The TV weather woman is struggling to point to all the Met Office snow weather warnings on the map. This is not a great time to travel down to Brighton. I wish I hadn’t turned on the TV while I pack.
My phone bleeps. It’s Tom.‘I’m bulk buying us toilet roll, candles and tinned meat. One of the tabloids has renamed this snowstorm Snowmageddon. They are saying there’s going to be loo roll and food shortages plus blackouts.’
At the first sign of any national concern Tom goes into panic buying mode. He’s the ultimate panic shopper and I can picture him now in the supermarket with his trolley laden with loo roll and candles.
Sitting down on my bed I can’t help wondering whether travelling this afternoon to Brighton is a mistake. Heavy snow is due this evening and tomorrow. There’s a chance the trains could be stopped, and I could be trapped somewhere. I could miss Christmas altogether being trapped on a train between Leeds and Brighton. Maybe I should wait until the week between Christmas and New Year?
I check my phone for any other messages. Earlier I replied to Emily’s Facebook message. For ages after Beth left, I sat and stared at the message Emily had sent me. My fingers hovered over the reply button for so long they ached. I wanted to be sure how I felt towards her. Emily’s face from this time last year flashed up in my mind. She was sat on the sofa in her old flat, wearing a festive gold paper crown, casting me one of her beautiful smiles with her curvy pink lips. Her amber-coloured eyes were shining and the beautiful sight of her made me gooey inside. Eventually I replied.
Reaching into my pocket I take out the locket and open it up. Vivi’s smile finds me first. She’d want me to give her gift to Emily for Christmas. I can picture Emily’s face lighting up at the sight of the locket. It might even help to ease some of her suffering. I know Vivi’s death will have broken her. It had an impact on me and I was simply Vivi’s sister’s boyfriend. With the tip of my finger, I trace Emily’s photo. God, I miss her so much it hurts. No matter what I do; move miles away, go on disastrous dates with other women who either look like Emily or remind me of her, I always end up thinking about her. My mind goes back to the locket. I wish I hadn’t lost the locket’s box. Damn!
My phone bleeps. It’s a text from Anna’s mum, Denise Parker. My heart grinds to a halt. Has something happened to Anna? Her text reads:I know you and Anna are not on speaking terms, but I wanted to say I haven’t stopped thinking about Felix and I wanted you to know we all miss him. He brings back a lot of memories from years ago. It’s a shame to see Felix’s talent go to waste. There’s a festival competition in March. Do you think he would want to be a part of it?
With a heavy heart I close her text and push an army of thoughts to the back of my mind. Grabbing my rucksack, I stuff in a few T-shirts, a couple of pairs of boxer shorts, my spare toiletries bag, which has been packed for months in case Emily invites me back down to Brighton, my headphones, my laptop, and three pairs of jeans. I also rummage inside my underwear drawer for as many pairs of thick socks I can lay my hands on and my emergency credit card which is tucked right at the back. My fingers find the card, but they also touch a long, soft package. Yanking out the drawer fully I take out the paper package. Carefully I unwrap it and stare down at the gift. I was going to send it to him. I wrestle with the idea of taking it with me. Felix tearfully told me after Vivi’s funeral that he never wanted to think about his secret ever again, so I chose not to give him my gift. Wrapping up the package I place it on my bedside cabinet. I don’t want to make him upset.
With the locket safely in my shirt pocket I give myself two lucky squirts of deodorant and a splash of Paco Rabanne. Trying to run my hand through my dense mass of curls causes my fingers to get stuck in one of them. Rescuing my hand, I decide that getting a brush through my hair is going to be too painful, so I hide my hair inside a woollen hat. For a second, I pause and wonder whether I should tell Tom where I am going. He’ll only panic if I tell him. Best to let him think I am out Christmas shopping.
I have a love/hate relationship with the lift in this block of newly-built flats. When I moved to Brighton I lived in a flat where there was no lift. Walking up and down five flights of stairs day in, day out broke me both physically and mentally. So, when I moved in with Tom, I had a lot of love and appreciation for the lift. All I can say is that this lift has hated me from the first moment I set foot inside it. You would not believe how many times it has cruelly closed its doors seconds before I’ve raced towards it on a morning, or in the evening when I am knackered from work. I have been living here with Tom since the summer and I swear I have spent most of my time walking up and down hundreds of bloody stairs. Our lift is a metal arsehole and has spent six months inflicting pain on me.
On the rare occasions I have managed to catch it, the damn thing has broken down with me inside iteighttimes. The lift engineer and I are now on first name terms and have an amusing WhatsApp thread which basically consists of him sending me funny memes about people getting trapped in lifts.
Walking quickly towards the lift area I know exactly what the metal arsehole is going to do to me – make me walk down all those stairs. Right now, I need to be at the train station and not walking down all those steps cursing the hell out of a damn lift.
Its metal doors are wide open. You see this is what it does to me, lulls me into a false sense of security and then when I am a fingernail away from touching the button it shuts its doors and excitedly races back down the lift shaft like a mischievous kid.
‘It’s Christmas,’ I say, breaking into a jog to catch it, ‘give me a break you lump of metal junk.’
Slamming the button with one hand I stretch out my leg to stop the doors from closing. To my surprise they remain open and don’t try to trap my leg (which they have done before) in a vice-like grip. Throwing myself inside I jab the ground floor button. For a few frustrating seconds nothing happens. The thought of walking down all those stairs is nauseating. I prod the button some more. ‘Do me a favour and close your doors.’
Air gets trapped in my throat as the doors slide towards each other. With a happy ping it begins its descent.
‘What is going on? If this is my Christmas present, I am impressed, lift.’
When it finally reaches the ground floor and flings open its doors I walk out with a gaping mouth and a look of total disbelief. Maybe the lift is feeling festive? Even better – maybe Lady Luck is on my side today? If my plan is going to work, I bloody well need her.
Leeds station is a short walk from my city centre flat. This afternoon there’s a steady flow of travellers in and out of the station. As I get nearer, I have to dodge people clutching giant bags filled with toys, people struggling with suitcases almost as big as them, excited kids chasing each other out onto the snow coated pavements and tired-looking parents trying to place screaming tiny children into pushchairs and scrabbling around for waterproofs to fit over the baby buggy.
A Spanish-looking woman wrestling with a tall Christmas tree in the doorway to the station blocks my way. I hold open the door and help her drag it through. Out of the corner of my eye I spot two figures leaving the station, a woman with shoulder length auburn hair and a smaller boy with red hair. My heart goes berserk inside my rib cage. For a few seconds I stop helping with the oversized Christmas tree and watch the woman and boy wander off with their backs to me. They do look a lot like Emily and Felix. With a heave of the tree, I tell myself it can’t be them. The last place they’d be visiting is Leeds.
CHAPTER19
EMILY
Felix has fallen asleep against me. Baxter is curled up in my lap, Will is busy texting someone and I am alone with my thoughts. Felix is adamant he wants to go see Rory. The thought of knocking on Rory’s flat door fills me with unease. As much I want to see him, I don’t think I’m strong enough to see him half-dressed with Beth peering out behind him. I’ve tried explaining to Felix that seeing Beth will make me sad but he doesn’t seem to care. Being on this train feels surreal. I can’t believe Felix ran away in St Pancras station and ended up on a train leaving for Leeds. Stroking his mop of unruly hair, I press my cheek against his head. I don’t think I have fully recovered from the sheer panic of losing him.
‘Not long to go,’ says Will, making me turn to face him. ‘An hour from now and I’ll be seeing my boy.’
‘Do you find it hard being so far away?’
Will nods. ‘I miss him so much it hurts at times.’ He looks at Felix fast asleep nestled beside me. ‘That’s nice of you taking your nephew on a trip to Leeds. Are you giving your sister some time off?’
I swallow back at the lump which has risen at the back of my throat. ‘My sister died back in May.’
Will sits up and stares at me. His eyes widen dramatically. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s all right,’ I say, casting him a weak smile. ‘I’m Felix’s legal guardian now.’
His face softens. ‘How are you finding that?’
