Josie wrinkled her nose and said nothing, knowing there was no right answer to that question. If she said no, she was sure they’d see through it, and if she said yes, she wasn’t quite sure what she was admitting. She’d assumed, at first, that the flowers were from Memo, but she had denied it when Josie had asked, and Josie hadn’t been able to think of who else they might be from. And Max would have been able to find out her address from Geoffrey, wouldn’t he? She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Stupid, letting herself go down that road. She’d told him she didn’t want to see him again—she should stick by that.
Laura and Bia were both watching her a little too intently, and she squirmed under the weight of their combined gaze. “You need to message him,” Bia declared, after a moment. Laura frowned, but Bia nodded. “Ask him if they were from him, and if so, then why. If they’re nothing to do with him then at least you won’t be wondering. You need closure, Josie.”
Laura’s expression straightened out thoughtfully. “Hmm. There may be something in that.”
“I don’t need closure,” Josie said, trying to sound like she felt the idea preposterous. The problem was, Bia might be right. She’d known, really, that he wouldn’t be here. And what had she been hoping for, anyway? That he’d broken up with Erin and would arrive with flowers, chocolate, and champagne in hand, begging her to give him a chance, telling her that she was the love of his life? She almost let out a snort at the thought of it.
John reappeared at Laura’s side, as if drawn by some silent signal, with four glasses of wine clutched in both hands. He dished them out, and Josie sipped her red automatically. Laura looked at her critically. “I think the only thing to do,” she said, a little formally, “is to get you good and drunk.”
Bia lifted her glass in agreement and Josie cocked her head. “Hmm. There may be something in that.”
A week after the exhibition, which had marked the official end to the course, Josie was spending the last weekend before Christmas in her old flat with Bia, watching as Bia stood on a chair to straighten the gold star at the top of the Christmas tree. The tree was decorated mainly with silver, purple, and, completely uncoordinatedly, red, this year, and Josie saw Bia had splashed out on some new decorations. She’d waited for Josie to get there to unpack the wooden swan, which Josie had placed on the tree in a rather ceremonial fashion. The flat looked almost the same as last year, with fairy lights around the window and on top of the fake fireplace, and tinsel hanging up over both bedroom doors.
Josie nodded back to the doorway of the flat as Bia got down from the chair. “No mistletoe this year?”
Bia made a face. “I had to take it down because Sarah and her boyfriend kept using it as an excuse to have loud make-out sessions in the doorway under it and I kept getting stuck.” When Josie laughed, Bia sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to move back in?” Sarah, Bia’s replacement flatmate, had gone back home for Christmas already, so there was no danger of being heard.
“I don’t have a job, sadly, and surely you can’t kick her out anyway—doesn’t she have a contract?”
Bia wrinkled her nose and said nothing, then glanced hopefully at the cupboard where the glasses lived. “Wine?”
“Not until you pack, come on.” Josie practically dragged her to her bedroom, then sat on Bia’s bed while Bia got out her stupidly large suitcase. Josie had already packed, given she’d come from Helen’s and had only brought what she needed. She was kind of in between homes right now—she’d moved out of the Edinburgh flat, so most of her stuff was at Helen’s, still packed. Still, she figured she’d think that through once she got back from Budapest, where she’d agreed to spend Christmas and New Year with Bia. They were due to fly first thing tomorrow.
Josie felt like she’d lived a rather nomadic life this past year—something she would have never thought herself capable of. It was almost impossible to believe a year had gone by. She supposed it always felt impossible, everyone said it every year, but particularly this year, given she’d gone from heartbroken in London to living in New York to temping in Guildford and, finally, to playing at being a photographer in Edinburgh. After all that chaos it felt nice to be spending the last bit of the year in her old flat with Bia.
“What do you reckon?” Bia asked, turning around at her wardrobe and holding up a skimpy green dress.
Josie scrutinized it. “I think you’ll be freezing—it’s freezing there right now.”