The Christmas Swap Page 2

  She vowed not to let so much time pass before the next time.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe

  Melbourne

  “It couldn’t have held off for five more minutes?” Chloe frowned out the window at the pelting rain as the Uber neared the drop-off point.

  “We should have brought umbrellas,” said her bestie, flatmate, and colleague, Ash.

  “If we did, it wouldn’t have rained.”

  “Exactly. Hashtag Melbourne.”

  Chloe shook her head at Ash. She wasn’t sure when Ash had picked up the habit of saying “hashtag” but maybe she was doing it ironically.

  The car pulled up next to the rear entrance of their building. “Here you go, misses,” said the driver. Ash and Chloe shared a look across the back seat. “Ready?” asked Ash.

  “Nope, but let’s go.” They opened their doors in sync and, heads down, stepped out into the deluge, the door slams barely making a dent in the soundscape of the mid-winter storm. Ash ran around the back of the car and met up with Chloe, who was fumbling with her electronic fob at the door.

  “Damn it! Of all the times to play up.”

  Ash reached across her and waved her own fob in front of the panel and the glass door slid open. They burst into the foyer and straightened up, eyeing each other before dissolving into laughter. “I am so wet,” said Ash, shaking her hands.

  “Title of your sex tape,” retorted Chloe. She wiped rain from her face and pressed the button to call the elevator.

  “Good one. So, who gets the first shower?” They each had their own bathroom, but the hot water pressure in their flat was so low, only one of them could shower at a time.

  The elevator announced its arrival with a “ding”, and they got in for their short ride to the fourth floor. “You go, but be fast,” said Chloe. “I’ll make some eggs or something.”

  “Breakfast for dinner? Will you marry me?”

  “Yeah, well, consider it a reward for being so awesome today. That event, Ash, you killed it.” Her bestie beamed at her, just as the elevator said, “Fourth floor,” in a sexy voice that had never made any sense to Chloe. Why would anyone hire a voice-over artist who made arriving at the fourth floor sound like she was announcing an orgasm or something?

  *

  “Delish. Thank you,” said Ash, as she stood and took Chloe’s plate from her.

  “It was just eggs, Ash.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t have to make them.” Ash loaded the dirty plates into the dishwasher and started cleaning up the rest of the kitchen. “Hey, so I was going say something before, but I’ve been going back and forth, and I wasn’t really sure until today, but …”

  “Say it …” Chloe’s words turned into a yawn.

  “What do you think of Carl?”

  Chloe cut her yawn short and peered at Ash. “Well, he’s fantastic at social media, but I’m guessing you don’t mean that.” What did Ash mean exactly? She’d only just come out of a long-term relationship and this was the first time she’d mentioned another guy.

  Ash continued her clean-up. “He’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?”

  Chloe decided to keep her reply light. “Uh, no, not really. And if you think so, then you don’t want me to think so.”

  “Hah! You’re right. It’s just … I caught him watching me a couple of times tonight, and did you see how weird he was acting when we said goodbye?”

  “Sorry, Ash, I must have been too shattered to notice Carl’s unobvious flirting.”

  “He’s incredibly smart, like incredibly.” Ash draped the wet tea towel over the handle of the oven door, flicked off the kitchen light, and re-joined Chloe on the couch.

  “You’re incredibly smart too, Ash.” Ash shrugged her shoulders, her usual way of deflecting a compliment. “Anyway, I haven’t worked that closely with him,” continued Chloe, “but props to him for that Insta campaign for tonight. It was pretty impressive.” The campaign had been unreal, but Chloe was tempering her enthusiasm for all things “Carl”. If she’d been a betting person, her money would be on Ash getting back together with her ex.

  Still, maybe a distraction was something Ash needed. She clocked the wistful look on Ash’s face. “So, you’re into him?”

  “Maybe. But what are you not saying?”

  Ash knew her tells too well, but there was no way Chloe was going to spill about what she was actually thinking. “Uh, nothing, it’s just … maybe it’s the name—Carl,” she said, going with something that was partly true; she didn’t like the name.

  “Oh, come on. What’s wrong with ‘Carl’?”

  Good, she bought it, Chloe thought. “Eh, it’s like Kevin, or Bruce—just …” She mimed shivers running up her spine.

  “Carl in Love, Actually is the hottest guy in the movie,” countered Ash.

  Chloe chuckled to herself. “Yeah, true. Oh, wait, there was Andrew Lincoln too—”

  “But he played the shitty best friend who was all stalkery with Keira Knightley.”

  “Also true. Anyway, I’ll concede that sometimes ‘Carl’ is the hot guy.”

  “So, do you think he was acting weird?” asked Ash.

  “I really don’t know … maybe?” Ash looked crestfallen. “Look, I promise to pay more attention to the ‘Carl’ situation and, if needed, I’ll be your wingman.”

  “Wingwoman.”

  “Yes, that,” she said, succumbing to another yawn. “Sorry, Ash, I’ve got to go to bed.” Chloe stood and stretched her hands above her head. A full day of work, then an evening event—even though Ash had been on point and she’d only played a supporting role—had left her exhausted. Ash must have been shattered too, only she had picked up the remote and was scrolling through Netflix, so maybe not.

  “Night, Ash.”

  “Night. And thanks again for all your help tonight.”

  “For sure. It was a great event.”

  Just as Chloe loaded up her toothbrush with toothpaste, she heard her phone ring from her room. Toothbrush in hand, she raced in, grabbed the phone and tapped the green button just before it went to voicemail. “Hello?” she said.

  “Chloe, it’s Mum and Dad.”

  “Oh, hi, what’s up?” It was a little unusual for her to get a call from her parents at 10:30pm on a weeknight.

  “We have some news, love,” said her dad. Well, that sounds ominous, she thought as she plonked down on the end of her bed.

  “O-kay,” she said, her stomach tightening.

  “It’s about Christmas …”

  Chapter 4

  The May Ladies

  “Chloe, your camera is turned off.” Lucy frowned at the screen.

  “It isn’t. It’s just the middle of the night.”

  “It’s 6:00am there. It’s hardly the middle of the night,” said Jules.

  “Is it too early? Should we call back in an hour?” asked Lucy.

  “She called us, Lucy. Chloe, turn on a light.”

  Chloe was abruptly illuminated and blinked into the camera. “Happy?”

  “Ecstatic. So, bad morning?” Jules knew her tone was borderline snippy, but she’d had a particularly shitty day.

  “Yes. It’s a sucky morning, actually,” Chloe whined.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy’s confused frown morphed into her concerned one.

  Chloe sighed dramatically for effect. “It’s my parents …” She wiped sleep from her eyes, oblivious to the horror on her friends’ faces.

  “What’s happened?” whispered Jules, suddenly brimming with sympathy. She would get on a plane that day if she needed to.

  Chloe looked at the screen. “Oh, no, sorry, they’re fine. I, just—”

  Two sighs expelled simultaneously, one from Colorado, the other from London, and Lucy’s hand patted her chest to self-soothe.

  “You scared the crap out of us, Chloe.” Jules was going to get on a plane, if only to smack her friend in the head.

  “Sorry.”

  Lucy blew out another long breath. �
��It’s all right, but what is going on?”

  “They’re going on a cruise.”

  Jules was starting to get really pissed off. “There’s more to it, though, right?”

  “They’re going on a cruise for Christmas.”

  A pair of simultaneous “Ohhhs” echoed about Chloe’s lounge room. She took it as solidarity and an open invitation to rant. “I know! Christmas! And they didn’t even invite me and my brother, so he’s going off skiing in Canada and I’m going to be all alone. On Christmas.”

  A muffled voice said something to Chloe and another light turned on, illuminating the kitchen behind her.

  “Hi, Ash!” called Lucy through the screen.

  Ash walked up behind Chloe and leant over the back of the couch. “Hi, girls. How’s life in the northern hemisphere?”

  “Quite lovely, actually,” said Lucy. “It’s that time of year when you forget how cold and grey London can get—you know, daylight ’til ten-ish and warm weather. It was twenty-two today!”

  Ash grinned into the screen. “Yeah, that sounds way better than Melbs at the moment. I frigging hate winter. How ’bout you Jules?”

  “Yeah, pretty good,” she said, glossing over the reality. “I really need to get out to the coast soon, though. I’m thinking I’ll go see my girlfriend in San Diego—just for a weekend. She’s into sailing, so that would be cool.”

  “Uh, hello! We were talking about Christmas. About how I’m going to be alone on Christmas.”

  “Are you two sick of Chloe’s whining yet, because I am?” teased Ash.

  Ash was one of the three people on the planet who could get away with saying something like that to Chloe’s face. The other two people were on the screen, both stifling laughs.

  “Very funny, all of you, but you know what Christmas means to me.”

  “Yes!” This time it was three voices in sync.

  “Look, I told you last night, you won’t be alone”—Ash gave Chloe a pointed look—“if you just stay here.” Ash looked back at the screen. “Orphans’ Christmas is at our place this year.”

  “And what’s that?” asked Lucy.

  “I’m going to let Chloe explain. Gotta jump in the shower. See ya, girls.”

  “So, an orphans’ Christmas is with your friends, right, the ones whose families aren’t around?” asked Jules.

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds fun!” Jules replied. If it was possible, Chloe moped even harder.

  “So, you won’t be alone then? You’ll be with the other Christmas orphans?” asked Lucy, helpfully.

  “It’s not the same. I don’t want to be a Christmas orphan. I just want a normal, traditional Christmas. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “What do you mean by ‘normal’?” Jules knew what a normal Christmas was to her, but the three of them had never shared the holiday before.

  “Well, you know?” From the blank looks on their faces, they did not. “Well, family. Family is a big part of Christmas. And presents. And a tree. And Christmas lunch and wine—you know, a normal Christmas.”

  “But won’t you have all that with Ash and your friends?” Jules asked.

  “Not the family part.” Chloe seemed to have an answer for everything.

  “But they’re your close friends, right? Like us. Aren’t we like family?” Surely Jules could make her see reason.

  Chloe shrugged. “I suppose.”

  Jules blew out a frustrated laugh. “Way to make us feel special, Chlo.”

  Great, now she’d insulted her best friends. “Sorry, you’re right. You girls are like family. And Ash.”

  “I know!” Jules could almost see the little lightbulb illuminate above Lucy’s head. “Why don’t you come here for Christmas?” Lucy’s russet brown eyes peered up at Chloe from the screen.

  “To London?”

  “Yes! Why not? Oh, actually, it wouldn’t be London, because I go home at Christmas, to Oxfordshire, but you’d be most welcome. You could share my old room; we could get a cot for you.” Chloe blinked at the word “cot” but Lucy didn’t notice and kept prattling. “And there’s the village Christmas Fair, and carol singing at the church, and Mum makes the best Christmas cake, absolutely drowning in sherry. All very traditional. Not your kind of traditional, of course, but still, just lovely.

  “And I suppose I should say it probably won’t be a white Christmas or anything. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we had one of those. It’s usually more of a slushy, wet, grey day. It can get a little depressing sometimes, if I’m completely honest, because you just end up longing for snow, especially because there’s always snow in the Christmas films, isn’t there?” Lucy was whipping herself into quite the festive season frenzy.

  “I mean, Bridget Jones’s Diary—snow. While You Were Sleeping—snow. The Holiday—snow. God, I love that film. Jude Law—mmm. But anyway, it so rarely happens at home. I’d love a white Christmas, now that I think of it.” Her frown returned.

  “Well, you should come here, then Luce,” joked Jules. We’ve got snow, that’s for sure. So. Much. Damned. Snow.”

  Lucy’s eyes brightened, completely missing Jules’s tone. “Do you mean it? Could I really come?”

  Jules barked a wry laugh. “I don’t see why not—if you want a big, loud, crazy Christmas. It’ll be up at our cabin in Breckenridge—and my aunt and her whole family come, so we’d have to share a room. I mean, Christmas with my family can get a little intense, Luce …” She saw Lucy’s face fall just a fraction; she’d have to dial it down. “But I can one hundred percent guarantee you a snowy one.”

  A grin split Lucy’s face. “But wait, Chloe, what should we do about you?”

  “Sorry?” Chloe, only half-listening to the chat about Christmas in Colorado, was pulled from her thoughts. She’d been imagining herself in a tiny English village having a proper traditional Christmas. Plum pudding, Christmas carols, sitting by the fire drinking mulled wine—even the Christmas Fair sounded fun. And with Lucy off in America, she wouldn’t have to sleep on a cot.

  “Actually, even if you do go to America, I think I would like an old-fashioned English Christmas. Do you think your parents would let me come?”

  Lucy answered immediately. “Oh, they absolutely would. You’re my best friend!”

  “Ahem!” Jules teased.

  “Well, you both are. And I’ll miss you, of course, Chloe, but you’ll get the Christmas you want, and I’ll get my snowy one.” She grinned into the screen.

  Chloe scrutinised her American friend’s face. “Wait, Jules, what’s going on with you?”

  Jules tilted her head to the side and sighed. “I think it’s just … you know, it’s the middle of summer and all this talk about Christmas and winter … to be honest, it exhausts me.”

  For Lucy, the penny finally dropped, and she uttered a guilty, “Oh.” She’d been so wrapped up in what she wanted.

  “I mean, I love the holiday itself—well, no, that’s not even true anymore. And that time of year … it’s … well, I hate it! I hate being cold, I hate being snowed in, which seems to happen more and more. And yes, I love my family, but sometimes”—she threw up her hands—“they’re too much. I leave Christmas feeling like I need a vacation.”

  Lucy couldn’t stand it any longer. “Jules, I’m so sorry. Here I am just going on and on about it.”

  “Hey, no, it’s okay. I love that you love Christmas so much—both of you. It’s just not like that for me, not anymore. Honestly, Chlo, your orphans’ Christmas sounds amazing, especially the summer part. I’m actually jealous.”

  Chloe’s large green eyes got even larger. “Oh, my god. That’s it. We should do like they did The Holiday and swap Christmases!” She let the thought hang in the air, watching her friends’ faces closely.

  Jules’s sigh turned into a contemplative smile and Lucy’s mouth formed an O, then settled into a pout. “But wait, that means I’d be in America by myself.”

  “But you’d get your white Christma
s, Lucy,” prompted Chloe gently. “Just imagine …”

  Jules, completely on board, picked up where Chloe left off. “And my mom would love it, Lucy. So would my dad. They’ll spoil you rotten, I promise.”

  Lucy chewed her bottom lip and twisted a long red curl between her fingers. “Be brave, Lucy,” Chloe whispered. If Chloe had a soft spot, it was for Lucy.

  Jules imagined herself on a beach in Australia at Christmas and willed Lucy to agree to their plan.

  “You know what?” Lucy lifted her head and declared, “I want a white Christmas! Let’s do it. Let’s swap.” She grinned at her best friends.

  “Yes!” Jules gave the air a little victory punch.

  Chloe did a chair dance. “Ash!” she called over her shoulder, “we’re swapping Christmases—you get Jules.” She looked back at the screen. “Guys, this is going to be amazing!”

  Chapter 5

  Lucy

  Lucy unfurled from the back seat of the Uber awkwardly, still seemingly unused to her long limbs, even though she’d stretched to five-foot-eleven at the precocious age of thirteen. Her eyes fixed on her handbag until she reminded herself that she didn’t need to pay for the ride.

  The driver got out to retrieve her case from the boot. It was exactly twenty-three kilos—she’d weighed it on her digital scales in her bathroom—so he struggled with it a bit as he set it on the pavement.

  A harried man brushed past her as she extended the handle and she offered an unnecessary apology, then turned to thank the driver, who waved a hand over his shoulder and grunted in reply.

  All of a sudden, Lucy was rooted to the spot, a slow terror creeping up from her toes and burrowing in her stomach. What the sodding bollocks, Lucy? she asked herself. It was just a holiday to America. She’d been there several times on their ML holidays.

  A family of four, each of them at least thrice her girth, bundled past. The girl, about eleven, rolled her eyes self-consciously at Lucy, a small act of solidarity as the girl silently apologised for her utterly embarrassing family.