One Day in December(65)

Thankfully, Sarah’s been there the whole way, allowing me to vent.

‘Let me in, Lu! I’ve got no hands to knock!’

Sarah’s voice rings down the hall, and I jump up to let her in. When I open the door, I see what she means. She’s dragging a hard silver suitcase behind her, has two bags hanging off her arms and a large cardboard box in her hands. She peers at me over the top of it and puffs her fringe out of her eyes.

‘Travelling light?’ I laugh, taking the box from her.

‘This is light for me.’ She smacks my hand when I try to peak under the flap of the box. ‘That’s my box of surprises. Wine first?’

‘No arguments here.’ I shut the door with my foot before I follow her down the hall. I didn’t want a traditional hen night, it’s just not my thing, but this is perfect.

‘Are we alone?’ she whispers, looking for Oscar.

‘Yes.’

She busts out a disco chest pump and then falls flat on her back on the sofa with her arms spread out wide and her feet in the air.

‘You’re getting married in the morning, ding-dong the bells are gonna chime!’ she sings out of tune.

‘You’re a day early.’

‘Better than a day late.’ She sits up and gazes around. ‘Are we having a seance?’

I’ve lit scented candles everywhere to create a calm, Zen-like atmosphere. ‘It’s supposed to be spa-ish,’ I say. ‘Go on, sniff.’

She smells the air. ‘I think my nose would work better if I had a glass of wine in my hand.’

I take the hint and head into the kitchen. ‘Wine … or Oscar’s mother’s champagne?’ I call through.

‘Oh, HRH’s champagne, please.’ Sarah comes into the kitchen and perches on one of the breakfast stools. Is it disloyal that I’ve grumbled to Sarah on numerous occasions about my mother-in-law-to-be? Everyone needs to unload to someone, don’t they, and Sarah is as good as a sister. Which reminds me … I spin round and pull a small, wrapped parcel from the cupboard.

‘I’m going to give you this now before we get too drunk and I forget, or before we get too drunk and I can’t do it because I’m crying big snotty tears.’

I uncage the champagne as she looks at the gift bag, her eyes narrowed.

‘What is it?’

‘You’ll have to open it to find out.’

She tugs the grey ribbons as I pop the cork on the bottle of Oscar’s mum’s expensive champagne. I wanted to give Sarah something really special, and after hours of fruitless internet searching I realized that I already owned the perfect thing.

‘I’m nervous in case I don’t like it,’ she says, making light. ‘You know I’m a terrible liar, you’ll know straight away.’

I push a glass towards her and lean against the breakfast bar, facing her. ‘I’m pretty confident.’

She has the threadbare velvet box in her palm as she reaches for the stem of her glass and takes a sip for courage. As she goes to open it, I reach out and lay my hand over hers.

‘Before you do, I want to say something.’ Shit. I didn’t need a drink to get over-emotional about this after all. Tears are already pricking my eyes.

‘Fucking hell,’ she says, drinking a good half of her wine and topping her glass up. ‘Don’t start already, you’re not getting married for two days. Pace yourself, woman.’

I laugh, pulling myself together. ‘Okay, I’ve got this.’ I drink a little more and then set my glass down.

‘It’s to say thank you,’ I say, looking at the box and then at Sarah. ‘Thank you for … I don’t know, Sar, everything. For letting me have the biggest bedroom in Delancey Street, and for always being next to me on Saturday nights out and groggy Sunday mornings, and for inventing our signature sandwich. I don’t know where I’d be without you.’

Now she’s choked up. ‘It’s a bloody good sandwich,’ she says, and then she opens the box. For a few seconds she’s uncharacteristically silent.

‘This is yours,’ she says quietly.

‘And now it’s yours,’ I say. I’ve had my wafer-thin purple agate pendant reset into rose gold and refashioned, now set on a slender bangle.

‘I can’t take it, Lu. It’s too precious.’

Right. ‘I’m going to cry when I say this and then we’re going to get drunk and laugh, okay?’

She bites the inside of her already shaky bottom lip.

‘I lost my sister a long time ago, Sar, and I miss her. Every single day, I miss her.’ I wasn’t exaggerating. Big fat tears roll down my face. I know Sarah understands, because she dotes on her own younger sister. ‘That stone reminds me of Ginny’s eyes, and how they were like looking into my own eyes, and my grandma’s eyes. It’s part of my family, and I’m giving it to you because you’re my family too. I think of you as my sister, Sarah. Please have it, and wear it, and keep it safe.’

‘Jesus bloody God,’ she says, coming round the breakfast bar and hugging me. ‘Shut up, will you! If that’s what it’ll take you to stop talking, then of course I’ll keep it.’

I squeeze her, half laughing, half crying.

‘I’ll wear it on Saturday,’ she says.