Page 5 of It Happened on Christmas Eve
‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ he chirps. ‘Oh! Your hair smells like apples.’ He leans in and gives my head a big unabashed whiff.
I frown. What a weirdo.
‘Right.’ I mutter, lowering my shoulder and quickly shrugging Adam off into the passenger seat. ‘Are you comfortable? Good. Let’s get going.’
I jog round to the driver’s side, open the door and let myself in, being careful not to plop down too hard on to my now bruised bottom. I turn the heating up full blast and fasten my seatbelt. By the time I’m settled in, Adam’s already switched on the radio and found the most Christmassy Christmas station that ever existed. Without a word, I switch the radio off. I can’t stomach that for the next hour. No, thank you.
Adam leans over and switches the radio back on.
‘Do you mind if we don’t?’ I ask, turning it back off.
‘Fine,’ he says with a slightly disappointed shrug.
I drive out of the airport and get myself onto the motorway, in peace and quiet. I sigh with rising content. Not too long until I can get home and close my curtains and wait this shit show out.
Less than two minutes after switching the radio off I hear a low humming sound. It is Adam. He is hummingJingle Bells.
I throw him my icy stare. He peers over at me. My icy stare doesn’t seem to affect him – maybe it’s not icy enough... I try again, even icier. Nope. No effect. With a tut, I switch to using actual words.
‘Please don’t hum those dumb Christmas songs,’ I mutter, switching the windscreen wipers up to a quicker speed as the flurry of snow begins to stick.
Another five seconds of silence.
And then the sound ofI’m Dreaming of a White Christmassung at full pelt in a surprisingly accomplished baritone.
I throw him an icy stare so glacial, I’m surprised his whole body doesn’t turn into an iceberg.
‘Ah, that’s your scary look, is it?’ Adam asks, with a raised eyebrow.
‘Excuse me?’
‘My mum told me. This look you do. She calls it the “Don’t mess with Phoebe” glare. Says it’s a great weapon in the company’s arsenal. Keeps the team in line.’
I lift my chin at the compliment by proxy. Marcy notices that I keep the team in line. Maybe an office of my own isn’t that far out of reach.
‘Now I’ve seen it, I think mum was over-egging how scary your scary look is,’ Adam says. ‘It certainly doesn’t scare me.’
‘It’s totally scary,’ I sniff.
‘How do you know?’
‘I checked it in the mirror once.’ I immediately clamp my mouth shut because that is not information that should be made public. Phoebe, you bonehead.
Adam bursts into laughter. It’s an annoying laugh, way too loud, making his face all crease up and turn red. He claps his hands with mirth. ‘You checked it in the mirror. That’s amazing!’
‘I was joking!’ I huff.
‘You were not.’
‘Look, can you just stop singing Christmas songs, please? Or any songs for that matter – I have a headache.’
‘You said no humming. You didn’t say anything about singing.’
‘Well, now I am. I don’t like it.’
‘You don’t like my singing? I have a great voice. People tell me so.’
‘It’s not that good.’
