Page 7 of The Cotswolds Christmas Fair

‘Wow,’ Rich said. ‘We make one gingerbread house with the kids every year, and that’s quite enough.’

Lou was nodding. ‘It sounds amazing.’

It sounded over the top to Jen, but she stopped herself from saying so.

As they settled at the table, Ted waved at a smiling woman with dark hair who stood behind the counter. ‘Yeah, I think it was. I wasn’t working here then but the kids at school are all talking about it and wondering whether they’ll get to do it again.’

The woman came over with menus, laughing as she overheard their conversation. ‘Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?’ she said. This must be Marnie, the café owner. Her dark eyes danced and Jen was pretty sure there would be another gingerbread village in the window before Christmas came. She wondered briefly whether her niece and nephew had decorated a house to put in there, and whether they’d do it again. She wouldn’t be here to find out.

Marnie gazed at them warmly. ‘Are these the friends you were telling me about?’ she asked Ted.

He nodded and introduced them. She greeted them all and pointed out the board games, stacked neatly on some wooden shelves in the corner. Ted warned them not to fill up too much on food, he was cooking a cottage pie for them all later, but everything looked and smelled so delicious, it was impossible to resist.

The table was soon full, drinks and treats squeezed onto the red gingham cloth wherever there was a space around the game of 7 Wonders they had spread over the table. There were mince pies, salted caramel cupcakes and peppermint candy cane bites, pots of tea, Jen’s coffee and a delicious-smelling chilli hot chocolate that Ted ordered.

He looked smug as they all gasped at the sight of the creamy drink and eyed him with more than a little envy. He shrugged, grinning. ‘Marnie’s speciality. There’s a whole menu of hot chocolates, you all could have ordered one.’

‘Definitely having one of those next time,’ Lou said.

Ted took a sip, smacking his lips and sitting back in his seat. ‘Mug-nificient.’

Despite herself, Jen laughed, almost spitting a piece of the chocolate snowflake biscuit she’d just taken a bite of onto the table. The warm, soft biscuit and crisp icing decoration was heavenly. Her Christmas aversion aside, she wasn’t going to deny herself a delicious treat just because it was shaped like a snowflake.

This wasn’t what she’d imagined for her birthday celebration. But, as they played the game, laughing and teasing each other, she looked around at these friends she’d known so long, who were all instantly relaxed in each other’s company, as though they’d time travelled right back to their college days. She was lucky to have them, and it didn’t matter where they were or how they were celebrating; they were together, and that was the important thing.

The cute café with its festive bunting and vases of flowers on the tables, the atmosphere buzzing quietly as the customers laughed and chatted as they ate, wasn’t her usual Friday night venue. But it would have to do for tonight.

Jen always lost these games when they played. She lacked the killer instinct, unable to plan or muster up any great desire to win. The others all took it far more seriously, but even they seemed somewhat distracted today, focused as much on catching up with news as on the game.

Jen listened as they talked about their lives – kids, partners, schools. Subjects she had nothing to contribute to.

Rich was head of key stage two, his wife a pharmacist, and their lives were a constant juggle of work, childcare and family time. He was filled with enthusiasm as he spoke about the challenges of his job and the joys of family life, reaching for his phone to show them photos of the family smiling as they walked in forests and paddled in seas and ate picnics. Four freckled, grinning faces.

Lou and her husband shared childcare and both worked part-time, she as the Reception teacher and he as the Year Three teacher, in the same school. And Ted, now the deputy head of Babblebrook Primary, responsible for the well-being of all those children, and settled into a steady relationship with his girlfriend, Sarah.

They all looked so happy, so confident. So grown-up. Jen thought back to the crazy nights of their college years, carefree days and good times. Some of the best of her life.

And some of the worst. But she never dwelled on that.

She listened to the conversations and didn’t join in. She had no exciting new job to tell them about, in fact she had no steady job at all. Her first teaching role had ended in disaster, and she’d never been able to face it again, taking temporary job after temporary job – bar work, waitressing, cleaning, seasonal retail jobs. A list of workplaces. Not a career.

And that was how she liked it. Losing a job was no problem, you could always just get another. Losing a career, well, that was a blow she refused to risk again.

Lou’s face softened as she showed them more pictures on her phone: the twins eating, mashed-up broccoli smeared over their gummy grinning faces; the twins sitting in a sandpit on a lawn; the twins in matching pyjamas, flushed and sleepy. The latest one, the twins in front of a Christmas tree that was decorated with toilet-roll snowmen and glitter-covered cardboard angels.

Something in Jen’s stomach twisted, and she pushed away memories of a tree with similar home-made decorations, and a little face, wreathed in smiles, blue eyes gazing up at her.

Jen swallowed. She loved her life; she was carefree, she had no ties, no one to hurt her. She could jet off somewhere warm with no notice – quite often did for Christmas. She could eat what she wanted and go where she wanted and see who she wanted. And she loved that.

‘You’ll never guess what happened at work the other week,’ she said.

They looked at her expectantly, the game momentarily forgotten.

Jen glanced around at them, taking a sip of her cappuccino before launching into the story; she was confident this would entertain. She’d been dining out on it for weeks now.

‘This woman came into the pub and she had her support animal with her, popped it right there on the bar, right in among the dirty glasses and bowls of peanuts.’

They were all listening, waiting for the next detail. She glanced around triumphantly. ‘And it was a guinea pig! Can you imagine?’