Mistletoe and Mayhem: A cosy, chaotic Christmas read!. Catherine Ferguson

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СКАЧАТЬ for twenty minutes.

      ‘Yes, I do. But my flat’s so small.’

      ‘So spend Christmas here. I’ll be away, visiting the Aged Ps. You and the troops can have the run of the place.’

      He springs up, kisses me on the cheek and heads for the door.

      I stare after him.

      The first thing that registers is that I won’t be spending Christmas with Nathan. I suppose I’d vaguely imagined him joining us for Christmas lunch. But of course he’ll be wanting to see his own family.

      Then it sinks in what he’s just offered.

      ‘Hang on.’ I dismount the stool so speedily, I nearly fall off. ‘Did you say I can invite them to stay here? Even my sister-in-law?’

      ‘Especially your sister-in-law.’

      With a cheery wink, he’s gone.

      I can’t believe it.

      A huge weight has just rolled off my shoulders.

      I wander round Nathan’s apartment, planning where everyone will sleep; imagining the vast oak table in the dining room all decked out for Christmas lunch; thinking of the great festive movies we can watch – all the old favourites that Mum adores – on Nathan’s hi-tech projector system (I’ll need to take copious notes on how it works).

      I know it’s shallow of me but I can’t help imagining my sister-in-law’s face when she sees the wet room with its waterfall shower and sunken bath. Honestly, she’ll be green!

      It’s just a shame Nathan won’t be here to meet them all.

      He must have sensed my disappointment at this because a few nights later, when I arrive at his apartment after working late, he welcomes me with a long, lingering kiss and says he’s going to take me somewhere really special for New Year. Then he slips my coat off my shoulders and ushers me through to the bathroom.

      The gorgeous, free-standing bath is steaming gently, full of my favourite scented bubbles, and candles glow at the foot of the tub and along the adjacent window ledge. The candles are vanilla-scented and tend to make me feel nauseous. Nathan’s obviously forgotten this but it really doesn’t matter. I feel so cosseted and cared for. And with the lights off, the room looks magical.

      ‘Enjoy.’ Nathan smiles. ‘Dinner in half an hour.’

      Later, when I’m wallowing luxuriously and thinking I haven’t felt this happy in forever, Nathan comes in and offers to scrub my back. Then he sits on the edge of the bath and starts chatting about Kelly, who he works with, and telling me a funny story about something that happened at the supermarket that day.

      To be honest, I’m so blissed out, I’m barely listening. I’m just watching his mouth as he speaks, lazily admiring the way, every now and then, his lips quirk up with amusement at one corner.

      Apparently the Tannoy system, which he’s told me before is ancient and due to be replaced, is on the blink and everyone in the store accidentally overheard a conversation he was having in the office with Kelly.

      ‘God, it was hilarious,’ he laughs. ‘She’s enormous, as you know. Must be twenty stone. At least. More blubber than a great white whale.’

      I tune in at that point. He’s mentioned Kelly before and I feel for her. It’s obvious she struggles with her weight.

      ‘So anyway, I asked her how her slimming club weigh-in went and she said she’d lost a total of twenty-seven pounds. So I laughed and said, “Christ, that was careless. But did you lose any weight?” And she went bright red, got all defensive and actually told me to fuck off.’

      My smile freezes and I find myself thinking, Good for you, Kelly!

      Nathan can be really lovely. But I hate that he’s so intolerant of people who aren’t quite as fit as he is.

      ‘So anyway,’ he’s saying, ‘the bloody Tannoy system was stuck in the “on” position the whole time. So the entire store heard Kelly telling me to fuck off. Hilarious!’

      ‘But not quite so funny for poor Kelly,’ I point out.

      He laughs. ‘Rubbish. She’s man enough to take it. I’m convinced she shops at Hugo Boss for her plus-sized suits.’

      Over the next few weeks, I let the running slide and Nathan doesn’t seem to mind.

      He’s training for an Iron Man Challenge, which I wouldn’t have been attempting anyway. So it works out well.

      The fact that he’ll be away for the whole weekend, competing in the Challenge, gives me a chance to spend some time at my own place, just chilling with Barb. I’m really looking forward to it.

      When that Friday night rolls around, Barb’s exhausted after a hard week at work so we decide to have a night just kicking back, watching TV and catching up.

      Barb’s real name is Dolly but she always hated it. When she was fifteen, she changed her name to Barb, telling her classmates it was short for Barbie Dolly. They all thought this was spectacularly witty and instantly obliged.

      Dolly is far too prissy a name for her, she says, and I’m inclined to agree.

      Calling her ‘Dolly’ would be like naming a mythical warrior Kevin.

      Barb is financial controller at Premier Furnishings, where I work. The job comes with long hours and a great deal of responsibility but Barb is one of those people who seems to thrive on stress.

      We got talking one lunch-time, soon after I started the job.

      Since I didn’t really know anyone, I’d started walking to the nearby shops on my own at lunchtime and picking up a chocolate energy-boost. Just for something to do, really.

      So this lunchtime I was coming out of the newsagent’s with my Mars Bar as Barb was going in. We walked back together and I happened to mention it was possible to eat a whole Mars Bar in exactly the amount of time it took me to walk back to the office. I’d done extensive research on the matter.

      Barb looked at me like I’d sprouted an ear on my forehead.

      I grinned at her, warming to my theme. ‘Twix is no use. Far too much chewing involved. Takes forever. And don’t get me started on Curly Wurlys.’

      ‘Ch-er-rist,’ said Barb. ‘You don’t get out much, do you?’

      We’ve been great friends ever since.

      Barb has a sharp tongue, an even sharper intellect and lots of brown hair that she hennas a glossy raven black. With her pale complexion, predominantly black wardrobe and slash of scarlet lipstick, she looks like a minxy, modern-day witch.

      She has a great way of cutting right through the crap with biting one-liners but she’s only scary with people she dislikes. Once you’re her friend, you’ve got a mate for life and she’s the most loyal and generous person I’ve ever known.

      I know for a fact Barb thinks Nathan’s the wrong СКАЧАТЬ