Page 5 of Last Christmas in London

‘I love you guys.’

‘And we love you.’ Megan winked. ‘Now hurry up and finish those drinks so I can take us somewhere modern.’

‘Ooh, Heaven?’ Josh suggested hopefully.

‘No.’ Megan shot back instantly.

‘You’re no fun,’ he replied, tossing back his drink.

‘Don’t forget, I’ve got to get Pim to her tech rehearsal at the Southbank Centre by ten tomorrow.’ The other reason Pim was back in town with me in tow was for her to do a one-night-only event to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of her iconic performance in Wuthering Heights. A show that both of us had been surprised to find had been in demand – especially as it was taking place on Christmas Eve. Turns out the LGBT+ community still loved her, years after her decline in the eyes of the mainstream, and if it was a choice between watching Meet Me in St Louis (for the hundredth time) or hearing Pim Hardcastle speak at the Southbank, they’d choose the latter.

‘Oh, pish! Stop worrying about work,’ Megan said, slipping off her stool and pulling her Burberry coat around her shoulders.

‘Says the consultant who’s always on the clock.’

Megan smiled, adjusting her wedding ring absent-mindedly before quipping, ‘I own my business, which means I also own my clock.’ And striding out of the pub as quickly as possible.

Josh stared after her, eyes squinting as if deep in thought. ‘If she owns the clock but takes a work call while she’s with us, does that mean she doesn’t want to be with us in that moment?’

‘Yes, Josh,’ I laughed. ‘I think it does.’

‘How rude!’ he gasped, clutching his imaginary pearls. ‘I love it.’

Chapter 2

‘Megan! Don’t leave us!’ Josh implored childishly, as we tried to peel his grip from around Megan’s arm.

‘Act your age.’ Megan went straight into mum mode. ‘You’re not that drunk.’

‘No,’ Josh sighed, releasing her as he burped and rubbed his belly. ‘That McDonald’s hit the spot.’

‘Classy.’

I laughed. ‘I’ll look after him.’

‘Excuse me.’ Josh turned to me. ‘I’m the senior party here.’

‘By three months,’ I reminded him as Megan kissed me on the cheek. ‘Get home safe, and text us when you’re in.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ she replied playfully, though I knew she quite enjoyed being mothered for once rather than the other way round.

‘Send my love to Alex.’

She nodded curtly. ‘Don’t give her alcohol poisoning, Josh.’

Josh rolled his eyes and began walking away backwards. ‘It’s mulled wine, hardly neat whisky.’

‘Are you sure you can’t come?’ I asked quietly one last time.

Megan nodded. ‘Sorry, hon. Alex has been home with Alfie all week. I need to give him a break.’ What about her break? Josh had told me this was the first time he’d seen Megan since October; it was hardly like she was painting the town red every evening. ‘I’ll miss my train. Go, have fun.’ She blew me a kiss again and walked away.

‘Come on, come on!’ Josh acted like a petulant child at Disneyland when he was drunk, even mildly so.

‘I’m coming!’

The Covent Garden piazza was packed; though it was early December, it was heaving with frustrated-looking shoppers and wide-eyed tourists. The massive red Christmas tree sparkled in the open-air marketplace, looking much more festive than the barely decorated fir tree in Trafalgar Square, near my hotel. Inside the covered market, giant glitter balls and mistletoe hung from the ceiling, casting rainbows across the crowds. Stalls selling festive trinkets and tourist incentive gifts lined the market, while seasonal displays promoted a selection of West End musicals and children’s pantomimes.

The air buzzed with the hum of conversation, broken only by occasional sleigh-bell sound effects and endless renditions of ‘Let It Snow’ over the ancient sound system.