Christmas Shopaholic(50)

I keep telling myself to stay calm. I keep saying to myself, “Whatever the Grinch can steal, that’s not Christmas.” It’s all details. It’s white noise. It doesn’t matter what kind of mince pies we have, does it? Or brandy butter?

But it’s not just the requests that are worrying me; it’s the tone of the discussion. I can totally see why the government is worried about social media causing bullying among a certain generation—because Mum and Janice are getting really quite snippy with each other.

Mum keeps telling us how they do things in Shoreditch and showing off about how packed her schedule is and mentioning artisan gin tastings. Janice ended up replying: Are you sure you’ve got time for Christmas, dear, with your packed new social life?

Ouch. Although Janice has got a point. Mum was supposed to be coming with me to the Christmas Style Fair on Thursday, but at ten last night she pulled out. Apparently, she’s doing an experimental drama workshop and it’s the only day she can do it.

I mean, fair enough, experimental drama is definitely a good idea—but what about Christmas? What about me?

As I arrive at work, my head is still whirling with WhatsApp messages, but Suze greets me with, “So? So?” as though I must know what she’s talking about.

“I’m fine with the Waitrose brandy butter,” I say in a slight daze, and she clicks her tongue impatiently.

“I mean, so what happened? How was your evening with Craig? I sent you like six WhatsApps last night!”

“Oh, right.” I try to focus. “Sorry. I got distracted by all the Christmas chat. Er…it was fine. It was good. He’s got a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend?” says Suze, looking wrong-footed.

For a moment I consider saying, “Didn’t you know he had a girlfriend, Suze?” and pretending I knew all along. But I’m not sure I can carry it off—and, anyway, I want to have a cozy gossip.

“I was surprised too,” I admit. “And guess what? She’s completely different from him! She’s called Nadine and she’s all businessy and neat. And she hates his music and travel and everything he’s about. It’s bizarre.”

“Huh,” says Suze thoughtfully as she unpacks a box of cardigans.

“I don’t know what they have in common,” I continue. “But we had a good time in the end. I think we’re going to be friends.”

“Huh,” says Suze again. She sits back on her heels and surveys me. “Where’s your rock-chick outfit gone, Bex?”

I didn’t put on my distressed-tweed suit today, just because…

OK, to be honest, it was because I woke up, looked at it, and thought, What was I thinking? I’ll have to un-distress it somehow. As for the boots, Nadine’s got a point. My feet were so sore today, I couldn’t have worn them. Not that I’ll admit this to Suze.

“Oh.” I shrug. “I’m going for a different style today. Mixing it up.”

“Now that you think Craig’s into businessy women you’re going for the businessy look?” Suze eyes me sharply, and I gasp as the meaning of her comment hits me.

“No!” I say, stung. “Of course not…No! Suze, what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” returns Suze darkly, and there’s silence between us.

I think I know what she means.

But, on the other hand, what if she means something else?

Or, like, a third thing?

“Say it.” I lift my chin challengingly.

“You don’t even tell Luke when your ex-boyfriend turns up.” Suze counts off on her fingers. “You dress up to impress him. You go for a drink with him. Now you’re telling me Craig’s girlfriend doesn’t have anything in common with him. But you do, Bex?” She raises her eyebrows almost accusingly.

OK, I do know what she means, and she is wrong.

“Stop it,” I say indignantly. “That is not what— It wasn’t like that.”

“You’re saying Craig isn’t into you?” persists Suze. “You’re saying he wasn’t chatting you up?”

“Yes!” I exclaim. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you must know, both of them ignored me most of the evening. They were all over Luke. Especially Nadine. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. If anyone needs to worry, it’s me,” I add, to emphasize the point. “It’s me.”

“Hmm,” says Suze, looking unconvinced.

“Suze, what are you implying?” I can’t help sounding hurt. “You think I’m going to have an affair?”

“I didn’t say that,” Suze answers after a pause. “I just…” She hesitates. “I know how stuff can happen. You have to be careful.”

Her gaze is averted—and again I know she’s referring to her own moment of madness in the summer.

“You needn’t worry,” I say with dignity. “My marriage is safe.”

For a while we’re both silent again. Suze is still unloading cardigans, and I start putting them on the display rack.

“So are you going to Craig’s Christmas party?” Suze says after a while, and I feel a little stab of guilt. Suddenly I get it. Suze feels left out. That’s what this is.

“We’ll all go,” I say firmly. “And, Suze, you have to come next time we meet up. Oh, and do you want to come to the Christmas Style Fair with me on Thursday?” I add, remembering. “Mum’s pulled out. I’ll pay for the extra cover for the shop. We can ask Irene’s niece; she’s always happy to do it. All my treat.”