Page 33 of Christmas Romance Galore!
I laughed. I had to agree.
Somerset House was an old Tudor palace on the Thames, a building that never failed to impress. During the winter its large courtyard became a Christmas grotto with its ice rink as the central play. As soon as I saw it strung with festive lights and pumping out ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ through the surrounding speakers, happy seasonal endorphins flooded my body.
Maybe Holly was right, maybe this was the perfect thing to take my mind off my problems.
There was only five minutes till we were on the ice, so we exchanged our shoes for skates, then edged out slowly on to the freshly polished ice, currently a creamy, unblemished square all ready to be signed by us. Most people didn’t need a second invitation once the klaxon blasted, apart from the ten per cent who’d forgotten how to skate since their childhood and were now doomed to spend the next hour gingerly crawling around the rink’s edges, or flat on their bum.
Just as I thought that, I heard the first thump of the day, and turned to see a man in his 40s flailing on the ice.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Holly said.
We skated off side by side around the rink, pushing off from the left and then the right, just as my instructor had taught me all those years ago.
“How you feeling?” Holly asked as we were nearly cut up by one of the ice marshals on a mission.
“Surreal.” I grabbed Holly’s arm as I wobbled.
“Okay?”
I nodded. “Just getting my balance.” I paused. “I’m okay. I feel a bit guilty and annoyed with myself and her. However you paint this, it hardly makes her the catch of the century.”
We skated on in silence for a few more seconds. “And did I tell you the other thing?”
Holly didn’t turn to me. “There’s more?”
“She’s got a kid and she still lives with her parents.”
“Whoa!” Holly slowed her skates and coasted into the hoardings, and I followed.
“A child? How did she get a child?”
“Did you miss that class at school?”
Holly gave me a look.
“She was married before.” I said. “To a man.”
Holly spluttered. “She’s already been married? I mean, to a man is neither here nor there, but this is her second wedding?” She whistled through her teeth. “She clearly loves getting married.”
“Apparently.”
We were silent for a moment as the mass of skaters shuffled and sailed past us in clockwise order, a blur of smiles, furrowed brows and woolly hats.
Then, as Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ began to pump through the speakers, Holly took my hand and dragged me back into the throng. “We haven’t come here to stand on the sidelines and process — we’ve come to skate!”
I screamed as Holly’s yank nearly put me on the ice, but I styled it out. Within seconds, we were gliding and the steady concentration the skating required really was proving just the distraction I needed.
That is, until five minutes later when I was clattered from behind, a skater clearly losing their balance and sliding into the back of me, leaving me nowhere to go but down. My bum hit the ice with a deadening thud that reverberated up my body. Damn, the ice was cold.
I immediately went to spring back up, but my skates weren’t being so obliging and I fell again. Crack. Ouch. A hand came into view which I presumed was Holly’s, so I took it gratefully and pulled myself up to a standing position, arms outstretched to secure my balance.
“Thanks, Holly,” I said until my eyes fell on my saviour.
It was Nicola Sheen.
I turned around and saw Holly was helping Melanie to her feet, Melanie wiping down the back of her jeans which were now wet through.
“What are you doing here?” I was whispering for no good reason.
