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

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СКАЧАТЬ she mumbles.

      I sigh. ‘Could you pass—?’

      She hands over the box of paper tissues.

      I whip one out and blow my own nose. ‘Think I’ve got a cold coming on.’

      ‘I’ve got just the remedy,’ she says with a watery smile.

      The ‘remedy’ turns out to be a wondrous invention called Irish hot chocolate.

      It’s basically hot chocolate with a measure or two of Irish cream liqueur and a little island of whipping cream floating on top. It’s incredibly sweet. (Barb’s hand obviously kept slipping when she was pouring the liqueur. I’d say it’s more half-and-half.) But it’s amazing how quickly your taste buds adjust.

      We’ve moved on to The Sound of Music by this time and Barb is throwing her whole heart into ‘Climb Every Mountain’, using the floor as her stage and her hair straighteners as a microphone.

      Her voice is amazing. I keep telling her she should audition for The X Factor but she says Simon Cowell would just dismiss her as a pub singer.

      She’s getting towards the high bit at the end now.

      ‘Follow every rainbow. Till. You. Find. Your…’

      I screw my face up. Is the last note heading for the rafters? Or will she crap out and go down an octave?

      ‘Drea-ea-ea-ea-ea-ea-m!’

      Rafters it is, then.

      I start clapping and whooping. I know I’ve had a skinful, so my judgement is possibly a little impaired. But that sounded bloomin’ awesome to me.

      She does some little modest bows to her audience of one then sinks to the floor and lies flat, stretching her arms over her head and wiggling her fingers and toes. ‘Ooh, that feels better.’

      I grin. ‘Maybe I should try it. I could do with some therapy.’

      ‘Don’t you bloody dare,’ she comes back instantly.

      ‘Oh, well, that’s nice.’ I fake a huff, heave myself off the sofa and put on the Scandinavian drama.

      Barb scrambles to a sitting position, already glued.

      ‘I know who did it,’ I say smugly, to get my own back. (Although actually, I don’t know because I haven’t got that far.) ‘Shall I tell you?’

      Not taking her eyes off the screen, Barb mutters darkly, ‘If you do, this room will become a crime scene.’

      Next morning, I’m coming out of the flat on the way to an interview at the jobcentre, when I hear a key turning in a lock up above.

      Jasper comes clattering down the stairs. He’s wearing jeans and a black leather bomber jacket.

      ‘Hi again.’ He offers his hand. ‘I’m Jas.’

      ‘Lola.’

      His handshake feels dry and firm. Sort of trustworthy.

      ‘Lola. Nice name.’ His brown eyes twinkle at me.

      ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Some great singing coming from your place last night.’

      I stare at him in horror. ‘It was that loud?’

      ‘Well, yes.’ He grins and runs a hand through his curly brown hair. ‘Apparently the people in Norway heard it, too.’

      ‘Oh, God, sorry!’

      ‘Hey, don’t worry. They enjoyed it. That top note.’ He shakes his head admiringly. ‘Stunning. It got me thinking, actually. How would you and your flatmate feel about joining my Christmas choir?’

      ‘Your choir? Are you a musician, then?’

      He nods modestly. ‘I’d like to think so.’

      ‘Do you play an instrument?’

      ‘Quite a few. Piano, saxophone, trumpet.’

      ‘Violin?’

      He looks surprised. ‘Yes, actually.’

      ‘And you have a choir as well?’

      ‘Just for the festive season. There’s only six of us so far but I’m trying to recruit more people. We’ll sing Christmas songs and visit old folks’ homes, kids in hospital, that kind of thing.’

      ‘How wonderful.’

      He smiles and his eyes light up. ‘Just my way of giving something back to the community. Music is such great therapy. It can really lift the spirits, you know?’

      I nod, thinking of Barb.

      ‘So can I count on you and Barbara, is it?’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘To be my new choir members?’

      ‘It’s Barb actually. I’ll ask her. It was her you heard, by the way, not me.’

      He raises an eyebrow. ‘But you’ll come too?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

      ‘Why not? It’ll be amazing. Come on. Give it a go.’

      His energy and sense of fun are infectious.

      I can’t help thinking it probably will be amazing if Jasper’s in charge. And possibly lots of fun, too.

      Fun is a concept that has been seriously lacking in my life for some time now.

      Even when I was with Nathan, fun was never terribly high up the agenda. We were always either having early nights in preparation for the big event at the weekend. Or early nights because we were knackered from the big event …

      I smile at him.

      ‘So you’ll do it? Yay!’ He punches the air.

      And then, of course, I can’t possibly refuse because he looks so ridiculously delighted.

      ‘Rehearsal on Thursday night at Pottersdale Community Centre. I’ll give you both a lift. Leaving seven-thirty?’

      ‘Okay,’ I say, laughing.

      He raises his hand and disappears.

      Marvelling at the whirlwind that was Jasper, I lock up and put the keys in my bag. I feel suddenly energised. Sort of lighter in spirit with renewed optimism about the future. Meeting some new people and getting to know Jasper might be just the tonic I need right now.

      It’s only when I’m half-way along the high street that it suddenly dawns on me.

      Bloody hell. I’ve just agreed to join a choir.

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