“Oh dear,” Richard said. “That’s a passion killer.” And we all fell about laughing.
I sighed. “You’ll be all right,” I told my friend. “Perhaps it’s best to think of Christmas as just another day. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“Well, it is, isn’t it?” said Rosie. “Another day Dad isn’t here with us.”
Straightaway, my eyes filled with tears. “I know.”
We gripped each other’s hands for a while, then Rosie got a packet of tissues from her bag and offered me one, and we both blew our noses, the stereo trumpeting sounds making us laugh.
“Your mum was reminding me about our giggling fits the other day.”
“God, yes. They were crazy, weren’t they? Sometimes my stomach hurt so much from laughing I couldn’t stand it. We didn’t even always know why we were laughing, did we?”
I shook my head. “It didn’t seem to matter.”
“I haven’t had a good laugh like that for ages. Perhaps we should go to a comedy club or something.”
But we both knew we wouldn’t, and the acknowledgment took the smiles from our faces.
I drank some of my cappuccino, licking the froth from my upper lip. Rosie drank her black coffee.
“How was the introduction session last week? I thought you’d call to tell me about it.”
I had thought about calling Rosie. But I couldn’t shake off the feeling she didn’t quite approve of what I was doing. So in the end, I hadn’t.
“It was all right. Quite a lot to take in. Emotional at times. But then, I think the whole application process will be emotional.”
“I wrote my reference and sent it off.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
“I hope it’s all right.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Rosie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m out of my depth with anything to do with kiddos. You know that.”
“You know me, though. You know what I’m like.”
“Yes, but not as a potential parent, not really.”
“You saw me with Olivia and Emily.”
“Not that much. And besides . . .”
“What?”
“Well, that wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, was it?”
“You mean they hated me?”
It was her turn to squeeze my hand. “They didn’t hate you. It was just that the whole time they were with you, they wished you were their mother.”
She’d hit the nail right on the head. “Did you say that in your reference?”
“Don’t be daft. Of course not. I went on about you being a very caring, thoughtful person. Nurturing, that sort of thing. I steered well clear of your overcompetitiveness at board games and your annoying habit of still having Easter eggs left to eat five weeks after Easter.”
I smiled, knowing she was remembering the Easter she’d stolen half of my Easter egg and tried to rewrap it so the theft wouldn’t be discovered. Stupid, really. I’d have given it to her if she’d asked for it.
“What about my foray into naturism?” I asked.
“Oh, I spoke about that at great length.”
We smiled at each other. “Thank you for doing it, though. She’s coming to see me tomorrow evening, the social worker.”
“To interrogate you?”
“That’s probably how it will feel. I’ve been trying to prepare for it, but it’s difficult when you don’t know exactly what they’ll be asking.”
Rosie put her coffee cup down in its saucer. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s hit the Christmas lights. I’m told there’s an angel theme along Regent Street this year.”
There was. Right along the length of the glamorous shopping street—from Piccadilly Circus to Oxford Street—winged figures reached towards the sky in reverse dives, their arms extended vertically, their wings stretched out to their sides, the drapery of their clothing swinging out below like butterfly plumes.
“Wow,” I breathed, squinting to get the full effect of the silver-blue dazzle of the lights.
“The wings look as if they’re moving, with the way the lights are programmed,” said Rosie.
“It’s very effective,” I agreed, and as we slowly walked along from angel to angel, the thrill of that sparkle seemed to infiltrate my bones, adding to the gleam of optimism from the Trafalgar Square Christmas tree. As I gazed up at the angels, everything seemed possible. They didn’t predict a lonely, miserable Christmas and an unfulfilled New Year. Quite the opposite.
“I love doing this with you,” Rosie said, linking her arm in mine. “I missed it last year.”
I thought of the previous year and shuddered. “Me too. Let’s never miss it again.”
Rosie glanced my way. “Well, all right,” she said. “But you do realise this is the last time it will be quite like this, don’t you? If you adopt a kiddo, we won’t be strolling along all relaxed like this. We won’t be en route to a swanky cocktail bar for mojitos either.”
“Well, no,” I conceded, “I suppose not. But it will be even more magical with a child with us, won’t it? Children adore Christmas lights.”
“They’ll like it for about two minutes. Then they’ll be cold or hungry or bored, and you’ll be trying to distract them instead of listening to me tell you what I got up to at the office party. You’ll be wiping their disgusting snotty noses or backtracking five hundred metres to find their lost glove. I do have other friends with children, you know. Hell, all my friends have children apart from you. And now you’re about to join the club too.”
I shook my head at her. “How did you get to be so cynical about children?”
Rosie shrugged. “You’ve got me all wrong,” she said. “I love children. I just can’t eat a whole one.”
“Very funny.”
“Sorry. Look, don’t listen to me.”
“I’m not. I won’t.”
“Good. You’ve got to do what feels right for you. And if that means taking on a wrecked little life and trying to turn it around, then so be it.”
“Maybe the hardest things are the most worthwhile,” I said, hoping it was true.
Rosie sighed. “Maybe. Anyway, like I say, don’t listen to me. Let’s go and get our mojitos. Next year we’ll just have to bring our own supplies. You can turn the bottom of the buggy into a cocktail bar.”
“Promise me something,” I said. “If my social worker follows up your reference by phone, don’t mention that plan to her.”
She laughed. “All right.”
When we arrived at the cocktail bar, the barman was receiving some instruction from his supervisor. Clearly new to the job, he looked nervous after the supervisor left and he came over to take our order. “What can I get you, ladies?”
I watched a wicked smile form on Rosie’s face and instantly pitied him. I’d seen that smile before. Many times. “I think I’ll have a No Commitment, please,” she said, settling herself down on a barstool. “And my friend here will have a Full-On Responsibility.”