The 12 Days of Christmas by Poppy Alexander

Author:Poppy Alexander [Poppy Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409196433
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2021-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

By the time she got back to the deli, Freya’s feet were wet through and she couldn’t feel them any more. The sun had dropped below the rooflines and dark had crowded swiftly in. Going to the Fox and Hounds was the last thing she felt like doing. Correction: the very last thing she felt like was spending the evening alone in her chilly little attic bedroom. The second last thing she felt like was going out. But, ‘Ladies first,’ said Finn, sweeping a low bow and gesturing towards the bathroom.

‘I won’t say no,’ admitted Freya, who was dying for a long, hot bath to warm herself up. She had her mother’s twinset in her rucksack and was shy about Finn seeing it. While she ran the bath, she tentatively probed her feelings about the evening ahead. She knew from the café on market day that she was going to attract interest, which was uncomfortable. It was likely she would see Hattie and all the signs said that wasn’t going to go well. Now she thought about it, how many other characters from her past would give her a chilly welcome? But she should man up, she told herself, squaring her shoulders. This was an opportunity, a chance to get to the bottom of Hattie’s problem with her. She missed her friend desperately, she realised, and even though it might be too late to resurrect their friendship, Freya cared too much about her old friend to let her be upset and angry if there was anything she could do to fix it.

A scalding hot bath turned her lobster-red. She had nicked a bit more of Finn’s ex-girlfriend’s Badedas and had a really good soak, then suddenly wondered if she had been in there too long and felt bad about hogging the bathroom. She vacated hurriedly, leaving billowing steam in her wake as she scampered upstairs to her attic room before Finn could see her in a towel.

It was cold up in the attic, but the hot bath was keeping her toasty from within. She found clean underwear and then shimmied quickly into her trusty jeans, breathing in a little more than usual to do up the zip. God knows how much weight she had gained in the last week! Now though, standing on the bed to see her rear end in the little dressing-table mirror, she quite liked the look of her jeans stretched just nicely over her bum. She had an actual booty! Cool.

Carefully she slipped the camisole on, slippery and cold, with its delicate spaghetti straps, and then the cardigan, heavy with beading, falling like water into place. She had never seen her mum wear such glamorous clothes, she realised. In fact, she couldn’t remember her going out to enjoy herself much at all. And if she did, there was no money for new clothes when so much of what she earned had to go on ingredients and kitchen equipment for Freya – there had been a never-ending list of expensive kit to buy, which all appeared.

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