‘Connie needs me to stay with her this Christmas,’ I said.
Joe put his phone down again. ‘What?’
‘So I’m going to do that.’
‘But you can’t.’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘No. Mum thinks you’re coming. She’ll have made the food. She’ll have laid a place.’ His face was a picture of confusion.
‘She can probably remove the place,’ I said. ‘Unless she’s stuck it down with glue.’
‘That’s not funny,’ Joe said. ‘It’s Christmas.’
I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE, I thought, the words running over and over in my head like one of those screens in a stock exchange.
‘Do you have to make fun of my mum all the time?’ he said suddenly.
‘What?’ I said. ‘I never make fun of your mum.’
‘It’s just – for once, Rose – it would be really nice to know that you’re on our side, you know?’
‘What are you talking about? I am on your side, Joe.’
‘I just wish you could apply the same enthusiasm to you and me and our life together as you do to that old hag.’
‘Shut up,’ I said.
Joe looked shocked. I gestured with a sweep of my arm to the presents. ‘I’ve even done the name labels,’ I went on. ‘All of them. You just need to put them in a bag.’
‘This is crazy,’ he said. ‘You’re just angry. You’ll calm down and it’ll all be fine.’
‘No, Joe. You don’t understand. You just don’t.’
He sucked his teeth. ‘Do you know what? You’re right. Actually, I don’t understand. I don’t know what the fuck’s happened to you.’
‘What?’
‘Ever since you took that job.’
‘Don’t blame my job, Joe. Don’t you dare.’
‘But it’s fucked up. It’s changing you.’
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ I said.
‘It’s just been so shit between us—’
‘It was shit before I took the job, let me assure you.’ I got to my feet and stood in front of him.
‘Rose, what’s happened to you?’ he said, adopting this expression of bemusement which enraged me. Joe loved to appear like the rational one, the one who has tried his best to reason with me, to get on my level, but who has good-naturedly had to conclude that I am beyond help.
‘What do you mean, what’s happened?’ I said.
‘You’ve changed. It’s scaring me. You’re scaring me.’
‘I’m scaring you?’ I said.
Joe leaned back against the sofa and surveyed me with pity. ‘I can’t deal with you when you’re like this,’ he said.
‘Grow up, Joe. Just grow the fuck up,’ I said. I wanted to go and kick the wall but I held myself together.
Joe’s eyes widened. ‘I can’t have a conversation with you when you’re hysterical,’ he said.
‘I’m not hysterical. I’m just angry. And I have a right to be.’
‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake. You’ll wake up the neighbour’s baby.’
‘Good. I hope I do,’ I hissed. The loft-extension works from one side of our flat had kept us sleepless for about six months, and on the other, there was a baby with colic. I was feeling such ire towards Joe, I wanted all the children to wake up and piss their parents off for hours – to piss him off, too – to march up the street on their little sausage legs, tiny fists waving banners, to storm through our flat and circle him, screaming, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THIS LIFE, MISTER?
‘Being in this flat with you is like talking to a child,’ he said, refusing to raise his voice. I could tell he was just acting at being reasonable and I wanted to punch him. ‘Just . . . don’t be tiring, Rose.’
‘You’re asking me not to be tiring?’
‘Yeah. You are so fucking tiring,’ he said. ‘We all think it.’
I was stunned. ‘You know what, Joe? Fuck your Christmas.’
‘What did you just say?’
‘I just said – fuck your Christmas. Go on your own to fucking Wimbledon with your fucking family.’ I kicked the presents and they scattered everywhere.
Joe looked at me with a mix of disgust and by now, a grim satisfaction. ‘I knew it,’ he said. ‘You’re a fucking psycho.’
*
Joe went back out – to where, I neither knew nor cared. I packed a duffel bag, feeling high and weird and certain.
I left the presents, except for Connie’s, and locked the flat. I rubbed my eyes at the front door, took two very deep, detoxifying breaths, and stepped outside.
First, I went to Sainsbury’s to purchase a big ham. I loved Connie for her lack of snobbery over food; Sainsbury’s would be just as good for her as Fortnum’s. She probably had a ready-made turkey sandwich for Christmas lunch. I picked up lots of cheeses, vegetables, a chicken to roast, wines, a chocolate pudding, double cream – everything a reflection of the intensity and quantity of selfhood I felt inside, the giddiness and freedom to be doing this instead of that, with him.
But as I made my way up to North London, doubt began to seep in. Would Connie let me in? Would she have me, offer sanctuary? Or would I be crossing a line too far? I decided I would still risk it: Connie was like a siren call – the promise of a warm fire, good food. I was even looking forward to seeing the Christmas tree.
I didn’t let myself in, but rang the doorbell. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw me standing there with my many bags of shopping and my duffel.
‘I thought we could have a nice dinner?’ I said. ‘I’ll cook.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be at Joe’s parents’?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not here out of pity, are you? You’re not doing a Bob Cratchit on me?’
‘No, Connie.’
‘Mmm,’ she said, but she turned into the house and I knew it was a sign to follow.
*
‘I was just going to have soup and bread,’ she said in the kitchen.
‘Oh! Well, of course,’ I said. ‘But—’
‘But a nice dinner will do just as well,’ she said.
I started rummaging in the shopping bags. I knew she was looking at me. ‘Is everything all right?’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘Good. Because I wouldn’t like it if it wasn’t. For you, I mean.’
‘Have I interrupted you badly?’ I said. ‘I can always go back after a glass of something—’
‘No, no,’ she said, poking amongst the bags. ‘Get a bottle from the fridge. Did you buy any chocolate?’
‘I got you a bag of gold coins,’ I said, and she laughed. I went to the fridge and found a chilled bottle of champagne.
‘Open it, then,’ she said.
I obeyed her, pouring it into two glasses. ‘Cheers,’ I said.
‘Cheers,’ Connie replied. ‘Happy Christmas, Laura.’
‘Happy Christmas, Connie,’ I said, and I drank it like it was a magic potion.
*
I roasted the chicken and prepared everything else whilst Connie went upstairs to work. When it was ready, we sat opposite each other at the kitchen table. ‘You’re such a tremendous cook,’ she said, sighing happily.