Page 21 of Always, in December

He leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers gently, offering up the mere whisper of a kiss. It was enough to make the nerves along her forearms prickle. He pulled away, only to rest his forehead against hers for a moment. He sighed softly. ‘Goodnight, Josie.’

Chapter Seven

Josie’s phone buzzed and she reached across her dressing table to grab it, sucking in a sharp breath as she accidentally brushed the corner of her ear with her hair straightener. She set the straightener down carefully on the heat mat as she read the WhatsApp from Laura.

What are you wearing??

Josie glanced in the mirror briefly before replying. She’d spent longer than usual on her makeup, using her special Charlotte Tilbury eye palette, a present from Helen, and following the tutorial only to create the ‘Sophisticate’ look, but she still thought she looked plain and boring. It was stupid to think it mattered, she knew that. It wouldn’t make her any less redundant or Oliver any less of a cheater. But still.

My blue dress, she typed back – the blue dress she always fell back on, skater style. She’d decided to play it safe on that front. At least she knew she looked nice in that. Are you not already ready?

Course, came back the reply. John and I are getting a drink just across the road so we’re there on time. Josie snorted. Laura had literally never been late to anything as long as she’d known her. Just checking you’re actually still coming.

As if I’d bail on the free Prosecco.

Laura sent her back a line of strong arm emojis.

Josie went back to straightening her fringe, her stomach twisting and churning as she thought about braving the event. The toast she’d just had to line her stomach now felt like a bad idea. Because on top of the Oliver and Janice issues, she didn’t actually know if Max would show. She’d told him to meet her here at five originally, but that was before he’d got all weird with her, and they hadn’t exchanged numbers, so she didn’t even have the option of sending him an ever-so-breezy text message.

She jerked the straighteners again when her phone started flashing so that she hit her scalp. She winced as the heat seared it. For God’s sake, Josie, get a grip.

‘Hi, Memo,’ she answered, deciding to quit while she was ahead and switch the straighteners off.

‘You’re not on FaceTime!’ Memo said, her voice ever so slightly accusing. ‘Didn’t we say five p.m. today, before you left for your party?’

Josie hit her head with one hand. ‘God, sorry. We did, I just completely spaced.’ That, or she’d been distracted by the thought of whether or not Max would show up this evening. ‘Hang on, I’ll switch now.’ She faffed around with her laptop and, when Memo answered the FaceTime call, Josie saw both her grandad and Helen squeezed in on each side of Memo on the red sofa, peering into the screen. Helen and Memo looked all glammed up with what Josie thought must be identical red lipstick, both with sparkling studs in their ears. Her grandad’s one nod to the occasion was a smart tweed jacket – the one jacket he wore for everything from dinner at a friend’s to weddings and garden parties.

‘Happy Christmas Eve!’ they chanted together, like they’d actually practised it, and Josie laughed.

‘Don’t you look beautiful?’ Memo said, smiling broadly at Josie. ‘All ready for your party?’

‘Just about,’ Josie said, trying hard to sound breezy.

‘Why do you look worried?’ Memo asked, her gaze fluttering across Josie’s face. So much for the breezy, then.

‘I’m not worried,’ Josie said evenly.

‘You look worried. Doesn’t she look worried, John?’

Her grandad peered into the screen, making Josie feel hot around the collar of her dress. ‘I’m fine, Memo,’ Josie insisted.

Memo shook her head. ‘You’re too pale.’

‘Well, I’ll put on some more bronzer, then.’

She huffed out a breath. ‘You’re always looking pale these days. I don’t think you get enough sleep.’

‘Leave the girl in peace, Cecelia,’ her grandad said gruffly. ‘She’s got a lot on her plate, that’s all.’

Memo scrutinised Josie for a second more, then smiled, conceding the point, thankfully. ‘Well, we’re all very jealous here about your party, aren’t we?’ She looked from Josie’s grandad to Helen and back again. Her grandad agreed with a grunt – though Josie knew he’d like nothing less than to be in London going to a party – and Helen nodded vigorously, taking a sip of something that looked like sherry.

‘Very jealous,’ Helen repeated, leaning across Memo to give Josie an appraising look. ‘You’ve straightened your hair, have you? You should put some hair spray in it, darling, it looks a little flat.’

‘Oh shh,’ Memo pushed Helen away with her spindly fingers. ‘Ignore her, Josie love, you look stunning.’ Just too pale, Josie nearly said, but stopped herself. ‘Oliver will be so sorry he ever even looked at another girl when he sees you.’

Josie knew this was supposed to make her feel better, but all it did was tighten the knot of anxiety in her stomach. She tapped her nails against the dresser next to her laptop. She should have painted them, she realised now.

Helen pushed her way back onto the screen. ‘Oh there’s no point crying over that now, Josie. Move on to bigger and better, that’s what I say. Though he is a very nice young man, and maybe if you—’