It Won’t be Christmas Without You. Beth Reekles

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СКАЧАТЬ only ever seen that in movies before. Was it arrogance, or was he being polite? It was hard to tell. She’d have opted for some more wine if she’d been on her own, but sobering up seemed like a better idea now she had company. “Yeah, go on then.”

      She half-watched the movie while she listened to him fill her kettle, look through a couple of drawers for the teaspoons, take mugs off the mug tree and open her tin labelled, unambiguously, TEA.

      She wanted to text Cara. She wanted to call her and have a whispered conversation to say her arsey neighbour was spending the night at her flat. But Cara would be with George now, and she didn’t want to disturb them.

      Jamie handed her the tea. “Sorry – I forgot to ask if you take sugar. But, given that there’s a canister of tea bags out and no sugar, I’m guessing not.”

      Eloise shook her head. Her fringe was falling out of its hairpin, tucked off her face. “Nope. Thanks.”

      “No – thank you. Honestly. I really appreciate this. I know it’s – I know I’m not exactly neighbourly, so I appreciate this.”

      Aww. That might be the first genuinely nice thing he’d ever said to her.

      “It’s no problem. Although, honestly, I’m a little worried you’re too tall for the sofa. And I don’t have an airbed.”

      He assured her it’d be fine; he was just grateful he wasn’t stuck outside in the hallway all night. He asked her how the school nativity was going, so she spent the next twenty minutes until the pizza arrived (and she sobered up a little more) regaling him with mishaps and adorable moments and the teacher who’d tried to swan in during their second dress rehearsal today and change half the songs.

      Jamie, it turned out, was a great audience. Maybe he was just being especially nice because she was letting him stay. He hadn’t even made a sardonic comment about her Christmas tree yet.

      And by the time they’d finished the pizzas they were barely paying attention to the movie anymore. Jamie was sat twisted towards her, one leg up on the sofa and his arm slung over the back; Eloise had her legs crossed, pizza box balanced there. He reached across to take a slice, even though he had some of his own left in the box on the floor, and she didn’t even mind.

      He was funny, too, now he wasn’t being her grumpy neighbour.

      She’d learnt more about Jamie in the past hour than she had in any conversation they’d had previously.

      He worked at a mental health charity. It was a national one, with a local branch. He had a psychology degree and was a year older than her. He had three younger brothers and his family were from Nottingham, like hers. A few towns over, though. They had a couple of mutual friends on Facebook.

      They had a few things in common too: a mutual love of Star Wars, The Crown and Game of Thrones; they’d both tried to read Lord of the Rings and given up after a couple of chapters; they’d both done French A levels. There were a lot of things they didn’t have in common too – like the fact he thought the Harry Potter books weren’t much cop, so hadn’t read past the second one. Eloise found it hard to let that one go.

      “So, right, tell me, then,” she said, turning towards him and being careful not to spill her wine. They’d both had a glass, and she’d had to open another bottle. Eloise typically tried to avoid drinking on a school night, but it had been a rough day, and she figured tonight was as good as any to make an exception. She’d regret it like hell tomorrow, when she had a hangover and had to deal with another nativity practice, but right now it seemed like a great idea.

      Jamie’s cheeks were ruddy under his is-it-stubble-or-is-it-beard, his green eyes bright. “What?”

      “Why are you always so grouchy? Like, every time we’ve spoken, you’re just – you’re like Oscar. The Grouch. Not quite a Grinch.”

      He laughed. It was a nice, full sound. “I’m not grouchy.”

      “You are. You’re like full-on Mr Darcy.”

      “Please, Mr Darcy is my father.”

      Eloise snorted before saying, “I’m serious. Like at the start of the story. All aloof and moody.”

      Jamie laughed again but looked abashed. “I’m not, am I? I’m not that bad. I know I’m a little … I’m a bit shy, but I’m not aloof.”

      “You so are.”

      “No. Nope, impossible. I’ve been told I’m approachable and friendly. Nobody has ever told me I’m aloof.”

      “Well, you are here.”

      “Maybe it’s just because you’re cute, and I’m shy.”

      Eloise’s face was on fire in seconds, and Jamie laughed again, so at ease and smiling so widely she figured he had to be joking. He had to be, didn’t he? He’d said himself, he was shy. Shy people didn’t just say things like that, did they?

      “I’m lucky you even opened the door to me, then, if I’m so bloody moody all the time.”

      “It’s Christmas,” Eloise said, smiling and hoping she wasn’t still blushing. “’Tis the season for forgiveness and goodwill and all that jazz. Even if Christmas is turning into a pile of shite this year.”

      “Whoa, hold on.” Jamie leant towards her. “You’re basically Buddy the Elf compared to most other people I know. And you’re calling Christmas a pile of shite?”

      “Well, not Christmas exactly,” she conceded, nabbing another slice of pizza and taking a bite. She’d not even mentioned any of it to the other teachers at school, or any of her mates – because her mates were also Cara’s mates, and she didn’t want her sister to think she was bitching about her.

      “What then?”

      And despite the fact that Jamie Darcy from Number 3 was the last person she’d have imagined talking to about this, Eloise spilled it all, totally embarrassed when she even teared up a little, telling him how miserable and lonely she got sometimes, how homesick she was, how Cara didn’t even seem to notice she’d abandoned her for her fabulous, flashy London lifestyle. Her wobbly voice made him look away at the TV awkwardly, not sure whether to acknowledge it or not.

      “That sucks,” he said eventually. “I can’t imagine not spending Christmas with the family. Or going abroad for Christmas. Who wants sun, anyway? You want to go out for a walk after dinner with your breath fogging up, everyone moaning about how cold it is, and kind of wishing it’ll snow but also glad it doesn’t, because snow’s a pain in the arse.”

      “Oh, my God, no! I love the snow. Everything’s so pretty. Especially when it’s early and nobody’s been out in it yet.”

      Jamie pulled a face. “Nope. It’s awful. Everything just comes to a standstill, and then it turns to slush and ice and that’s even worse.”

      “Oh, humbug,” she snapped, laughing. It was easier to laugh over snow than go back to talking about what a loser she was. She realised then how late it was. It had been dark since four o’clock and was raining heavily against the windows of the flat – but she realised with a start it was already past ten. She was usually fast asleep СКАЧАТЬ