Beth Reekles - It Won’t be Christmas Without You

But George – George was sweet. George used online voucher codes to nab them discounted pizza and free prosecco, a bargain-hunter after her own heart. George was clean-shaven with sweeping, always-immaculate blond hair, and she’d yet to see him without his Barbour jacket. He was the kind of guy she’d like to take home to her parents. (At some point. Maybe after date number eleven. If she ever had a weekend where she wasn’t so exhausted or busy she could go back home to visit.)

And he was beyond easy to talk to. There was always something to talk about with him. And he was funny.

It was almost a shame she wasn’t going home for Christmas. Maybe she’d have asked him to come visit, so she could introduce him to her parents.

Calm down, idiot , she told herself, getting carried away with her daydreams as George told her about his office’s upcoming Christmas party, reliving anecdotes from last year’s. You’ve gone on five dates with the guy, counting this one. And texting him every day doesn’t really count. You don’t even know if he sees you as his girlfriend yet .

Eloise would’ve called her a cotton-headed ninny-muggins.

But then, Eloise quoted Christmas films all year-round. Eloise would have mince pies at Easter if she had her way.

Almost as if he could read her mind, George segued from his absurdly drunk boss at last year’s do to, “But I haven’t even asked you yet – what are your plans for Christmas? When are you off home to the family?”

She didn’t beat around the bush this time, like she had when she’d discussed it with Eloise. She just smiled, laughed breezily, and lifted her prosecco glass. “Oh, I’m not. Well, not until Christmas afternoon. I’m working through Christmas Eve.”

George’s head tilted to the side. “Is this to do with Dave’s job?”

She nodded, grateful he didn’t question her Christmas spirit. This was why she liked George so much. He got it. “Yeah. I need to show them I’m serious if I want to be in with a real chance.”

“That makes sense. And I bet you’ll actually get peace and quiet going home Christmas Day. The trains’ll be mad the couple of days before, with everyone trying to get home.”

Cara’s eyes widened, and she gestured a little too enthusiastically with her glass, almost sloshing prosecco everywhere. George smiled at it, eyes twinkling as they crinkled at the corners. “Exactly! This is what I mean! And it’s like, so much cheaper – but according to Eloise I’m just being Scrooge. I’m not, right?”

“Absolutely not! I’m staying in the city over the holidays completely. All my mates will be around for New Year’s, and I’ve got so much work to try and get through – year end deadlines, you know. My dad and step-mum said they’d like to get some winter sun, so I told them to go ahead. Might as well, eh?”

Okay, now maybe that was a step too far. “You told your parents to go away for Christmas? You won’t see them at all?”

“They’re going to come visit in the New Year. I’ve got a few days off. I’ll take them to see a show; they always like that.” He tore a pizza crust in half, concentrating on it for a moment before looking up at her through his fair eyelashes. “You could come with us, if you like. If that’s not too presumptuous. I’ve –” He cut off with a laugh, blushing. “I’ve told them all about you. Is that weird? I know we’ve only had a few dates but …”

“Oh, my God, no, I’ve done exactly the same thing with my parents about you!” Maybe the prosecco had made her bold, or maybe she was just excited to hear he was as keen on her as she was on him. Cara grinned at how relieved he looked to hear it.

They finished up their meal and walked hand-in-hand to the cinema around the corner, and Cara thought the lights all looked a little more magical already.

She wasn’t being a Scrooge. Christmas in London was already looking up.

“You need a hand with that?”

Eloise huffed, turning to look over her shoulder at Number 3, who was bundled up in a pea coat, woolly scarf and beanie hat, bracing himself for the cold. He smirked at her, and she doubted the offer was a serious one.

Jamie Darcy, her neighbour, put the arsey in Darcy.

And right now he looked more than a little miffed that she was blocking the stairs, jangling his car keys from the end of one of his leather-gloved fingers.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, breathing a little heavily. She was sweating inside her coat. The bloody tree wouldn’t fit in her Polo, and she’d had to take the bus. Which meant carrying the eight-foot thing up the hill to the block of flats, earning glares whenever a rogue pine needle jabbed someone who got too near. The single flight of stairs up to her front door was the real struggle, though.

Jamie stepped to one side, watching her struggle to drag it up another step. “Isn’t that a bit too big for the flat?”

He would know: the flats on this street were all identical. Six in a building, two per floor, and seven block-like buildings of them curving around the street. And while they were reasonably spacious, they probably wouldn’t fit an eight-foot tree easily.

“It’s not for my flat.” God, she really had to get to those cross-fit classes more. Or, like, at all. “It’s for the school.”

“Right. And you’re stuck with it because …?”

“Because I offered to pick it up. Because some of us like to do nice things for other people at Christmas.” And because when the head had asked her to get it, she couldn’t exactly turn around and say no, not when she’d made such a big deal out of how much she loved Christmas, getting stuck into the nativity and setting up lunchtime craft classes with the kids to make their own decorations, or decorate Christmas biscuits. Plus, she was the one who’d found a real Christmas tree within budget. She’d kind of made it her responsibility.