Page 4 of Last Christmas in London

Josh made an ooh sound as Megan’s eyes twinkled with delight – that was her request. ‘Go to a Christmas carol concert. Watch the New Year’s Eve Fireworks,’ she rattled off, and I recognised more of my suggestions – all the things I had never done with friends or family and had avoided when living solo abroad. It was hard to find a Christmas market in December in Capri or Cape Town.

‘Have a Christmas movie marathon,’ Megan continued.

‘Of course!’ Josh was a big fan; he began reciting his top choices on his hands.

‘Eat dinner in an igloo.’

‘Is that a thing?’ I asked.

‘It’s a must these days.’ Another one of Josh’s choices.

‘Go ice skating,’ Megan read on.

‘Aww, definitely.’ I had always wanted to recreate the ice-skating scene in Serendipity. ‘I can’t believe you wrote all this down.’ I hugged Josh’s arm tightly, feeling the warmth churning in my stomach.

‘It’s so romantic.’ He squeezed my arm back. ‘Ooh questions!’ Megan paused, rolling her eyes at Josh’s dramatic lightbulb moment. ‘Could we add a Christmas romance?’

I laughed so hard I might have burst my lung. ‘Who for? You – yes.’

‘No! You—’ He pushed me. ‘Please, let’s make this Christmas a Hallmark experience.’

‘I don’t think that is how that happens?’

Megan had frozen and I could see her contemplating whether to write it down or not.

‘Don’t even.’ I raised a finger in warning, and she resisted the temptation.

‘Maybe we need to visit a Christmas Tree Farm or find a run-down country pub,’ Josh continued, enjoying plotting my make-believe romance.

‘Darling, no.’ I gently grabbed his chin and began shaking his head for him.

‘Where would we find a Christmas Tree Farm in Britain?’ Megan added as if this solved the suggestion, and not my glaringly dry dating life. It had been a while since I had even opened a dating app. I was pretty sure the ones I used to use had gone out of business or were just full of incels by now. Leslie Jones was right, we just need one dating app called What’s Left and be done with it.

Dating, for me, was more of a diversion than a pursuit for anything lasting. A way to pass time in strange cities or to find some semblance of company in the loneliness of hotel rooms. Half the time the guys I dated wanted to move swiftly on to sex or commitment, and those were two things I had little to no interest in.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever be interested, at least not in the way most people were. I’d realised in my early twenties that I wasn’t wired for relationships the same way others were. It wasn’t something I needed to feel complete, not like Megan, who fell head over heels for Alex – her first boyfriend, now husband – and seemed to decide on day one that he was the one.

Maybe one day I’d feel something similar; I always thought it would happen after a friendship developed or possibly if lightning struck. It was something that I had started to think about more as I approached my thirtieth birthday, the stupid biological clock I had done a good job ignoring so far was ticking louder. More and more I started reacting like Captain Hook hearing the crocodile every time I got my period and realised I was edging closer to having less of them ahead of me than the ones behind. I wasn’t suddenly desiring to become a mother but I did wonder, if I didn’t start dating properly soon, would I miss the boat to settle down in time to become one, should I so choose?

I knew from watching Denise and Bob growing up what a real happy marriage and relationship looked like. But for years my life hadn’t seemed to be missing anything I couldn’t live without, and staying unattached had felt simpler than wanting more than I was ready to give. Now I was back in the UK, though, surrounded by loved ones who were all loved up, I did wonder if maybe there was a feeling of loneliness inside me that I was plugging with work. But I didn’t need the added pressure from Josh and Megan to do what I was already doing, and I didn’t want to have to explain myself when for so many years I had played the ‘happy singleton’, authentically I might add. My priorities were shifting, I recognised that, but I wasn’t entirely comfortable with admitting it out loud.

Trying to sound less defensive and move the topic on to something I did feel comfortable discussing five drinks deep, I smiled. ‘Okay, anything else doable on this list?’

Megan cleared her throat, reviewing the list and smiling with sudden glee that unnerved me. ‘Drum roll, please.’ Josh and I dutifully rattled our hands across the sticky table. ‘You must take part in the Great Christmas Pudding Race.’

‘Oh, no!’ A grin spread across my face, betraying my eagerness.

‘Oh, yes!’ Josh and Megan shouted in pantomime-like unison.

The Pudding Race had been on my bucket list since university: a ridiculous relay race in Covent Garden, where people in often hilarious Christmas costumes raced while carrying Christmas puddings to raise money for charity. Disorganisation and a particularly virulent year of norovirus during our final year of university had thwarted our attempts to join before, but this year it would finally happen.

‘I’ve already roped Alex in to be our fourth,’ Megan said, passing the Filofax back to Josh. There was the smallest flicker of hesitation in her voice when she said her husband’s name, though she quickly covered it by busying herself with her coat. I squinted at her, but she avoided my eye.

‘And I’ve booked our slot. I had a feeling you’d be back for Christmas this year,’ Josh added excitedly.

‘You did not!’ I nudged him with my shoulder. ‘You just booked in blind hope.’

‘And my Christmas wish came true,’ he said, fluttering his eyelashes. I slung an arm around him.