Page 35 of Never Gonna Happen

‘What happened?’ Jamie asked.

Emily shrugged. ‘The usual. Her dad left when she was little, Kel and her brother got passed around a lot. No money, not much love either. She spent a lot of time at our house when we were kids. Left school at sixteen and trained as a hairdresser. Her mum’s remarried and in a much better place, so she helps out with Beth when she can.’

‘Is Beth’s dad still around?’

Emily shook her head. ‘He did a runner when Beth was a blue line on a pregnancy test. No great loss.’

‘Wow, that’s tough.’

‘She works hard and she’s a great mum. The caravan isn’t much but it’s hers, and it’s a nice little community down there. She looks after her money and doesn’t owe anybody anything, there are plenty worse off. I just wish she had a bit more time for herself, a chance to meet someone amazing.’

Jamie nodded but didn’t say anything.

‘Are you up for some carols?’ she asked, keen to lighten the mood.

Jamie looked at her and nodded. ‘I’m ready to ding dong merrily on high.’

‘Talking of ding dongs, the traditional Christmas Eve Indian versus Chinese debate can get quite heated. You might want to think about which team you’re on.’

‘What’s going to earn me the most brownie points?’

Emily thought about it for a second. ‘Dad, Jo, Billy and I will choose Indian. Mum, David and Charlie love a Chinese. So you can either score me a chicken pasanda or send it to deadlock.’

‘Oh God, this is too much responsibility.’

‘Which one do you actually like best?’

‘I’ve grown up in a house with a half-Indian/half-Chinese chef. It’s an impossible choice.’

Emily laughed. ‘Aww, you poor baby.’

On the walk back from the church carol service, Jamie took Emily’s hand and didn’t let go. It gave Emily that feeling again, a mix of nerves and a radiating warmth in the pit of her stomach that she didn’t want to end.

‘I’m not sure you should do that,’ she said, looking straight ahead.

‘I thought we were pretending to be a couple. This felt like a couply thing.’

She stopped and looked at him, gently pulling her hand away. His face was pink from the cold and his pupils were still dilated from an afternoon in the pub and mulled wine in the church hall. He really was unfeasibly handsome.

‘I’m really glad you’re here, Jamie. But I haven’t changed my mind.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘This isn’t a big Christmas seduction thing, that wouldn’t be fair. It just feels like a nice thing to do.’

‘OK,’ she said with a shy smile. ‘Then I’ll allow it.’

He smiled and carried on walking, taking her hand again and keeping hold of it all the way home.

The dinner decision was ten minutes of intense drama, where everybody argued good-naturedly and tried to change everybody else’s mind, knowing that they would all pick the same thing they always did but enjoying the fun anyway. Jamie added a new dimension to the battle, and various stories were told of poor kitchen hygiene and a dead wasp in the chow mein to attempt to sway his decision. In the end he went for Chinese, letting the chocolate coin flip decide. Indian won, so Emily was happy.

Everyone pored over the menu, then Emily used the phone in the kitchen to order everything, since her parents refused to pay for Deliveroo when the Taj Mahal was a five-minute walk away and you could just pick it up. Emily and Jamie walked up to the restaurant together, Emily’s pocket stuffed with £100 in cash that her mother had saved for the occasion.

‘I’d like to pay,’ said Jamie, getting out his card as the owner, Amrit, gave them the final bill. Amrit and Emily had been in the same class at school, and his family had run this restaurant for the best part of fifty years.

‘Mum and Dad always pay,’ said Emily. ‘It’s a family tradition.’

‘Still, I’d like to pay,’ said Jamie stubbornly. ‘As a way of saying thank you. I won’t say anything, you can just give them the cash back after I’ve gone.’

Amrit looked at Jamie, then at Emily. He raised his eyebrows in question, and she nodded. He took Jamie’s card and processed the payment, then handed over two huge carrier bags of food. ‘Free poppadoms and naans,’ he said. ‘It’s Christmas.’