Page 38 of Christmas Romance Galore!
Last year we’d bought some fancy type of eggnog, specially imported from the USA and it was demolished within the hour. This year there was just as much festive bling on offer, with specially made sloe gin, Christmas-spiced rum and festive fizz, along with swag like specially printed Christmas glasses and cocktail shakers. In truth, I wanted to buy the whole shop, but I knew Holly wouldn’t go for that, being far more practical and prudent than me.
Holly arrived ten minutes late, giving me a hug and complaining about the Tube. I shook it off — Holly was ten minutes late wherever she went, it was her ritual. She was dressed in a smart grey suit with those slip-on shoes with tassels that were so in vogue right now — with her height, Holly never needed to add heels. She’d had her hair cut recently and it hung down over her eyes, short at the back. As usual, Holly looked like she’d been expressly delivered from a catwalk show to come shopping with her vertically challenged friend. It was a role I was well used to playing.
“Have you found anything?” Holly rubbed her hands together, her green eyes twinkling. “I’m surprised you haven’t bought the shop yet.”
“I only thought about buying the whole shop, there’s a world of difference.”
Holly chuckled, before picking up a bottle of Smirnoff Gold. “This would be a good talking point.” She shook the spirit and the gold leaf danced around the liquid.
“Bit noughties,” I said. “What about this?” I held up a bottle of bright blue liquid, which had a reindeer head fixed around its cap so that when poured, it looked as though Rudolph was vomiting up your drink.
Holly screwed up her face. “I don’t think so — blue drinks are never good news.”
But within five minutes we’d struck gold: mince pie liqueur. “Mix it with rum to make mince pie martinis,” Holly read from the label. “That’ll do nicely.”
We bought three bottles before heading off to the Selfridges’ Christmas department to buy a new ornament for the flat — also now one of our Christmas traditions.
The department was vast, stacked floor to ceiling with shiny Christmas objects and decorations, all vying to be the one to adorn your home. Honestly, I could have happily moved in there for the festive period, pretending I was in the movie Elf or similar. This Christmas department represented a world where everything was simple, and the biggest decision you had to make was whether or not to eat a candy cane or a mince pie for breakfast.
After 20 minutes breathing in the filtered essence of pine cone, we settled on an uber contemporary snow-covered branch as our new ornament, replete with a red-breasted robin. It was going to look great on our lounge wall.
Next up on the list was family shopping. I always bought my mum a selection of treats from the Selfridges’ food hall, along with something woollen. This year, Holly chose to follow suit. We bagged our mothers identical grey cashmere jumpers and hoped they’d never meet wearing them, along with a selection of nuts, chocolates and weird cheese.
Which just left buying for each other so we agreed to meet in the champagne bar in an hour — we had to have bought our presents by then. We called this our annual Christmas dash — you could pre-plan, but you could not pre-buy.
I knew where I was headed: bags. Holly needed a new one that fitted her laptop as well as her daily life — she’d been telling me so for weeks now. I’d done my research, which meant I found the perfect bag within 20 minutes and had it gift-wrapped on the spot. I was pleased with my choice. The bag was cherry-red leather with tassels to match Holly’s shoes, had a wealth of pockets and leather so smooth, you could fall asleep on it.
Holly was waiting in the champagne bar with a grin on her face when I arrived, two glasses of fresh bubbles on the table along with a bowl of green olives. Most of the other tables were full of shoppers relaxing after spending their cash too, drinking wine and champagne, as well as eating some of the bar’s tapas offerings.
“All done?” Holly asked. She smiled and it lit up her whole face — she looked extra-gorgeous tonight.
I stashed the presents under the table, dropping my handbag on to the back of the chair.
“Yep and you’re going to love what I bought you,” I said.
“I don’t doubt it.” Holly sipped her drink, before rubbing her hands together. “So I was thinking, tonight could be the start of our Christmas extravaganza.”
I tilted my head. “Our Christmas what?”
Holly scratched her forehead and stretched her legs out so they snaked down the side of my chair. “If your Christmas girlfriend quest is really over, then maybe we should just throw ourselves into Christmas, just the two of us and our plans. What do you think?”
Guilt crept up my face. Turns out guilt was coloured red.
“What’s the matter?” Holly narrowed her eyes. “This is right up your street, but you’re not jumping up and down.” She paused, then sat back in her chair. “You feeling okay?”
I licked my lips before shaking my head. “I’m fine, just need some food — this champagne has gone straight to my stomach. The Christmas extravaganza sounds perfect. But what does it involve?”
Holly grinned and was engaged once more. “Tonight, we do dinner under the twinkly Christmas lights. Then tomorrow we watch a Christmas movie, your choice, and I’ll pretend to be amazed when you choose Elf. Then there’s the party, Dixie Chicks, my birthday — we’re all set really!”
My face fell. Dixie Chicks.
I put my finger in the air and pursed my lips, then took a large gulp of my champagne. Then another. It was nearly all gone.
“We better get you some food sharpish if this is your drinking mood,” Holly said with a smile.
“About the Dixie Chicks.”
Holly’s face formed a question mark. “What about them?” She withdrew her legs and sat up. “You did get the tickets, right?”
