Page 46 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Jules’s bouncing stopped. She stared at me. “Why not?”
“Because if I spend more than five minutes with the man, I end up looking like a fool.” I pictured myself halfway up Fotherghyll Fell, mascara down my cheeks as I clung to its rock face. I recalled standing there, poker in hand, ready to fight off a bovine named Clarabelle, and I remembered how I’d lectured Oliver for giving me dirty looks, after telling him to show his own grandfather some respect.
Jules tried to stifle her laugh. “Please don’t tell me there’s more.” Despite her protest, I could see she secretly hoped I would.
I told her about the night in the pub. About how I’d accused Oliver of glaring at me, except he hadn’t been focusing on me at all; his attention had been on Ted.
“So, the grumpy old man is his granddad?” Jules asked, her eyes wide. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”
“It came as a surprise to me, too,” I replied, squirming at my behaviour.
“Oliver couldn’t have been bothered by what you said, though. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked you out.”
“I suppose,” I said, thinking Jules had a point.
“And while you’re not looking for a relationship, it wouldn’t hurt to have some fun,” she said. “If I were you, I’d be jumping at the chance to spend a few hours with a man like that. He’s gorgeous.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t let Harry hear you say that.” My brow furrowed as I realised what Jules had just said. “Hang on. You’ve seen him?”
“I checked out his profile on his company website.”
I shook my head. Of course, she did. It was just like Jules to do something like that.
“So where does he plan on taking you?”
“I don’t know. To check out a few good skips, maybe.”
Jules’s draw dropped. “You haven’t told him you’ve decided to become a skip rat?”
“Roadside reclamation specialist, if you don’t mind.”
“And the man still asked you out?” Trying to keep a straight face, Jules bit down on her lips.
I came over all smug. “For your information, he thinks it’s a great idea. He called me an entrepreneur.”
“Very forward thinking,” Jules said, laughing. She suddenly turned serious. “Oh, Antonia, you have to go out with him. The man sounds like an absolute catch.”
I scoffed. “Why? Because he complimented my new job? Jules, you know how these things go. One minute what I do is fantastic, and sixty seconds later they sound like you. Telling me I should get a proper job. Besides, I’m not looking for a catch.”
“Maybe not. But you deserve some fun, at least. Come on, it’s Christmas. Let your hair down for once.” She suddenly straightened herself up, excitement written all over her face. “Antonia, if all goes well you could invite him for Christmas dinner. And Ted. Oh, I bet the old man would love that.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Our Christmas swap.”
A high-pitched shrill rang out from the side of Jules’s chair. She reached down and picked up some gadget – an alarm – that she proceeded to switch off.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“There’s something I want to watch on TV. This is my reminder that it’s about to start. It’s a show about interior design. If there’s one thing I’ve realised sitting here looking at these four walls for weeks on end, it’s that we’re due a revamp. I’m hoping to pick up some tips.”
I chuckled. The poor woman really needed to get that cast off so she could start living a normal life again. “I’ll let you get going then, shall I?”
“Yes, please,” Jules replied. “But promise you’ll call Oliver. That you’ll go out on that date.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my friend interrupted.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “But telling me you’ll think about that too, isn’t an option.”
I couldn’t help but smile as we ended the call. From card-making to knitting to cross-stitch and more, my friend seemed to be making the most out of her confinement. Although as I continued to consider her predicament, my heart went out to Jules. I supposed it was no wonder she got frustrated with me. Despite her enthusiasm for all things crafting, she probably wanted nothing more than to get out of the house. Yet there I was, choosing to be stuck indoors when I didn’t have to be.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, as I considered my friend’s advice. No way was I inviting Oliver for Christmas, but I supposed a date wouldn’t do any harm. For Jules’s sake, if not mine. Picking up my phone, I searched for Oliver’s number, ready to start keying in a text. “I’m doing this for you, Jules,” I said, as I began to type. Message written, I clicked send.
