The Christmas Promise: The cosy Christmas book you won’t be able to put down!

In her peripheral vision she noticed Sam Jermyn talking to Patrick and Jake, apparently having left their colleagues to their own devices. Sam’s bottle of Cobra was almost empty. She sighed. Sam the Important Man had bought her a drink. It was standard alcohol etiquette that she should now buy him one.

It took her several minutes to get served. She wriggled back through the crush, drinks held high in an effort not to end up wearing them. When she finally reached her target she stretched forward to press the bottle of beer upon Sam with a gracious smile.

But then she caught a laughing comment from Jake. ‘You bought her a drink, that means you have the right to hit on her.’

Chapter Two
The trouble with an ex-boyfriend

Ava hesitated. Focused on their own conversation, the three men showed no signs of having noticed her approach.

Jake ploughed on. ‘Hitting on women at Christmas is almost obligatory. Take a punt!’

Heat flooding her face, Ava used the Cobra bottle to deliver a hard rap to Sam’s elbow. ‘Here you go. Now “she” has returned the favour. No “rights” or “obligations” involved.’

With a jump, Sam swung around, looking horrified. ‘Look, I hope you don’t think—’

Behind him, Ava saw Patrick and Jake go wide-eyed with embarrassment, smiles falling from their faces. ‘I don’t think anything.’ She began to turn away.

But Izz had come up behind her, blocking her escape. ‘Louise has arrived and she’s talking to Tod so I thought I’d join you guys.’ Her voice rose hesitantly at the end of the statement, as if asking Ava whether she was doing the right thing.

Ava stepped aside, ready to say, ‘I was just moving on.’ But the words died on her lips as she saw the wary way in which Sam was regarding Izz, and that Patrick and Jake were looking ever more uncomfortable.

As if feeling the weight of expectation under all those gazes, Izz stumbled into speech. ‘So, Sam, do you get up to Camden for the music? I’m going to see Jeramiah Ferrari at Barfly in January. They’ve got a new album out.’ Self-consciously, she cleared her throat. ‘Who are your favourite artists?’

Patrick buried his face in his drink. Jake began to inch away, craning over the heads of the crowd as if searching someone out. But Izz’s eyes were on Sam.

Ava’s heart sank as she recognised her expression.

Oh, right. Izz had one of her crushes. On Sam.

And Sam and his smoothly dressed cronies were embarrassed. Indignation burned in Ava on her friend’s behalf. Izz couldn’t help being Izz. She wasn’t confident with men, probably because boys had bullied her for her size at school. Hunching apologetically as if to try and hide her height, her flirtation technique was a bit like a needy dog looking for a pat.

Sam, Ava had to admit, at least had grace enough to bear his part in the conversation. ‘I’ve been to Dingwall’s a few times.’ He sent Ava an encouraging smile, inviting her in. ‘Do you and Ava go to gigs together?’

But Patrick asked at the same moment, ‘Ava, you live locally, don’t you? Camden’s pretty cool. Do you work here, too?’

Feeling bad for Izz liking Sam when he was being polite rather than liking her back, Ava answered Patrick. ‘I share Izz’s flat and have a studio there. I’m a couture milliner.’

Patrick made a performance of looking confused. ‘You’re going to have to tell me what that is. I’m just a bloke.’

‘I make hats. Bespoke hats, by hand.’

His gaze moved upwards. ‘So that’s why the headgear?’

‘Yes. This is a pillbox, but I make all styles.’

‘Sounds like an interesting career,’ Sam put in, when Izz took a breath in her comparison of Dingwalls and the Roundhouse.

‘It’s fantastic. So creative.’ Patrick raised his drink in a toast.

Ava smiled. Patrick’s flirtatiousness was too obvious to be attractive but if Ava responded to him Izz would have a chance to chat to Sam. How would Izz become more at ease with men if they didn’t stay in her conversations? ‘But aren’t you PR types creative, too, Patrick?’

Sam turned politely back to Izz, leaving Ava to listen as Patrick chatted about his place in the communications agency and the mix of commercial creativity, incisive innovation and sales craft that went into writing successful advertising copy. ‘We get a bit fed up with people saying that anyone in promo and publicity just plans parties and hands around champagne.’

Ava gave him a smile. ‘You mean you have to make the sandwiches, too?’

‘No – I order them from the deli.’ Patrick laughed.

Ava’s attention was taken when Izz, perhaps running out of conversational steam, turned to fight her way to the ladies.

Sam clapped Patrick on the shoulder. ‘Your turn to organise a round of drinks, I think. I just want a word with Ava.’

Patrick nodded and began to push his way towards the bar, leaving Sam and Ava together in the crush. She fidgeted, feeling slightly as if she’d been asked to stay behind by a head teacher.

But Sam was looking apologetic again. ‘I’m really sorry. Jake wasn’t expecting to be overheard, obviously. I’m not sure what to do but apologise. There seems no good way to say “He wasn’t saying things about you behind your back. He was saying things about your best friend.”’

Ava gave him the benefit of her best raised-eyebrows stare. ‘Not very nice of him.’

‘Sorry,’ he repeated. He did look sorry, his frank gaze unwavering. ‘Jake doesn’t mean any harm. The alcohol’s washed away a few of his social boundaries, that’s all. Izz hasn’t been at the agency long and she can pull together the server, network, intranet and database in her sleep, but people are finding her a bit … hard going.’

‘Not everybody finds it natural to be outgoing and schmoozing. Is it obligatory in a publicity shop?’

‘Probably not actually obligatory. But useful.’ He looked pained. ‘And we generally call Jermyn’s a comms agency rather than a publicity shop.’

Ava sipped her wine. ‘Noted. And I generally call Izz shy rather than hard going.’

A smile lurked at the corners of his mouth. ‘Also noted. And I usually call myself personable rather than schmoozing.’

She widened her eyes. ‘Seriously?’

He laughed, but subsided without further comment as Patrick came back, drinks clutched awkwardly. And then Izz returned, too, accepting another bottle of beer.

Patrick brushed Ava’s fingers with his as he passed her a glass of rosé. ‘So, are you ladies looking forward to Christmas?’

Deliberately, Ava looked at Izz, including her in the conversation.

‘We’ll eat and drink too much for a couple of days,’ responded Izz, cautiously, when it became obvious that the floor was hers. ‘And we’ll probably come down to Camden High Street because there’s always something to do and it’s on our doorstep.’

Ava waited, knowing what would come next. And, sure enough … ‘But Ava doesn’t like Christmas,’ Izz added.

Patrick did a theatrical double take. ‘Not like Christmas? When everybody has too much to eat and drink and there’s loads of partying? I love it all! Then, at New Year, we usually go skiing but it’ll just be me and Jake this time. Our mate Elliot doesn’t come any more and this year Sam can’t make it.’

‘Illness in the family,’ Sam said, briefly. He glanced curiously at Ava. ‘What don’t you like about Christmas?’

She shrugged. ‘Most things. Except, I agree that the parties can be good.’

A small frown quirked Sam’s brow. ‘What about when you were a child? Did you at least like it then?’

Ava was assailed with a rush of memories of putting up the Christmas trees at Gran’s house, a stately real one in the sitting room and a wonky little silver one in the kitchen. Ava had loved the kitchen tree best, twinkling multi-coloured lights at them as they baked mouth-watering mince pies and gingerbread Santas that smelled of Christmas. Ava’s heart clenched to remember Gran’s red apron with jolly robins on and her grey curls bobbing energetically as she rolled out pastry, laughing because she always managed to sprinkle flour over every surface in the room.

When it was all cleared up and the baking rested on cooling racks, present wrapping at the big kitchen table in a joyful muddle of paper, foil ribbon and sticky tape would take over, while carols played on Radio 4.

On Christmas morning, after present opening, they’d make dinner together, lighting a fire in the dining room grate to make it a special occasion.

Sometimes one of her parents made it to Gran’s for Christmas dinner, Ava and Gran scheduling the meal to fit in with a shift if necessary. Or else it would be just Ava and Gran pulling crackers and wearing paper hats that were too big, munching succulent turkey and Yorkshire puddings with tiny sausages baked into them.