The Christmas Swap Page 7

  “Are you there?” said Alicia.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “We’re pretty sure we’ve got your bag.” Relief coursed through Jules and she blew out a long breath.

  “Brilliant! I told ya,” Ash shouted from the kitchen. Matt patted her shoulder and Jules staved off the hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat.

  “That’s great. Thank you, Alicia. Where do I go to collect it?’

  “You came into the Southern Cross station, yeah?” Jules looked at Ash for confirmation and she nodded.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “So, there’s a little office there. They’ll have your bag. Just bring two pieces of photo ID and you’re good.”

  Matt leant over and whispered, “I’ll take you.”

  She whispered, “Thanks,” and wrapped up the call. She sat back in the dining chair and let out a sigh.

  “Come on. I’ll drive you over.”

  “Are you sure? I can just walk over. It’s not that far.” It was that far, and she was wrung out, but she didn’t want to be a nuisance.

  “Nah, I’ll take you. It’s all good.”

  A niggling thought leapt to the forefront of Jules’s mind. “Hold on, she said I needed to bring two pieces of photo ID, right? I’ve got my Colorado driver’s licence, but my passport is in my carry-on.” She looked between Ash and Matt.

  Ash waved her off. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Ash seemed far more optimistic than she was.

  “Yeah, that’s just common sense, right?” added Matt.

  Jules nodded, not wholly convinced.

  “Did you want to shower first, though?” asked Ash.

  Jules looked down at her wrinkled tank and her dull, grey, post-flight skin. She must have looked terrible—she felt terrible.

  “You look fine,” added Ash. “I just know that whenever I travel, the first thing I want to do when I arrive is shower.”

  Jules would have killed to stay in the apartment and shower—and rest—but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to rest properly until she had her carry-on safely in hand.

  “Let’s go,” she sighed.

  “Back in a bit,” said Matt, leading the way out of the apartment.

  It turned out that the errand took a quite a lot longer than “a bit”.

  *

  Several hours later, Jules was back at the apartment, showered and fed—four pieces of toast with peanut butter—and semi-reclined on Ash and Chloe’s couch, trying to keep her eyes open. Her fatigue probably wasn’t helped by the wine Ash had insisted on opening. It was delicious, though.

  “I still can’t believe I left my bag on that bus,” she moaned. “What an idiot.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. You’d just flown long-haul. No one is in their right mind after getting off a plane from across the world. I never am.”

  “Seriously, though, when I realised it was a catch-22, I nearly lost it. They can only open a bag with the permission of the owner, but they couldn’t confirm my identity as the owner to their satisfaction without opening the bag.” She knew she was labouring the point. She’d given Ash the digest version as soon as Matt had dropped her back at the apartment, but she couldn’t help dwelling on the “what if” of losing her passport.

  She needed sleep.

  “I seriously can’t believe they didn’t just give it to you. I mean, were there dozens of hysterical women calling up about a lost bag with that exact description?”

  Jules’s eyebrows shot up on the word “hysterical” and she looked pointedly at Ash, a smile tugging at her mouth. Ash caught the look. “Well, not hysterical exactly. Um, concerned, upset, worried.”

  “Anyway, common sense finally prevailed after the supervisor called his supervisor at home, and she gave him permission. The passport was bad enough, but that’s the bag with all the presents in it.”

  “You brought presents?” The smile broke across Jules’s face.

  “Of course. It’s Christmas.”

  Ash grinned. “I love presents.”

  “Chloe mentioned that,” she teased. “Actually, I should put them under the tree,” she added. It was a nice thought, but her body refused to budge. Instead, she glanced at the Christmas tree.

  She’d only noticed it after she’d returned with her carry-on. It was beautiful, but it would be Jules’s first Christmas with a fake tree. And it wasn’t even fake, as in, “I’m pretending to be a fir tree.” It was made from silver and white tinsel and decorated with blue ornaments—only blue. Even the Christmas lights were blue.

  “So, what did you bring for Matt?” Jules couldn’t decide if Ash had emphasised “Matt” on purpose. Was she getting at something?

  “You’ll see,” she deflected. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  “But how did you know?”

  “What gifts to get?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Chloe told me who was coming on Christmas Day and I ran some ideas past her and, of course, I know you, so …”

  “Seriously, no hints?”

  “No!” She laughed. “Chloe said you would ask.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Uh-huh. She also told me where she hid her present to you, so you wouldn’t find it before Christmas and peek.”

  Ash’s mouth popped open, hung there for a moment, then snapped shut. She lifted her chin and, saying nothing, topped up their wine glasses.

  “Well, it’s very nice of you to bring presents for all of us. You didn’t need to.”

  Jules shrugged. “You’d have done the same.”

  “Matt’s a good guy, by the way.” It was an extremely unsubtle change of topic—so Ash had been hinting at something earlier.

  Jules pretended she didn’t get it. “He is. He did not need to do all that for me today. I mean, at that point when the supervisor said no to me retrieving my own bag … let’s just say, I was not my best self. I nearly gave up. But Matt was great—awesome, actually. It was his idea to escalate the whole thing.”

  Matt was a good guy and an extremely good-looking guy. She wondered if he and Chloe had ever … She let the thought trail off as she sipped her wine.

  “He had a rough time a little while back but, you know, he’s probably ready …” Ash left the rest of the thought unsaid.

  Regardless of Ash’s intentions, Jules wasn’t up for contemplating Matt’s readiness for a romantic entanglement. “Ash, this wine is great, but I am beyond exhausted. I think I’m going to have to call it a night.”

  “No worries. You did well. Look, it’s nearly eight o’clock.”

  Jules glanced at the large clock on the wall in the kitchen. “They say it’s the best way, right? Staying up as long as you can to get on the right time?”

  “Yeah. I always try to do that when I fly back to Melbs from overseas.” Jules took her unfinished wine to the kitchen. “I’m glad you like the wine, by the way. We’re having it at Christmas. Matt made it.”

  “He made it?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t tell you he was a winemaker?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Yeah, he’s kind of a big deal in the wine world. He won a ‘winemaker of the year’ award last year—the first Indigenous person to win it. Anyway, he can tell you about it himself.”

  Adding “talented” to the growing list of adjectives to describe Matt, Jules sleepily brushed her teeth in Chloe’s bathroom, quickly slathered on some night cream and fell into Chloe’s bed.

  A hot Aussie winemaker, who saved the day … was her last thought as she drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

  *

  “This way!” Jules followed Ash closely through the market, amazed at how well Ash manoeuvred through the crowd. “Just the prawns and the ham left to pick up,” Ash called over her shoulder. They came to a stop at a deli counter that was three people deep, all of them raising their hands and shouting over the hullabaloo of everyone else shouting.

  “This place is for the prawns. I pre-ordered so it
shouldn’t take too long,” shouted Ash. “Then we go over there for the ham.” She pointed at a shopfront two counters down.

  “Is it always like this?” Jules was comparing the South Melbourne market—it was the size of a city block, packed to the rafters, and all under one roof—to farmers’ markets back home, with their relaxed atmosphere, outdoorsiness, and space. Of course, none of them were open at this time of year. The thought of all that produce snap-frozen from the cold air made her chuckle to herself.

  “What, the market? It’s a little crazier than usual ’cause of Christmas, but it’s always busy. It’s ’cause everything’s high quality here—the meat, the seafood, the fruit and veg.” They shuffled forward as more people ahead of them turned away from the counter and pushed through the crowd with half-hearted “excuse mes”.

  “And this is where you and Chloe normally shop?” Jules was trying to get a picture of what everyday life was like for Chloe and Ash.

  “Um, sometimes. We’ll make the effort if we’re having a dinner party or for special occasions. It’s expensive, though, so we usually go to Woolies.”

  Jules assumed that Woolies was just a regular a grocery store. And hearing Ash say that the market was expensive reminded her—she wanted to pay her fair share for what was going to be a spectacular Christmas feast.

  “By the way,” she started, just as the couple in front of them moved aside and they took their place at the front of the line. “I want to contribute to all of this.”

  Ash flicked her a look. “You don’t need to do that. It’s all good.”

  The man behind the counter pointed at Ash and she rattled off her pre-order to him. He left the counter to get it.

  “I want to. If Chloe were here, she’d be contributing, right?”

  “Yeah, but you’re a guest.”

  “Yeah, sorta, but Chloe’s one of my best friends—like a sister really—and you’re one of her best friends, so by proxy, this is like having Christmas with my extended family. I’d be contributing back home.” Ash looked unconvinced. “Please just let me?”

  Ash pursed her lips. “Sure, okay, but no money changes hands. We are down a dessert with Chloe gone. She usually makes a pav.”

  “A pav?” Where did Aussies come up with these words?

  “A pavlova. Like a meringue.” And why did they shorten everything? Does Chloe always talk in Aussie-isms? Jules asked herself. Maybe she did and Jules just didn’t notice. Ash peered up her expectantly.

  “Right. Well, I’m not sure my baking skills extend to making a pavlova, but I am awesome at Christmas cookies. That’s one of the ways I earn my keep back home. Actually, my cookies are kind of legendary.” She shrugged in mock modesty.

  The man behind the counter handed over a large package of prawns wrapped tightly in butcher’s paper. “You’re talking about proper American cookies, right?”

  Jules laughed. “Yeah, sure, I guess they’re American.”

  Ash took off her backpack and squeezed in the package of prawns, then zipped it up. “But you mean those shortbready ones with all the fancy icing and stuff? Those, right?”

  “Yes, they are fancy, very fancy,” Jules replied with mock seriousness.

  “Well, if you’re sure—and please be sure because I’ve always wanted proper American cookies at Christmas—then we’ll stop at Woolies on the way home for baking stuff. That can be your contribution. How’s that?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “And then, we’re going out for coffee. I am dying for a proper coffee.” Ash forged ahead to the next counter where they would collect the ham, shoving her way through the dense, but amiable crowd. Jules stayed right on her tail, not wanting to get lost. She had no idea from which direction they’d come in.

  Ash continued, “I mean, there are some great places for it here. Like that one.” She pointed to a tiny hole-in-the-wall—more of a counter than a coffee shop—with a long line of people who all looked like they were Jonesing for their coffee hit. “But look at that frigging line!”

  She turned to Jules, “Okay, so we get the ham, we bike over to Woolies, get the baking stuff, then drop all this at home, and grab coffee? Sound good?” Jules could see why Ash and Chloe were such good friends. They were both super organised and, just like Chloe, Ash seemed to enjoy being in charge. Jules wondered if that made them the most formidable team ever, or if sometimes it was “the clash of the titans”.

  “Sounds good,” Jules replied. Ash smiled, just like Chloe did whenever her plan was accepted. Two little planners living together. No wonder the apartment was immaculate. As soon as she got up that morning, Jules had made Chloe’s bed, almost as though Chloe was hovering over her, “Tuck that corner in! No, tighter!”

  Jules never made her bed back home. What was the point? She was just going to mess it up again that night. But she’d seen Chloe make her bed in a five-star hotel. The thought tugged at Jules’s heart a little. Gosh, she adored that funny little Aussie.

  She hadn’t realised how far they’d progressed in the line until Ash declared that they were done. “Let’s get the flock outta here,” Ash declared, elbowing her way to the exit. Another weird Australian saying, Jules thought as she followed obediently.

  The outside of the market was almost as chaotic as the inside, but the sun was shining. Jules retrieved her sunglasses from the neck of her tank top and put them on. It’s summer. It’s hot. This is heaven.

  Not for the first time, she wondered at the odd luck that had made her a Colorado native. She much preferred this warmer weather and she knew the winters were mild here. Maybe I was an Australian in a previous life, she thought, unlocking Chloe’s bike from the bike rack. I wonder what it would be like to actually live here, she mused.

  Chapter 11

  Lucy

  Lucy woke abruptly and for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then the scent of Crabtree and Evelyn’s Noel brought her back to Colorado and she stretched luxuriously under the fluffy duvet. The only source of light was the glowing blue of the clock on the bedside table, the numbers reading 5:14am. Could she fall back asleep?

  A quick calculation and she realised it was unlikely. It was after noon in London and her body was wide awake. Still, she’d managed seven hours of sleep, which was enough. Time to get up. She flicked on the bedside lamp and, bracing herself for the cold, flung back the duvet. Only, it wasn’t cold—it was toasty warm. She smiled.

  Even in her London flat, she and her flatmate, Val, wouldn’t turn on the heat until they got up. And back home in Penham, her parents tended to treat heat as a luxury—the front room always stiflingly hot and everywhere else in the house, icy. She’d grown up thinking that chilblains were normal.

  She wondered if having a shower would wake anyone, especially with Will sleeping right next door. Will. What in the world was she doing fantasising about Will? The last time she’d seen him, he was a little boy. “Definitely not a little boy anymore,” she whispered to herself, stifling a giggle.

  Regardless, she didn’t want to wake him, especially as he’d had to do that long drive yesterday. She would shower later. She slid her feet into her Uggs and pulled on her fluffy dressing gown.

  As she tugged the tie tight around her waist, she decided it would be extremely bad manners to have it off with the young man of the house, especially at Christmas. She’d just have to ignore how much she fancied him. But what if he flirted with her?

  “Gah!” she chided herself, then went off in search of tea.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was no closer to drinking tea and more than a little annoyed. She’d looked in every cupboard and in every drawer. Surely there was a kettle here somewhere? She eyed the obviously expensive coffee machine—a proper one like a barista would use—with derision. Useless thing. She hated coffee.

  She’d just have to use the microwave to boil water, which everyone knew was a terrible way to make tea. As a frown settled onto her face, she paused. Was it jet lag? She hoped so, because getting
cross over something as simple as tea wasn’t like her, and she wasn’t enjoying it one bit.

  “Good morning.” The voice from behind made her start and her hand flew to her chest. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Steph.

  “Oh, you didn’t. Well, you did, but it’s not your fault. I think I’m just a little disorientated.”

  “Oh, no problem.” Steph waved it off. “Coffee?”

  “Actually, I was hoping for some tea.”

  “Tea. Oh, of course. Hold on. I think Nate said something about that. He’s always good with that kind of thing.” Lucy watched Steph open several drawers. From one in the corner, a drawer Lucy was sure she had checked, Steph pulled out a shiny new powder-blue kettle. “Ah-hah! See?”

  Lucy beamed, instantly forgetting her earlier annoyance. “He bought this for you. So thoughtful, that man.” Then why did you divorce him? Lucy clapped her hand over her mouth as though she’d said her thought aloud, but Steph didn’t appear to notice.

  “And I imagine there are teabags …” Steph talked to herself as she moved boxes about in the drawer. “Black tea, right?” She threw a look over her shoulder and Lucy nodded. No potpourri tea for Lucy. She had no idea how people drank something that tasted like toilet freshener. She didn’t even like Earl Grey.

  “Success!” Steph held aloft an unopened box of Tazo “Awake” tea, and Lucy felt her body relax. “I’m going to let you make it, though, Lucy. I am way out of my depth here.”

  Not long after, they were seated on opposite ends of a sofa, each with a mug of something steaming and staring into the fireplace. It was one of those fires that turned on with a switch, which Lucy thought was very practical. Steph had been so welcoming the night before, but Lucy felt a little awkward sitting there in silence and scoured her mind for something to say.

  “I think Will wanted to take you up the mountain today.”

  Lucy spluttered a little and wiped tea from the side of her mouth. “Oh?”

  “Uh-huh. You ski right?”

  “Oh, uh, no, actually.”

  “Snowboard?”

  “It’s neither, I’m afraid.”