Page 55 of The Whole Package

‘I know, I know. I panicked!’ He snorted.

‘You’re a psychopath!’

Tears were streaming down his face as he drove. ‘I know!’

I tried to stay raging. But then I pictured it – me spiralling in a first-class seat and getting waterboarded by a random Glasgow ned – and I lost it too. Proper laughing.

‘Oh my God,’ I said. ‘I thought you were in the wrong carriage!’

‘I was.’ He grinned. ‘Came through for the drama.’

‘Stop! You’re actually the worst.’ I slapped his arm again, immediately clocking his biceps underneath his jumper.

We were both still laughing as the car ate up the miles, gliding away from the city – the kind of laughing that makes your stomach hurt, and your eyes water, and you forget, just for a second, that your life has all the structural integrity of a Primark shopping bag. And somehow, against all logic, reason and personal dignity, I realised I was kind of having a good time.

An hour later, we were in Edinburgh. We slowed to a crawl as the traffic thickened, brake lights glowing red ahead. I frowned, looking out the window at the stalls, the twinkling lights, the throngs of people.

‘Jamie,’ I said slowly. ‘If you’ve brought me to a fucking Christmas market . . .’ I turned to glare at him. He was sitting there smiling – glowing, actually, looking unbelievably proud of himself.

‘I get that you’re trying to turn me into a fucking elf or something, but people will recognise me here,’ I said in genuine panic. ‘I know you think they won’t, but everyone is looking for me and I . . .’

He rustled into his joggie bottoms. ‘I have that covered,’ he said and whipped out my old plastic Ray-Bans from my room. ‘No one will recognise you – you’ll be like a spy. Come on, it’ll be fun,’ he insisted as he pulled into a lucky parking space just off Princes Street.

I felt my stomach twist at the thought of being spotted, not only in Edinburgh, but with another man, and worst of all, in my mother’s fucking clothes. What was that all about? But I suppose I really didn’t look like myself at all, I realised, catching my reflection in the car window. I stared out of it again.

The whole place was lit up – fairy lights strung everywhere, wooden stalls packed tightly together, people milling about sipping hot drinks like they were extras in a fucking Hallmark movie. Suddenly, from the side of the road, a large, enthusiastic choir started butchering a Christmas song.

‘OK, let’s go home. I have witnessed enough cheer, thank you very much.’

Jamie shook his head. ‘This,’ he said, pointing like he was unveiling the latest Sephora hot icons, ‘is exactly what you need right now.’

‘What I need,’ I replied, ‘is to go back to my mum’s and lie face down on my bed until January.’

He killed the engine and turned to me. ‘You’re getting out of the car, Harri.’

I crossed my arms. ‘I’m actually not, Jamie.’

He bit his lip, holding in a laugh. ‘You are.’

I sighed, taking in the lights and energy of the festivities again. ‘I am prepared to fight you on this!’

He burst out laughing. ‘I’d love to see you try.’

‘Right. Fine!’ I eventually hissed. I pushed open his stupid car door. ‘Happy?’ The cold swept past me, immediately making my bones squeeze together.

Jamie bounced out of the car like an ecstatic four-year-old. ‘Yes. Buzzing!’ He locked up and walked around to catch up with me.

We joined the groups of people heading towards the entrance to the Christmas market, and despite my reluctance to accept any festive spirit, I could genuinely taste cinnamon in the air.

‘This is really busy, Jamie,’ I muttered as a group of tourists barged past with selfie sticks out like they were ready to duel.

‘This is pure festive magic, Harri,’ Jamie replied, already scanning everything – the lights, the tree, the stalls – like a child let loose in Smyths Toys.

I bit my lip to stop myself smiling. At least one of us was having a good time. He caught hold of my arm and started dragging me through the entrance. I paused for a second, shoving the sunglasses onto my face – taking a second for my eyes to adjust; it was late afternoon and the sky was already dark – and hurried up to follow him into the madness.

People were packed shoulder to shoulder, clutching mulled wine like it was life support. Laughter bounced everywhere – loud, chaotic, slightly unhinged laughter from people in hats they would absolutely regret buying by morning. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge anyone’s fashion choices right now, I thought, clocking the fake Uggs I had on. Huggs. Nice one, Mum.

I looked back up and realised I’d lost Jamie. I scanned the crowd. Just elbows, scarves and one man aggressively eating a tray of chestnuts like a fucking squirrel.