Mistletoe on 34th Street Page 5

  Best Christmas present ever

  He was so sweet.

  Opening the curtains I saw that a small amount of the snow from the night before had settled, like someone had dusted icing sugar on the Victoria sponge that was London. The sky was full of thick white clouds and on the street below people were slip-sliding about on the frosty paths, their laughter drifting up to my ears.

  I did a yawn at the window and padded back into the warmth, making a coffee, and pulling out my to-do list.

  My eyes were soon drawn back to the window. The main thing on my list, the thing that really mattered, was getting everyone to New York, and getting them home again before Christmas (and not letting Girls of the World collapse on my watch). So if the UK was going to choose this year, out of all the years, to have a white Christmas, I could only hope nobody would let it snow until we were home.

  14 December

  1 week, 4 days to Christmas

  My bags had been packed and waiting at the door for twenty minutes, but still I had a final zoom around to check everything was in order. Passport packed, plug sockets switched off, Sky+ set to record the Strictly final, Kevin McCallister not still upstairs asleep … No no, that’s just in Home Alone.

  I threw a final pining look at my sofa and then turned to leave. Five days, then you’re all mine. I’d been spending so much time at the office lately, I was a little homesick before I’d even left for the airport.

  Gloves on, I stepped outside and locked my door, my breath puffing out in front of me. The air was cold – really bloody cold – but my big sensible parka made me feel like Smug of the Century as I passed a group of teens in trendy, thin leather jackets. I dragged my suitcase carefully over the pavements, which felt hostile and icy under my boots, pulling it around a discarded bottle of Prosecco covered in frost.

  I’d be in New York soon. Would I drink Prosecco? Would I make a good impression, and be as charming and confident and strong as everyone needed me to be? So much could come out of being the one in charge on this trip. It could be the cold, or it could be the adrenalin, the excitement, that made my hands shake.

  Stopping outside the tube station to rifle through my paperwork for the fortieth time – yes, all booking confirmations for all team members were present, as expected – I was interrupted by my phone jangling with a text message. It was my sister, Anne.

  Hey! Mum says you’re flying to the US today.

  Let me know when you get here – you should

  come to Florida! Much warmer than NYC. Are

  you getting the parents Christmas presents?

  That was pretty typical Anne. I’d sent her several emails, texts and Facebook messages about flying over today, but things go in one ear and out the other with her. Anne has lived in Miami for seven years and is as independent as they come. And even though she infuriates me sometimes with lack of organisation, I couldn’t wait to see her when she visited in January; it had been too long.

  When was the last time our family was all together? Maybe last January? No, Mum was away at a painting retreat last time Anne was home, and Dad didn’t come on our trip to Miami the summer before. So it had been a couple of years since we’d all been together, I realised with a shock.

  No time to think about that, or reply to Anne’s message now, though; I had an airport full of fuckwits waiting for me. Sorry, I mean colleagues.

  In the days that had passed since the Fearless Freeze, everyone’s bruises had faded and their aches and pains were all but forgotten. The only sufferings now were hangovers from the Christmas party, which just wouldn’t shift, and Jasmine’s chronic face-like-a-slapped-arse. I’d done my manager duties for the time being, getting them all through checkin and security successfully, explaining to them one more time about the rules surrounding expenses, and now we were at the gate killing time.

  I looked around the huge terminal at Heathrow. Holidaymakers were getting into the Christmas spirit thanks to the free-taster spirits in the Duty Free, an oddly relaxing panpipe carols medley played on repeat across the speaker system, sleepy children clutching reindeer slippers and carefully wrapped gifts stared out of the windows at the aeroplanes, and couples, full of festive cheer, loitered, giggling, outside the window of the Tiffany’s store.

  I had my nose stuck inside a paper cup, breathing in the aroma of my spiced hot chocolate. I looked up at the large HSBC black and white panorama of the New York skyline. See ya soon, sis, I thought. Although in reality, I’d barely be any closer to Anne once I was across the Atlantic than I am now. But being on the same continent felt nice. I wondered what she’d be doing right now, and over Christmas Day this year.

  ‘Jingle bells, Batman smells … ’ a familiar, deep voice sang softly behind me.

  I pulled my gaze from the skyline and turned to face one of my favourite people in the world, a huge smile on my face. Hello, my friend, I thought.

  Jon stood there, tall and lean and familiar in every way, dressed in faded jeans, a teal jumper and a large coat that looked toasty warm. His brown hair was a bit longer than when I last saw him, and just thick enough that it all shifted direction if he ran a hand through it, or tucked his fingers in like a comb like he did when he was thinking. His face was open and warm, like a cartoon bear, with big brown eyes, moo-cow eyelashes, and two different smiles depending on what he was smiling about. Smile one was large, wide and showed all his teeth. It crinkled his eyes and he looked delighted, like he was on the brink of laughter. Smile two he used when he was listening, or thinking, and his lips would curl in, giving him soft, round cheeks.

  He greeted me with his delighted smile, and pulled me towards him into a bear hug. I breathed in the smell of his woodsmoke-scented wool coat. ‘Please tell me you’re on my flight,’ he begged.

  ‘BA0173, the one fifty-five.’ I pulled back, pointing at my gate, and he groaned.

  ‘Damn you, BA! I’m on the one that leaves at five past one. Can’t you just switch with Carl? Come on – airlines aren’t very strict about things like people getting on the right plane.’ Carl worked with Jon, and was a notoriously awful travelling companion. If he wasn’t snoring or throwing up, he was talking about bus timetables.

  ‘Actually, you know what I could do?’ I leaned in conspiratorially. Jon listened intently, eyes sparkling. ‘I could run at the woman on the boarding gate and knock all her boarding passes in the air, then just point to someone up ahead and tell her it’s my dad—’

  ‘—and she’ll let you right on the flight! Yes, that works, I saw it on a documentary sometime about some kid who got lost in New York?’

  ‘Exactly. Now if I could just find my Talkboy … ’

  Jon laughed and pulled me into another big bear hug. He was very touchy-feely today and it felt so cosy that I squirrelled in closer to him. He looked around the rows of seats, scanning the faces of the families, the business people, the weary travellers. ‘Wait … no Kim?’

  ‘No,’ I sighed over-dramatically, unintentionally flashing a glum look at my colleagues. ‘She’s on stupid holiday in stupid Antigua with her stupid fiancé.’

  ‘Is he really stupid?’

  ‘No, he’s lovely, I’m just bitter because I’m stuck with this lot, without her here to keep me sane.’

  ‘Hey, you’re stuck with me too, remember.’

  ‘That’s true. And I’m not being fair, these people are fine. Pretty much.’

  Jon followed my gaze. ‘So who’s with you this year, boss?’

  Boss. It still sounded very odd to my ears. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I heard it on the grapevine. Congratulations. So you’re in charge this trip? I like it.’

  ‘It’s only temporary … ’

  ‘Hey, if one of your girls got woman of the match, or won a writing competition, would you tell her to play it down because her glory might only be temporary?’

  ‘You’re right, I wouldn’t. OK fine. I’m the boss, bitches.’ Hmm, it still sounded a bit alien coming from my mouth. I tried a
‘boss’ stance like Beyoncé does when she stands on stage, hand on hip, but this parka was just not letting me feel it. ‘Anyway, this year I have, as part of my entourage, Ian and Dee—’

  ‘Have they … ?’

  ‘Of course not!’ I laughed. ‘And that girl there on the phone is Abigail, she’s new. And she is all the emotions – I honestly can’t tell if there are more tears of excitement about seeing New York for the first time or tears of sadness at leaving her boyfriend behind. And finally … Jasmine.’ I sneered instinctively upon saying her name.

  Jon’s eyes opened wide. ‘You let her come? That’s very Good Samaritan of you. Or bonkers.’

  ‘Sometimes, just sometimes, I put the personal development of my team members before my own personal feelings. Plus she was already booked on when I took over from Scheana, so I didn’t have much choice.’

  Jon sniggered. ‘You’ll be pushing her off Trump Tower within three days, development shnevelopment. So which one is she?’

  ‘The sour-faced one, texting.’

  ‘Oh her! She’s pretty.’ Jon looked down at me, amused.

  I gasped at his betrayal. ‘Oh she’s pretty, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe I’ll get to know her.’

  ‘You know what, you should. She’s a peach. I think she could make you really happy, assuming you didn’t want to keep your balls. In fact, I’ll set you up.’

  ‘Thanks, buddy, that would be great.’

  ‘You’d be perfect together.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Why don’t you get married and have her babies?’ Despite myself, I was starting to get annoyed.

  ‘I should have her babies; imagine how adorable they’d be.’

  ‘I’ll see you at the wedding.’

  ‘Ohhh, actually, you’re not invited … ’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No … she doesn’t like you.’

  ‘Judas!’

  Jon laughed and turned his back on Jasmine, gazing on me once again. ‘Which one of them are you sat with for the flight?’

  ‘None of them. I booked the seats myself and just happened to not be able to squeeze us all in together.’

  ‘Clever! So just you, hey? Billy-no-mates?’

  ‘I have my favourite kind of friends with me, present company excluded, of course.’

  ‘Ahh, the books. What have you brought this time around?’

  I opened my handbag to reveal three paperbacks, a mix of genres, all based in New York. I’m a bit of a bookworm, and reading was one of the things I was looking forward to catching up on during my weeks off when we got back from the Big Apple. My only condition for travel reading was that the books have to be set in the place I’m visiting.

  Jon peered inside, his breath tickling my hair. ‘The Interpretation of Murder, Sex and the City, Catcher in the Rye – good choices. Which are you going to start with?’

  ‘I’m thinking the Murder one. It might give me some good ideas in case my team prove too much to handle on this trip.’

  Suddenly, I became aware of conversation around us dulling. People were staring at the TV screens set up around the departure lounge, showing BBC News 24. We looked up to see a weather woman standing in front of a map of the UK that was covered in dark cloud and snowflake icons.

  ‘ … Strong winds and freezing temperatures could well bring a white Christmas a little earlier than Santa would have planned. We now join Bethany Weatherstorm at Heathrow airport.’

  Everyone seemed to move at once as hundreds of commuters abandoned their bags, just like all the posters around the airport tell them to (not!), and pressed themselves against the windows. Of course, the glass looked out over the runways, and the newscaster was standing among taxis outside the entrance to the T5 departures entrance, but that didn’t stop anyone.

  I raised my eyebrows at Jon and we tittered about how ridiculous people were being, before rushing over to join them. Outside, the sky had darkened so that it appeared to be almost the evening rather than the middle of the day. To my left I spotted Abigail staring at the bruised clouds with worry, twiddling with her necklace.

  ‘Back in a mo,’ I said to Jon and edged my way through the crowd, over a coat and a teddy bear and a fallen carry-on suitcase. ‘Hey,’ I said when I reached Abigail. ‘How are you doing?’

  She turned to me, a forced smile on her face. ‘I’m fine, just, you know, hoping we’re not going to die.’

  ‘We’re not going to die. Get down from there.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘That ledge you’re on. There’s no point in climbing up there and waiting for the worst when everyone’s saying to stay inside.’

  She pointed at the sky. ‘But we do have to go outside. Into that.’

  ‘Good point. But let’s just listen to the TV for a moment and find out what’s going on.’

  We turned to the screen, where newscaster Bethany’s hair was blowing about in the wind. ‘ … and officials are saying that while there are no disruptions to service yet, overnight conditions could worsen, and travellers are advised to arrive at the airport in plenty of time.’

  ‘There you go, see!’ I said to Abigail, jovially. ‘We’ll be in the big NYC by the time any of this is a problem.’

  Abigail nodded and stared and nodded and stared. ‘I have to go and call my boyfriend.’ And off she zoomed.

  I walked back to Jon.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Just making sure that if they weren’t nervous enough already, my team are now terrified of the weather reports.’

  ‘The weather’s nothing to worry about – I just asked some of the ground staff and they said flying conditions were fine at the moment.’

  ‘I don’t think it helped that I basically said, “Hey, don’t worry, it’s not like we have to go outside! Oh, wait … ”’

  Jon laughed and we looked back at the TV, where the news had moved on to a different story involving politicians and underwear. I zoned out. What if there was a problem in the air? What if the plane had to be diverted to Quebec? What if everyone in my team died? Except me, and then I had to tell all their families? And what if they then all blamed me, because I was in charge, and I didn’t stop them getting on the flight? Oh, I was the worst manager ever!

  A soft flick on the top of my head startled me out of my panic. ‘Hey!’ I laughed, turning to Jon.

  ‘I said your name at least three times, but you seemed to be spiralling into some inner monologue. Are you wishing the flight had been cancelled?’

  ‘No, no, no … well yes.’

  ‘You can do this, you’re a natural.’

  ‘I know I can really, I think I’m just a bit burnt out, it’s making my brain all floppy.’

  He gave me a knowing smile, one that calmed me instantly. ‘I’ve got just the cure. Do you have snacks for the flight?’

  At that moment, an announcement came over the tannoy. ‘Ladies and gentleman, we will shortly begin boarding British Airways flight 0177 to New York’s John F. Kennedy airport. Would passengers in rows forty to fifty-five please come forward with your passports and boarding cards ready.’

  ‘That’s me, I’ve got to go,’ Jon said regretfully, slinging his holdall over his shoulder. ‘I cannot get the window seat again and climb over Carl. Here, take half.’ He pulled a giant crunchy almond Toblerone from his duty-free bag.

  Toblerone! ‘I couldn’t possibly, you’re a growing boy.’

  ‘You have to, take it.’ He heaved and puffed and shredded the wrapping. ‘Gah, Toblerone, why do you have to show me up for the weakling that I am?’ Eventually the bar snapped in half, and Jon thrust it into my hand and with a swift kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you on the other side’, he headed towards the gate.

  I watched him fling the other half of the chocolate into his bag and rush towards Carl and a few other familiar faces from the HeForShe office. Carl grinned widely at Jon, his flight buddy, and I watched as Jon put aside his grumbles and returned Carl’s smile with a w
elcoming one of his own. He turned his head and grinned at me one last time, mouthing a goodbye, and I mouthed one back.

  I held my half a Toblerone close (no sharing) and went back to my mishmash of colleagues, who had all, bar Abigail, returned to their seats and were looking so bored you’d think they’d been waiting for four years.

  Jasmine looked up from her nails, briefly, with raised eyebrows. ‘Who was that weirdo?’

  I bristled. ‘He’s not a weirdo, he’s Jon. He works on the HeForShe campaign, and we’ve been friends for years.’

  ‘He looked needy as hell to me.’

  What’s that supposed to mean? I thought. ‘He’s not needy at all.’

  Jasmine gave a yeah, right look that made my blood boil. Hold it together, Olivia. Let’s not chin her one in the middle of the terminal.

  I rolled my neck around. More coffee. That was what I needed – a big, frothy, creamy latte. And I had just about enough time to grab one and catch fifteen minutes of peace and quiet before our flight was likely to begin boarding. Even the thought made me feel more zen.

  I got up and fished my wallet out of my carry-on bag, asking Dee to keep an eye on the rest of my things, and was about to head to the Starbucks kiosk when I spotted Abigail back by the windows again.

  I looked at the espresso machine, puffing out plumes of steam like an inviting little train willing me to come on board. And I looked at Abigail. Coffee, or colleague? Myself, or others? Being kind, or not giving a flying fudge? One more sniff of the air in the direction of Starbucks and I turned and made my way to Abigail, suppressing a sigh.

  ‘Still not feeling this weather?’ I asked, gently.

  ‘You’re going to think I’m so ungrateful,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I really am excited about seeing New York, and going to the conference, I just … ’

  ‘You know, once I was trying on a swimming costume in Next, and it didn’t fit at all – one of those ones with cut-out side bits that basically drew circles of shame around my muffin top – and I was at a critical point in the trying-on process. Tucking my granny pants up under the costume to see what my booty looked like. So I’m leaning forward, hand shoving excess fabric basically up my bum, flesh everywhere, and some kid yanks open the curtain. And he laughed. He shouted “Big fat bum!” like a warning alarm to the rest of the store, and before I could get my hand out of the back of the costume and close the curtains I felt like I had a hundred shoppers’ eyes on me.’