Page 25 of The Christmas Letter

‘You only get champagne? I get champagne and flowers and those little truffle things – I’d say you need to up your game.’

Ed smirked. ‘Flowers, hey?’

‘Peonies. They’re my favourite – surprised you didn’t know that, what with all your attention to detail.’ Peonies were not, in fact, his favourite flower: that would be a ghost orchid, one of the UK’s rarest plants, which, unlike most, didn’t use sunlight to produce food but relied on a special kind of fungi. Which, you had to admit, was pretty damned cool. A rebel plant. Not that he’d spout that kind of thing out loud: not only would Ed scoff at him, albeit fondly, for such knowledge, but it always gave him a pang of regret, thinking about his childhood dream of finding a way to work outside – something he’d given up on when he’d moved to London straight out of university.

Jack turned to get his winter coat off the hook by the window. He deliberately kept his desk facing away from the window – mainly because facing the door meant he could see who was approaching and wouldn’t be caught off-guard, but also because there was something a little depressing about the City of London. Though some of the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf were, he supposed, majestic in their own right, looking out at all the concrete and glass, with no sign of any green, made him feel a little trapped, like he couldn’t breathe quite easily enough.

‘Shall we grab something from the canteen?’ Jack asked, turning back to Ed, who held the glass door open.

‘Nah, I’m sick of it there. Let’s go to Caravan.’ It was one of the cooler eateries in the area – complete with a terrace that was always crowded in summer. Jack stole a quick glance out the window. He doubted they’d have that problem today, given the grey sky, the way it made you feel cold just by looking at it.

‘Reckon I could get away with a beer before my client meeting this afternoon?’ Ed asked, as the two of them headed through the office and towards the lift. They were up on the sixth floor, and though Jack routinely told himself he’d start taking the stairs, it was a habit he hadn’t managed to properly get into.

‘Ah, no.’

Ed wrinkled his nose. ‘You’re the wrong person to ask, aren’t you?’

Jack offered a sort of helpless shrug. ‘Sorry.’

Ed pressed the button for the ground floor. He gave Jack a look out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Jack knew that look, the not-so-subtle assessment. ‘Heard you were in the office late last night,’ Ed said. His voice was casual, but Jack wasn’t fooled.

He shrugged. ‘Par for the course here.’

Ed hesitated. ‘Have you talked to Vanessa recently?’

Jack rubbed a hand across his face, the tiredness that seemed like a constant companion these days flooding through his body. ‘No. She’s called a few times but I just don’t have the energy.’ He could feel Ed’s eyes on him as the lift arrived and they both stepped in. He sighed. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Ed said, a little too quickly. ‘I just wondered, maybe if you talked to her, you’d get some—’

‘Ed,’ Jack said, his voice a warning.

‘Right. Right, sorry, not my business.’

‘No, sorry, it’s not that.’ And really, he appreciated having a friend who looked out for him. Given the long work hours and what had happened with Vanessa, he’d let some of his friendships slide – and it wasn’t like his family was nearby. Wasn’t like he talked to them all that much, anyway. So he was grateful that Ed was looking out for him, even if he’d rather not talk about what a fuck-up his life was right now.

‘So,’ Ed said, his voice becoming brighter, obviously trying to lighten the mood, ‘you’re back on the twenty-third, right?’

Jack looked at him blankly.

‘From Scotland?’

‘Ah right. Yeah, the twenty-third.’ He frowned. ‘That would make it the fourteenth today, is that right?’

‘Yeah. Quick maths. Why? What’s important about the fourteenth?’

‘Nothing. My mum’s birthday’s soon, that’s all.’ He ought to send flowers. A card and flowers. Jesus, when did he last call her? Christmas, probably. He’d chosen to spend Christmas alone this year – the first one in nearly five years now – rather than opting to be with his mum and her family. It had never felt right, ever since she’d got remarried after he’d left for university. Derek seemed like a nice enough guy, and Jack was glad his mum had eventually found something after the awfulness of what had happened to his dad – but it still just felt . . . odd, at these kind of traditional family get-togethers. He had two half-siblings too, though they always treated him with a faint air of curiosity and suspicion, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with him or whether to trust him. Though maybe that was just because they were teenagers.

‘Hello? Earth to Jack?’

Jack blinked at Ed, who was now getting out the lift. ‘Huh?’

Ed shook his head. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you think I’m boring, mate.’

‘Sorry,’ Jack said as he followed Ed onto the ground floor.

‘I was just asking when you’re next going to see your mum. Maybe I can come, convince her to leave her husband for me.’ He put a hand over his heart and Jack snorted quietly. His mum had come to visit him in London around a year ago, braving the city even though she hated it. He’d had to work some of the time, meaning she’d come to the office and met Ed, who had then decided she was the best thing since sliced bread.

The two of them used their office key cards to swipe through the electric glass barriers and into the main reception area, which was much classier than the office at large. There were armchairs dotted around, seemingly haphazardly, though Jack knew for a fact that they’d had an interior designer in to position them all just so, along with the occasional beanbag. Seriously, who the hell wanted to wait for a meeting on a beanbag, for Christ’s sake? They were trying way too hard to be cool, in his opinion.