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He winks. “Going to miss my bagels, you mean.”

When she steps back out into the cold, she texts Priya.

The bagel shop is closing down.

Oh no! Disaster! What are you going to do?

She leaves that one open. She doesn’t know what is going on with this pit in her stomach—it’s only bagels, for God’s sake.

How’s life down under? she types instead.

It’s amazing! Getting ready for Christmas on the beach. She follows that up with a photo of a beautiful beach, golden sands, and a sparkling blue sea, with what are definitely Priya’s toes in the photo.

Mel tries to ignore the surge of envy. When was the last time she had a holiday? Went to a beach? Looks brilliant! She types Sooo jealous, but then deletes it. She wants Priya to be enjoying this, without worrying about her. It’s an amazing thing to have done—quitting her job at a secondary school in London and heading out to teach in Australia for a year—especially given Priya had always convinced herself that that kind of adventure wasn’t “her.” Priya had needed a change, and she’d gone for it.

Mel has insisted, time and time again, how amazing it is, how brave Priya is, how she’ll definitely try to find time to come out and visit. But she misses her best friend. They haven’t shared a house in a couple of years, but they’ve always been in the same city, and things feel a little wrong, knowing Priya isn’t here anymore. Not that they’d seen each other more than once every couple of weeks, but at least they were in the same time zone. Without her, things feel off-kilter. It means that her business has become even more important—because, without work, Mel knows she’d find loneliness creeping in on her—something she’d rather not look at directly if she can help it.

Mel heads into her building, up the one flight of stairs to her flat. She can hear Christmas music playing in one of the downstairs flats—is sure it must be the same neighbor who has stuck bright Christmas lights in her window, though Mel doesn’t know her name. Doesn’t know any of her neighbors’ names, despite the fact she bought her flat a year ago—all thanks to her little company.

It’s cold inside, and Mel shivers, switching on the heating before heading to the kitchen, dumping her phone on the counter, and pouring herself a glass of red wine. It’s just a little one-bed, but she likes her flat—it’s sleek and modern, and she’s pretty sure having a breakfast bar is the height of sophistication. She slips out of her heels, realizing how much her feet are aching. At the same time, her phone starts vibrating on the counter.

Shit. Mum and Dad.

She switches on the living-room light, grabs the blanket her mum gave her as a moving-in present, and makes herself decidedly “comfortable-looking” on the sofa—and not like she is only just home from work eating a bagel for dinner—before answering the FaceTime call.

“Hello!” She beams at her parents on the screen. Their faces are pressed close together, her mum sporting a healthy tan, her dad’s plump face slightly sunburned. In the background, she can see the classic white walls of a nondescript hotel room.

“Hello, darling,” her mum says. Then she frowns. “Mel? Mel, are you there? You’ve frozen. Gavin, the Wi-Fi isn’t working again.” She moves the phone up in the air, so that they are now both looking into the camera at an odd angle. “Is that a bit better? I think it is.”

Mel resists the urge to point out that the angle of the phone will not change the dodginess of the Wi-Fi.

“How are you, Melly?” her dad asks. From here, she can see the bald patch on his once-dark head of hair is definitely far too red.

“Oh, I’m good, you know, the usual. But how are you? Tell me everything. Is it Zanzibar now?”

“It is,” her mum says. “It’s just after 10 p.m. here, and we’ve been settling in. We got here this morning, and I have to say I’m very much looking forward to going snorkeling tomorrow. They tried to convince us to try scuba diving when we booked, but we thought that’s a bit too much for us, didn’t we, Gavin?”

“Far too adventurous,” her dad agrees.

“That’s so cool! How long are you there for?”

“Just a couple of weeks—but we’ll be here over Christmas and New Year, which we’re both very excited about. I’m not sure what we’ll do over New Year, actually. I’ve heard there are a lot of parties, but I’m not sure which one to go for.”

“Well, make sure you do your research,” Mel says, thinking of the Full Moon parties some of her friends have been to when they went off traveling. Although, so far, she’s been impressed. Her mum and dad have thrown themselves into every new experience since leaving for their trip of a lifetime two months ago. Both now retired, they rented their house out for six months and set off jet-setting around the world—perhaps with slightly fewer hostels than the average backpacker. They had never traveled much farther than the British Isles while Mel was growing up, and though they were far from deprived, Mel knew it was because her parents had never been able to afford the holidays some of her friends went on. It made her so happy that they’d been able to save some money, enjoy it in their retirement.

Now that you’re sorted, her mum had said, we thought now is the time, while we’re both still young enough.

Sorted. Mel knows her mum had been referring to her business, but she’d had to fight the urge to laugh bitterly at the word. Because she doesn’t feel “sorted,” despite appearances—not in the slightest.

“But this reminds me,” her mum says, “what are you doing for Christmas, darling? And New Year? Because your dad and I were thinking—why don’t you come out and join us? I’m sure we can find you a last-minute room here. Everyone seems very friendly, don’t they, Gavin?”

“Lovely chaps,” her dad agrees.

“Oh, that would be so nice,” Mel says—thinking of white beaches and snorkeling and the sun. And then thinking of Lillian Hart. “But I really can’t. I’ve got way too much work to do. I can’t take the time off. I’m so sorry.” And while she can, technically, work from anywhere, Zanzibar feels a bit risky, what with unreliable Wi-Fi and time differences and no doubt her dad’s pressure to take time off.

“But what will you do? All by yourself in your flat? Won’t you be a bit lonely?” Mel hears the undertone in her mum’s voice. The skirting around the thing they never talk about, because of the way Mel used to burst into tears whenever it was mentioned. The reason she will be lonely this year.

“Priya’s coming home.” The lie comes a bit too easily—but she doesn’t want her mum to worry, and she doesn’t want to think about Christmas alone in her flat, macaroni and cheese ready–meal for one. “I’m going to spend Christmas with her.”