Stuck On You Page 13

  My mum shakes her head to herself as she dashes back to the kitchen.

  ‘It had these cards with it, with different men on, and this fake phone that would give you details about your dream date. The aim of the game – like Guess Who? – was to try and narrow down who it was. The first player to guess right was the winner.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got Matcher for that now,’ my dad points out.

  Yes, my dad knows what Matcher is. My dad knows all about dating apps because he compiled a book of dating app fails. It was a particular high point for me when he called up and asked if I had anything to contribute.

  ‘Excited for the walk today?’ my mum asks upon her return, changing the subject as she puts another plate of Christmas-tree-shaped crumpets on the table. My dad immediately grabs one and starts flooding it with butter.

  ‘You know it,’ I reply. I mean, I’m not that excited. It’s a walk – how exciting can it be? But my mum loves it, so I love it. ‘I’ll bet Dad is looking forward to being teamed up with his favourite child.’

  ‘Well, with Damian being here, I thought you could team up with him this year,’ my mum suggests. ‘I’m putting your dad with Ben. Maybe he’ll stand a chance of winning without you slowing him down.’

  My dad and I exchange a brief, subtle knowing look. The reason we never win is because we would always get bored halfway through and sack it off for an hour to go to the pub.

  ‘I’m quite competitive,’ Damian says. ‘Maybe I can help you win.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say with a smile, although I doubt it. I’ve always preferred a leisurely walk taking in the scenery, rather than dashing around jamming cards through letterboxes like Postman Pat on speed.

  ‘Darling, I know you’ve just sat down, but your sister should be here any second – can you go unlock the front door and give her a hand in? She’s bringing Grandma.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say as I pull myself to my feet. ‘Pop the kettle on for me coming back.’

  I make my way from the dining room to the hall, admiring the Christmas decorations as I go. While outside may be a barrage of Christmas lights, inside is way more to my taste. Subtle shimmers of gold, delicate twinkling lights, and then there are the family portraits. All year round the walls in the hallway are decorated with framed family photos but, when Christmas comes along, my mum takes them all down in favour of the annual family Christmas group shots my parents have been taking since before Selena and I were born. It’s nice, to be able to look back at Christmases over the years. First it was just my mum and dad, then a few with grandparents, then Selena pops up, then there’s me. Other than a few teenage boyfriends the line-up stays pretty solid until Mark married into the family – then the grandparents start disappearing. It’s sad to see my dad’s parents, and my granddad on my mum’s side no longer in the pictures but I’m so grateful for the pictures we do have with them, and all the good memories attached to them. I only need to look at the family portrait with my granddad George with a full jug of brandy butter all over his Christmas jumper to remember the incident with the skateboard that I’m sure you don’t need me to spell out for you.

  Selena is already knocking on the door by the time I get to it.

  ‘Grandma,’ I squeak excitedly the second I lay eyes on her.

  I lean forward and hug all 5’1” of her.

  ‘All right, all right,’ she says. ‘You’ll squeeze my teeth out.’

  My grandma Winnie is maybe the grumpiest lady you will ever meet but it’s all a front. She likes to play it all moody and disapproving but I know that she’s happy and that she loves us all – even my dad, although the two of them do love to pretend they’re at war sometimes.

  ‘You’re walking good,’ I tell her as she passes me.

  ‘I’m knackered,’ she replies.

  ‘She and Mum are going to sit the walk out today,’ Selena says. ‘She’s a bit achy today.’

  ‘I’m achy every day,’ she says as she heads for the dining room. ‘I’m excited to meet this fella of yours though.’

  ‘She knows the deal, right?’ I ask Selena once we’re alone.

  ‘She does but she is completely convinced otherwise,’ she says with a laugh. ‘But she doesn’t know about your Post-it boy.’

  ‘Oh, God, let’s never talk about that again,’ I say quickly and quietly.

  ‘Ooh, did something happen?’ she asks. ‘You have to tell me if something has happened because everything you’ve told me about it so far has been so incredibly dull.’

  I glance over her shoulder to see if anyone can hear us.

  ‘Mark and Ben are down the road looking at Gerry’s inflatable snowman,’ she assures me. ‘Come on, spill.’

  ‘Well, given that I was giving my notice and I knew we wouldn’t be able to talk any more, I invited him out for a drink with me,’ I admit.

  ‘I can tell from the look on your face that you’re not happy with the way things went…’ she says with a wince.

  ‘He didn’t even reply, and I know that he was in the office, because he told me he would be,’ I say. ‘He just wasn’t interested.’

  ‘Do you know his last name?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t…’

  ‘Well, try and find it out from Damian,’ she suggests. ‘We could look him up on Facebook and send him a message, see if he’s OK – maybe he was off sick?’

  ‘It’s a good job you’re married,’ I tell her with a laugh. ‘You’d be terrible at the dating game now. Doubling down and sending another message would be a terrible idea, and even more embarrassing. I could peep at his profile to see if he’s married or has a girlfriend though – that might explain why he’s ghosting me all of a sudden.’

  ‘Speaking of Damian, how is he doing?’ Selena asks. ‘He’s very good-looking – better than the pictures I looked at online. Hey, I saw you in one, from that wedding you went to.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re in the background, sitting at a table, looking moody. Totally on-brand for you,’ she teases.

  ‘Har-har,’ I say sarcastically. ‘Anyway, Damian is great, just great. He’s sitting at the table, dressed like an elf, eating crumpets with Mum and Dad like it’s the most normal thing in the world.’

  ‘And how is he finding sleeping in your room with the glow-in-the-dark stars?’ she asks through a grin.

  ‘Oh, Dad didn’t put Damian in my room, he put him in yours,’ I say.

  I watch as the colour drains from her face before it comes rushing back bright red.

  ‘Wait, what? He’s… he’s in my room?’ she babbles.

  ‘Yup,’ I reply.

  ‘I was fifteen when I put those posters up – does he know that?’

  ‘I’m fairly sure you were seventeen,’ I correct her. ‘Don’t worry, he found all the Blue stuff funny. You should talk to him. I’m pretty sure one of them punched him at a Christmas party.’

  ‘God, so he’s cool and hot,’ she says with a sigh.

  ‘Yes, it is both so cool and so hot to be punched by a boyband way past their best,’ I say as seriously as I can.

  ‘Does he look hot as an elf?’ she asks.

  ‘Selena, come on,’ I say.

  ‘I’m going to look,’ she says excitedly as she dashes off to the dining room. She steps inside before poking her head back out. She nods wildly as she mouths the word ‘yes’.

  I follow her to find my grandma sitting next to Damian, smiling in that big, bright, beaming way she usually reserves for the likes of Des O’Connor.

  ‘I like this one,’ she calls over to me.

  I just smile awkwardly. Damian laughs. He’s loving the attention.

  ‘Do you two want to grab the tea and some more cups from the kitchen?’ my mum asks.

  ‘I hope by “this one” she doesn’t mean as opposed to Mark,’ Selena whispers to me as we do as we’re told.

  ‘Except Mark was your boyfriend when she met him and we all know Damian is just my boss,’ I whisper back.


  ‘OK, but no one brings their boss home from Christmas,’ she insists once we’re alone in the kitchen. ‘Who does that? No one does that.’

  ‘Someone who feels really bloody guilty about leaving him in the lurch when he pretty much relies on her for everything,’ I point out.

  ‘I think maybe you like how much he depends on you,’ she says. ‘I think he likes it too.’

  ‘Erm, you’re a recruiter, not a psychologist,’ I point out. ‘Stop trying to make something out of nothing.’

  ‘OK, but you did have a huge crush on him when you first started working for hi—’ she starts but I don’t let her finish.

  ‘Selena, can you not?’ I insist. ‘That was a long time ago, before I knew him. I fancied the idea of him – just like everyone else does – but I know better now.’

  ‘OK, fine, fine,’ she says. ‘I’ll stop. But I’m your sister – we’re supposed to say stuff like this to each other, and borrow each other’s clothes…’

  ‘Oh, God, if you start banging on about your black and red fishnet top from Tammy Girl from 2002…’

  ‘Did you borrow it though?’ she asks me with an irritated seriousness the conversation absolutely doesn’t deserve.

  ‘No, Selena, burglars with big slutty teenage girl energy broke in and stole it, then broke in again and put it back. Of course I borrowed it. You need to move on.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Mentioned Dial-a-Date to Mum and Dad yet?’

  ‘Just once,’ I admit with a laugh. ‘Come on, let’s go back through. I’m desperate for a cup of tea. We’ll be heading out delivering the cards soon.’

  ‘I hear you’re paired up with Damian,’ she says. ‘You going to show him all the sights?’

  ‘Some of them,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll be interested to hear which ones later,’ she says with a smile.

  ‘No romantic ones, if that’s what you’re getting at,’ I reply as I follow her back to the dining room. Damian has one of his cameras with him now – an instant one that pops the pictures out of the front. He’s taking my grandma’s picture while she poses. Honestly, that smile. She never smiles like that.

  ‘I was just telling Damian about the family Christmas portraits we take every year,’ my mum tells me. ‘Damian says he’ll take it for us this year. Imagine – a genuine Damian Banks family portrait.’

  ‘Imagine that,’ I reply.

  I smile at him, puzzled. I guess shooting that wedding must have softened him up a little because Damian has always been adamant that he isn’t an event photographer, he’s an artist, and he’s always made a really clear distinction between the two.

  Selena is right about him – he does look strangely attractive dressed as an elf. I suppose it’s not so much the outfit itself, because that would be so very weird, but more how he looks in it. It’s such a ridiculous, dorky outfit and he wears it as if it’s a limited-edition Gucci suit. He isn’t embarrassed or awkward; he’s wearing those elf PJs with attitude. That’s what’s sexy about it.

  I can’t believe Selena called me out on having a crush on him before I really knew him. That's not cool – we all make mistakes. But as I watch him with his arm around my gran, showing her the snap he just took of her, seeing that smile on her face… Bringing Damian home for Christmas certainly wasn’t a mistake. At least I can say that.

  22

  The Kirke family Christmas-card-posting race is nothing if not fair. Well, fair-ish.

  My mum writes the cards and then separates them into two piles: on the island and on the mainland. Everyone gets the same number of cards for each location. Rumour has it she’s been known to add or remove people from her Christmas-card list to keep the game fair, but I can’t actually verify that.

  Teams are normally me and my dad, my mum and my gran, and then Selena, Mark and Ben all work together. Today things are different. My mum and gran are sitting it out, Selena and Mark are going it alone, and my mum must deem Ben old enough to be paired with my dad – although he isn’t old enough to sneak off to the pub. Maybe my mum is on to us. And there’s me and Damian.

  When you grow up in a tourist town almost everything about it is totally wasted on you. None of it seems remarkable. A tidal island is a true wonder of nature but, when you grow up on one, it just makes you annoyed that you can’t just go over to play at your friend’s house because the bloody sea has cut you off from civilisation.

  Now that I’m an adult though – and an adult who lives in a big city – coming home is a genuine treat. Everything captivates me. And it’s nice having Damian with me, and showing an interest. I’m having fun talking him through all the sights.

  We’re over on the mainland, at the top of the main street that leads down to the coast.

  Damian climbs onto a wall, looking out to sea.

  ‘What’s that, over on the island?’ he asks.

  I follow his gaze.

  ‘The Hope Island abbey ruins,’ I tell him. ‘I can take you there – it’s great for taking photos.’

  ‘You never told me you grew up somewhere so perfect,’ he says.

  ‘I guess we don’t usually talk too much about our personal lives,’ I remind him. ‘And you didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes wholesome village-y stuff.’

  ‘I like you, don’t I?’ he jokes. ‘And you’re technically wholesome village-y stuff.’

  ‘I guess I am.’ I laugh. ‘Or maybe I used to be, before city life corrupted me.’

  ‘Nah, you've always seemed a little different to everyone else, to me at least.’

  I’m not sure if he’s complimenting me there or if I should be offended.

  Damian raises his camera to his eye to snap a picture of the scenery. I’m trying to encourage him to take loads of pictures to try and reignite his passion in the hope it will inspire the last-minute change of direction he is in desperate need of if he’s going to go ahead with his preview in February.

  ‘Oh, quick,’ I say, noting the couple sitting on a bench across the road. ‘We can shave ten to fifteen minutes off our time.’

  Damian hops down and dutifully follows me across the road where Clara and Henry – a couple in their late sixties who I’ve known all my life – are wrapped up nice and warm, sitting on the bench.

  ‘Hello,’ I say brightly.

  ‘Sadie, hello,’ Clara replies. ‘Home for Christmas, without fail. And with a handsome man too?’

  ‘Oh, this is Damian,’ I say. ‘He’s just my—’

  ‘Just her friend,’ Damian interrupts.

  I smile at him. That’s probably a much better thing to start telling people.

  ‘How modern,’ she says. ‘Anyway, how are you, love?’

  ‘I’m doing good, thanks. I have your Christmas card from the Kirkes,’ I say as I hand it over.

  ‘Trying to win the race this year, huh?’ Henry says with a wink.

  ‘Nah, just make it end faster,’ I admit.

  ‘That’s a fancy-looking camera,’ Henry says to Damian. ‘You take a lot of pictures?’

  ‘Damian is a really good photographer,’ I tell him.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Fancy taking our picture?’ Henry asks.

  ‘Oh, leave them alone,’ Clara says.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Damian insists as he lines up his shot. Even though it’s just a snapshot for a couple on the street he treats it with all the care and attention he would a serious photoshoot. He lines up the shot, messes with the settings on his camera, twists the lens to focus, and then… snap. Lots of photographers like to take multiple shots and pick the best one. Damian almost always likes to take just one. He likes his photos to capture the moment. Not the moment after the moment.

  ‘That looks great,’ Damian says as he checks the picture. He holds up his camera screen for them to see.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ Clara says. ‘You can tell a professional took it.’

  ‘I can send you it, if you like?’ Damian suggests. ‘Do you have an email address?’

  ‘Certainly do,’ Henry replies
proudly before telling Damian what it is so he can type it into his phone.

  ‘I’ll get this sent over to you later,’ he tells him.

  ‘Thanks,’ Henry says. ‘It’s been years since we had a good picture together.’

  ‘Well, we’d better get back to posting these cards,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t tell my mum we didn’t put it through your door.’

  ‘Your secret is safe with us, love,’ Clara says.

  ‘It really is a great shot.’ Damian shows me as we walk down Main Street. ‘With the Christmas arch behind them and the way they just look so happy together.’

  ‘Wow, that is great,’ I tell him. ‘Just keep taking great pictures until you get those feelings you get when you know what you want to do.’

  It’s such a weird process to explain but Damian hates everything he does until he doesn’t.

  ‘Yeah, well, I need to get a move on with my work,’ he starts. ‘Or I’ll be getting a visit from the evil Christmas cat.’

  I laugh.

  ‘The Yule Cat,’ I remind him. ‘Don’t worry, if the worst comes to the worst, I’ll get you a new coat to keep the cat away.’

  Damian smiles and then looks down at his camera screen again.

  ‘They really are a cute couple,’ he says. ‘I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but I love this photo.’

  ‘They’re both so lovely,’ I tell him. ‘They own a cafe. I would always love going when I was younger because their chicken nuggets were the closest thing you could get to a McDonald’s locally. They’ve actually had a really difficult life. They were boyfriend and girlfriend when they were at school, until Henry’s dad, who was in the army, moved the whole family somewhere else. They moved back just in time to become teenage sweethearts – right before Henry joined the army. They had years of almost being together. Henry got quite badly hurt and wound up moving back here to be close to his family – and who was the nurse they hired to take care of him until he got back on his feet? Clara. They finally got together, gave up their jobs to open the cafe they’d always talked about, got married, started a family and the rest is history.’