“Have you heard of Pomodoro & Pasta? It’s meant to be lush!” the girl said excitedly as Slymon steered her away, no idea that was exactly where Grace had booked for their anniversary. I called after her to say it was meant to be great – this wasn’t her fault after all – and with my arm around Grace trudged back into the cafe. Grampy G’s party had been the one thing to make her smile. And if Slymon thought he was ruining that too, he had another thing coming.
“Well, that went well,” Grace said, drying her eyes after a therapeutic five-minute mix of crying and creatively insulting Slymon. Thank goodness we had seriously amazing waffles to cheer us up. And by the time we’d finished them, Grace had graduated from sad to furious.
“Who needs boys when we have waffles?” she said, leaning back. I was so full I had to undo the top button of my jeans.
“Agreed.” I stuffed a final forkful into my mouth. I’d already promised Grace she didn’t need to worry about the Grotto venue, and I’d sort it.
“This Christmas. No more Slymon. No more boys. Just you, me and as much Christmas as we can muster.”
“Hear, hear,” I said, burying the thought of just how many sparkly gold drinks and bad jumpers I was going to have to deal with.
“You were right, Mol. Forget all those silly films. All those fake happy endings. All those stupid fluffy snowmen with light-up carrot noses that wave their arms and say ‘I love you snow much’.” That seemed like quite a specific reference, but now wasn’t the time to question it. “I’ve decided this year I’m going to be … a one hundred per cent single Jingle Lady.” She dropped her head on my shoulder. “You want to join me?”
“Sure,” I said, although I hardly needed to confirm considering I’d never had a boyfriend and the only guy I’d met recently seemed like he was just as bad a boyfriend as Simon. I picked up my glass and held it out. “Here’s to the Jingle Ladies.”
Grace tapped hers against it. “Jingle Ladies indeed!” She grinned. “And may Christmas be fully epic.”
“Fully! Starting with” – I pulled out the popcorn containers from my bag – “it’s not much, but could these be the first raffle prize?” I put them on the table, along with an AAA gold wristband I’d found. “I can try and get more stuff from Liverpool.”
Grace held them up like they were baby Jesuses.
“Mols! In a hundred years’ time, when Sleigh Another Day becomes a cult classic, these could be worth more than a house!” She noticed the look I was giving her. “Not that it will become a Christmas classic. In fact, thinking about it, I’m sure no one is probably going to watch it after all. Too, y’know…” Yes – too funny, too festive, too many five-star ratings. I’d seen the reviews. Everyone loved it. “Festive Film of the Decade” had been the headline after the premiere. Grace popped one of the popcorn containers out into 3D and sniffed it. She jerked her head back, like it smelt bad. “Why is there writing in it?” Was there? I hadn’t spotted anything. “It’s a…” She tilted it towards the light. “…number, I think?”
She was right! There it was. In pencil. A scrawled mobile number.
She slammed it on the table. “If this is Joseph’s number, can we forget about the whole Jingle Ladies thing?” But she saw my eyebrow rise. “Joking. Jingle Ladies is for life, not just for Christmas.”
“Hear, hear…” I laughed. But was that a drawing underneath the number? The outline of … a dragon. With a … nose ring? “C’mon then, super sleuth. What’s that? Your crime podcasts have trained you for this moment…”
“You’re right. There must be a simple explanation why there’s a phone number and a reindeer—”
“THAT’S A REINDEER!” I shouted so loud, even the waitress who was now avoiding us looked over. Of course it was! A really bad drawing of a reindeer. Antler horn things, long face, a round nose over the top (which made a lot more sense than a dragon with a nose ring). My heart thumped.
Was this Ru’s work?
Had he left his number for me?
But why?!
He had a girlfriend. Although this could just be as friends.
“Molllllls.” Grace was giving me the most suspicious of all looks. “Why are you getting so weird about this?”
“I’m not,” I snapped, a bit too quickly.
“So you don’t know whose number it is?”
If I was going to mention what happened with Ru, now was the time. It wasn’t like anything had happened. But after just seeing Slymon, the timing felt way too bad.
I shook my head, not quite able to say “no” out loud. I never didn’t tell Grace the truth.
“Phew.” Grace grinned. “For a second there, I thought you were going to say you’d met someone...” She laughed. This felt weird. Why did it feel so weird?
“Bail on the Jingle Ladies already? Never,” I said firmly, trying to make up for not fessing up about Ru. “Call me Molly Natasha Jingle Bell.” I stopped, realizing I’d basically been named for this exact moment.
“Jingle Bell, I love it!” Grace picked up my pencil and passed it over, the rubber facing towards me. “And just as well. You had me worried for a second.”
What mattered more? Rubbing this out to make sure we had prizes for the auction and show I was a committed Jingle Lady? Or keeping any chance I had of ever speaking to Ru again?
Before I could doubt myself, I rubbed the number out. All traces removed. Decision made.
This Jingle Lady was ready to sort Grampy’s Grotto and survive Christmas.
CHAPTER
8
TO DO:
•Pack the green paint!
•Village hall form
•Check red/white socks have dried
•Order Jingle Lady Christmas card
•Remember to tell Bil the cracker joke: Why does a pony make a terrible carol singer? Because it’s a little horse.
