Page 43 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
I hung up and navigated back to WhatsApp. Elle had replied:
Elle:
Can’t talk – Frannie’s got a fever, nursery won’t take her and Rorycouldn’t take the day off. Plus, I’ve got six features on deadline andwriters who all seem to have Christmas party hangovers. Still on trackwith your article?
Mally:
Oh no, good luck! Give her a get-better-soon kiss from me. Noworries. Yup, all on track. Let’s just say that, in typical Mallyfashion, there have already been a number of ridiculous incidents…
Elle:
Great, can’t wait to read. Don’t forget the booking at The Startonight.
Mally:
I won’t!
I checked the time: 12.04 p.m. So many hours to fill before then. I sent Ryan a quick message with my London address, ate my cereal and decided to have a shower.
There was no hot water, obviously. I’d put off the inevitable for long enough: it was time to figure out the thermostat.
Chapter 12
?Failing family business
As I entered The Star twenty years after that infamous mysteryshopping night, I was greeted by the sight of an unrecognisableestablishment.
The layout was exactly the same as I remembered, but gone were the scruffy carpets, sticky Marmite-brown tables and flashing quiz machines, and in their place were beautifully restored parquet floors, mismatched shabby-chic furniture and filament bulbs as far as the eye could see. An ironic Queen Vic-esque bust took pride of place at the end of the bar, a Santa hat perched atop her head and tinsel around her neck. It was like being in one of South East London’s gentrified ex-working men’s clubs – old-school but on-trend. I loved it, and felt immediately at home.
I wandered up to the fairy-lit bar and cleared my throat to get the attention of the bartender.
‘Hi, I’ve got a dinner reservation for Allister at six? It’s, uh, a table for one…’
A head suddenly appeared out of the kitchen behind the bar. ‘Oh my God, Milly, itisyou!’ It was Carly – Ryan’s now-wife, which I still couldn’t get my head around. I’d forgotten how insular a place Scarnbrook was.
‘Oh, um, Carly, isn’t it? I had no idea you worked here! Yes, that’s me, though I go by Mally these days so…’
‘Yeah, Ryan said something about that. Wasn’t that Elle’s weird little pet name for you at school?’
‘That’s the one, yeah.’
‘How funny! Oh, we haven’t seen you inyears. What are you doing back here? Alone? And on pub quiz night?!’
Pub quiz? Oh God. This wasn’t part of the plan.
‘I’m staying nearby. For a work thing. Needed a bite to eat, so…’
‘So you booked a table for one at six o’clock on a Monday night in Scarnbrook? Hilarious!’
I opened my mouth to explain that it hadn’t actually been me who’d made the booking, but realised that would just sound even stranger.
‘Ha, yeah, I suppose it is. Just used to busy pubs in London, I guess.’
‘Oh my God, I have to tell Becky you’re here. Becky! I was right! Look, itisMilly!’
Carly’s identical twin appeared from the kitchen.
Becky and I had always got on well, especially in primary school, but had drifted apart as we’d grown up. We hugged warmly.
