Page 55 of Five Gold Rings

I pause. ‘Well, I haven’t got you anything either, so it’s cool,’ I say, pulling a face. Gabriel examines my face closely. He knows I have a gift. He saw me wrap the gift when we were watchingBondi Rescueon the television, and I was helping him wrap a sit-on toy car for his nephew. He’s widening his eyes at me, confused, just give her the gift, no?

‘Permission to buy you something crap from a petrol station today?’ she jokes.

‘Well, all I ever wanted was a Christmas-scented Magic Tree.’

She narrows her eyes at me cheekily and I watch that expression closely, still with pangs in my heart. All I ever wanted was you.

‘Or maybe drop me to mine? Do you like olive oil? I have a set there that would be perfect. It was meant for someone else but I’d rather you have it…’

I try to appear grateful. ‘I do love olive oil. I’ll just ignore what you said about it being for someone else.’

She laughs again and I see Gabriel’s eyes shift between the both of us.

‘It was for meant for Chris’s uncle,’ she says but her mood suddenly drops at the mention of his name, on today, of all days.

A thought suddenly comes to mind that I’ve forgotten to tell her something in the drunken chaos of yesterday.

‘Oh. Yesterday,’ I interject. ‘I forgot to tell you your brother rang when you were asleep in my car.’

‘He rang?’ she asks, confused.

‘I answered your phone, he was persistent but also worried about you. He kind of knew about Chris, so I filled him in on some of the other details. I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do.’

Her expression suddenly changes, looking confused. ‘He knew?’

‘He’d been at your flat and Chris was there and…’

‘Chris was there?’

Gabriel’s eyes move between the two of us, sensing the jovial mood from before has shifted.

‘I’m just passing on the message here.’

‘Was Noel really angry?’

‘I’ve never met the man before. I’d put his anger at a healthy eight.’

I sit there thinking how much information she needs to hear this Christmas morning. I don’t think she needs to hear how Chris changed the narrative about their break-up. But it’s Christmas, she should at least give her brother a call. She sits there contemplating what I’ve just told her then she looks up at the clock on the wall.

‘Why was Chris at our flat?’ she asks.

I shrug my shoulders.

‘Well, if we set off early, let’s head to mine before delivering our rings today. To get your olive oil, at least. One of them is chilli infused.’

‘Yay!’ Gabriel says, trying to inject some joy back into the room. He does love chilli.

We all laugh but I see Eve’s expression telling me Chris still lingers in her thoughts. I saw her eyes cloud over again at the mention of his name. Whether bringing him up was the wrong or right thing to do, it’s probably why the two of us are not quite meant to be.

FOURTEEN

Eve

It’s Christmas Day. It was a strange feeling to open my eyes and a) not know where I was and b) wonder how and why I got into my Christmas pyjamas. But all those feelings that should have been fizzing about in my veins were replaced with some very empty feelings of disappointment. Reminiscent of the time I was ten and I camped out in our front room on Christmas Eve to try and catch Santa in the act, only to fall asleep and miss the whole event.

My first thought was, it’s Christmas and I’m alone. It was only then that flashes of the night before came into view. Joe. I looked around the room. It was definitely his room, but he wasn’t there. I shouldn’t have kissed him. There was me trying to capitalise on a big romantic, cinematic moment in Trafalgar Square to see if there was a spark, but I must have looked like a drunken desperate lech. I did a lot of solo dancing and I may have shown him my boobs. Why on earth was I miaowing? But then I think about the words he used to try to let me down gently.I don’t want to be that person. This isn’t the right thing to do.Maybe I should be grateful that he didn’t take advantage of me in a vulnerable position. Thanks to him we avoided an even more awkward moment where we would have been lying on his bed together, naked and trying to make small talk on Christmas morning. It’s completely understandable. I’m not a catch at the moment, I’m the opposite of a catch. I’m a throw – someone you should throw far, far away. We’re friends. I know that now. And friends we will stay. These last few days have taught me that he’s too precious to lose. I hope he still thinks me worthy of being a friend at least.

‘So, this is where you live?’ Joe asks, back in the tuxedo as we head up the stone stairs to my flat in Brixton. My flat. I’ve brokered in a quick pit stop before our last ring deliveries today. I had to come here. For olive oil, obviously, but after what Joe told me, it is intriguing to me why Chris came back here – to chat, to make amends, to put this right? As I go through the main foyer of the building, a door to a first-floor flat opens and the occupant stands there and beams at me.