Always, in December by Emily Stone

Chapter Nine

Josie woke while it was still dark – or as dark as it got here, anyway. Max had rolled away from her slightly in the night, but she could still feel the heat of him next to her, his fingers lightly touching hers. His breathing was heavy, so it seemed safe to say he was still asleep. And under the duvet, he was very, very naked. As was she.

She blinked a few times, trying to wake her eyes up, then shifted her body carefully away from his, trying to create as little movement on the bed as possible. She hesitated at the edge of it, biting her lip as she watched the shape of Max’s body. He looked asleep, and she didn’t know why he’d be faking it. So she stepped lightly onto the lino floor, sucking her breath in through her teeth as the freezing temperature outside the protection of her bed hit her. She tiptoed as quietly as she could across the room, grabbing some leggings and a top along the way. When she made it successfully to the other side of the bedroom door she blew out a slightly shaky breath, then pretty much ran to the bathroom, wincing at the cold air on her bare skin.

It was a relief to switch the bathroom light on and see what she was doing as she quickly tugged on her leggings and top. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She supposed no one looked good the morning after, but it didn’t help that her mascara and eyeliner had smudged under her eyes, that her light layer of foundation had cracked in places, and that her lips were slightly swollen. She touched them lightly and grinned despite herself. That bit she didn’t have as much issue with.

She set to work on her face, washing it clear of last night’s residue and applying a light layer of BB cream to smooth out her skin, then attacked her hair and brushed her teeth before nodding to herself. Better. At least when he woke now she wouldn’t look quite as much like a dirty stop-out.

She tiptoed back into the bedroom, but there was no need – Max blinked at her through the darkness as she came in. ‘It’s cold without you here,’ he complained, his voice groggy from sleep.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered, the dark and cold somehow impressing the need to be quiet, like somehow she’d wake the other houses up too early if she spoke at a normal volume. Though she supposed many would be up already, children running excitedly into their parents’ room with stockings, determined to start Christmas Day as early as possible. She only had vague memories of doing that, before the accident. She shook her head away from the memory. ‘I didn’t switch the heating on last night,’ she said apologetically. ‘I forgot.’

He stretched out his arms above his head and she traced the movement, running her gaze along the length of his muscled torso. ‘Have to say, I enjoyed the reasons for temporary memory loss more than I would’ve enjoyed the heating.’

She didn’t switch the light on, unwilling to break the spell of darkness and catapult them into reality. She felt him watching her as she padded back towards the bed on bare feet, then perched awkwardly on a corner. She didn’t know if she should just get up, now she was up, wasn’t sure if he’d want to leave right away. He answered that question by grabbing her arm, pulling her across the bed towards him and putting an arm around her. ‘I told you,’ he breathed into her ear, ‘it’s cold without you here.’ She laughed softly. He kissed the side of her neck softly and a shiver went through her. ‘Bit one-sided though – you’re cheating.’ He gestured at her clothes and she shifted a little closer, her back pressed against him, tracing her fingers down his forearm.

‘Do you want me to leave, so you can get dressed too?’ She was aware of the slight smirk in her voice, kind of liked the way it sounded.

He kissed her on the neck again. ‘No. I want you to stay so you can get undressed.’ She turned her head to grin at him, and he brushed a feather-light kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he murmured.

‘Happy Christmas,’ she breathed back. And she realised that, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sad that it was Christmas morning, that she was actually excited about what the day would bring.

Max relented and used the bathroom to sort himself out while Josie made them coffee, which they drank in bed, chatting nonsense and answering Christmas Day texts until Max sat up straight, seemingly randomly, and announced, ‘Right, we’re going out.’

Josie raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Right. Where, exactly?’

He rolled his eyes and jumped out of bed, seemingly full of energy. ‘Come on, take the risk and dig out your adventurous side.’

It was cold and grey outside, hardly picturesque, but somehow the dense, dark clouds seemed to promise something, to hint at something beautiful behind them, so that they made the day feel charged with electricity, rather than oppressive. There was a hint of moisture in the air that clung to Josie’s face as the wind kissed her cheeks, but she didn’t mind – it felt refreshing, like it was setting her system on fire.

Max made them walk, though he had to follow Maps on his phone and kept stopping to turn the phone in his hand and make sure they kept going in the right direction. Josie was a little out of breath by the time she realised where he’d been leading her, though he didn’t seem to find the walk quite so difficult. She grabbed his hand, squeezed, as she looked at the pub.

The pub where they’d had their first drink, after she’d unceremoniously knocked him off his feet. Josie found herself grinning, charmed by the sentimentality of the thought. He smiled down at her, then linked his fingers with hers and pulled her inside. It was busier than she would have thought, given it was Christmas, but everyone was smiling, and each person they passed offered a nod and a ‘Merry Christmas’, which they returned. The same barmaid was there, and she, too, was beaming, her bunches tied with red tinsel around them so that her hair glittered as her head moved.

‘Table under Carter?’ Max said.

Bunches nodded, grabbed two menus from behind the bar, and indicated a table in the corner, laid up for two. ‘We’re eating?’ Josie asked. She’d never eaten here before, though she noticed now that there were tables laid up in the next room, crackers on the placemats between the cutlery, a table of four elderly people already sitting through there.

‘Well, it was either this or a quick run to the local petrol station to get supplies, I’m guessing.’ He raised his eyebrows in question.

Josie wrinkled her nose. ‘I have pasta.’

He shook his head mockingly. ‘That’s just sad.’ She punched him lightly on the arm and he laughed as they went to sit down. Bunches took their drinks orders, her eyes lingering on Max longer than Josie thought was strictly necessary, though she supposed she couldn’t blame her. Max didn’t seem to notice the extra attention and she wondered if it was just because he was used to it, or if he was as distracted by her as she was by him. Given it was Christmas, she decided to go for the latter, just to please herself.

She looked around, noting the fire the other side of the room, the Christmas tree in the corner with presents underneath (presumably fake). The table of four all had Christmas hats on, and were all drinking wine. ‘You booked a table,’ she stated.

He leaned back in his chair, tilted his head. ‘Clearly.’

‘When?’

Max just tapped the side of his nose.

They moved on to red wine after their first drink, inspired by the other table. The pub had started to fill up by the time they ordered their food, including a big table of seven, one of the children wearing the type of red velvet dress you can only get away with under the age of six, and a couple who were wearing His and Hers Christmas jumpers.

They were halfway through their roast dinners – Josie had opted for the slightly less traditional beef, which she had to admit was pretty good, tender and juicy, with some of the best fluffy roast potatoes she’d had – when her phone rang. She had to swallow a particularly large chunk of Yorkshire pudding drowned in gravy to get to it while it was still buzzing, and saw that it was a video call from her grandparents. They usually just stuck to Christmas Eve, but having told Memo that Bia was in Argentina, it didn’t surprise her that they’d want to check up on her – in fact, Josie was pretty sure that Bia was the only reason she didn’t get more sporadic calls from them, worrying about how she was.

She glanced outside, but Max waved a hand at her. ‘You can answer it here if you want, don’t go and stand in the cold on my account.’

She hesitated, but gave in and accepted the call – it would be unfair of her to ignore them just because she was having a good time. ‘Hello, my love.’ Her grandmother’s face filled the screen, smiling and wrinkled, her grey bob beuatifully curled today and a dash of brown eyeliner under her brown eyes. Her grandad was there too, one bushy eyebrow, half of a stubbly chin, but she couldn’t see Helen.

‘Happy Christmas!’ Josie said, beaming.

‘And to you too,’ Memo said, raising a glass of some sort of liqueur.

‘How’s your morning been?’ Josie asked.

‘Oh, you know, Helen had everyone up early with Bucks Fizz and took us all out on a walk. How that woman has that much energy at her age I don’t know.’

Josie smiled. ‘You’re one to talk. Where’s Helen now?’

‘She’s in the kitchen, taking charge of the roast, and I thought it was easier to let her have at it. Do you want to talk to her? I can grab her?’

‘No, that’s ok,’ Josie said quickly, not particularly wanting to risk Helen and Max interacting over video.

‘Anyway, how are you, my love? I’m worried about you, spending Christmas alone.’

Josie glanced at Max across the table, who was taking a sip of red wine, raising his eyebrows at her over the rim. ‘Well, I’m, umm, I’m actually out at a pub with a friend at the moment having lunch, if that makes you feel any better.’

‘It does,’ her grandad said, moving his head into the frame. ‘But we need proof.’

Smiling a bit, Josie turned her phone to Max, who moved his wine glass immediately out of sight, and cleared his throat, giving an awkward little half wave, which made Josie laugh.

Memo made an appreciative ‘hmm’ noise in the back of her throat. ‘So this is your “friend” is it? He’s pretty – when are you bringing him to visit?’

Josie laughed again, but they moved on to talk about other things, like what Helen had got them for Christmas – a Kegel exercise set for Memo and a smoothie subscription for her grandad, which made Josie a little nervous about opening her own present from Helen when she got home. If Helen could buy her own mother Kegels, there were no limits. ‘I got the quote, by the way,’ Josie said, a smile playing around her lips.

Memo raised her eyebrows expectantly. ‘Did you know?’

‘Love Actually?’ At Memo’s sigh, Josie laughed. ‘Thought you’d got me, did you?’

‘I have to admit I thought that might be the one to put me firmly in the lead, but alas, there’s always next time and I’ll catch you out sooner or later.’

Josie was smiling when they hung up, though the interruption meant that her roast had got a little cold. Max, one step ahead of her, ordered a jug of hot gravy.

‘How come you’re not there?’ he asked, then gestured to where she’d put her phone next to her on the table. ‘With your grandparents?’

Josie took a bite of beef, chewed slowly, then sighed and picked up her wine. ‘It’s just . . . it’s too difficult. Going back to where I grew up. Especially at Christmas, on the day they died. It makes me sad, and then they get sad that I’m sad and I . . .’ She sipped her Rioja, put it down. ‘I guess that just seems unfair, on all counts.’

Max nodded. ‘I get that.’

When the bill arrived, there was the predictable awkward fumbling with bags and wallets, but Max was insistent that he pay for the whole thing. Just as she’d noticed before, his wallet was chock full of papers, receipts and folded envelopes – his to do list, he said, where he couldn’t escape it – which meant that he had to dump several cards and papers onto the table in order to retrieve the card he wanted. One thing in particular made Josie stare, and she reached out to touch the sides of the envelope.

Wordlessly, she picked it up and unfolded it, tracing the writing on the front of it. Her writing.

‘Something wrong?’ Max asked, after he handed the card machine back to Bunches. Josie turned the envelope around, staring at him. He frowned at it. ‘That’s not mine.’

‘No. It’s mine.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s a letter, I wrote it, and then . . .’ She’d lost it, when she’d hit him. He must have picked it up with all his things, shoved it there with everything else without realising. There was no reason he’d have wanted to keep it, surely, and it hadn’t been opened. ‘You must have picked it up, I guess, in the road. It’s the letter I lost that day.’

Max grimaced, and ran a hand across the back of his neck. ‘God, I’m sorry, Josie. Was it important? I swear I didn’t even realise, I just shoved everything in here, haven’t got round to sorting anything out yet.’

Josie nodded – she believed him. Still, the thought of him carrying it around these past few days, of holding on to something so intimate, made her feel a little strange, like she’d given up some part of her without being aware of it. He was watching her, his eyebrows pulled together, clearly worried about whether she was going to be pissed off, so she smiled to reassure him. ‘I have this . . . tradition,’ she explained, holding up the letter so he could see what was written on the front of the envelope. Mum and Dad. She wondered if he’d figure it out. ‘And, well, I guess it’s been delayed a little this year, but it’s still something I want to do. Something I need to do, on the way back.’ She took a breath, and he asked no questions. He wasn’t the type to pry, she was learning. It was partly that which made it so easy to ask, ‘Will you come with me?’

They walked hand-in-hand to the post box, the letter clutched in Josie’s other hand. She’d been meaning to write another one, but had let herself get distracted in the whirlwind of Max and the thought of that brought a tug of shame. But she was doing it now, she told herself. It wasn’t like she’d forgotten them – she’d never do that.

It was the first time she’d ever shared the tradition with anyone, even if she didn’t tell him exactly what the letter was – she thought he knew enough to guess, anyway. It felt more intimate than anything else they’d done so far and as they stopped by the post box there was a lump in her throat that she knew it was ok to feel. He squeezed her hand, saying nothing, just letting her know that he was there.

She heard the gentle thud of the envelope hitting the inside of the post box when she let it go, the sound of something that would never be delivered. She blinked back the tears when Max put an arm around her, stroked her back gently. ‘It never goes away, does it, that kind of grief?’ he said softly. She wanted to ask him again who’d he’d lost, but it didn’t seem like the time. So she just blinked and nodded, leaning into him and wishing she could find the words to tell him what it meant to her, having him there in that moment.

They held hands on the walk back, and Max chatted to her, keeping up a running commentary as he speculated on how Bunches was spending Christmas Day after work, how the couple in the Christmas jumpers met. He gave her the time to get herself together, distracted her enough that, by the time they felt the first drop of rain, she was laughing.

They looked up at the sky together. ‘Uh-oh,’ Max said. They were still a good twenty minutes from the house.

They had no more warning before it started up in force, and Josie squealed as Max pulled her into a run. For some reason they were both laughing so much that, by the time they reached the end of the road to turn left, Josie had to stop, doubling over as she tried to get her breath back, as much from the laughter as the run.

When she straightened up, Max had his hands out, palms up, and his face lifted to the sky in an almost serene expression. Josie let out another little laugh, and he turned to grin at her. ‘No point in fighting it now, we’re already drenched.’ It was true – Josie’s coat was sodden and she could feel the icy water running off her hair and down the back of her neck. So she shrugged and copied him, turning a small circle and closing her eyes as she allowed the rain to drench her face.

She felt Max grip her hand again, pull her round to him. But instead of starting to run, he twirled her under his arm, making her laugh again. He put one big hand on her hip when he spun her back to him, took the other in his. She shook her head. ‘What are you doing?’

He spun her in a circle again. ‘What does it look like?’

And then they were dancing down the street, letting the rain fall around them, grinning at a woman under an umbrella when she looked at them incredulously. Josie had a feeling that people would be watching them out of windows but she didn’t care, she just kept laughing and spinning, deciding that dancing in the rain on a random street in London should be on everyone’s bucket list.

They were both breathless when they stopped. He smiled, smoothed back her sopping hair, and kissed her, and she did not care, in that moment, that her feet were sodden or her fingers were numb, because she would have quite happily stayed out here, kissing him, until the rain stopped. The cold got the better of them in the end, though, and they were both shivering a bit when they got back to her flat. She switched the heating on, knowing it would take a good hour before the flat was properly warm. When Max pointed out they’d both get warmer much more quickly if they showered together, Josie agreed.

While Josie blow-dried her hair, Max curled up on her sofa, reading the book she’d left there. She came to the doorway of the living room and leaned against it, watching him. He looked so perfect there, next to Bia’s Christmas tree, like some sort of TV advert. He seemed to sense her watching and looked up from the book, smiling at her.

She walked towards him, keeping her hands clasped behind her back. He noticed the way she was holding herself, deliberately hiding something, and cocked an eyebrow. She stopped, shifting her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. ‘I’ve, err, got something for you.’

‘You have?’ He smiled, held out his hands. ‘Well, hand it over then.’

She hesitated, then produced the blown-up photograph from behind her back, which she held up for him to see. It was the photo he’d commented on at the beach, the one with him sideways on, almost in silhouette, the smile on his face only hinted at, like it was some kind of secret. She bit her lip as she waited for his reaction. ‘I was going to get it framed for you, but, well, I ran out of time, and seeing as how it’s Christmas Day today . . .’

He took it from her gently, making sure to only touch the sides. Then he looked up at her. ‘I love it.’ The smile he gave her was just a little sad, and she wondered if she’d made him feel awkward, giving him something, like he had to give her something in return. ‘It’s not much,’ she carried on quickly, ‘not like those earrings, and you don’t have to feel obliged to take it with you or anything, I just wanted . . .’

He stood, gave her a quick kiss on the lips to stop her talking. ‘I love it,’ he said firmly. ‘It feels like I have a part of you to take with me now.’ She tried to smile at that – after all, that’s exactly how she felt about her photography, like she was giving a part of herself, but . . . to take with him. When he left. Did that mean he didn’t want to see her again, when he got back from New York? She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, in case it ruined the day, so instead she settled for another glass of wine, for curling up next to him while they watched Harry Potter.

Neither of them brought up the matter of him staying over again – it was just assumed. Later, when they were in bed, her back pressed against him, his hand in hers, she remembered that his flight had been moved to Boxing Day. He hadn’t mentioned it all day and she wondered if he, too, was pretending that it wasn’t happening, was allowing himself to think that it might be cancelled again, that maybe they’d have a bit more time together. He kissed her softly on her neck, running his free hand down her side, and she felt the heaviness behind her eyes taking over. She’d talk to him tomorrow, she thought sleepily, before he left. Maybe she could go with him to the airport. Surely they’d see each other again, surely they could try and make something work, even if it was long distance? Bristol wasn’t that far away, after all.

She felt her breathing slow, felt the world around her drift. Dimly, she heard him murmuring something to her as she succumbed to the foggy sleepiness, but it was distant, just out of reach, so she couldn’t quite grasp the words. He’d tell her tomorrow, if it was important. She was smiling as she fell asleep, thinking of him, dancing with her in the rain.