Page 59 of The Village Christmas Party

‘Kian, hi.’

‘Lauren, how are you doing?’

‘I’m good thanks. How are you?’ I’m thrilled by the sound of his voice.

‘I’m well, really good. So what are you up to tonight?’ he asks.

Surely he isn’t going to ask me out at this short notice?

‘I’m off out into town. I’m meeting Gemma for a drink at the Grapes,’ I tell him.

‘Nice. I imagine it will be pretty full in there, being Boxing night,’ he says.

‘I guess so. I think there is a live band, who are pretty good by all accounts.’

‘That sounds good.’

There is a pause for a second, and I wonder what he is going to say next. Maybe he would like to join us?

‘Come along if you like,’ I say. ‘Or maybe we should make arrangements for that date you mentioned,’ I say, taking the bull by the horns.

‘I most certainly would. I was about to ask you when you are free,’ he says. ‘I was wondering, do you like the cinema?’ he asks.

‘The cinema? Yes, I do.’

‘In that case, do you fancy dinner one evening this week? Whenever suits you. We could eat at a restaurant near Keswick, then watch a movie.’

‘Tomorrow suits, if you are free. And that sounds lovely, I haven’t been to Keswick in ages.’

The last time I went there was with Mum to watch a doomed love story and we both cried.

‘It’s a date then. The film has had great reviews,’ he tells me. ‘It’s about a refugee chocolatier who makes a new life in Britain. I’m told it’s very uplifting.’

‘That sounds like something I would enjoy. I look forward to it.’

‘Me too,’ says Kian. ‘Anyway, enjoy your evening with Gemma. I’ll text you to tell you what time I will pick you up tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Night, Kian.’

I skip downstairs with a huge grin on my face.

‘Are you ready then?’ asks Dad, picking up his car keys from the counter.

‘Ready.’ I beam, looking forward to spending time with Gemma, and to telling her all about my forthcoming date.

The Grapes is already busy, but I manage to find a table in the corner, and order a bottle of white wine for us to share, while I await the arrival of Gemma.

‘You smell nice,’ I comment as she arrives five minutes later and plonks her bag down on an empty chair.

‘I helped myself to a spray of that new Dior fragrance, a sample obviously.’ She smiles. ‘And look!’

She proudly shows me the handbag she has had her eye on for ages.

‘You got it.! Cheers to that,’ I say, pouring us both a drink.

‘I did. It actually got discounted an hour after I started work, so I nabbed it,’ she tells me triumphantly.

She unzips it and shows me the interior of the gorgeous butter-soft brown leather bag. ‘It’s got loads of handy compartments,’ she says excitedly. ‘It was marked down thirty per cent and, even better, I used a gift card I got for Christmas to pay another chunk of it. It ended up only costing me twenty-five pounds.’

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