Always, in December by Emily Stone
Chapter Seven
Josie’s phone buzzed and she reached across her dressing table to grab it, sucking in a sharp breath as she accidentally brushed the corner of her ear with her hair straightener. She set the straightener down carefully on the heat mat as she read the WhatsApp from Laura.
What are you wearing??
Josie glanced in the mirror briefly before replying. She’d spent longer than usual on her makeup, using her special Charlotte Tilbury eye palette, a present from Helen, and following the tutorial only to create the ‘Sophisticate’ look, but she still thought she looked plain and boring. It was stupid to think it mattered, she knew that. It wouldn’t make her any less redundant or Oliver any less of a cheater. But still.
My blue dress, she typed back – the blue dress she always fell back on, skater style. She’d decided to play it safe on that front. At least she knew she looked nice in that. Are you not already ready?
Course, came back the reply. John and I are getting a drink just across the road so we’re there on time. Josie snorted. Laura had literally never been late to anything as long as she’d known her. Just checking you’re actually still coming.
As if I’d bail on the free Prosecco.
Laura sent her back a line of strong arm emojis.
Josie went back to straightening her fringe, her stomach twisting and churning as she thought about braving the event. The toast she’d just had to line her stomach now felt like a bad idea. Because on top of the Oliver and Janice issues, she didn’t actually know if Max would show. She’d told him to meet her here at five originally, but that was before he’d got all weird with her, and they hadn’t exchanged numbers, so she didn’t even have the option of sending him an ever-so-breezy text message.
She jerked the straighteners again when her phone started flashing so that she hit her scalp. She winced as the heat seared it. For God’s sake, Josie, get a grip.
‘Hi, Memo,’ she answered, deciding to quit while she was ahead and switch the straighteners off.
‘You’re not on FaceTime!’ Memo said, her voice ever so slightly accusing. ‘Didn’t we say five p.m. today, before you left for your party?’
Josie hit her head with one hand. ‘God, sorry. We did, I just completely spaced.’ That, or she’d been distracted by the thought of whether or not Max would show up this evening. ‘Hang on, I’ll switch now.’ She faffed around with her laptop and, when Memo answered the FaceTime call, Josie saw both her grandad and Helen squeezed in on each side of Memo on the red sofa, peering into the screen. Helen and Memo looked all glammed up with what Josie thought must be identical red lipstick, both with sparkling studs in their ears. Her grandad’s one nod to the occasion was a smart tweed jacket – the one jacket he wore for everything from dinner at a friend’s to weddings and garden parties.
‘Happy Christmas Eve!’ they chanted together, like they’d actually practised it, and Josie laughed.
‘Don’t you look beautiful?’ Memo said, smiling broadly at Josie. ‘All ready for your party?’
‘Just about,’ Josie said, trying hard to sound breezy.
‘Why do you look worried?’ Memo asked, her gaze fluttering across Josie’s face. So much for the breezy, then.
‘I’m not worried,’ Josie said evenly.
‘You look worried. Doesn’t she look worried, John?’
Her grandad peered into the screen, making Josie feel hot around the collar of her dress. ‘I’m fine, Memo,’ Josie insisted.
Memo shook her head. ‘You’re too pale.’
‘Well, I’ll put on some more bronzer, then.’
She huffed out a breath. ‘You’re always looking pale these days. I don’t think you get enough sleep.’
‘Leave the girl in peace, Cecelia,’ her grandad said gruffly. ‘She’s got a lot on her plate, that’s all.’
Memo scrutinised Josie for a second more, then smiled, conceding the point, thankfully. ‘Well, we’re all very jealous here about your party, aren’t we?’ She looked from Josie’s grandad to Helen and back again. Her grandad agreed with a grunt – though Josie knew he’d like nothing less than to be in London going to a party – and Helen nodded vigorously, taking a sip of something that looked like sherry.
‘Very jealous,’ Helen repeated, leaning across Memo to give Josie an appraising look. ‘You’ve straightened your hair, have you? You should put some hair spray in it, darling, it looks a little flat.’
‘Oh shh,’ Memo pushed Helen away with her spindly fingers. ‘Ignore her, Josie love, you look stunning.’ Just too pale,Josie nearly said, but stopped herself. ‘Oliver will be so sorry he ever even looked at another girl when he sees you.’
Josie knew this was supposed to make her feel better, but all it did was tighten the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She tapped her nails against the dresser next to her laptop. She should have painted them, she realised now.
Helen pushed her way back onto the screen. ‘Oh there’s no point crying over that now, Josie. Move on to bigger and better, that’s what I say. Though he is a very nice young man, and maybe if you—’
‘Helen!’ Memo leaned forward and snatched the laptop onto her lap, if the change in angle was anything to go on. ‘Josie, go and get your present, let’s do that now. We’ll have to be quick, we’re off to the Copes’s for drinks this evening before the carol service in the square.’
‘That’s nice,’ Josie said, turning to grab her present from Memo and Grandad off her bedroom floor. She remembered that carol service – remembered playing with Beth Cope while everyone sang and drank mulled wine. She’d gone with her parents, the night they died, before they’d headed off to their party.
Frowning away the tears that burned the back of her eyes, Josie turned back to the laptop. ‘It will be nice, I think,’ Memo was saying, patting down her grey bob. ‘I made some brownies to put in bags and hang on the big Christmas tree – you remember the one?’ Josie nodded. ‘Well, anyway, I really think this batch turned out quite well – less salty than the last batch. Your grandad ate two, didn’t you, John?’
‘What?’ His bushy eyebrows pulled together as Memo turned the screen towards him. ‘Oh, yes. They were very, umm, pleasant.’
Josie laughed. ‘Very convincing.’
Memo sighed. ‘He’s hoping the baking will replace smoking.’
‘Well he’s right about that – you should stop smoking, it’s bad for you.’
Memo’s hand fluttered across the screen. ‘Josie, whatever damage is done is already done by my age, there’s no point in changing it now.’
Josie frowned, but heard Helen, out of sight, say, ‘Hear, hear’, and knew she was fighting a losing battle with the two of them.
‘Anyway,’ Memo said. ‘Presents!’ They opened their presents in front of the screen in a way that had long since stopped feeling weird, and Josie beamed at the beautiful jewellery box Memo and Grandad had got her. Her grandad laughed a little at the sign she’d got him, which was a surefire acknowledgement of a job well done, Helen started listing all the new skincare products she had her eye on at Space NK, and Memo genuinely seemed thrilled by the tea set. She’d have to remember to tell Max, Josie thought. If he showed up. God, there went her stomach again. She checked the time, trying to control the urge to do something, anything, with her hands.
‘I’m really sorry, guys, but I’ve got this party and I—’
‘But the quote!’ Memo said. ‘Helen’s got one this time, haven’t you, Helen?’
Josie raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought it was my turn?’
‘Yes, well, you wouldn’t have done a Christmassy one, would you? And Helen wanted to get involved.’ She turned the screen towards Helen, leaving no room for argument.
Helen cleared her throat dramatically. ‘To me, you are perfect.’
Josie smirked. ‘Why thank you.’
She heard her grandad laugh in the background, but Helen tssked impatiently. ‘Well?’
Josie hesitated. Christmassy, they’d said. ‘Ummm . . .’
‘Oh come on,’ Memo said, and Helen turned the laptop back to her. She’d gotten herself a glass of red wine since Helen had taken over the screen. ‘You must know this one, love?’
Josie saw her phone vibrate next to her laptop and started, then remembered that obviously it wouldn’t be Max, being as how he didn’t have her number. Laura, she saw. God, she needed to get going, she wanted to make sure she found Laura in time so she didn’t have to walk in alone.
‘Well?’ Helen was demanding.
‘I don’t know,’ Josie said, and it came out more impatiently than she meant it to. ‘Sorry, I mean, just let me think on it, ok? I’ll text you.’
Memo frowned. ‘Why are you so flustered?’
‘I’m not,’ Josie insisted. ‘I’m just worried about making the party on time. On which note . . .’
‘Actually, I wanted a word with you quickly,’ Helen said. Josie watched as Helen stood up and moved across the living room and into the kitchen. Something she couldn’t say in front of Memo then – that did not bode well. ‘Darling, I just thought you ought to know . . .’
Josie’s stomach jolted. ‘Ought to know what? Has something happened?’ She dropped her voice, glancing behind Helen on the screen to check her grandparents hadn’t followed her into the kitchen. ‘Is Memo ok?’
‘Oh no, no, it’s nothing like that, don’t you worry. Your grandparents are fine.’ Funny how she never seemed to refer to them as ‘Mum and Dad’ in front of Josie. ‘It’s just, well, I did a little digging online into that new man that you’re seeing.’
Of course she did. ‘I’m not really “seeing” him, Helen. And—’
‘Anyway,’ Helen continued, breezing over Josie. ‘I found his architect firm, the one he said he worked for, ALA, and I hate to tell you this, darling, but he is not listed on their website anywhere.’
‘Ok,’ Josie said slowly. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe they just don’t list all their employees on the website, or they haven’t updated it or something.’ It had taken a good year, after all, for the internal system at her company to update her title after she’d been promoted.
‘Well, yes, I considered that, but I called them to ask and they said he hasn’t worked there in two months.’ She let that hang for a moment.
‘Two months?’ Josie repeated, frowning. So he’d lied to Helen about where he worked? That was strange. Or was it? Maybe she was just letting Helen get to her.
‘Yes,’ Helen said, leaning towards the screen and dropping her voice like she was in on a conspiracy. ‘And they wouldn’t tell me why he left. I did ask.’
‘It might not mean anything drastic, Helen.’
‘Hmm. Well yes, maybe.’
‘Why did you even go looking?’
‘Because I’m worried about you, darling! You show up with a new man right after you break up with that lovely Oliver’ – Josie gritted her teeth at that – ‘and you look all flustered. I just don’t want someone to swoop in and take advantage, that’s all. I saw a dreadful article online the other day about a man who took everything from a young man right in the dead of night – he’d created a false identity and everything.’ Josie allowed herself a small, wry smile. She knew why her aunt kept it vague with the ‘online’ – she was the type of person who pretended to read the Guardian, but in reality got everything from the Mail.
‘Look, I appreciate you worrying about me, honestly I do.’ The doorbell rang, and Josie’s heart did a semi-painful jump. She stood up, taking the laptop with her, and started walking towards the door, dropping her voice slightly. ‘But I don’t think it’s anything like that. I’m being careful, I promise.’
‘Well, just have it in mind, won’t you?’
‘Fine, sure,’ Josie said, knowing that agreement was the only way to stop her going on about it. ‘But right now, there’s someone at the door and I’m already running late, so I’ve got to go, sorry. Say goodbye to Memo and Grandad, won’t you?’
‘Bye, my love!’ Memo called from the living room. ‘And your grandad says bye too.’
‘I can speak for myself, Cecelia,’ she heard her granddad grumble distantly. Josie shook her head. She’d bet anything they’d both been listening to every word Helen said, and no doubt the three of them would be gossiping about it for the rest of the evening.
‘Well, alright, bye then, darling. Have a wonderful time tonight,’ Helen said.
‘I’m sure I will,’ lied Josie, now right by the front door, her bare feet making the lino floor creak ever so slightly. She shut the laptop screen, tucking it under her arm, then took a breath, willing her heart to calm down.
She opened the door to see Max standing there, wearing dark jeans, a blue shirt and a sleek, well-cut black jacket, his coat over his arm, even though it was bloody freezing outside. He looked incredible, his muscular body filling out his jacket perfectly, and she only realised she was staring when he smiled at her, the smile reaching up to warm those eyes which seemed to shift colour constantly, more amber now to match the lighter bits of his hair. His gaze travelled up and down the length of her body in a way that made her skin beat, before resting on her eyes.
‘Hi,’ Josie said, wishing her stomach would calm down. She shouldn’t feel this nervous. It was just Helen – she’d thrown her, that was all.
He leaned against the doorframe and ran one hand over the stubble on his jaw. ‘Hey,’ he said easily, whatever had soured his mood yesterday clearly a thing of the past. ‘Ready?’
‘I, err . . .’ She brought a hand to her hair but dropped it, remembering not to mess it up after she’d spent so long taming it. ‘Yes, in a minute. I wasn’t sure . . .’ She trailed off, but he got her meaning anyway.
‘If I was coming? I wouldn’t abandon you like that,’ he said, with a casual shrug. ‘Besides, it was my idea in the first place.’
‘Right,’ she said, for some reason hyperaware of the fact she was barefoot. ‘I’ll just grab my shoes, give me a sec.’ He nodded and stepped inside so she could shut the door on the draught from the corridor. So what if he’d lied about where he worked? she thought. Maybe he’d been fired or something and didn’t want to admit it in front of Helen – she wasn’t exactly the type of person you immediately wanted to open up to. She put her laptop back, grabbed her heels and sat on her bed to slip them on, then checked the mirror one last time before picking up her bag and heading back out to meet him. She didn’t really know much about him, though, and here she was, letting him into her house. She bit her lip. No. She couldn’t let Helen get to her, even if she did mean well.
Max straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the door when she came back into the hallway. God, should she have told him to sit down or something? She offered him an overly bright smile in some effort to compensate, feeling incredibly self-conscious as her heels clicked on the floor, like she’d for some reason suddenly forgotten how to walk in them. And it was like he bloody knew that, the way his gaze dropped to her shoes, lingered on her legs.
His eyes sparked when she reached him. ‘I got you a present,’ he said, producing a box from his pocket and holding it out to her. His brows pulled together slightly when she didn’t immediately take it.
Her stomach did a small somersault. ‘You didn’t have to do that!’ She wasn’t sure where to look, now that he was looking right at her.
‘Here,’ he said, a little aggressively. He thrust it into her hands.
She opened it, feeling incredibly self-conscious and trying to arrange her face into a suitable expression. When she saw what was inside, she stared mutely for a moment, then picked one up to examine it. The earrings. The big, dangly star earrings she’d pointed out at Fortnum’s. She shook her head – she remembered the price tag on these. ‘I can’t . . . I mean, these are amazing, but I can’t accept this, it’s too much.’
He shrugged, and that little frown returned. ‘Well, either you have them or I’ll have to get my ears pierced – there’s a no-return policy on earrings.’ She bit her lip. He sighed. ‘If you won’t take a Christmas present, then consider it a thank you.’ She met his gaze, and it was almost like he was staring her out, daring her to refuse. But when he spoke, his voice was soft. ‘If it weren’t for you, I would have just been sat around moping these last few days.’
She hesitated, but, at his encouraging nod, took the earrings out of the box and replaced her studs with them. She touched one of them. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘They’re beautiful.’
He reached out and traced a finger along her earlobe, down the sparkling earring. ‘They might not shine as brightly as you, but at least they’re pretty.’ For a moment, he held her gaze, and even though his touch was light, Josie found herself flushing. She looked down quickly, but when he held the door open for her, she touched the place on her ear where his fingers had been, her skin still tingling.
It was just a short train ride from Josie’s flat to Battersea, where the party was, so they arrived at the venue promptly at six p.m., right on time. It was being held at Battersea Arts Centre, a grand, impressive building from the outside, with mini turrets out of the roof giving the impression of a small castle. There were two Christmas trees either side of the pillared entrance, decorated simply in silver and gold, and there were fairy lights just below the archway. Josie smiled at Max as he opened the door for her, trying to control the squirming in her stomach that had only got worse on the journey over here.
A man, dressed smartly in a black suit, smiled at them as they arrived. ‘The Peacock’s party?’ Josie nodded. ‘Please check your coats just here, then you’re in the Grand Hall.’ The man indicated where he meant.
Josie glanced around but there was no one else she recognised in the entrance hall. She should have timed it better – deliberately arrived twenty minutes late or something. Although surely Laura, at least, must be inside somewhere. They checked their coats, and Josie felt a shiver run down her spine as she gave up her extra layer. When Max touched her bare shoulder to steer her in the right direction, she jumped, and he raised his eyebrows.
‘Sorry,’ she said, trying to smile even though her mouth was dry. ‘Just cold.’ She glanced at him as they walked, though his attention was on the interior of the building, not her, looking up and around them, his lips occasionally moving as though he was silently talking. She realised she was twisting her hands in front of her and dropped them, deliberately flexing her fingers at her sides. She shouldn’t have brought Max with her. Now she had to try and pretend she was all breezy, at the same time as worrying about what he was doing and whether he was having a good time.
Josie led the way into the hall, and, like Max, she couldn’t help looking up as she did. The ceiling was phenomenal, arched over them like a dome in a beautiful lattice design. The windows were huge, the tops of them domed to match the ceiling, each one decorated with fairy lights, and there was a Christmas tree in each corner. There were circular tables dotted around the room, with what looked like a mini stage down the other end, and a large buffet-style table on one side. And there were people here, thank God. Josie let out a slow breath as she realised they were not the first ones to arrive, that the room was already filling up, people milling about with glasses in their hands or sitting at the tables in small groups, heads bent towards each other.
‘I knew they’d renovated it in here, but I haven’t ever been in,’ Max muttered, and Josie cocked her head up at him, not totally sure he was talking to her, given his gaze was still flicking around the building. ‘It’s impressive.’
‘Prosecco?’ A woman, dressed smartly in black and white, held out a tray to them and Josie took one of the glasses gratefully, taking a sip immediately.
They walked a little further into the room, and Josie felt heat from somewhere caress her skin. There was music in the background, she realised now – not the usual Christmas tunes but something instrumental and classical; she could hear the violins. She searched the room for someone she knew, someone from her own company, and pressed her lips together when she saw Janice, sleek black hair twisted into a bun, sitting on one of the tables near a makeshift stage.
Josie stopped as Max turned in a small circle to admire the room a little more, and felt her face soften into a small smile. At least if the evening was a complete fiasco he’d at least have appreciated the architecture. He grinned a little guiltily at her when he saw her watching, then looked over her head, his gaze sharpening.
‘Where are all the bikini models then?’ Max asked, taking a sip of Prosecco. ‘It’s the only reason I came.’
‘I knew there was an ulterior motive.’
He shrugged. ‘Of course.’
She laughed, then jolted, nearly spilling her drink, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Oliver, smiling in a way that looked painful. He was a bit pixieish, now that she thought about it, all clean-shaven and perfectly smooth hair, his frame quite obviously petite in his smart black jacket and maroon shirt – a nod to the festive season, she supposed. His eyes – the ones she’d described as chocolate when she’d first gushed about him to Bia, didn’t sparkle with pixie mischief tonight though, but rather looked a little mournful.
‘Hey Jose,’ he said. ‘Happy Christmas Eve.’ He reached out for a hug and, feeling it would make a scene if she refused, she returned it, trying not to think of how comforting and familiar he smelled, how her body remembered exactly where to fit against his. She pulled away as soon as she reasonably could. She glanced up at Max and though his expression gave nothing away, the perfect poker face, she was pretty sure he’d seen Oliver coming and made her laugh deliberately.
‘Nice to see you again,’ Max said affably, shaking Oliver’s hand.
Oliver frowned. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’
Max smiled easily, a direct contrast to Oliver’s tense jaw. ‘It was a last-minute decision.’
Josie was saved from having to try and bridge the conversation when she saw a blonde, broad-shouldered woman by the tray of Prosecco and waved her over, trying not to look desperate. Laura marched over to them at a speed that indicated she hadn’t broken her no-heels rule even for the party, with her fiancé John, only ever known as Scottish John in the office, following just a step behind her.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ Laura said as she approached. She dropped her voice so that only Josie could hear. ‘I was dreading having to make small talk with Accounts.’ She jerked her head behind her where two women and a man stood huddled together. Laura took the glass of Prosecco that John handed to her and took a glug. She was wearing a very un-Laura like dress, black, sparkly and floor length, which worked because of her enviable flat stomach. ‘It’s my sister’s,’ she said, noticing Josie’s appraisal. ‘Thought I’d best make an effort what with all our shareholders here.’ She fluffed up her hair, then, sparing no more than a nod for Oliver, smiled at Max. ‘Sorry, I’m Laura, I’m in the PR team at Peacock’s with Josie.’ She had her formal work voice on, all brisk and efficient.
‘Max.’
‘And which company are you with?’
‘Actually, I’m with Josie,’ Max said easily, toasting Josie with his Prosecco as he did so.
Laura’s blue eyes, as usual framed only with mascara, turned appraisingly. ‘Are you now?’ Laura raised her eyebrows at Josie, and Josie shook her head, giving her a look to tell her she’d explain later. She hadn’t told Laura ahead of time that she might be bringing someone, in case he hadn’t actually shown up. Laura smiled at Max. ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you. This is my fiancé, John,’ she said, indicating the tall, just-as-blond man beside her. Luckily, John was more olive-skinned than Laura’s pinky tone, and had brown eyes rather than her blue, otherwise they might well have been mistaken for siblings.
‘At least I’m not the only tagalong,’ John said, grinning through his beard, his Glaswegian accent still strong despite his years in London. Max and John struck up an easy conversation while Laura sighed, nodding to where Janice was waving her over.
‘I’d better go see what she wants.’ Laura headed off at that same clipped speed, leaving Josie alone with Oliver. She tried to take a sip of Prosecco to distract herself, but found her glass empty. John was now explaining to Max that he worked as a freelance journalist, and Josie tried to think of something to say to insert herself into the conversation, but she wasn’t fast enough – Oliver grabbed her wrist and pulled her away a step.
‘Josie, I really need to talk to you.’ He glanced at Max and John. ‘Privately.’
Josie shook her head. ‘Not now, Oliver.’
‘Please.’ He looked at her with those big Bambi eyes, adopting the puppy-dog look he always used to try and get his own way. ‘It’s not about what you think, I promise. I just . . . I don’t want you to hear it from someone else, that’s all.’
Josie’s stomach twisted, making her feel a little sick, and, like she was somehow a beacon, Cara was immediately obvious. She was standing towards the stage area and, like a taunt, was wearing that same red dress she’d worn to the Christmas lunch, the one that showed off a slim, perfect figure and toned, tanned legs – even if the tan had to be from a bottle. Cara’s gaze flicked towards Josie, then away quickly, and Josie felt sure she was watching them, waiting to see her reaction.
At that moment, Max laughed at something Scottish John had said, and Oliver scowled over at them. ‘Seriously, Jose,’ he muttered, ‘who is that guy?’
Before Josie could say that it was none of his business, that he had no right to look so angry when he was surely about to tell her that he and Cara were an item now, that he could very much go to hell, Janice got up from the table and swept over to them, her stiletto heels clicking on the wooden panel flooring.
‘Josie, don’t you look wonderful?’ Janice said, barely sparing her a glance. ‘Oliver, a quick word?’ She left him no option, gripping his forearm and steering him away from Josie and back towards the entrance.
Josie hesitated, feeling the need to check Max was ok.
‘You’re kidding!’ John was saying to him as she rejoined them. ‘One of my old school friends is an architect. Erin Fuller – don’t suppose you’ve ever come across her?’
Max was shaking his head. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re mates with Erin?’
Deciding they were getting along well enough and sufficiently engaged in a game of Kevin Bacon, Josie silently walked over to the table where Laura was sitting, now alone, and collapsed down next to her. Laura frowned. ‘What’s up?’
Josie hesitated, then shook her head, but couldn’t help the scowl towards Cara even though she knew she should be more pissed off at Oliver than at her. Still, she didn’t have to make it so damn obvious, did she? They could at least have waited until after the Christmas break, was that really so much to ask? Laura grimaced sympathetically. ‘Ignore Cara Drama, she’s just trying to get attention because she’s bored and knows she’ll never amount to anything more than a mid-level exec, and therefore knows she needs to lock in a guy before she loses her looks and they figure out that’s all she’s got going for her.’
Josie snorted, then immediately felt harsh for doing it. She grimaced. She hadn’t told Laura yet that she’d been made redundant – maybe she’d never amount to anything either.
Laura pursed her lips, studying Josie’s face, then glanced over her head. ‘The boys are coming over.’ She leaned in a bit closer. ‘Speaking of which . . . Don’t waste any time, do you?’
‘It’s not like that, it’s . . .’ She twisted the stem of the Prosecco glass on the table. ‘I don’t know what it is.’
‘When did you meet?’
‘Three days ago,’ she admitted.
Laura gave Josie an incredulous look. ‘And he just happened to be free on Christmas Eve to come to a party with someone he’s only just met?’
‘He’s stuck in London waiting for a flight,’ Josie said defensively. ‘Stop making it sound bad.’
Laura looked over Josie’s shoulder at Max. ‘He’s pretty dashing.’
Josie raised her eyebrows. ‘Who says “dashing” these days?’
‘Seems nice,’ Laura continued, ignoring Josie.
‘Yes,’ Josie agreed. He was nice, she thought, though she hadn’t figured that out at first, being as how he’d almost tried to hide it from her.
‘And he’s been making John laugh, though I’ll admit that’s not all that difficult.’ Josie knew Laura was building to something so said nothing, waiting for her to get to the point. They both glanced over to John and Max, who had stopped a waitress to get more drinks. John was broader than Max, but somehow Max still seemed to have more presence. It was the way he carried himself, Josie decided, like he’d learned the way to move through a room with purpose, and so that people moved out the way for him, rather than the other way around. Laura lowered her voice. ‘So what’s the damage, then?’
Josie huffed out a breath. ‘Why does there have to be damage?’
‘Is he married?’
Josie laughed. ‘No.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, there’s no wedding ring, for one.’
‘Right, because people never take those off.’
‘He’s not married,’ Josie insisted, though she remembered again what her aunt had told her. He’d lied about where he worked – could there be more he was lying about? Without really thinking about it, she lifted a hand to run her fingers over one of the star earrings he’d given her. Laura watched her do it.
‘Nice earrings.’
‘Thanks.’ She decided not to own up to the fact that Max gave them to her, given she could see him and John approaching now. John casually rubbed Laura’s arm as he sat next to her, handing her a new glass of Prosecco just as Max set one down in front of Josie. She smiled up at him, perhaps a touch more enthusiastically than was really necessary, but the smile he gave her back was quick and efficient.
He held up his phone. ‘I just have to call the airline, they’ve left me a message. Be right back.’
Josie nodded, and tried to ignore the I told you so look that Laura was giving her. Before Laura could start up again – the presence of John wouldn’t stop her – Josie asked Laura about how the wedding planning was coming on, which distracted her enough that she launched into a story of how difficult the events manager at the venue – a Scottish castle no less – was being and how she was paranoid about there being a train strike around that weekend, which would mean that no one from London could make it. A waiter came round with canapés, and Josie took an arancini ball, taking little bites as she listened to Laura’s story and trying very hard to stay present, rather than keep scanning the room for either of the two men who were preying on her mind.
Max came back after about ten minutes, sliding into the chair next to her. She caught a subtle whiff of his aftershave – something expensive, she reckoned. ‘What did they say?’ she asked.
He picked up his glass and took a sip. ‘They said they’ve got me on a flight on Boxing Day.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ll see, I guess.’ Josie nodded and smiled, because it seemed like the appropriate reaction, but before she could ask anything more – like how long he was actually going to be away for and if he’d be coming back to London at any point after that – someone tapped the microphone on the stage area, and the chatter in the hall died down briefly as everyone looked at the man on the stage, clearly a technician.
‘Speeches already?’ John asked.
‘They’ll want to get them out the way so they can get drunk with the rest of us, I imagine,’ Laura said.
Max grinned appreciatively as the CEO of the company, a man in his sixties who Josie had only seen once in the four years she’d worked for them, took to the stage – a little platform that raised him ever so slightly above everyone else. He cleared his throat, touching his glasses and nodding to the guy in black who was adjusting the microphone to his height. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to say a few words before we all get stuck in to the festivities.’
There was a shuffling around the hall as people found seats or quickly grabbed another drink, then turned their attention to the stage. ‘Thank you so much for joining us this evening, and for giving up your Christmas Eve to support our sponsored charity for the year.’ He indicated a table behind him, which was home to various items – a bottle of champagne, a hamper basket, and photos of what looked like a helicopter and the Eiffel Tower, amongst other things. ‘Please do take the time to bid on the items here and show your support – Christmas is all about giving, after all.’
Laura made a derisive noise. ‘The whole charity thing was supposed to get us press attention,’ she explained in a subtle whisper to the three of them. ‘That’s why it’s on Christmas Eve too, the board thought it would mean we got some mentions in the diaries, and that a few mags might cover it which obviously they haven’t done because the whole thing has been handled terribly. I did try to tell Janice this, but instead of listening to common sense and years of experience, she chose to ignore me.’
‘It’s been a good year,’ the CEO continued, ‘and we’ve seen some growth, which is excellent news, but there’s still room for improvement and we’ve been looking for ways to expand and restructure each individual company to make sure that we stay strong players in the market.’ Josie clenched her teeth at the word restructure. Here he was, talking about how good the year had been – if it had been so good, then why were they trying to make a bunch of people redundant?
‘I’m going to let each company tell you their most exciting news themselves. First up, from Peacock PR,is the lovely Janice Evergreen.’
Janice swept onto the stage immediately, and Josie knew she must be loving this – the chance to stand up in front of everyone and prove how important she was. She went on again about the positive year and Josie took a gulp of her Prosecco, glancing at Max, who, though he was wearing a polite expression, had to be regretting his decision to come right now.
‘But the most exciting thing we have to look forward to,’ Janice was saying, ‘something which we’re so pleased to be announcing at last, is that we’ll be opening up a New York office early next year, which will be headed up by none other than our own Oliver Burton.’
It took a moment for the words to sink in, for Josie to notice that Laura was leaning in, frowning at her. ‘Did she say . . .?’ But she didn’t need to finish the question because there he was, on one of the tables closest to the stage, raising his hand at the polite applause that echoed around the hall.
‘Did you know?’ Laura whispered. Josie could only shake her head mutely. No. She hadn’t known that while she was being made redundant, her ex-boyfriend was being made the head of a new branch. Across the other side of the Atlantic, no less.