Always, in December(13)
“Right, OK.” Josie gestured for her grandmother to go ahead.
Memo paused and held her hands up for dramatic effect. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Josie rolled her eyes theatrically. “Come on, we watched that together!” Memo waited expectantly. “When Harry Met Sally.”
Memo nodded. “That was your mum’s favorite film, you know.”
Josie smiled. “I remember, you told me.” Her grandparents were her dad’s parents, but that didn’t stop Memo from providing her with just as many memories about her mum, and Josie loved her for it. “But now, I really have to say goodbye, OK?”
“Fine, fine. I love you, my darling.” A muffled sound from off-screen. “Grandad says he loves you too, he’s just got a mouthful of biscuit.”
Josie laughed. “Glad to know where I stand in the pecking order of granddaughter versus Hobnob. I love you both too.”
Josie hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket, then braved the chaos as she fought her way to the gate where she and Max had arranged to meet.
* * *
—
Max was waiting for her, standing casually, hands tucked into the pockets of his Sherlock coat, by one of the barriers next to the slightly tacky golden arch. The words Winter Wonderland were emblazoned on it, with a bespectacled Father Christmas on one side of the lettering, smiling benignly down on those who walked underneath him. Max hadn’t noticed her yet—unsurprising given the crowds of people jostling for space around him. Jesus, she’d forgotten the sheer number of people from last time she’d been here with Bia. She clocked a couple of girls going in, walking through the archway, both of whom looked back at Max to give him a second glance. He seemed totally oblivious, and Josie wondered if that was because he was used to it, or because he really had no idea how good-looking he was.
She kept her head down, glancing up every few seconds as she walked briskly toward him, trying her best to avoid that awkward eye-contact thing where you spot each other from a distance and then have to keep away and back again until you reach each other. Unlike the other loners around him, Max didn’t have his phone out as a prop, but stood quite still, apparently content to watch the people around him drift through the arch. The music from inside was louder now, not one harmonious tune but a collection of tinny Christmas jingles blended together to form something that was both instantly recognizable and impossible to name.
Max noticed her when she was a few meters away from him, and shifted his position to face her, taking one hand out of his pocket and touching it to his temple and then out toward her in a sort of mini-salute.
Josie fixed a bright smile on her face as she stopped in front of him. “Hi!” Her own hands, both in black gloves, one clutching her handbag to her shoulder and the other flopping uselessly at her side, felt suddenly redundant as she tried to work out what to do with them. She gestured feebly toward the entrance on the other side of the metal barrier, determinedly keeping her smile in place. “Shall we?”
Max nodded his assent, and followed her around the barriers, joining the queue, which thankfully seemed to be moving quickly. “So did your flatmate get off today OK?” he asked, glancing down at her as they shuffled forward, trying to keep a polite distance between the two Puffa jackets and their pram in front of them. His hair was just as messy today, proving that it wasn’t just being knocked off his feet that made him look a little disheveled in a way that was undeniably sexy.
“Huh? Oh, right.” Josie cleared her throat, feeling like an idiot. “Yeah, she left this morning.” She smiled slightly at the memory of Bia stumbling back into the flat in her leopard-print heeled boots for the fourth time and declaring that she’d forgotten a vital possible outfit for New Year, then swearing as she tried to make it fit into her already over-large suitcase. Her luggage definitely weighed more than the allowed twenty-three kilos, though Bia had brushed Josie off when she’d tried to point that out. They don’t really mean that, Jose, I’m sure they’ll let me on. And Josie was sure they would—Bia would no doubt somehow talk her way out of any fine for the extra weight.
The sounds of the toddler in the pram ahead filled the resulting silence between them, a mixture of crying and shouting, with one of the Puffa jackets bent over the pram, trying desperately to convince said toddler that everything was all right. The owner of the Puffa jacket looked over their shoulder, revealing a woman with short, tufty, white-blond hair. She glanced around before smiling apologetically at Josie, who smiled back, trying to convey reassurance. Had her parents ever taken her to something like this as a child? She’d often thought they must have, because every time she smelled those sugary nuts you get at the Christmas Market, she had a fleeting impression of laughter, hot liquid, and butterflies in her stomach. One of the many memories of her parents she must have lost from her childhood, stolen away from her immature brain before she could fully cement them there, despite Memo’s efforts to the contrary.
When the lady, wearing a Santa hat and looking extremely pissed off about it, at the next available box office signaled impatiently, Josie and Max stepped forward together. The lady stared at them balefully, clearly wishing she’d opted for a less Christmassy temp job.
“Err…” Josie hesitated, and glanced at Max. She wasn’t sure whether she should ask for one or two tickets. Was she supposed to pay for him?