Page 29 of Always, in December

He stretched out his arms above his head and she traced the movement, running her gaze along the length of his muscled torso. ‘Have to say, I enjoyed the reasons for temporary memory loss more than I would’ve enjoyed the heating.’

She didn’t switch the light on, unwilling to break the spell of darkness and catapult them into reality. She felt him watching her as she padded back towards the bed on bare feet, then perched awkwardly on a corner. She didn’t know if she should just get up, now she was up, wasn’t sure if he’d want to leave right away. He answered that question by grabbing her arm, pulling her across the bed towards him and putting an arm around her. ‘I told you,’ he breathed into her ear, ‘it’s cold without you here.’ She laughed softly. He kissed the side of her neck softly and a shiver went through her. ‘Bit one-sided though – you’re cheating.’ He gestured at her clothes and she shifted a little closer, her back pressed against him, tracing her fingers down his forearm.

‘Do you want me to leave, so you can get dressed too?’ She was aware of the slight smirk in her voice, kind of liked the way it sounded.

He kissed her on the neck again. ‘No. I want you to stay so you can get undressed.’ She turned her head to grin at him, and he brushed a feather-light kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he murmured.

‘Happy Christmas,’ she breathed back. And she realised that, for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sad that it was Christmas morning, that she was actually excited about what the day would bring.

Max relented and used the bathroom to sort himself out while Josie made them coffee, which they drank in bed, chatting nonsense and answering Christmas Day texts until Max sat up straight, seemingly randomly, and announced, ‘Right, we’re going out.’

Josie raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Right. Where, exactly?’

He rolled his eyes and jumped out of bed, seemingly full of energy. ‘Come on, take the risk and dig out your adventurous side.’

It was cold and grey outside, hardly picturesque, but somehow the dense, dark clouds seemed to promise something, to hint at something beautiful behind them, so that they made the day feel charged with electricity, rather than oppressive. There was a hint of moisture in the air that clung to Josie’s face as the wind kissed her cheeks, but she didn’t mind – it felt refreshing, like it was setting her system on fire.

Max made them walk, though he had to follow Maps on his phone and kept stopping to turn the phone in his hand and make sure they kept going in the right direction. Josie was a little out of breath by the time she realised where he’d been leading her, though he didn’t seem to find the walk quite so difficult. She grabbed his hand, squeezed, as she looked at the pub.

The pub where they’d had their first drink, after she’d unceremoniously knocked him off his feet. Josie found herself grinning, charmed by the sentimentality of the thought. He smiled down at her, then linked his fingers with hers and pulled her inside. It was busier than she would have thought, given it was Christmas, but everyone was smiling, and each person they passed offered a nod and a ‘Merry Christmas’, which they returned. The same barmaid was there, and she, too, was beaming, her bunches tied with red tinsel around them so that her hair glittered as her head moved.

‘Table under Carter?’ Max said.

Bunches nodded, grabbed two menus from behind the bar, and indicated a table in the corner, laid up for two. ‘We’re eating?’ Josie asked. She’d never eaten here before, though she noticed now that there were tables laid up in the next room, crackers on the placemats between the cutlery, a table of four elderly people already sitting through there.

‘Well, it was either this or a quick run to the local petrol station to get supplies, I’m guessing.’ He raised his eyebrows in question.

Josie wrinkled her nose. ‘I have pasta.’

He shook his head mockingly. ‘That’s just sad.’ She punched him lightly on the arm and he laughed as they went to sit down. Bunches took their drinks orders, her eyes lingering on Max longer than Josie thought was strictly necessary, though she supposed she couldn’t blame her. Max didn’t seem to notice the extra attention and she wondered if it was just because he was used to it, or if he was as distracted by her as she was by him. Given it was Christmas, she decided to go for the latter, just to please herself.

She looked around, noting the fire the other side of the room, the Christmas tree in the corner with presents underneath (presumably fake). The table of four all had Christmas hats on, and were all drinking wine. ‘You booked a table,’ she stated.

He leaned back in his chair, tilted his head. ‘Clearly.’

‘When?’

Max just tapped the side of his nose.

They moved on to red wine after their first drink, inspired by the other table. The pub had started to fill up by the time they ordered their food, including a big table of seven, one of the children wearing the type of red velvet dress you can only get away with under the age of six, and a couple who were wearing His and Hers Christmas jumpers.

They were halfway through their roast dinners – Josie had opted for the slightly less traditional beef, which she had to admit was pretty good, tender and juicy, with some of the best fluffy roast potatoes she’d had – when her phone rang. She had to swallow a particularly large chunk of Yorkshire pudding drowned in gravy to get to it while it was still buzzing, and saw that it was a video call from her grandparents. They usually just stuck to Christmas Eve, but having told Memo that Bia was in Argentina, it didn’t surprise her that they’d want to check up on her – in fact, Josie was pretty sure that Bia was the only reason she didn’t get more sporadic calls from them, worrying about how she was.

She glanced outside, but Max waved a hand at her. ‘You can answer it here if you want, don’t go and stand in the cold on my account.’

She hesitated, but gave in and accepted the call – it would be unfair of her to ignore them just because she was having a good time. ‘Hello, my love.’ Her grandmother’s face filled the screen, smiling and wrinkled, her grey bob beuatifully curled today and a dash of brown eyeliner under her brown eyes. Her grandad was there too, one bushy eyebrow, half of a stubbly chin, but she couldn’t see Helen.

‘Happy Christmas!’ Josie said, beaming.

‘And to you too,’ Memo said, raising a glass of some sort of liqueur.

‘How’s your morning been?’ Josie asked.

‘Oh, you know, Helen had everyone up early with Bucks Fizz and took us all out on a walk. How that woman has that much energy at her age I don’t know.’

Josie smiled. ‘You’re one to talk. Where’s Helen now?’

‘She’s in the kitchen, taking charge of the roast, and I thought it was easier to let her have at it. Do you want to talk to her? I can grab her?’