Mistletoe on 34th Street Page 11

  ‘I love food!’ I shrieked, hiding my embarrassment. ‘Um, so anyway, can you believe that’s another New York conference done?’

  ‘I know; it went too quickly.’

  I nodded, and we stood in silence for a moment, with me looking anywhere but at him. ‘Are you looking forward to going home? For Christmas?’

  ‘Definitely. We should see each other again soon though – before the London conference. I’ve missed you and we’ve barely caught up on this trip.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry – I’ve been so busy lately, but yes, we should have a proper catch-up soon.’

  ‘How about now?’ he asked. ‘The night is still young, the gala’s almost over, I don’t know about you but my jet lag has thrown my sleep patterns completely out of whack. Why don’t we go and see a bit of real New York? Let’s find a crap diner and sit by the window and drink a ridiculous amount of free-refill coffees.’

  I looked around me. My work here was done. My team could make their way back to the hotel on their own, and other than getting everyone to the airport tomorrow I was nearly, very nearly, on me-time. ‘Let’s do it. We’re not allowed to go back and get changed though; we have to go in our fancy-pants outfits.’

  ‘I think we’re dressed perfectly for a diner date,’ he grinned, taking my arm. I flinched, just a little bit, at the word ‘date’. I don’t date. Dating is a precursor to relationships and they’re more trouble than they’re worth. This? This was just a late-night rendezvous, with a friend.

  I walked into the diner and took a seat in a booth in the corner while Jon took some cash out of an ATM across the road. I gazed out of the window, finally feeling on wind-down, and finally beginning to appreciate where I was and what season it was; outside, the streets were ink-black, sprinkled with the bright lights of office and shop windows. Snow fell gently, lazily, as if out of habit rather than it really needing to.

  The door opened with a tinkle of bells and in walked Jon, all thick-wool coat and snow-dusted hair. He strode to the table and removed his coat, peppering me with snowflakes.

  ‘I’m so happy we’re doing this,’ he said. ‘Catching up, properly. Did you hear the news reports, by the way? I was just checking the BBC app when I was in the queue.’ His cheeks were flushed from walking fast through the cold New York streets and under the table his knees knocked against mine and immediately my legs, clad in nothing but thin shiny tights, began to warm with his body heat.

  ‘What news reports?’

  ‘The snow in the UK has got worse, and they think it’s going to go on all night. The biggest snowfall in six years, they’re saying.’

  ‘Kim mentioned the snow on the phone, but surely it can’t be that bad across the whole country? Are you sure this isn’t just in the north?’

  Jon ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the last of the snow and leaving wet tousled strands in his wake. ‘Nope; all over. I spoke to Mum and Dad earlier in Cornwall – they say it’s even beginning to settle on the beach, which is rare.’

  ‘I’ve never seen a beach in the snow – how cool is that?’

  ‘One day you can spend Christmas with me and I’ll show you.’ He smiled.

  I laughed. ‘You don’t want to spend Christmas with me; Kim says I’m so un-festive that I wouldn’t even notice if Santa plopped down my chimney.’

  ‘That can’t be true. I know you’re not the first in line to sing carols or hang candy canes, but do you actually not like Christmas?’

  ‘No, I like it – I like having time off work, I like the good TV, I like seeing family at some point over the break, I’m just not your typical Christmas traditionalist.’ At that point a waitress arrived, and looked at us until we put in an order. ‘Can we have two coffees, please?’ I said. ‘And some of these buttermilk waffles? With bacon? And maybe … have you had any New York cheesecake since you’ve been here?’

  Jon shook his head.

  ‘And a slice of cheesecake please. What else shall we get?’

  ‘Do you have any pretzel dogs?’ asked Jon, and the waitress shrug-nodded so we took that as an affirmative.

  ‘What’s a pretzel dog?’ I asked him.

  ‘I don’t really know, I’ve just always wanted to try one.’

  ‘Cool. Two of those, please.’

  We people-watched, made comfortable small talk and sipped our coffees, eagerly awaiting our weird and wonderful feast, which when it arrived took up the whole table.

  ‘Wow. Do you think I can put this on expenses?’ I smiled, stretching out my sequinned dress in anticipation.

  ‘This one is on me.’

  ‘No it’s not. It’s on me.’

  ‘No it’s not. It’s on me.’

  Hmm. We’d sort this out at the end.

  ‘So,’ said Jon. ‘What’s going on with you? Last time I saw you, you were saving for a house, drawing up some kind of plan … ?’

  ‘Yes, the plan is very much in place. It’s hard – there were setbacks to my plan a few years ago but I’m getting it back on track, slowly but surely.’

  ‘Setbacks?’

  ‘A douche-flop of an ex-boyfriend, but let’s not get into that. The plan is going ahead!’

  ‘All right, so what’s the plan?’ Jon cut the immense waffle into two and poured most of a jug of maple syrup on his side.

  ‘It starts with a two-week staycation in my pyjamas, beginning in just over twenty-four hours.’

  ‘That’s a good start.’

  ‘Then I’m going to go back to work in the New Year, all refreshed, and take all my ideas to the directors on how to expand Girls of the World globally. Then I’m going to get a raise, then within the next couple of years I’ll be a director myself, another raise, I’ll become best friends with Tina Fey or Amy Poehler or Lena Dunham or someone, and hopefully, I’ll be able to buy a house in the countryside, with five dogs and a library, by the time I’m mid to late thirties, which I know is late to be getting on the property ladder but I think it’s doable.’ I took a breath and a gulp of my coffee, watching him over my mug for his reaction.

  Jon grinned at me. ‘That’s a big plan, good for you. A house in the country, hey? Would you commute?’

  ‘I guess so … if I’m a director I suppose I could do what I want.’

  ‘What makes you want to move out of London?’

  I hesitated. ‘Because that’s what I’ve always planned to do. It’s in the plan. Because I’ll need at least three bedrooms if I have kids, and I can’t afford that in London.’

  ‘So the plan includes buying a house away from somewhere you know and love, for a fictional family?’

  That stung. ‘They’re not fictional, they’re just … missing.’

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry,’ Jon said, realising his mistake. He reached across the table and covered the length of my forearm with his own, cupping my elbow and leaning closer. ‘I didn’t mean to be mean. I think I was just misunderstanding, because you hadn’t mentioned finding that family in your plan.’

  I was quiet, watching my coffee swirl in its mug.

  ‘Are you … ready … for a family?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not looking for someone yet,’ I said quickly.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘It’s just, you know.’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘Relationships – blurgh.’

  ‘Yuck.’

  ‘They’re just so … ’ I looked out of the window at the window display opposite, the lights appearing bulbous against the wet windows. What was the word? ‘Tricksy.’

  ‘Are they?’ Jon sipped his coffee and watched me. When had he moved his arm away?

  At that point the door tinkled open again and a couple came in, similar age to us, shopping bags first, laughing their heads off and banging their purchases against themselves, the counter, everything they came into contact with. I watched them, all happiness and excitement, as they danced their way towards a table.

  Jon followed my eye line and smiled at the couple. ‘So you don’t want to go
Christmas shopping and wear matching mittens with someone?’

  ‘I don’t know … ’ I crinkled my nose. ‘Maybe one day but at the moment I don’t have anyone to wear matching mittens with, which is fine, by the way.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Would you like to get some matching mittens, Jon?’

  ‘Maybe I would. Would you?’

  My heart slowed and I was suddenly afraid of making a wrong step. Was he flirting? And if he was, did he mean it? ‘I think you should share mittens with someone a bit less Scrooge-like,’ I said carefully. ‘So what will you and your family be doing over Christmas?’ I smiled, trying to lighten the mood and push bitter thoughts of Kevin to the back of my mind.

  ‘Home!’ He smiled that big smile. ‘My parent’s house is going to be mad this year – my two sisters, and my brother, and my other brother and his husband will be there. All of their kids, who range from one and a half to eight, have apparently already devised a play for us, which goes on longer than Lord of the Rings and is largely plagiarised from Frozen. My aunt is joining us because my uncle passed away earlier in the year—’

  ‘I’m so sorry!’ I interrupted.

  ‘Thanks. Then there’ll be me, slurping on the port and watching the madness unfold.’

  ‘Do you like spending Christmas with all those people?’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Don’t you just want some alone-time?’

  Jon laughed, looking puzzled at my silly question. ‘Not at Christmas. It’s not allowed at Christmas. Why, what are you doing? Are you having people over to yours or is your staycation based at your parents’ house?’

  ‘No, my parents are away – Tenerife this year. They always take a winter sun holiday over Christmas.’

  ‘Wait, but isn’t one of your sisters in Miami? And Kim’s in the Caribbean. Who are you spending Christmas with? Your little sister?’

  ‘She’s going to Thailand. I’ll be spending Christmas with myself.’

  Jon picked up a spoon and then dropped it for dramatic effect. ‘You’re spending Christmas alone? Who do you think you are, the man on the moon?’

  Who’s this man on the moon people keep talking about? Neil Armstrong? ‘I won’t be alone, I’ll have the future prime minister with me – me.’

  ‘Why aren’t you going to Tenerife with your folks?’

  I shrugged. ‘I didn’t feel like it. It’s fine – Anne, my Florida sister, is coming over in January so we’re having a family Christmas then. Well … ’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I mean, we won’t make it very Christmassy in January, but it’ll be a nice get-together.’

  ‘Do you want to come to mine for Christmas?’

  I looked at Jon for a minute, unsure if he was joking.

  ‘No, I’m serious,’ he continued, reading my mind. ‘Oh it’ll be great!’ He jumped up and swung around to my side of the table, sliding in next to me and angling his body towards me. His scarf flopped on my knee, leaving a small warm patch. ‘You should definitely, one hundred per cent, spend Christmas with me.’

  ‘Why should I do that?’

  ‘So many reasons. Firstly, you can pretend you’re my girlfriend, which would make my mum so happy, would give my aunt something to gossip about – and remember she’s a poor grieving widow so she needs this – and it might also shut up my brother’s husband who has never even seen me talk to a girl and is convinced I’m “one of them”.’

  I laughed. ‘Those are good reasons, but—’

  ‘Wait, I have more.’ He edged closer still. ‘You … you … can still have downtime, I’ll keep out of your way other than when we’re pretending we’re madly in love, or eating Christmas dinner, or sharing a bed, of course.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fine, the bed’s yours. Um, you don’t have to like any of them, I only like about half of them, and only about a third of the kids, but I promise all of them will like you, and they’ll love having you there.’

  ‘Jon, this is very sweet of you, but I’m not spending Christmas alone because nobody else likes me, or because I don’t have any other imaginary boyfriends, I just don’t … ’

  He waited while I found my words.

  ‘I don’t have any experience in a traditional Christmas, so to me, I’m not missing out on anything. It’s been a tough year, dealing with an awful lot of people and their quirks and dramas and successes and you have no idea how many secrets you end up knowing about people and their genitals when you’re a manager, I found that out within the last month, and I’m really, truly, just looking forward to some time off. By myself.’

  Jon thought about this for a while before peering back up at me. ‘The offer doesn’t go away, if you change your mind.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I flipped his scarf in his face, embarrassed by the lapse in conversation.

  ‘So you’ve never had a traditional Christmas?’

  ‘No.’ I shrugged. ‘What’s the big deal?’

  ‘The big deal is that we’re about to leave New York and there’s a whole city of festivities going on out there that you’re missing, while you sit in here like Scrooge gagging to get back to his chambers.’ He dodged my hand that went to slap his leg.

  And then I stopped short. ‘Pissflaps.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Son of a nutcracker, we need to go to Rockefeller!’

  ‘Now? OK then.’ Jon stood and pulled his coat back on.

  ‘I promised Kim I’d go and see the tree,’ I babbled as we threw down some dollars and shuffled our way out of the diner and into the cold night air. ‘You don’t have to come, but I have to go.’

  ‘Of course I’m coming! I’ll be Kim for the evening.’

  I swathed my parka around me, the sequins on my dress crunching underneath the waterproof, padded fabric. ‘New York is cold when you’re wearing a dress.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Jon said, wrapping an arm around me.

  As we walked briskly up Fifth Avenue towards the Rockefeller Center, I found my thoughts sneaking over to Jon again. I wish he wasn’t so nice, and I wish everyone stopped trying to put us together … it made things feel very complicated.

  We saw the angels first. Two long rows of pale gold, fairy-light-covered statues holding trumpets to the heavens that no matter your religion or attitude towards Christmas couldn’t help but evoke a feeling of calm and magic. And framed at the end of the walkway, nestled at the bottom of the Rockefeller building and overlooking the famous ice rink … ‘There it is!’ I smiled.

  The Rockefeller Christmas tree – vast, tall, fat, covered in a million twinkles and topped with a Swarovski star – was everything I remembered it to be. I can’t believe I nearly didn’t come here …

  My eyes trailed over the humans of New York, all these people, embracing selfie heaven and thoroughly enjoying the city at Christmas. A huge family of what looked like four generations were bunching against a railing with the ice rink in the background, arguing good-naturedly about who should be more prominent in the family photo. A couple were sharing a static kiss in front of the tree while one of them held out their phone to try and selfie the moment. A woman in her early twenties was absent-mindedly bopping away to the Christmas music blasting up from the ice rink while she played on her phone, a hundred shopping bags hanging from her arms.

  I sighed and looked up at the top of the tree, far above me, with 30 Rock towering far above it.

  ‘You OK? Are you making a wish?’ Jon said.

  ‘What?’ I laughed.

  ‘You’re staring up at that star pretty hard. Are you wishing Kim was here?’

  ‘I wish Kim was everywhere I was, but that’s not what I was wishing. And besides, you make an excellent Kim substitute.’

  ‘So can you tell me what you were wishing? Or will that break the spell?’

  I tried to form my words. ‘If you laugh at me I’ll tell Carl you really want to hear about his favourite buses on the way home.’

  ‘I won’t
laugh.’

  ‘Fine. I was wishing that I was like these people.’ I gestured towards the large family.

  ‘What, American?’

  ‘That’s not what I mean, not like them specifically. Like anyone here. Look how happy they are and how excited they are about being in New York at Christmas. I just … I wish I was like them. I feel like I didn’t make the most of it and now we’re going home.’

  ‘But you’re not into Christmas. And that’s OK. You don’t have to be like everyone else if that’s not you.’

  ‘I know, and that’s what I’m telling people all the time, but they do all look happy and maybe there’s something in that. I don’t know. In hindsight I just kind of wish I’d been a bit more open-minded, seen what all the fuss was about, and given being merry and bright a go. Then if I was still not bothered, at least I’d know. And it would have made spending Christmas holed up on my own in my PJs even sweeter than I already know it will be.’

  Jon pulled me into a one-armed hug and we gazed up at the tree together. ‘So what you’re saying is you want the George Bailey experience.’

  ‘Who’s George Bailey? The photographer?’

  ‘No, my festively challenged friend. George Bailey is the star of It’s A Wonderful Life, have you seen it?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘In it, George wants to commit suicide because … Well, I won’t go into it because I don’t think that bit is relevant to you. Anyway, this angel called Clarence visits him. You can call him Jon. And he shows George what life in his town would be like if he’d never been born. Which again, is not quite what you’re going through, but he has a couple of days of seeing things from the other side so he can carry on with his life and be happy.’

  I nodded slowly. ‘Well that sounds nothing like my problem really, but thanks anyway.’

  Jon chuckled and waved towards the angels. ‘What you need is for me to be your Clarence, your Christmas guardian angel. Come to my family home and let me show you how we do things over on the festive side, and then you’ll know what all the fuss is about. And how you celebrate from then on is up to you.’

  ‘I don’t know. What I need is to have two weeks of sleeping in, letting my hair air-dry, watching the type of TV normal people are ashamed to watch, reading a hundred books and stuffing my face full of breakfast food at all times of the day. I’m just thinking out loud really.’