him. Maybe she’d been too hasty, though. He was nice, very nice; going by the pristine kit and his extreme punctuality for their sessions he didn’t live a remotely chaotic life; and he was very good-looking in a classic way. Maybe she should have gone out with him. The whole love-at-first-sight thing was clearly nonsense. Attraction and love grew as you got to know people.
He’d been very sweet to her when she’d said she wasn’t sure about a date. And he was smiling away at her now from the other side of the court.
‘We’re going to practise volleying today,’ their coach told them when they’d finished warming up. ‘Evie, I want you to focus on hitting the shuttlecock harder and more cleanly.’
Matthew manoeuvred things so that they were partnering each other for the volleying, which gave Evie a little thrill, like, actually, she was desirable. If she was honest, Dan’s blatant horror at how things had panned out in Vegas had dented her confidence quite a lot.
‘Harder, Evie,’ yelled the coach.
Matthew fed the shuttlecock gently to her and she whacked it back in as aggressive a volley as she could manage.
‘Ow,’ he howled, as it hit him squarely in the eye.
‘Oh, no.’ Evie sprinted round the net to see if he was okay. ‘I’m so sorry.’ This was reminding her of the time she’d inadvertently headbutted her ex-fiancé.
Matthew, his hand over his eye socket, shook his head. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘Are you sure? I think we should put ice on it.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
‘Ice is a good idea,’ the coach said.
A couple of minutes later, Evie was sitting with Matthew by the side of the court while he held an ice pack over his eye area.
‘You don’t need to sit here with me,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ll be completely fine in a minute. I don’t want you to miss the session.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Evie smiled at him. Thoughtfulness could really make someone a lot more attractive. ‘Probably better if I stay here anyway until the volleying practice has finished. I don’t want to injure anyone else.’
‘You did whack it impressively hard. When we do our matchplay, can I be your partner so there’s no risk of you hitting me again?’
Evie laughed. ‘It’s a deal.’
An hour later, at the end of their session, they strolled outside together.
‘I’m so excited to have beaten Ruth,’ Evie said. ‘I mean, I know it was all down to you and the fact that she was partnered with Gerald.’ Ruth was the seventy-two-year-old ex-GB player and Gerald was well into his seventies too, and by the signs of things, not an ex-GB player. ‘But still very satisfying.’
‘It absolutely wasn’t down to me. You played a couple of killer winners. Fancy a quick drink now in the pub over there to celebrate our stunning win?’
‘I actually would,’ said Evie, banishing thoughts of drinking with Dan in Vegas. ‘That would be lovely.’ A good way of celebrating the fact that their annulment had come through yesterday. She’d felt a bit low since then, and going for a drink with a nice man would be a good thing to do.