Zara Stoneley - No One Cancels Christmas

‘Not the pair of us, just me.’ I stop my googling and look at Sam. I think it might be time to mention the cakes, and Ralph. And the business. Which is the really awkward one. I mean, we’re mates, we work together and in the new year it could all turn a bit weird if I’ve kind of become her boss, and don’t do this properly.

‘And Callum?’

‘No, not Callum. Callum and his buttock-clenching gladioli have gone.’

‘Buttock clenching?’

‘Later. But it was a good job he hadn’t decided to say it with roses.’ Thorns do not bear thinking about.

‘So why are you going to Canada for Christmas, then? I don’t get it.’

Nor do I.

‘Tell.’

‘Pass the Hobnobs first, my stomach needs reminding what food should taste like. Lynn’s cakes were a bit . . .’ I pull a face and rub my stomach, and Sam laughs. ‘Lemon curd and marmalade.’

‘They sound okay; my mum does lemon curd tarts, sometimes.’

‘Lemon curd and marmalade together.’

‘I think you need a Jaffa cake.’

Sam plunders the supplies, then she watches intently as I nibble the chocolate off, then remove the sponge, and finally savour the orange bit.

‘Wow, I needed that.’ This could be the closest I get to orgasm for a while. I take another. Sam can’t bear the suspense and snatches the box away.

‘So, what was so urgent? She’s okay is she? Not ill or . . .’

‘She’s fine. More than fine.’

‘Oh God, she didn’t find out about that nasty email you sent to Shooting Star?’ She clasps her hand to her mouth.

I shake my head. ‘Not quite.’

‘What do you mean, not quite? Tell me, woman!’

I haven’t quite worked out how I feel about this yet, which is why I suppose I’ve been reluctant to say it. Because once it’s out there, then there’s no going back. ‘Aunt Lynn has sprung a surprise. She’s got to go to Australia to see her old mate Ralph.’

‘But . . .’

‘He’s dying. Might not last until the new year.’

‘Oh.’

We both take a moment, and another Jaffa cake.

‘So why aren’t you going to Australia? I mean, Australia’s nice. You could have Christmas on the beach!’

‘I don’t want to be a gooseberry, or kiwi, and she needs to be on her own with him. So, I said I was going to see Mr Brain-freeze Will Armstrong. I kind of jumped in without thinking about it, so she wouldn’t feel bad.’

‘Aw, that’s so nice.’

‘Look out world, Saint Sarah is coming.’

‘Well,’ there’s a heavy undertone of doubt, ‘you did want to go, I suppose. But, not on your own, not at Christmas.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I know! I can come!’

‘You’ve got Jake and your family. And I’ll be fine, Sam.’

‘But, on your own?’

‘I’ll meet people, you know I’m good at that. And I am working, remember?’

She stares at me. ‘But for actual Christmas?’ I nod. ‘And you deffo can’t take Callum?’

‘Nope, I dumped him last night.’

‘Ah, so that’s why your hair’s blue.’ She knows me well.

‘It might have a bearing.’

She raises an eyebrow and ploughs on. ‘But you can’t spend Christmas all on your own.’

‘Well, I won’t be completely alone. Mr Armstrong hasn’t frightened off all his guests – yet.’

‘You know what I mean. You’re not going with Lynn, or anybody?’

I shake my head, not wanting to voice the fact that there isn’t an ‘anybody’, and instead grab another Jaffa cake. I need sugar.

‘Well that explains why she rang and told me she was shutting up shop for two weeks over Christmas, then.’ She gets up and puts the kettle on. ‘Paid leave!’ She smiles. ‘How generous is that?’

So, Sam gets paid leave and I get a fully inclusive break in a snowbound, rundown holiday resort with the Anti-Christmas.

And he’s already decided I’m an idiot.

‘There’s more.’

‘More?’

I hand her the slip of paper and watch the emotions flicker across her open features. If it was me, there’d be a hell of a lot of conflict going on there. Fear, doubt, envy, disbelief. Sam just grins.

‘Bloody hell, Sare, this means you’ve got a five-year plan! That is so—’

‘Not me?’ Sam know what I’m like. She knows I always like an escape route. That I can’t even commit to a hair colour, let alone a man or a job.

‘So amazing! It’s brilliant.’

‘It is? Sorry, I mean it is.’ I try and sound positive.

‘You love working here, and you’ll be able to look at new places, and redecorate.’ I raise an eyebrow; she’s getting carried away. ‘And tell Will Armstrong where to get off. It’s ace!’

‘I’ve never thought about even a five-day plan before. Five years is a bit . . . well, a bit somebody else, not me.’

‘You don’t have to think of it like that, though, do you? I mean, you were never going to just up and bugger off and leave Lynn and me in the lurch, were you?’

She has a point. ‘Well, no, but—’

‘This is just kind of giving you more power!’

I stop my self-indulgent worrying and give her a big hug. ‘Oh Sam, where would I be without you?’

‘Buggered, which means you can’t sack me!’

‘I’d never sack you.’

Her eyes are twinkling. ‘But you are going to sort Will Armstrong out?’

I take a deep breath, disentangle myself and turn back to my computer. ‘Yep, my first priority as,’ I pause; it seems a bit out-there to say it, ‘a company director.’

I click a button on the keyboard, my fingers crossed under the desk.

Booking confirmed.

‘All done, an all-inclusive break at the Shooting Star Mountain Resort. Watch out, Will, here I come.’

Bugger, what have I done?

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