And Then She Vanished by Nick Jones

Author:Nick Jones [Jones, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-02T06:00:00+00:00

Martin’s wearing a ferociously pink sweater. It looks brand new, not a bobble in sight. A Christmas present, probably. I imagine it’ll go to the back of the drawer tonight and never see the light of day again. His face is flushed, and he’s wearing a silver Christmas hat. It’s too big, and only his eyebrows are stopping it from falling over his face.

He opens the sitting room door and stands back. “Why don’t you guys have a seat in here for minute?” he says. “The fire’s going. I’ll put the kettle on.” Obediently, we go in. Christmas music spills out of the kitchen as Martin opens the door, then fades again.

The room is warm, and there’s a stumpy little Christmas tree in the corner by the bay window, adorned with fairy lights and colorful decorations. Alexia collapses onto the green velvet sofa and rests her head in her hands.

The fire crackles comfortingly. Through the wall I hear muffled voices, questioning intonation, calming tones.

“Alexia?”

“Don’t!” she snaps. “Don’t try and make this okay, don’t try and smooth things over and pretend everything’s fine!”

I pause. “But—”

“No,” she shuts me down. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Well, this is awkward. Through the wall, I hear Martin’s wife guffaw. I like Carol well enough, but she’s prone to sudden bursts of crazed laughter at things that just aren’t that funny, and when alcohol’s involved, she gets even louder. I wonder what she’s laughing at. I hope it isn’t me and Alexia, turning up on Christmas Day looking worse for wear in our party gear.

I decide to help Martin with the drinks, but I meet him in the doorway carrying a tray.

“Here you go,” he says to Alexia, handing her a mug and putting a plate of mince pies down on the coffee table. “Joe?” He offers the other mug to me, and I take the hot sweet tea gratefully.

“Alexia,” he continues, “I thought you should know your father called me last night. He was worried he hadn’t heard from you.”

She smiles up at him wanly. “I was supposed to be there last night, but . . . I couldn’t get there. What did he say?”

“He was concerned,” says Martin, “but I said I was sure you’d be in touch soon. Shall I give him a call and let him know you’re here?”

“You’re very kind,” she says, “but I’ll call him in a bit.” She takes a sip of tea and leans back into the sofa. She takes a deep breath, visibly relaxes her shoulders, then stares, unblinking, out of the window.

Martin looks at me, then back at Alexia, then at me again. I make a series of faces at him and hope I’ve managed to convey, “Sorry, Martin, and thanks for being so nice and everything, but could you go away again now?”

It seems to do the trick. “Er . . . I’ll just leave you two with your tea for a bit,” he says. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.

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