Married by Midnight: A Christmas Story by Talli Roland

Author:Talli Roland [Roland, Talli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Notting Hill Press
Published: 2014-11-04T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

I wake the next morning with a snuffle and a snort, rubbing my cheek where the side of the laptop has made a sizeable dent. I can’t believe I fell asleep at the kitchen table! After binging on Facebook until 2 a.m. – desperately trying to hunt down Dorothy, with no luck – I decided to watch a few cat videos on YouTube . . . as you do. God, who knew there were so many?

My eyes pop as I look at the clock. Shit, it’s already half past six, and I have to be at work by seven. It’s the last day before we close for Christmas, and I need to do a million things, especially after being out yesterday. I sigh, picturing the long hours ahead in the shop’s cramped quarters. The thought of Nick and his bookshop drifts into my head, and a wave of longing sweeps over me. Oh, how I’d love to do something like that. Perhaps in my next life?

Bea’s words about letting the supernatural determine my future run through my mind, and despite myself, I can’t help wondering what I’d be doing if I hadn’t listened to Mum and her astrological forecasts. I’m happy now, of course, but maybe . . . maybe I’d be even happier?

Nah, I’d probably be stuck in an office somewhere, bored silly. Anyway, I don’t have time to waste on this! I race up the stairs and duck into the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water. I clean my specs – Tim is always asking why I don’t get contacts, but I can’t be bothered with all the faff – and brush my hair before tying it back into a trusty ponytail. Back in my room, I throw on a pair of jeans and a dusty jumper, grab my handbag, and rush out the door to Pip, my little red Corsa.

‘Let’s get a move on,’ I say, shoving the key into the ignition. I hate being late for anything. Even an extra minute gives me heart palpitations.

But Pip has other ideas. Her engine sputters and whines, refusing to start. I try again, silently praying she’ll work. Sweat breaks out on my brow as Pip resists my attempts. What to do now? After her car accident Mum refuses to drive, and calling our local minicab service – which consists of one man named Barry and his rusty VW – would take longer than it would for me to walk to work. Asking Bea for a favour after our argument yesterday is completely out of the question.

I glance at my mobile, conscious of the time ticking away. There’s only one thing to do: call Tim. Yes, he was awake until late last night watching a match on satellite from some godforsaken place, but this is an emergency. I know he’ll be there for me when I need him. According to his sign, that’s one of his best traits.

I pull up his contact and hit “call”, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as the phone rings.

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