On the Third Day of Christmas

by Helen Chandler

Genres: Holiday books; Romance

Synopsis

Put your feet up, tuck into a mince pie and enjoy this treat-sized piece of festive fiction. For fans of Jenny Colgan and Lisa Jewell. It's 27th December, and Julia is thinking about Christmas, and the cosy, relaxed days she spent with her best friend, Toby. Maybe it was just the magic of Christmas, or maybe it was just her, but was there a frisson of something else between them? After ten years of friendship, and a couple of near-misses, is Julia coming to realise that true love might have been under her nose all along? Most importantly, does Toby feel the same?

Release date: December 4, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 73

Sample

Chapter 1

 

 

As Julia raised her eyes to Toby’s face she realised that he had been waiting for her response, probably for some minutes. The noise of the busy restaurant seemed to have receded, it was just the two of them, and she had to think of something to say. Her hand groped instinctively for the trusty goldfish bowl of Pinot Grigio on the table in front of her and she took a restorative gulp before attempting anything as complicated as the formulation of a sentence.

‘Wow, Tobes, that’s . . . that’s amazing. Wow. It’s . . . erm . . . incredible.’

Even to her own ears her voice sounded forced and unnatural.

‘Incredibly good, or incredibly bad?’ Toby raised his eyebrows quizzically and she could sense that he was a little hurt by her lack of enthusiasm.

She rallied, and willed herself to control the myriad complex emotions which were whirling around her head and concentrate on being a good friend to Toby. But what did ‘good friend’ mean in this context? Did it mean offering unconditional support? Was she being a good friend if she encouraged him in this insane plan to marry a woman he barely knew and had nothing in common with? Or would a truly good friend try and talk him out of it, point out that marriages were likely enough to fail without the odds being stacked against them to the extent they would be here?

Maybe she could compromise. ‘Well, incredibly good, of course. It’s amazing that you feel so strongly for Ruby, that you’re so happy together.’ She paused, and frowned. ‘The only thing is, I suppose, that you haven’t been together that long. Wouldn’t it be better to at least live together for a while first before getting engaged? It’s such a big step.’

Toby gave Julia a funny little half-smile. ‘That’s why I love you, Julia. Your romantic impulsiveness. Listen, it is a big step, I am aware of that, but that’s not automatically a bad thing, you know. Ruby is so beautiful, so exciting, she makes me feel so alive. I don’t want to risk losing that now I’ve found it – now I’ve discovered the person I can be when I’m with her. Asking her to move in with me would feel routine and functional. Actually proposing won’t leave her in any doubt about what I feel.’

Julia sighed. Surely by this time she was old enough to know that compromise rarely worked. She hadn’t, in any way, achieved her objective of making Toby think twice about his rash decision. All she had succeeded in doing was to ensure that she herself appeared in the worst possible light as an unromantic killjoy. ‘Well, proposing to her should certainly give her an indication of how you feel.’

Oh God. That sounded sarcastic and bitter as well. ‘Sorry, Toby. I don’t want to spoil things for you. I just want you to be happy, and it’s a bit of a shock, that’s all. I had no idea things were so serious between you and Ruby.’

Toby’s face lit up as he began to eulogise. ‘Honestly, Ju, I’ve never felt like this before. She’s literally all I can think about. She’s so beautiful, so passionate. I can’t concentrate when I’m not with her because I’m thinking about the next time I’ll see her, and I can’t concentrate when I am with her because I’m just mesmerised looking at her. Do you understand what I mean? All I want to do is look at her.’

Julia couldn’t decide whether her feelings of slight nausea were caused by downing half a bottle of wine in five minutes flat, or by Toby’s saccharine sincerity. She did understand, though. She herself had experienced very similar feelings in the past. The trouble was, she had been thirteen years old, and the object of her affections was the student teacher assigned to her French class. And while she would happily have proposed to him, always supposing she had been able to muster something more eloquent than a nervous giggle in his presence, with the benefit of seventeen years’ hindsight she couldn’t help but feel that the relationship might not have lasted. Luckily a spark of feminine intuition surfaced, somewhat later than it might have done, but nonetheless in time to prevent her sharing the comparison with Toby.

She looked at him affectionately. He had changed remarkably little in the time she had known him, and as he sat now, elbows on the table, leaning forward, eyes alight with eagerness, he could still have been the passionate student activist she had first seen holding forth in the college bar, twelve years previously. ‘Come on then, Romeo. Let’s order some fizz to celebrate. And don’t worry, I understand it’s top secret until you actually ask her on Friday. My lips are sealed.’

The rest of the evening passed with their normal mix of banter, teasing, chatting and joking, and if Julia felt the need of a little more alcoholic lubrication than might otherwise have been the case, well, at least The Proposal wasn’t referred to again.

It was only when they said goodbye in the tube station at Oxford Circus that things felt any different. They stood together for a moment in the crowded-even-on-a-Sunday-evening ticket hall, and Julia was suddenly aware of how tall he was. At five foot eight herself, Julia liked tall men and the way they always made her feel so deliciously feminine and protected, but she had never really considered Toby in that category and he had certainly never had that effect on her. She knew he was well over six foot, of course, and she was in flat ballet pumps that night, which emphasised the difference, but suddenly there seemed to be something else as well. Some awareness of him as a man, of her as a woman. Some slight frisson when he bent to kiss her cheek and his stubble grazed her slightly.

‘Well, bye then,’ she said awkwardly as they stepped away from each other. ‘Maybe see you next weekend, to celebrate?’

Toby appeared faintly embarrassed, but pleased. ‘Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll talk to Ruby, see what her plans are, and give you a call.’

There was another moment of slightly strained silence and then he was off, loping towards the escalators without a backward glance.

Julia stood for a minute, fancying she could still feel the pressure of his hands on her upper arms. She gave herself a mental shake. Bit of a coincidence that the first time she found herself going all Mills and Boon about Toby’s height and the set of his shoulders was the evening he told her he was proposing to someone else. Talk about the unobtainable being more attractive . . .

Back in her own little house later that night, Julia threw herself luxuriantly full length onto her purple needlecord sofa and began drinking the pint glass of water which would hopefully stave off hangover hell in the morning, wincing at the thought of the budget meeting starting less than nine hours later. She knew, though, that there was no point going to bed just yet. Her mind was still buzzing from the champagne and from Toby’s news.

Now she was alone in her sanctuary and didn’t have to pretend anything for Toby’s sake, she tried to analyse honestly how she felt. Not good, she decided. She curled up and cradled a patchwork cushion on her lap. Why was this so hard?

Was it turning thirty that had made the difference? Julia didn’t think she was an inherently selfish person. She had willingly, even enthusiastically, submitted to having her hair contorted into unnatural curls and squeezing her curves into unflattering paste. . .