Page 9 of It Happened on Christmas Eve
Chapter Five
Christmas Eve 4:35 p.m.
The thing Adam needs to do – the urgent errand that simply cannot wait and must be done – is the purchase of a Christmas tree. It doesn’t seem to matter that he’ll be spending Christmas Day with his family at Marcy’s house and will probably chuck the poor tree out in a week. Adam Westbury wants what he wants and, from what I can fathom, is quite used to getting it.
Because he’s only been living in Notting Hill for a few months I recommend my favourite florists on the corner where Kensington Park Road and Westbourne Park Road meet. I push him down the street past the heaving boutiques and festively decorated bars, being careful not to skid again on the ice forming under the rapidly falling snow. One arse bruise is quite enough, thank you. On the other side of the road, a bunch of girls are chucking snow balls at each other. I get a little memory of doing that with my mum when I was a kid. Before she and Dad broke up and she moved to somewhere in the world where they never get snow.
I look away quickly and carry on down the road until we reach the florist. There’s one tree left and I feel a spark of relief that I’m not going to have to trek any further to find another one.
‘It’s a beaut!’ Adam declares, gently stroking the foliage of the short, fat, lush looking tree. ‘You are gorgeous and you don’t even know it,’ he says tenderly to the tree.
‘How many painkillers have you actually taken?’ I ask, parking the wheelchair and standing in front of him.
‘Just a little codeine. It’s great stuff, don’t you think?’ Perfect at Christmas. Mince pies! Brussel sprouts! Booze! Codeine!’
‘I expect Jesus would be very disappointed to hear you say that,’ I deadpan, recalling his earlier jibe.
‘Ahahaha! Was that a joke, Phoebe?’
I shrug a shoulder and reach my hand out to the tree. Urgh. It’s all spiky and unwelcoming. Adam was stroking it like it was lovely and soft.
‘We’ll take this amazing tree,’ Adam says to the young guy manning the shop.
‘That’s forty five pounds please, mate.’
‘Will you get my wallet for me?’ Adam asks.
I’m about to reach down into his jeans pocket when I realise he’s wiggling his eyebrows saucily. I snatch my hand back to my chest as if scorched.
Adam laughs and takes out his own wallet, paying the man his forty five pounds as well as a five pound tip because it’s Christmas. The florist shakes Adam’s hand heartily and tells him to have a cracking festive season and maybe they should go out for a pint sometime.
No one ever asks me to go out for a pint sometime! Not that I would say yes even if they asked. But still…What must it be like to naturally be that charming?
The tree is heavier than it looks. I pick it up and lay it across Adam’s knees on top of the crutches that are already resting there.
‘Are you sure that’s alright?’ I ask. ‘It’s not hurting your leg?’
Adam shakes his head. ‘It’s only the bottom half of my leg that’s broken. This feels fine.’
‘Good.’ I start to push him back down the road.
‘What shall we call her?’ Adam asks as we head back down Kensington Park Road.
‘Who?’
‘The beautiful tree!’
‘You want to name your Christmas tree? How high are you right now on a scale of one to Snoop Dog?’
‘How about we call her Phoebe. Because she is prickly and attractive and I like her.’
Oh God. Ew. Is… is he flirting with me? Oh brother.
I stop the wheelchair in the middle of the street much to the chagrin of a woman weighed down by a million carrier bags, four young bundled up children and two large rambunctious dogs.
‘What are you doing?’ the lady hisses. ‘Are you an idiot?’
‘Yeah, I’m not the one Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve with four children and two dogs in tow,’ I grumble back.
