Always, in December by Emily Stone

Chapter Six

The icy wind whipped Josie’s hair around her face, all efforts to tame it long since abandoned, and there was the taste of salt on her tongue as she sucked in a breath against the cold. Sand had made its way into her boots - completely impractical for walking along the beach, but she refused to go barefoot like Max. Honestly, she’d be surprised if he didn’t get frostbite. He was actually in the water now, allowing the foaming white hands of the waves to creep up around his ankles, trousers hitched up as he paddled like a toddler on a summer’s day. He grinned over to where she stood a safe distance back, camera in her hand.

‘Come and play,’ he said, his voice barely making it over the sound of the wind and waves. A little way down there was another couple, walking hand in hand, wrapped up in big waterproof coats and scarves, and Josie could see both of them looking at Max like he was a madman.

‘No way. And I won’t be taking you to hospital later to get your toes sewn back on, just remember that.’ His only answer was to grin at her again, and she felt her face fighting the stern expression she’d adopted. He seemed genuinely happy here – from the moment they’d stepped off the train, his step had become more bouncing, his expression more animated. Despite the freezing temperatures, it was infectious.

Josie lifted her camera, twisting the lens to focus in on Max, who now had his back to her, looking out at the horizon. It was a wonderfully clear day, a few wispy clouds the only marring of the vast expanse of blue above them. The water sparkled, ripples of diamonds that constantly adapted to the swell of the ocean. Josie took her time with the photo, wanting to get it just right, then snapped a few shots, catching Max’s outline as he turned to look at her, his jaw soft, the hint of a smile evident in the photo. She’d brought her camera on a whim, being as how Max had refused to tell her the plan until they got off the train, but she was glad now that she had.

Max trudged up the sand to join her, flexing his toes when he stopped. Josie shook her head. ‘You’re mad.’

His eyes were bright, and although they were a far cry from the blue of the ocean, they seemed to absorb some of its shimmer, the green outweighing the amber today. He ran a hand through his hair – it was the kind of hair that suited the wind and salt, and the sparkle of the sunlight today made it look more coppery than usual. ‘Well, you never know when you’ll have the chance to do something again, right?’

‘Mmm, I’m not sure having your toes frozen off is on anyone’s bucket list.’

He prodded her in the ribs and she laughed, batting his hand away. She lost her footing slightly as she did so, stumbling backwards on the uneven sand, and he grabbed her free hand – the one not holding the camera – to steady her. Only, of course, being her, she overbalanced too much the other way and practically fell into his chest. He laughed softly and took the sides of her arms in his hands, cocking one eyebrow as he looked down at her. She cleared her throat, suddenly intensely aware of how close they now were, and how her heartbeat had picked up, ever so slightly.

She took a step back. ‘Thanks.’

He bent down and rubbed his feet dry before slipping on his socks and trainers again. When he stood up, he hooked his arm companionably through hers as they walked. She fell into the rhythm of his long stride and slung the strap of her camera over the other shoulder. It felt so easy to fall into step beside him, and unlike the last few days she didn’t feel the pressure to say anything, comfortable to listen to the waves lapping the shore, the laughter of a child behind them.

‘Get any good photos?’ He nodded at her camera and she shrugged. ‘It’s an impressive beast, I’m not even sure I’d know how to work it – it’s an iPhone camera all the way for me.’

‘I love it,’ she admitted. ‘I brought it last year. It cost far too much money to justify, but I did it anyway.’ She couldn’t really explain it, how right she felt behind the lens, how she felt like that was when she was most relaxed, and most herself. ‘I used to dream of being a professional photographer,’ she said, smiling a little at the memory – when her friends at school were planning on being vets, doctors or actresses, she was instructing people where to stand so she could take photos of them. The one time she was really bossy, her mum used to say. She preferred wildlife and landscape photography to photos of people now, but it was one thing that hadn’t changed as she’d grown up.

‘What stopped you?’

Josie gave him an incredulous look. ‘Well, it’s not exactly a stable career path, is it?’ Max gave a little half shrug, like it shouldn’t matter, though Josie knew that was a romantic’s view of the world and had no place in reality.

‘Do you like what you do now? Marketing?’

Josie hesitated, then sighed. ‘No, I guess not. Not really. I went into it because it can be creative sometimes – the social media stuff especially – but my company is quite strict on what they want out there and it sort of . . . takes the fun away, I guess.’ She brushed her hair away from her face – they were walking with the wind behind them so it kept flying around and blocking her line of sight. She probably would have tied it up if she’d known where they were going, but still, it was actually a nice sensation, the wind tangling its fingers through her hair. ‘Currently, my job seems to mainly involve looking at different shots of models in swimwear.’

‘Doesn’t sound so bad.’ She poked him in the ribs with her elbow and he laughed. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘if you hate it, why do you do it?’

‘I don’t hate it.’ She paused, staring out at the sea for a moment. ‘Actually, they’re making my role redundant as of January, so I might not have a choice whether to hate it or not.’ Her stomach squirmed uncomfortably – it was the first time she’d actually allowed herself to say it out loud, and though it wasn’t right to say that this made it feel more real, it certainly made it feel like more of a problem.

Max frowned, and didn’t answer right away, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to say. ‘That’s shit,’ he said eventually, which made Josie laugh.

‘Quite. I have a choice, though.’ She scowled when she thought of Janice’s face, teeth showing in a fake smile, as she’d offered her said choice. ‘I can take a “sideways”’ – she struggled to get her hands up to do the air quotes because one of her arms was still entwined with Max’s – ‘move, or I can take the redundancy package.’

‘What’s the “sideways”’ – he copied her air quotes – ‘move?’

Josie waved her free hand, wishing she’d remembered gloves as her fingers sliced the cold air. ‘They’re calling it an Exec, but basically it’s doing the same job for less money, with more of a focus on the digital side of things.’

‘Sounds like you should get out while you can.’ He steered her up the next ramp onto the pavement, heading towards the pier.

‘Yeah, but then I’d have no job and no money . . .’ The circle was going round her mind in a loop, continuously playing in the background. She could take the new role they were offering and look for other things at the same time, or she could take the package and just hope she got offered something before her money ran out. But then what if the new job was worse than her current one? At least she knew what she was doing there, and had friends, including Laura, which sort of counterbalanced the Oliver issue. She hadn’t figured out yet if she was brave enough to take the risk, though saying that out loud would sound all kinds of pathetic.

‘Life’s too short to not do what you want,’ Max said simply, as if it were that easy, as if everyone did something they enjoyed.

‘Do you love being an architect then?’

He smiled, though for some reason it didn’t seem as bright as before, like he was losing some of the ocean’s energy now they weren’t down on the sand. ‘I do. I geek out on buildings. And I do get the creative thing. It took me a while to get to the point where I was allowed to . . . imprint . . . my own personality on a building. But I knew I’d get there, so I didn’t mind the grafting so much.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Sounds to me like you don’t envisage your future in marketing, though, so it’s different.’

She chewed her lip as she considered it. She’d just assumed she’d work her way up through the ranks, but did she really want to be a Marketing Director in ten or twenty years? She shook her head. So not today’s problem. ‘Did you always want to be an architect?’ she asked, trying to steer attention back onto him.

‘Well, it’s not like I was announcing in the school playground aged six that I wanted to design buildings, but I got set on it as a teenager, I guess, and never looked back. My mum and dad hated the idea at first,’ he added, but as a smile was playing round his lips, this clearly wasn’t cause for resentment anymore.

‘Really? Why?’ It seemed like a perfectly respectable career choice to her, and wasn’t it one of those careers where you could make loads of money?

‘They’re the cliché, my parents. Both doctors – that’s how they met. They’re both great at what they do – and my mum loves it so much that she’s keeping up some consultancy work in New York. They assumed I’d go into medicine too, and had to suffer the disappointment when they couldn’t impart all their wisdom, I suppose.’

‘But they’re ok with it now?’ Max was now steering them to the other side of the road, towards a run-down-looking fish and chip shop, the faded blue and white lettering on the shopfront a testament to better times gone by.

‘I used to get fish and chips here as a kid,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘We came on holiday here every year without fail, the week of the August bank holiday. Haven’t been here in years,’ he said, sounding slightly nostalgic. He held the door open for her, and she stepped in, surprised that it was even open in the middle of December. The smell of grease filled the air, and, while it couldn’t be described as toasty, it was still warm enough to be a welcome interlude from the chill outside. There was a skinny man behind the counter, who certainly mustn’t try much of his produce, with a sharp angular face and a receding hairline. ‘Chips as we walk, or are you hungrier than that?’ Max asked her.

‘No, that sounds great.’ She smiled at the angular man, who grunted in response as he turned to carry out Max’s request for two cones of chips. Couldn’t be much fun, she supposed, sat here waiting for the odd tourist on the day before Christmas Eve. She glanced around the shop – there was a small reindeer at one end of the counter, the only nod to the festive season that she could see.

‘Sorry, what were we talking about? Ah yes, the classic teenage angst as I searched for a different identity to that which my parents thrust upon me.’ He nodded thoughtfully and Josie laughed. ‘They’re alright with it now – for the most part. They still occasionally like to bring it up. It came up on my thirtieth birthday two years ago, as if I’d magically grow into my medical career once my twenties were done with.’

The chip man presented them with two greasy parcels and told them to add their own condiments at the end of the counter. Josie went a bit overboard with the salt, but, hey, it was Christmas, and winced when Max doused his in vinegar. ‘Not a fan?’

She made a face. ‘Didn’t your parents tell you that too much vinegar makes you sour?’ It had been Memo’s favourite saying as Josie was growing up, though she’d used it out of context all the time, so that it never actually made any sense.

His turn to laugh. ‘I suppose I am a bit sour at times.’

They ate their chips as they walked up the pier, though Josie bit into the first one a bit too enthusiastically, so that the fluffy inside burned the inside of her mouth. They found a bench to sit on, and though it was damp from condensation and sea spray, Josie found she didn’t care as she relaxed against it, Max shielding her from the worst of the wind.

‘So why are you going to a work party, if they’re making you redundant?’

Josie paused in the process of licking salt off her finger. ‘Huh?’

He scrunched up the greasy cone in one hand, already finished with his chips. ‘Didn’t you say that’s what you were doing tomorrow? Work Christmas party?’

‘Oh.’ Josie frowned, trying to remember when exactly she’d mentioned it. ‘Right. Well, I haven’t decided if I’m staying on, remember.’

‘Ah.’

‘So I’ve got to keep in the good books to keep my options open, you know?’ She picked up another chip – a thin, crunchy one, the kind she liked best – and popped it in her mouth. ‘It’s a charity event,’ she explained, then made a face. ‘We’re all being forced to go – our parent company is putting it on for all the companies under their “umbrella”, as well as a bunch of clients, and for a reason only known to them, they decided to do that on Christmas Eve.’ She didn’t add that, until recent events, she’d actually been glad of it, because it gave her a purpose other than general ‘Christmassy’ activity. Now, though . . . ‘I’m dreading it, to tell you the truth,’ she said on a sigh. ‘But it’s important to network for the future,isn’t it?’

He grimaced. ‘I remember those events.’

Josie cocked her head. ‘You don’t have to go to them anymore?’

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘No, not anymore, thankfully. I’m guessing the pixie will be there too?’ Max added, before Josie had time to question him further.

She frowned. ‘The pixie? You mean Oliver?’ She snorted at the description. She supposed he did have a slight pixieish quality, what with his height – or lack of it – and thin chin, but while she wasn’t sure if Max meant it as an insult, she was sure Oliver would take it as one. ‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Yeah, he’ll be there, as will the girl he cheated on me with.’

‘Ouch. Don’t go then.’

She rolled her eyes and popped the last few chips into her mouth. ‘I told you, I have to.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Is it a closed event, or are you allowed a plus one?’

Josie’s stomach jumped, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. ‘I’m allowed a plus one, yeah.’

‘So I’ll come then,’ he announced, not making it into a question. She wondered briefly if she should be offended by that, but was too focused on trying not to grin too broadly to properly consider it. ‘We’ll make it fun.’ He took the greasy paper from her hands, then tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear before throwing the paper in the bin to his left. She was glad he’d turned away from her, because she was pretty sure his touch had brought a flush to her cheeks.

‘I said I’d meet a mate who’s passing through on the way home tomorrow during the day, but in the evening we can . . .’ He trailed off, reached into his pocket and brought out his phone, which was buzzing, the name Chloe flashing on the screen. He glanced at Josie. ‘My sister,’ he explained. ‘Sorry, I’d better answer, she’ll just keep calling if I don’t.’

Josie nodded her acceptance and watched as he walked away from her in that casual stroll, then leaned against the railings. She shivered, the wind biting at her face again now that she didn’t have Max’s body as a shield. She got up and walked around the bench to the other side of the pier from Max, clenching her fingers to her palms to try and warm their icy tips. There was a little boy on the beach just below her, laughing as he ran after a shaggy, golden dog. The dog’s tongue was lolling, its tail in the air as it ran towards the waves, barking like it was trying to ward them off, then lapping at the water when that achieved nothing. Wanting to capture the moment of the dog on the seaside, she unhooked her camera from her shoulder and adjusted the settings again, just as the boy’s mother, she presumed, came walking up behind them, wearing bright red wellies and a big, puffy coat, clearly no stranger to the coastline.

She was deliberately standing at the other side of the pier from Max, but the wind carried his voice over to her regardless, so that she could make out snippets of his phone call. ‘I promise I’m alright.’ A laugh, then, though Josie thought it sounded slightly bitter. ‘It’s not like it’s my choice.’ ‘Chill, ok? I’m not going to do anything drastic.’ He went quiet for a moment and Josie realised she’d paused in the action of taking the photo, her attention on what he was saying despite herself. ‘I know, I know.’ A sigh, then, ‘Well, I’m not alone, exactly.’ Josie immediately started fumbling with her camera, suspecting that he would be glancing over at her. ‘No, look. Josie!’ She started, then turned to see him gesturing her over. She hesitated, then walked across to him.

He held out the phone to her as she approached. ‘Say hello to my sister, won’t you? She thinks I stuck with the room-service plan.’ He thrust it into her hands.

‘Hello?’ she said cautiously.

‘Hello?’ A sharp, direct voice came from the other end. ‘So you’re the—?’

Max snatched the phone away before she could finish. ‘See?’ He rolled his eyes at Josie, as if they were both in on his sister’s behaviour. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go, I’m having a lovely time with Josie at the beach.’ Josie didn’t catch what his sister said, but Max cut her off anyway. ‘Yes, the beach. I’ll call you all later, ok?’ And then he hung up, slipping his phone immediately back into his inside pocket. ‘Sorry about that. She’s just worried about me.’ Though he smiled, it held a tight quality, not the relaxed, open smile she’d seen when he’d played in the water.

Josie nodded. ‘Nice that she worries though.’

‘Yeah. I suppose.’ He sighed, shook his head. ‘She’s the golden child, followed in Mum and Dad’s footsteps and is now a junior doctor. We both try not to resent her for it.’

‘You both do?’

‘Yep.’ He leaned back against the railings. ‘It’s just as hard being the golden child as it is living in their shadow, don’t you know?’

‘Hmm, wouldn’t know anything about that, being an only child and all.’

Max looked down at Josie’s hands and she realised she was still clutching the camera. ‘Can I see some of your photos?’

Josie bit her lip. ‘I suppose so.’

He chuckled. ‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic.’

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘Yes, sure.’ She handed over her camera and showed him how to flick back through the recent photos, twisting her hands as she stood a little behind him, her gaze flicking between him and the viewer. It was a personal thing, more than she suspected he realised, to share them with him. ‘They need editing,’ she said. ‘And they’re just fun photos, you know, not—’

‘I like this one.’ It was one of him, with his face partially turned towards her, the contrast between the sea and sky perfect without any enhancements, the photo somehow managing to capture the icy chill of the day while keeping a warm feel to the composition.

Josie smiled a little. ‘Me too.’

He flicked through a few more. ‘They’re really good. Not that I’m the best judge, I guess, but it’s like I can feel you in the photos.’ He handed her back the camera, and she felt herself blush. It was the best thing to say. Oliver always used to say that she was hiding behind the lens, and got grumpy with her because she didn’t like to be in the photos, just take them. He hadn’t ever seemed to totally get that, even if she wasn’t visible in them, she still was very much a part of every photo she took.

‘My mum bought me my first camera,’ she said with a little smile. He took her hand as they walked back along the pier, and it felt so easy, so natural.

‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘When I was nine. It was a cheap Kodak one, you know, one of the disposable ones, and I was thrilled.’ She grinned at the memory, at how excited she’d been. ‘Mum used to take all the photos too, I guess that’s where I got it from.’ The smile faded as she thought of it, of how her mum had always taken too many family snaps on holiday and at parties, how her dad had complained but gone along with it, how her mum had to take several before she managed to get her thumb out the way and everyone’s eyes open. Josie was glad of it now, because it meant she had memories of her childhood, but there were too few photos of her mum actually in the shot, like her childhood was documented without her.

‘Used to?’ Max asked.

Josie hesitated. ‘They died,’ she said softly. She felt his head whip round to look at her, but kept her gaze firmly on the ground in front of her. ‘In a car crash when I was nine, driving back from a party on Christmas Eve.’ She felt his grip tighten on hers for a moment. He was still staring at her.

‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘That’s . . . Jesus.’ She finally looked up at him. His eyes were round, his lips pressed together as he took it in, clearly trying to figure out what to say. This was the worst bit, when you first told people, because they never knew how to react. ‘That’s awful, Josie – and I know it’s a cliché, but I’m sorry.’

She nodded. Funny, how it was the done thing to apologise, to take responsibility for it. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said, which was what she always said.

He squeezed her hand. ‘Doesn’t make it ok,’ he said softly.

She felt a lump in her throat and forced it down. She was not going to start crying. ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t.’

The sun was setting now, a blaze on the horizon, the orange glow reflected on the water. ‘It changes you, that kind of loss,’ Max said, his voice husky now, like he was voicing his own feelings and not hers. She wondered who in his past he’d lost, or if he was thinking only of her. ‘But you get through it, learn to live with it.’ His gaze was intense on hers, so that she felt she couldn’t look away. It wasn’t a question, but it was like he was seeking her reassurance then, like he needed her to tell him she was ok.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Yeah.’ Her lips threatened to tremble but she kept them still. ‘It’s a part of me now, I guess, something that will always be there, but I came through the other side, for sure.’ She squeezed his hand and gave a little head toss. ‘I mean, you’ve seen me with my sunny disposition and all that.’

He smiled, but it still looked sad, like he understood the weight of it still hit her sometimes, the fact that she’d never got to really know her parents as people, before they were taken from her, the fact that they lost their lives all too soon, that it could have been different, if only they’d stayed at home that night.

Max was quiet and a little distant as they made their way back to London, sitting in the window seat of the train and staring out at the passing landscape as the sky grew dark. It was like she’d upset him, talking about her parents, like she’d reminded him of something, and now he was lost in thought. She was too unsure to ask outright, not wanting to force him to relive a traumatic memory if he didn’t want to. He’d talked about his parents in New York, about his sister, but she knew that losing a close family member was not the only kind of loss.

He came with her all the way to her flat, and walked her up to her floor, the light still flickering in the corridor. It was cold enough in the corridor that they could see their breath. Josie turned to him and smiled as she fished for her keys. ‘Thanks for today. I suppose you were right – some kinds of surprises are ok.’ The hint of a smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes and she looked away from it, back down at her bag. She found her keys, then hesitated. ‘Do you . . . want to come in for a drink or something?’

‘I’d better not,’ he said, and even though she left a short pause for him to elaborate, he said nothing more. She tried not to feel stung by that. Maybe he thought that she was too damaged, having become an orphan at nine. Maybe he didn’t want to get in any deeper into whatever it was they were doing here with someone who had that kind of trauma in their past. She focused intently on unlocking and opening the door. She shouldn’t have said anything. But then, maybe she didn’t want anything more to do with him if that was the way he felt.

‘Well,’ she said, as she stepped inside and turned to him, forcing a bright smile even though it felt almost painful to do so. ‘Thanks again.’ He didn’t mention the party tomorrow so she didn’t either – she certainly didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want to do.

Max nodded, glancing briefly into her flat before looking up at the mistletoe still hanging above the doorway. Josie followed his gaze. She should have just taken the damn plant down the moment Bia was out the flat. When she looked back at Max, she jolted as his gaze met hers, his eyes still holding that same sad, intense look. He frowned ever so slightly as he looked at her, like he was trying to decide something. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers leaving pinpricks of warmth behind them.

‘And thank you,’ he murmured.

She felt her heart stutter and took in a breath. ‘For what?’

Just the hint of a smile grazed his lips. ‘For keeping me company.’

He leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers gently, offering up the mere whisper of a kiss. It was enough to make the nerves along her forearms prickle. He pulled away, only to rest his forehead against hers for a moment. He sighed softly. ‘Goodnight, Josie.’