Page 18 of Last Christmas in London

‘I just had dinner with them.’

‘Well, they said that you were more than welcome to join them this Christmas if you find yourself…’ I trailed off, but I didn’t need to finish the sentence. She’d caught the drift.

Her neck stiffened and she flinched. ‘Well, you and I will make do with the Savoy then. Maybe Gordon will cook it.’

‘Gordon’s with his family,’ I blinked. ‘And… and…’

‘And what? Spit it out!’ she said, as she picked up her phone again.

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m planning on spending Christmas with my friends this year.’

Technically, Christmas was a mandated bank holiday, but I’d never taken it off before. There was always the stress of flights, baggage reclaim, the impersonal rush of travel. But this year? I was finally home. I could hop on a train with Megan and head down to Kent to Denise and Bob’s, no hassle, no flight, just… home.

Pim didn’t say anything at first, the only sound between us was the tap of her fingers on her phone screen. We passed the familiar shops of Chinatown, the vibrant signs blurring in my peripheral vision.

‘I’ll be an orphan on my own this year,’ she said finally, her face unreadable.

The guilt landed instantly. Part of me hated how quickly it came, how easily my excitement shifted into something that felt selfish. Immediately I felt myself opening my mouth to say that I could maybe spend the morning with her first… but, before it came out, she added, ‘You can accept the Foxes’ invitation on my behalf, but only for the evening. I quite like the sound of the Savoy lunch. And I’ll need to buy them gifts.’

I nodded, mentally adding it to the ever-growing list. ‘Of course.’

I felt my excitement rise again; she hadn’t even tried to get me to cancel my plans.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the car slowing as we neared our destination. I began to say, ‘You’d be more than welcome to…’ But Pim had already opened the door, the car barely stopped outside the restaurant.

‘Finally, we’re here,’ she said, a smile developing on her face like two strings were being pulled at the ends of her lips. ‘How lovely!’

Chapter 6

Ihad never walked down Carnaby Street before – at least, not at Christmas. Given how busy it was when Megan and I turned down it to admire the lights, I doubted I ever would walk down it – or squeeze down it – again.

‘I didn’t expect it to be so busy,’ Megan shouted over the droning voices of tourists, spectators, and shop workers.

‘The lights are pretty, though,’ I remarked, looking up at the striking neon signs and Christmas fairy lights dangling across the street. The theme was ‘Iconic’, with lights in the shapes of iconic phrases ‘Here’s looking at you, kid’ and ‘Is it still raining? I hadn’t noticed’, alongside depictions of notable pop culture like Geri Halliwell’s Union Jack dress and Freddie Mercury’s white-and-yellow suit.

Megan had arrived straight from work, looking sharp in a tailored coat and immaculate heels. I, meanwhile, was my usual colourful self in a red dress, blue tights, and a hat with an oversized bobble that jingled when I moved.

‘I won’t lose you in this crowd,’ she told me, eyeing my outfit with amusement when we met at the top of the street.

‘Look!’ I dodged a passing tourist wielding a vape like a weapon, invading my personal space. ‘I see an opening!’ There was a vacant alcove by one of the only stores closed in the street.

Megan made a beeline for it, somehow finding me in the throng of bodies and pulling me with her.

‘Jeez!’ she said, exhaling dramatically. ‘Finally enough room to breathe. Whose idea was this again?’

‘Yours,’ I reminded her. ‘But look at it, it was worth the chaos, right?’ It was a visual influencer’s dream: every corner was a burst of colour and nostalgia. It was perfect TikTok fodder for my channel, and I took my chance to quickly snap a few stylised shots from above various shoppers’ heads and around Megan’s tiny waist.

‘Be sure you get my good side.’ She struck a pose and pointed to the ‘What a sad little life, Jane’ sign above our heads, but the shot was ruined by my hands shaking so much from laughing.

‘This is brilliant.’

‘Well, you’re easily pleased.’ Megan relaxed her pose and leaned against the door frame, first checking to make sure there was no gum or lingering hazards that could jeopardise her Chanel coat. ‘And energetic. My feet are killing me.’

Nothing could quell my energy. ‘It’s Christmas!’

‘How many coffees have you had today?’

‘Too many,’ I admitted. It had been another long day of Pim rehearsals and put-downs, with the occasional light-hearted thanks and the odd joke from a lighting technician or the director to get me through.