Page 67 of Last Christmas in London

I had lied to Simon about having an early morning: in fact, it was the opposite. Pim had gone out to a Christmas party with an old friend, so it was best not to let her surface until well after noon to give her a chance to sleep off the after-effects of the champagne.

I had a different plan for this morning.

After my shower, I pulled on my jeans and a sparkly green jumper and I got on the Tube with one thing in mind: Josh.

I took the Tube across the city, gripping the cold metal pole in the carriage with gloved hands, my mind racing with all the things I wanted to say.

By the time I reached Josh’s building, I was shivering with nervous energy. I banged on his door and pressed the buzzer repeatedly, determined to get an answer. It took a few seconds before the intercom crackled to life.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he shouted, groggy and irritated.

‘Open the door, Josh,’ I said into the intercom, my voice steady but firm.

There was a beat of silence. Then, ‘Evie?’ His tone was suddenly higher, confused.

The buzzer sounded, granting me entry.

He was waiting at his door like the Ghost of Christmas Regret, in a pair of fluffy white pyjama bottoms and a Christmas T-shirt with a gingerbread man and the words ‘Let’s Get Baked’ stretched across his chest.

‘We need to talk,’ I said, brushing past him before he could form an excuse.

‘It’s not even seven,’ he moaned, shutting the door behind me.

‘You’ve disturbed my sleep for days by pissing me off, so I thought I would return the favour and disturb yours,’ I snapped, throwing my bag on the sofa and going to his kitchen to turn on the kettle. ‘I’ve had enough of the silent treatment. You and I are going to talk.’

He groaned and fell flat on his face atop his sofa. He clearly wasn’t that annoyed with me or he’d have launched into a tirade of cutting wit.

‘Kettle’s on.’ I returned, sinking into the blanket-covered armchair. ‘So can we talk?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ His voice was muffled by the sofa cushion.

‘Nope. It’s been a week, Josh,’ I said. ‘Why the hell haven’t you messaged me back?’

He might’ve shrugged, but with the way his body was curled into the sofa, it was hard to tell.

‘I didn’t want to,’ he said finally.

‘Why? Because I so greatly wronged you? What did I even do?’

Another shrug. This time more obvious, as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

‘You just automatically took Megan’s side.’

I blinked. ‘What?’

‘And then she threw a drink on me and you just let her chuck me out.’

I chewed my lip for a moment before finding my resilience again. ‘We were there to help her, Josh. And as much as you’re my best friend, she’s my sister. She needed me. If the roles were reversed and we were there for you, I would have stayed with you too.’

‘Wow! What a comfort.’ His voice was laced with sarcasm as he rubbed his eyes, which I now noticed were red-rimmed. His face was blotchy and he had the general air of someone who hadn’t slept properly in days.

I decided to take a different tack.

I shoved his legs out of the way and hugged one of his many cushions to my chest to match his petulant energy.

‘If it helps, she’s ignoring me as well.’

‘It doesn’t. I’m not trying to screw up your relationship with Megan. I was just pissed in the moment. And pissed in general. I really shouldn’t have opened that second bottle of wine.’