The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 2

  ‘Claudia … ’ Nick cupped her face gently, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. ‘Talk to us.’

  Claudia’s resolve wobbled. She couldn’t look Nick in the eye without wanting to crumble to the ground and tear at the floorboards with her fingernails. She stared at his grubby grey T-shirt, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest.

  ‘It was nothing; we’re just … sort of … maybe … not together any more.’ She gulped back an enormous sob. ‘I loved your Christmas tree,’ she told Nick quickly, prodding his pec.

  Penny squeezed her even tighter, her white-blonde wig stuffing its way up Claudia’s nose. ‘How did this happen? Was he so disgusted by my fat thighs on stage he said he didn’t want anything to do with you?’

  ‘That was partly it. Then he got his willy out and I said, “No! Get it away!”’

  Nick kissed her on the top of the head and took her hand. ‘Do you want to see mine instead? It’s much better. You’ll feel much better. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He started leading her to the door.

  ‘No, really, I’m fine. I’m fine.’ She laughed gently, dropping Nick’s hand. ‘You guys did ridiculously good tonight. Sorry I’m a rubbish old party-pooper. I’m going to go home now, and I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.’

  ‘Wait, we’ll come with you.’ Penny started yanking clips out of her wig and freeing tendrils of her real hair.

  ‘No, don’t be silly, you’d look ridiculous on the Tube.’

  ‘I can leave now. I’ll take you,’ Nick volunteered.

  ‘No thanks, please stay.’

  ‘Don’t be such a pain in the arse. Let me take you home.’ Nick tilted his head and gave her the warmest grin in the world. But she just couldn’t bear to be around anyone right now.

  ‘NO,’ Claudia insisted. ‘I really just want to go on my own, please; I’ll call you both in the morning when my head’s a bit clearer. Please go and celebrate your amazing show.’ She gave them both a quick kiss on the cheek and felt Nick’s hand rest tenderly on her bare arm for a moment. She pulled away and retreated down the corridor.

  Claudia exited the Opera House alone. The crowds had left and she was by herself on the dark, chilly street. She stood for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the cold breeze dry her face. How could she go home? But what else could she do? When this date started she had no idea it would end in the kind of awkward ‘broken-up couple living in the same house’ scene she’d only seen on TV.

  This was a ridiculous situation. It had to sort itself out. It had to.

  She opened her eyes and turned to walk up the road.

  She stopped.

  Seth.

  He was coming around the corner at the very top of the street. He had come back to her.

  Claudia was boiling all the way to her toes with anger and hurt, but relief still swept over her. She realised how much she’d needed to see him; safe, familiar, half-of-her-life him. Her pace quickened.

  Then Seth stopped outside the pub on the corner. He broke into a series of cheers and laughs as he greeted a large group of friends.

  She watched but he didn’t come any further; he hadn’t seen her.

  He looked cheerful.

  She was a mess and he didn’t even look a bit sad, or wistful about the life he’d just lost.

  He threw his arms around a girl who emerged from the centre of the group.

  Who’s that?

  They laughed together. She looked like one of those fun, sexy, confident girls you both hate and desperately wish you were. Like The Pussycat Dolls.

  His hands groped her perfect butt cheeks.

  What?

  They kissed.

  Things. Just. Got. Worse.

  Claudia’s legs made an executive decision, taking charge before her brain and heart could crumble into each other, inconsolable. They swept her across the road and in through the door of a quiet Italian restaurant. The eatery was mellow at this time of night, with just a few couples sharing desserts and a birthday party taking their time over the dregs of several bottles of wine.

  The darkness of red upholstery and mahogany tables shrouded her, and she took a seat on a stool at the far end of the bar, next to the windows that looked out onto the street. Claudia never took her eyes off Seth.

  Her whole body was trembling, and the sensation that her heart had been scraped out of her chest made her curl inwards. She laid her small, shaking hands on the window. No, no, no, he can’t have cheated on her. Their life together can’t have all been a lie. That would mean they could never be together again.

  The barman materialised in the corner of her vision. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked in an Australian accent.

  ‘Can I have a bottle of house red please? One glass?’ Claudia whispered, as if Seth would hear her voice in the wind and turn to look at her.

  Claudia dragged her eyes from the window for a second to look at the bartender. His name badge read ‘Billy’. He looked like Billy Kennedy from Neighbours.

  ‘You look like Billy Kennedy from Neighbours.’

  ‘So they say.’ He grinned. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Claudia,’ she mumbled.

  ‘So, Claudia, this whole bottle’s just for you?’

  ‘Yep.’ She went back to watching her partner of five years stroking someone else’s bottom. She wanted to break every bone in that hand. ‘Just for me. Big fat lonely me.’

  Pop. Glug, glug, glug. ‘Good for you, darl’. You crack on.’

  She took some hearty gulps of wine and went back to squinting at Seth, misting up the window with her breath. Was that a look of pain? Was that beardy guy patting him on his back out of consolation? Was he wiping a tear? Ha! Thank God …

  No.

  No, he was crying with laughter at something she had said.

  ‘You’re not funny,’ Claudia hissed, her fingers curling into claws.

  ‘I reckon he’s laughing at her fat ugly face.’ Billy was standing behind her, tea towel flung over his shoulder, staring out across the street. She half-smiled through the pain.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s thinking, Bloody hell, what am I doing listening to your drivel, you dumbo. With your boring clothes and your minging hair.’

  Her hair was a little boring, if you call ‘no need to style because it looks amazing anyway’ boring. She scrutinised Billy’s face. ‘Minging?’

  He nodded. ‘Minging.’

  ‘I feel sorry for her,’ Claudia said. ‘She probably doesn’t even know how grating that laugh can get.’

  ‘I like your dress, by the way.’

  Claudia had been best friends with her dress at the start of the evening. Now she looked at it bitterly, like you would an apparently friendly co-worker who’s thrown you under the bus in front of your boss.

  ‘Date night gone wrong?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Claudia sighed and had another gulp of wine. ‘It’s the only date I’ve been on in yonks, so maybe it’s normal now for the boy to bugger off half way through.’

  ‘I’ve never been on a date with a boy, so I’m not sure. But it doesn’t sound quite right.’

  Claudia shook her head and gazed outside.

  ‘If you stop staring you never have to see the bastard again.’

  ‘Ah, but I do,’ she choked, finishing off the glass and pouring herself another. ‘I live with the bastard.’

  Billy roared with laughter. Claudia swigged and tried to look affronted, but her features were beginning to slacken as the alcohol numbed them.

  ‘Life’s got a way of kicking you right in the balls sometimes, hey? My girlfriend back in Oz cheated on me; we shared a house but she was my landlord and I had to give her two months’ notice. You’ve gotta laugh … ’

  Something that could have been a sob and could have been a chuckle burst from Claudia. ‘You’ve gotta laugh … ’ She watched the pitiful end to her date, the weight of her own breathing hunching her back until she was resting her cheek on the rim of her wine glass. More than anything
she wanted to curl up where she was and sleep. She felt defeated.

  ‘I hate him,’ she whispered to no one in particular.

  ‘I think you should confront him,’ Billy answered. Claudia swivelled her eyes to look up at him without moving. ‘I really think you should. He’s got no right to treat you like that; you should do it now, while he can’t deny it or try to get out of it.’

  ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Yes you bloody can!’ Billy whipped the empty glass from under her cheek. She sat up, startled, and wiped the red-wine circle from her face. She couldn’t confront him, not in front of all those people. She hated confrontation.

  But she was a bit pissed.

  ‘Go on, you drunk, bugger off,’ Billy said with an encouraging grin. ‘Go and tell him which bridge to jump off, do it for all us cheatees who never had the courage.’

  Claudia stood, wobbled, and took a deep breath.

  She sat down again. She really didn’t want to face him. What was she going to say?

  Nothing, because she wasn’t going to do it. She would cut through the side streets to the Tube station and avoid him. He never had to know she was there, or that she’d seen him.

  ‘HE SHOULD KNOW I’VE SEEN HIM!’ she declared, standing and knocking her stool over onto the polished floor. The sedate diners looked up from their gelati and vino.

  Claudia swayed and fixed Billy with a hard stare. ‘I AM A WRONGED WOMAN.’

  Billy smiled and passed her a shot of limoncello. ‘Yeah you are. Drink this and go and kick his arse.’

  She knocked back the limoncello, gave Billy a salute and stumbled out of the restaurant. Wow, that wine had hit fast. That’s what you get for gulping it.

  In the cold night air Claudia contemplated throwing up and then settling down for a nap, but instead she slicked on a fresh coat of red lipstick.

  Yeah, powerful red lipstick.

  She stood next to the bronze statue of a ballerina, sitting serenely opposite the Opera House. ‘Young Dancer’ she was called. Younger Claudia, she thought miserably, allowing herself a full thirty seconds of melancholy before the limoncello burned the inside of her chest and she felt her temper bubbling again.

  She glared at the Young Dancer. ‘You cheated on me?’ she accused the statue, picturing Seth’s laughing face. ‘You cheated on me?’ There were millions of things she wanted to say to him.

  She jabbed the statue. ‘I hope you have the worst life, absolute crap, because you don’t have me any more.’ Claudia put her face close to the statue and sneered into her ear. ‘Good luck telling your family what an idiot you’ve been. They love me. But you messed it up.’

  The ballerina gazed impassively at her foot.

  Claudia’s whole body shook and despite the cold her skin prickled with heat. ‘You’re a nasty, crap cheat!’ she seethed.

  And he’d blamed her for this breakup?

  ‘You’re no man, you’re a boy, a coward. With a very small willy.’ She glared at the ballerina, who sat, indifferent to the verbal abuse.

  ‘I’m going to punch you in the balls.’

  But she didn’t, because a couple exited the restaurant and gave her a look.

  Even in her haze of wine and limoncello she was at least partially aware of how crazy she must seem, going off on one at a defenceless statue. She gave it one last glare, hissed ‘You’re making me look drunk’ into the Young Dancer’s ear and straightened up.

  ‘Right then.’

  Claudia’s head was held high as she approached the pub, and she marched with the determination of a soldier. But the closer she got, the more the hundreds of emotions she was feeling tried to pull her backwards. Don’t do it, they warned, you’re not ready.

  Her pace slowed and she stepped quietly. Truth be told, she didn’t want to do this. Correction, she wanted to do this, but she didn’t think she could.

  She stopped a few metres away from Seth, her voice caught in her throat. How had it got to this, where she was scared to speak to her own boyfriend? They were a happy couple three hours ago; they had a whole past of experiences, memories, in-jokes and intimacies. She’d assumed they had a future.

  She looked at his face. The face she knew as well as her own. She knew the feel of his eyebrows and his ears, the colour of his eyelashes, the smell of his skin.

  Would this really be no more, just like that? Would she never know those things again?

  A silent sob escaped as a puff of air. Did she know those things? Had she felt his browline and smelt his skin?

  The group fell silent and Seth turned to face her. She met his eyes and his hand dropped from the back of the girl’s jeans.

  They were locked together in that moment. Claudia searched his eyes and searched for the words she wanted to say, but nothing came.

  Seth cleared his throat. ‘Claud—’ He reached for her and she came to life, jumping back from his touch. She looked from his hand to his face.

  ‘That’s been on her bum!’

  Seth glanced around at his group, his eyes falling on the girl. He looked back at Claudia. ‘Look Claud, like we talked about earlier, we just need some time apart. You go and enjoy the Christmas festivities, it’ll do you good.’ He smiled at her.

  Those damned tears were back, rolling like melting icicles down her cheeks. She scraped them away. Come on Claudia, be strong. Don’t you dare be a walkover. Tell him what you told that statue. Anger prowled inside her that she couldn’t put into words. Nothing made sense now that she stood in front of him. She begged him with her eyes and her tears to make it better, to fix this horrible misunderstanding.

  He shuffled his feet. He looked so uncomfortable.

  The girl sniggered: ‘This is awkward.’

  Claudia tore her eyes from Seth and whipped around to face her. ‘What? What? I don’t care if this is awkward for you, you … complete … cow!’

  The girl laughed, like any good woman-hating female would. ‘You don’t get to be involved,’ Claudia spat, and turned back to Seth, frantic to salvage something from this confrontation, and too demeaned to risk looking at her again.

  Seth was chewing his lip.

  Claudia felt desperation seeping from her and hated herself for it. ‘Why don’t you care?’ she implored, searching for some kind of reassurance that he did, and at the same time acutely aware of how embarrassingly needy she sounded.

  He said nothing. He just looked at her, a sad expression on his oh-so-familiar face.

  ‘You don’t care … ’ she whispered. ‘It’s all just … okay … SCREW YOU.’

  ‘Claudia,’ Seth purred half-heartedly, ‘of course I care.’

  She turned her back on them all. She was humiliated. She walked away from the person who knew her the best and cared about her the least.

  Turning the corner, Claudia’s legs carried her just far enough down the road that she could no longer hear the noise and revelry from the pub. Then she crumbled against a wall, her face in hands. She felt like an idiot. She’d wanted to come across as strong, to give him a piece of her mind. Instead, she gave them all a good laugh.

  She vowed that she would not let her fear of confrontation humiliate her like that again. She was going to change, never again be a scared little woman, and next time she saw him she’d let him know.

  The alcohol, pain and confusion made her head swim. Her body needed to buckle with tears but her eyes were dried out, and all she could do was take deep, unsteady breaths, inhaling the sickly-sweet smell of wine gums and limoncello.

  There was too much in her brain. She hated Seth for everything he’d done and for everything he hadn’t lived up to. So how could she love him as well, and desperately want this all to go away and for him to come back, to choose her and for them carry on with their life?

  Her phone tinkled with the sound of reindeer bells; her festive text message alert. Seth?

  She dragged her phone from her clutch bag.

  It was Nick.

  You’re ace, you know that, right?
<
br />   She smiled. Maybe – not now, but in the future – she’d be okay. She had Nick. And Penny.

  Every inch of her still felt beaten, but Nick’s message was like some strong arms lifting her upright. It was time to go.

  Claudia sprawled her way through Covent Garden Tube station, her pink-rimmed eyes looking blankly ahead but hiding a runaway train of thoughts. She made it to the platform with just enough time to shove all her anger against one of the train’s closing doors until it huffed, conceded and sulkily let her in. The carriage was nearly empty; Claudia plonked herself down in the middle of a line of blue seats and let out a massive sigh.

  The train was nearly empty.

  Diagonally across from Claudia a late-teenage couple canoodled shamelessly, coming up for air only to glance smugly around the carriage to see who was jealous of their steamy relationship. Urgh. Claudia glared at them.

  Their pointy, pale faces and matching floppy haircuts also made them look like brother and sister. The girl giggled coquettishly as the double-denimed hipster dribbled on her neck.

  Claudia wanted to vomit on their heads. She really wanted to. She sighed again, loudly.

  With the smug look of Angelina Jolie bagging Brad Pitt, the girl fluttered her hair in the boy’s face and he stroked it.

  It sent shivers down her spine and Claudia curled her upper lip. Why were they so annoying?

  ‘Urgh,’ she grunted.

  The boy looked over and flicked his Bieber-hair out of his eyes. The girl whispered something and licked his ear.

  Claudia held his gaze and tutted.

  He went back to staring at the girl’s jawline from two centimetres away, and she spanked his be-jeaned bottom with her Oyster card.

  Claudia, the wine, and her emotions couldn’t take it any more. The three of them clubbed together and gave her a voice.

  ‘Get out of her neck, man!’ she slurred. The couple looked up, deer in headlights, before he struggled to regain his cool and narrowed his eyes. ‘Personal space,’ Claudia hissed.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ he squeaked.

  ‘Your face,’ Claudia replied. And then hiccupped.

  ‘At least it’s not old. Like your face,’ the girl piped up, before sinking back behind her curtain of hair.