Wonderful Christmas Time

I'm on a roll! I've been writing little Christmas shorts and I can't stop! I love this time of year, which makes it weirdly easy to imagine all sorts of people doing all sorts at yuletide! Read, enjoy, help yourself to some Christmas cake...


French Kissmas © Billy London


Going to the party had to be her worst mistake of the year. Of course he’d be there. Why wouldn’t he? Portia tapped her fingernails on the stem of her champagne glass, stepping back towards the enormous Christmas tree hoping her forest green jumpsuit would help her blend into the background. She had no idea why she didn’t follow that immediate instinct within her to stay at home, watch The Crown and eat her way through the hamper her boss bought her from Fortnum and Mason as a sweetner for coming to this stupid party.

“It’s just for a few hours, if that!” Hayley promised. “And as soon as you go, I’ll transfer your bonus.”

“You’re a bitch,” Portia said, her temper short as her hair.

“I know, but you’d work for me anyway.”

It was why she hated creatives. Their work had been award winning this year, but Portia was just the salesgirl. The flash and bang. The you need us to do this for you, no one will do it better and even if you trawl Twitter to get this, it won’t be anywhere near as good. And she’d been right. Every time. So one of their tech companies was throwing them a party.

Portia really wished people would understand how hard Christmas could be when you were alone. As each year passed, less people asked why she was on her own and assumed that she did enough to deserve to be alone. Maybe she had.

Cosme told her so. If you want to be on your own, Sha, just say. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. Portia bit down hard on her inner cheek until she tasted blood. It wasn’t working. She put down her glass and slipped past the tree and her boss, heading past the throng of people in the private dinning room to the cloak room.

She caught sight of him, towering in the room but lounging with that French elegance over a petite blonde, whose gaze never left his face. Once upon a time, she’d gazed up at him that same way. Until she sabotaged it.

Ducking her head, she reached the cloakroom and handed over her ticket. The attendant sent her a tired look prompting Portia to apologise for taking up time.

“Leaving already?”

She closed her eyes briefly, before summoning a professional smile. “Hello Cosme.”

He bent to touch his smooth cheek to each of her own. “You could have said that an hour ago.”

“So could you and here we are.”

He glanced down to her mouth to meet her gaze with amusement. “Still the sharp edge of the knife I see.”

“Change isn’t my thing.”

The assistant handed over her coat and she thanked them, placing a ten pound note in the tip bowl. He blinked, stuttering a thank you.

Cosme curved a hand around her arm. “Shall we have a quiet drink?”

She jerked a chin to his fingers on her bicep. “You’re going to take me without even asking.”

“Not my kind of arousal,” he dismissed. “This way.”

He led her to the quiet rooms, where members sat with friends, martinis to hand and pizzas between them. The music drifted in at a low ebb and the lights of Soho glittered from the huge windows.

Cosme sat her down in a plush, high backed armchair. “Stay there. I’m bringing you a drink.”

She opened her mouth to remind him that someone would be at their table soon but he disappeared. She braced her chin on her upturned palm, staring out of the window, watching the Christmas lights flickering below, people still shopping. For who? Go home and actually be with them!

Cosme returned, placing a frosted glass of champagne in front of her, while he cradled an old fashioned. He sank into his seat opposite her and held up his glass.

“Merry Christmas Portia.”

Oh. Back to Portia, eh? “Merry Christmas,” she echoed, touching her glass to his. “Well thank you for the drink, but I’ve reached my…”

“Sit down and tell me why you’re so intent on running away.”

That rankled. “I don’t like feeling uncomfortable. I’m too old for that.”

“You’re too old to be running away. You walked last time.”

She inhaled, trying to reign in her temper and to be fair, the bitter loneliness threatening to spill into the world. “With good reason.”

“Which was?”

“Oh come on, you were there. You heard what I said.”

He lifted his glass to his firm lips, his eyebrow quirked. “I heard.  Doesn’t mean I understood.”

She inhaled, looking out of the window again until the urge to start crying passed.

“Portia.”

“Nope,” she answered. “If you want me to be audience to you treating some little young, fertile thing like a queen.” The tears would no longer be held back and they coursed with heat and shame over her cheeks, streaking her blusher in their destructive path. “I can’t give you what you want. I’ll never be able to.”

Portia closed her eyes, begging her emotions to hold off for just ten more minutes so she could leave with the remains of her dignity in tact. Her ears prickled at the sound of a chair moving over the rich carpet of the members’ room then her skin blazed at Cosme’s touch on her bare arm, before his palm encased her hand.

“Let me say this to you again and I hope you hear me. My sister has four children. My brother has six. My father is one of eleven and my mother is one of nine. There are more than enough of my family. I don’t need to do any more.”

She turned her head, her other hand still damp with tears. “But your mother…”

“Is very African and doesn’t understand my motivation, but she doesn’t need to.” He traced his thumb over her cheek. “Sha I don’t want to be on my own any more.”

She dragged in a shaky breath. “Me either.”

He smiled, his beautiful eyes turning soft with affection. “Listen, Christmas Day I’m going to be at home eating through that hamper Hayley sent me. Maybe roast a duck. Will you come to me?”

He said duck, she thought. Not a dry-arse turkey! Portia threw her arms around his neck and crushed him to her. “Sounds perfect,” she whispered to him.

In the warmth and comfort of his hefty arms, she couldn’t even reach what had almost consumed her moments before. She’d bring them something divine to drink with the wine. She’d go to Fortnum and use her bonus.

Oh hell. Hayley!

“If you being tense right now is you worrying about something, I’ll talk to Hayley,” he grumbled into her shoulder. Hmm. A friend in high places. Merry Christmas to her, too!