The Twelve Dates of Christmas (19 page)

‘Sorry,’ said Claudia to the old lady who rammed into the back of her.

‘No time to stand around in the doorway my girl, I’ve got shortbread to buy.’ With a steely look she stamped into the department
store.

Christmas shopping on Oxford Street was one of the best and worst things about Christmas in the capital. The shops bulged
with stock – racks of gloves, novelty slippers, gadgets, gizmos, stocking fillers and those special somethings. At every turn,
beauty counters offered spritzes of special-edition cinnamon-scented perfumes and food halls filled hungry shoppers’ tummies
with sample mince pies and flowing prosecco. Elaborate window displays – Santa’s grottoes, Christmas mornings, enchanted forests
– rivaled the Tate for artistic masterpieces. Shoppers were rosy-cheeked, twinkly-eyed and flinging money at the cashiers
like Santa after a little too much Christmas spirit.

But it didn’t take long for them to transform into desperate last-minute buyers fighting over the last jelly bean-pooping
reindeer toy. Claudia had one very important present to buy, and even though this was her third department store she still
had no idea where to start. To the piped music of ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ and the reindeer bell-like cha-ching
of a hundred cash registers, she stuck out her elbows and marched through Selfridges. What the helling hell was she going
to get Nick – her now sort-of boyfriend – for Christmas?

‘Excuse me,’ she said to a sales assistant, accidently jabbing her in the face with a roll of pretty, overpriced wrapping
paper. ‘Any chance you could tell me which level man stuff is on?’

‘Man stuff?’

‘Like, gifts or something. Not Gillette shower gel sets, something a bit more special.’

‘Why not try men’s accessories, first floor?’

Off Claudia went, joining a queue to go up the escalator, on which she stood with her face pressed against someone’s Build-A-Bear
box, and emerged on a floor she immediately felt underdressed for. The men’s
department. All greys and tweeds and more greys and model-types trying on suit jackets in front of mirrors when really they
should be reclining with a Scotch and the
Financial Times
.

She fingered the arm of a plaid Vivienne Westwood suit.
What to buy, what to buy
… But yet again her thoughts drifted to Date Nine.
The
Date. Nick had given her five awesome dates this month, and tonight she’d had an idea for a date he would love. They were
to meet late afternoon near the Tower of London for a Dickensian Christmas group walking tour. Then it was back to hers for
a home-cooked meal. And then …

Anyway, must get on. Claudia strode in a direction that hopefully led to accessories and after a loop and a half of the level
she found them. Well, she found some leathery things intermingled with some electronic stuff, which was a start.

‘What do you want to buy?’ asked a striking waif in a sharply tailored grey dress. She had a thick Dutch accent and icy-blonde
hair. Claudia resisted the urge to ask her for a photo.

‘Do you work here?’ asked Claudia.

‘Yes,’ said the waif, pointing at a Selfridges badge that said Monique, and Claudia felt like a nitwit.

‘I’m looking for a present for my new boyfriend; I’m not sure what to buy him.’

‘You should buy him the new iPad. It is new and boys like new.’

‘Oooh no, I can’t quite afford to spend that much.’

‘How about this Aspinal iPad case?’ Monique plucked a mock-croc wallet from a nearby shelf and handed it to Claudia.

‘Well, I don’t think he has an iPad.’

‘But it is very beautiful.’

‘It is, it’s a lovely grey and I like this magnet bit.’

‘You will get a second date if you buy him this.’

‘We’re actually on our sixth date.’

‘But you don’t like him very much?’

‘I like him loads!’

‘But you don’t want him to have nice things?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘You should buy this case then.’

It was a nice case, and Claudia didn’t want to anger the ice maiden. Maybe she could pop an ‘IOU an iPad’ inside?

No, that was ridiculous. The case was £250, so she put it back on the shelf. ‘Gloves are a nice present; can you show me where
they are please?’

‘You don’t get a classic yellow Selfridges bag if you buy something as small as gloves,’ said Monique.

In that case, maybe the case
was
worth it.

‘Actually, that’s not true,’ Monique sighed. ‘I just wanted you to buy the case. Follow me; I’ll take you to gloves.’

Monique reluctantly handed Claudia a complimentary mini candy cane and left her scouring the racks for any gloves under sixty-five
pounds, though she wasn’t convinced gloves were a good enough way of saying
thanks for being here all along, please be around for a long, long time more
.

The more time marched on the harder it was becoming to concentrate on the task at hand, and the more glued the candy cane
became to one of the fluffier gloves, so she edged back to the escalator and hastily left Selfridges. Continuing up Oxford
Street, the Christmas lights weaved across the road from one flagship store to the next like vast, frost-covered spider webs
under the sun.

What was she going to buy Nick? What was girlfriendy and fun but not too ‘long-term relationship’?

Hello, Ann Summers.

Goodbye, Ann Summers. Claudia walked straight past and in through the door of Holland & Barrett. She loitered by the hazelnuts.
Come on, she was a grown-up, and
sexy things
were perfectly normal and grown up. She exited Holland & Barrett and walked straight back past Ann Summers again, into Dorothy
Perkins on the other side.

Stop being ridiculous, nobody’s watching and nobody cares
. She took a deep breath and launched back on to the street, head held high.

Claudia waltzed in to Ann Summers with faux-purpose and headed straight for the first rack of undies she saw. She studied
the bridal lingerie with authority while her eyes darted left and right.

‘Can I help you with anything today?’ asked a girl about ten years younger than Claudia, all oozing confidence and burlesque
hair.

‘Um, I’m just looking for something a bit fun for when I’m with my, um, boyfriend.’

‘Sure, were you after toys, or costumes or underwear?’

‘Just some undies I think, maybe something a bit festive?’

‘No probs. Special occasion?’

‘Just, you know,
sex
.’ Claudia shrugged and rolled her eyes.

‘First time?’ The sales assistant smiled.

‘No, I’ve had sex loads of times, hundreds— Oh you mean with him. Yes, first time.’

‘Have you visited Ann Summers before?’

‘Pfff, all the time.’
Never
. Claudia had been disinterested in sex for so long she’d never even considered visiting the shop before. The girl led Claudia
over to a wonderful array of red and white tasselled, pom-pommy outfits that would make Mrs Claus blush and hide behind her
apron. ‘This is our Christmas collection, it’s all super fun and sexy – it’ll be such a treat for him. Trust me, this is his
Christmas present covered if you show up wearing one of these.’

‘If only I could get enough paper to wrap myself up,’ Claudia tittered, examining her hand through a mesh bra. It might as
well have been made of cling film.

‘Actually, we do have long red satin wraps that you tie around yourself like a present bow, if you want me to get you one?’

‘No, that’s okay, thank you.’ Actually bestowing herself like she was a luxurious present seemed a little narcissistic for
the first time Nick would see her naked.

Nick had to see her naked!

‘If you need anything, just come and grab me, okay?’ the girl said with a grin and wandered off to realign some handcuffs.

Claudia picked up a red tie-front bra with dangly pom-poms. Would Nick like this? She wasn’t sure if this kind of thing could
even count as a present. Would he say, ‘
You look great, now where’s my iPad case?
’

She ran through the unveiling in her head; what might happen, what he’d say, what she’d say.
Nick, I want to wish YOU a Merry Christmas
.
Nick, unwrap me, baby
.
Nick, I want to hang my stockings
…
under your
… She cringed. She was going to sound like such a twat. Maybe they should just kiss – over clothes – because kissing him
was spectacular enough.

‘Would you like to try that one on?’

Claudia blinked. She must have spent the last five minutes staring at the bra like a right pervert.

‘No, thank you, I think I’ll just take this, and the matching knick-knacks.’

Claudia left the shop, shoving the carrier into her handbag lest anybody see she was a lady who bought rude underwear. It
felt nice, though, to
want
to be sexy and exciting. The butterflies awoke with a dance routine to rival a Gap Christmas advert and a beam formed on
her cheeks.

Four hours to Nick.

Back at home, Claudia spent a long time examining herself in the mirror in her new undies with the heating on full whack.
She’d shaved her legs and her bikini line, spritzed
there
with perfume, experienced
extreme stinging as a result and quickly re-showered. She dried her hair, leaving it soft and loose. Just how she knew Nick
liked it.

She dressed carefully, tucking the fluffy pom-poms inside her clothing. Every couple of minutes she glanced at the clock.

Her stomach was somersaulting faster and faster the closer it got to date time. ‘Come on Claudia, man up,’ she muttered. She
was a grown woman, and she’d done it many a time. Sort of. Just … not with anyone but Seth in a very long time.

What if something had changed? Was sex like fashion? Oh God, she never followed fashion. What if her way was considered really
retro?

Did people even shave their bikini lines any more?
What if she’d made a huge mistake?

In a panic, Claudia raced to her laptop and frantically zipped around the
Cosmopolitan
website, speed-reading more sex tips than you could fit into a chapter of
Fifty Shades
, and by the end felt so overwhelmed all she thought she’d be able to handle would be a cuddle and a rom-com.

This was going to be fine. It was Nick. He wasn’t going to laugh at her or dislike her; he’d wanted her for years. Everything
would be
fine
.

Thirty minutes to go.

She finished off the prep on a batch of homemade mince pies in record time and was even able to clear some of the more embarrassing
things out of the way of her flat, replacing them with some spicy winter candles.

She passed the little spinning ice-skater she’d bought at Winter Wonderland. ‘Not so alone now, are we, Mini Claudia?’ she
said.

Claudia switched on the Christmas tree lights, giving the room a warm, calming glow. She touched the little tree decoration
of Mickey Mouse with a snowboard and smiled at the memory of her and Seth’s Orlando holiday two years ago. Then she pulled
her hand back. What was that? A memory of Seth with no feelings of resentment or hurt? That was interesting.

The little model swung happily on the branch, raining pine needles onto the carpet. Good job she was spending Christmas at
her dad’s house, because this tree wasn’t going to last much longer. It was her fault really, for buying it way back at the
start of December.

Actually, it was Nick’s fault. He’d dragged her along as soon as the first advent calendar door opened, and she’d ended up
bringing home a four-footer herself, much to Seth’s eye-rolls.

Right. Enough day-dreaming about the man, time to go and meet him. Let Date Nine commence.

Claudia waited outside Tower Hill station, a Styrofoam cup of tea in each hand, trying to use the insides of her arms to shuffle
her bra back into place – the lack of underwiring was causing it to creep up her boobs.

She couldn’t wait to see Nick again. It was very uncool, but she just wanted to bury her cold nose against his cheek and steal
a thousand more smooches.

‘Hello, you.’ Nick bounded over and gave her a ginormous kiss on the mouth. She melted like a snowman by a fireplace. There
it was. She considered lobbing the teas over her shoulder and scrambling up into his arms, but instead she burbled something
incoherent and handed him a cup.

‘Cheers, big ears. This is exciting, what are you going to do with me today?’

What a loaded question. ‘You know you love Charles Dickens?’

‘More than anyone.’

‘And you know you love Christmas?’

‘More than anyone.’

‘Good. We’re going on a Christmas-themed Dickens guided walk. It takes us around where he worked, around locations that were
featured in or inspiration for his Christmas books – especially
A Christmas Carol
– gas-lit streets … It sounded quite cool.’ She watched him expectantly, praying he didn’t think it was the most naff date
in history.

‘That sounds bloody brilliant!’ He pulled her into him and her heart popped like a thousand Christmas crackers. ‘And then
it’s back to yours?’

‘Yep.’ She peeped over his shoulder at the snow-covered defences of the Tower of London and was lost in thought about whether
Anne Boleyn could ever have imagined, the first time she slept with Henry VIII, that it would have ended with her beheading
right there in the Tower, when a small woman in full Dickensian regalia tapped Claudia on the arm.

‘Off we go then.’

Nick took Claudia’s gloved hand and they joined a small group of people. It was a good job she hadn’t spent close to a hundred
quid on designer gloves for him, because his own knitted grey ones, scattered with snowflakes, were just lovely. She quite
wanted to slide inside them.

‘It is cold, bleak, biting weather,’ said the woman to the group. ‘You may wish to spend this walk wheezing up and down, beating
your hands upon your breasts and stamping your feet upon the pavement stones to warm them.’

The group was silent, except for Nick who bent down to Claudia’s ear and whispered ‘Breasts.’ She smothered a laugh.