Lynn Hulsman - Christmas at Thornton Hall

“What about him?” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic. I undid my seatbelt and wrestled off my hoodie, phone pinned between my shoulder and ear.

“You could have had him for twenty pence and a slap on the arse.”

“I was with Ben!”

“Not at first, you weren’t.”

“Anyway,” I said, rebuckling, “you witnessed how Stephen diverted me off course. And then Ben. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I go looking for another man to rain down chaos on me.”

“Why go looking? Won’t Edward be doling out the goodies this Christmas?”

“Posy, Thornton Hall is where I work! There’s a quaint saying in America, ‘Don’t poop where you eat.’”

“Oh, I know that one!” she squealed, like she’d won a prize. “Only we say shit.”

“Why won’t you let me be a good girl?” I asked, exasperated.

“Because deep down, you’re not,” she said.

“Just you watch,” I said. “I’m going to learn from my mistakes, like a mature woman should. I’m almost 30!”

“No you’re not!”

“I’m 28.”

“Well that’s positively ancient! Better start saving for vaginal rejuvenation surgery.”

“Vaginal what? Never mind! I’m about to start the next chapter of my life, and you’ll see how making sane, adult choices leads to contentment. No Edward. No drama.”

“Right. Maybe your mum’s satisfied to bed down with her psychology journals, but I predict you won’t be wearing socks to sleep in for long. Besides, thirty is the new hot . Let’s neither of us sign our death certificates just yet. Once you’ve had true love, you can’t very well settle for a substitute.”

“When have you had true love?” I asked.

“God, is that the time? Forget stupid, bastard Ben and ring me when you get to Fancypants Manor. Love you loads. Byeee!”

I cautiously pulled back onto the highway, tires crunching through the gravel in the thick darkness. I put Posy and Ben out of my head and kept my eyes focused on the black road ahead. It’s amazing how remote this part of the country can feel, given its actual proximity to London’s bright lights. Music of the season blared from my speakers. “ I’ll have a bluuuuuue Christmas…without youuuuuu…” I didn’t feel blue or even angry. I felt nothing, and was glad to be headed for a job, where the preparation and clean-up would propel me forward. There was always something to be done in the kitchen of a full house. I longed to sleepwalk through my days. I welcomed the loss of myself.

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