Page 77 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
Angela smiles. ‘Yes, I remember seeing that, and you saying to me I wasn’t to go on it in case it cracked while I was out there.’
‘You stayed, then?’ I ask Angela. ‘Longer than just the one night?’
Angela nods. ‘I did.’
‘Here we go,’ Estelle says as both sixties Estelle and Angela re-enter the room with Dylan trotting behind them. I see his hackles raise a little when he notices Alvie again.
Angela is carrying a tea tray loaded with cups, saucers and a teapot, and Estelle is carrying a plate of neatly arranged biscuits.
Angela has clearly had to borrow a mix of Estelle’s and Christian’s clothes. But, as always, she carries off the slightly mismatched look extremely well.
‘We’d best not have too many of them biscuits with our tea,’ Angela says, putting the tray down like she’s done it a few times before. ‘I’ve heard there’s already some food shortages in the shops.’
‘Nonsense,’ Estelle says. ‘London won’t go short just because of a little snow and a bit of cold.’
‘It’s hardly alittlesnow and abitof cold.’ Angela pours the tea into the cups. ‘We’ve both seen the news.’
‘Londoners are made of sterner stuff. We survived the Blitz and the war. Compared to that this is a minor inconvenience. I’m sure it won’t last long.’
‘We’ve had nearly five days of it already,’ Angela says. ‘It’s definitely going into the New Year. Thanks for letting me stay again. My bedsit would have been absolutely freezing in this. Only one bar of my little electric fire works these days.’
‘Please stop thanking me,’ Estelle says, looking embarrassed. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you here.’
‘Go on!’ Angela waves her hand at Estelle. ‘You’re just saying that to be nice.’
‘Christian enjoys you being here. He’d have gone stir-crazy here with just me for company. The weather has meant all my other tenants aren’t returning until after the New Year celebrations now.’
‘I hope Christian can get us some booze for tonight,’ Angela says, looking towards the window. ‘You can’t see the New Year in without a tipple of something.’
‘I have a spot of sherry somewhere, if he can’t find much at the local public house.’
Angela grimaces. ‘No offence, Estelle, but a tipple of sherry ain’t really gonna hit the spot.’ She pops a splash of milk and a sugar lump in Estelle’s tea and passes it to her, reminding me of Estelle and Angela’s relationship today.
‘Thank you,’ Estelle says, taking it from her. ‘I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about that.’ She rhythmically stirs her tea with a silver teaspoon. ‘I can’t help but notice, Angela, you do drink quite a lot of alcohol.’
‘Nah,’ Angela says, shrugging the comment away. ‘Not really.’
‘I think you do,’ Estelle persists. ‘More than the normal amount anyway.’
‘What’s normal?’ Angela says lightly. ‘Loads of people I know like a drink or two occasionally.’
‘Yes, a drink or two occasionally is fine,’ Estelle continues, clearly trying to tread carefully. ‘Perhaps not five or six or seven, even, and not every night, either.’
Angela puts down her cup and saucer. She wanders over to the Christmas tree and pretends to be examining the decorations, then glances out of the window as if she’s willing Christian to be walking across the square with a bag and the sound of glass bottles clinking together.
‘I don’t drink every night,’ Angela says when Estelle is silent.
‘You have done since you’ve been here. I expect Christian has run out of different pubs to go to by now. He won’t dare go to the same one in case he gets a reputation.’
Angela swivels round and glares at Estelle. ‘What sort of reputation?’
‘A reputation as a drunkard, or a wino, perhaps. How many names do you want me to find?’
‘I’m not a wino,’ Angela says quietly. ‘I just like a drink occasionally, that’s all. It helps me forget.’
‘Forget what?’ Estelle asks in an equally low voice.
‘Nothing.’ Angela shrugs. ‘Nothing you need to know, anyway.’
