Whatever chemical – adrenaline maybe – that was keeping me present evaporates and fatigue hits me like a brick. It doesn’t matter that it’s just after lunchtime, all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep, forget today ever happened.
Their voices drone on as they try to bolster me and come up with a plan, but I tune out, closing my eyes and flopping back on the sofa. Honeymoon for one? For a travel agent who specialises in romantic holidays for couples, it’s upsetting but it could also be the perfect solution. A faraway place to cool my heels and avoid the worst of the gossip. Avoid the truth. I am alone again. At Christmas, my favourite time of year, no less.
Sod it. I’ll find my Christmas spirit, even if that spirit is at the bottom of a bottle of spiced rum. ‘I’ll go on my honeymoon for one and I will be merry and bright even if it kills me.’
‘That’s the way.’ Rox fist-bumps me. ‘Do you want me to sort another train ticket so you can go direct from Kent to Calais now that you’re not staying in London this evening? Save the extra running around?’
I consider it. ‘No, I’ll head into London tomorrow and then catch the Eurostar to Calais like I planned. No point throwing good money away.’
‘Good plan,’ Rox says with a nod.
The satin of my dress strangles me the more I sink down the sofa. ‘Thank you both for everything, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to throw myself in the shower and pretend today was all a bad dream. Freya, if you could help my parents and?—’
‘Leave it to me,’ Freya says. ‘If you need me, just phone anytime. I’m sure there’s a perfect explanation for all of this. Miles loves you and he’s a good guy.’
Rox boos. ‘Hardly, even my cat can’t stand him.’
‘To be fair, your cat hates everyone.’ Freya gives Rox a long look.
‘You’ve got me there,’ Rox concedes. ‘But she hisses at Miles like he’s the devil incarnate. A very clear sign he’s no good.’
To defuse any argument for or against Miles I jump in and say, ‘Thank you for your help today, Freya.’ I pull myself up from the sofa and give her a hug.
‘Should I come back?’
I’m mindful of her pregnancy and go to reassure her I’m OK when Rox says, ‘I’ll stay here. I swiped a bottle of champagne from Miles’s place, so it’s only fitting I toast to the misfortune coming his way.’
‘Thanks, Rox.’ Knowing she’s not out committing further crimes does ease my mind.
After a lengthy shower trying to remove make-up that has formed its own dermal layer, I fall into bed and swipe open my phone. There are a lot of texts and social media notifications, but nothing from Miles. No apology, no explanation. I call him again; his phone is still switched off.
I send him one single word:
Why?
Clearly Miles is not Mr Right. As of today, he’s won the honour of being Mr So Very Wrong. What excuse can he give me that will make sense? None. But is it for the best? I wilt when I stay in one place; the urge to explore this earth runs deep. It also makes me a better travel agent having first-hand experience of the places I recommend. Only love made me pause, stop to catch my breath. But that love must’ve been one sided.
My honeymoon for one can’t come quick enough. The desire to get out of town is strong. I’ll buy a festive mug at every Christmas market and drink mulled wine until the world around me softens. I have a thing with finding festive mugs that I usually send home to Rox for her ugly mugs collection. I’ll visit Paris, Bruges, Amsterdam, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Stockholm and Lapland, and finish at the swanky igloo stay to catch the Northern Lights. I’m used to travelling solo, and even though this trip is marketed as a romantic journey for couples, I’m sure I won’t be the only singleton…
4
17 DECEMBER, CALAIS, FRANCE
Boarding the Winter Wonderland Express
The next day I catch the early train out of Kent and arrive in London, then board the Eurostar to Calais. In Calais, I spend a couple of hours exploring but find the port city rather lacking. It’s more of an industrial wasteland in parts and uninspiring. Being a transit point, it’s filled with impatient tourists hurrying to make their next connection – if my toes are run over one more time by suitcase wheels I’ll scream. Under different circumstances I’d find the silver lining, but today I don’t have it in me.
Mid-afternoon I ditch the idea of sightseeing further and find the platform for the Winter Wonderland Express, in the hopes they’re offering early check-in.
Damn, I’m not the only one who had that idea. The long queue snakes down the platform. The train sleeps up to one hundred people plus staff and by the looks of it, a good chunk of those have arrived already. According to my research, the train is divided into two identical sections, with fifty passengers a side. This duplication is so that guests can enjoy the amenities without too much crowding.
There’s nothing else to do but join the end of the queue and wait. I plan on keeping a low profile and my heartbreak to myself. I peek at people ahead of me. Gah – I’m smacked in the face by the sight of loved-up couples as far as the eye can see. They’re kissing. They’re canoodling. They’re speaking baby language to each other. And wearing matching Christmas outfits. It’s sickening. Probably my jealously talking, but still. I’m so obviously alone in a sea of sweethearts. At Christmas.
’Tis the season for resting Grinch face.
The line moves relatively quickly as couples board the train. I’m so busy tuning out the many lovebirds and their saccharine sweet nothings that I don’t notice the life-size gingerbread man until he taps me on the shoulder.
‘Ho, ho, ho, welcome to the Winter Wonderland Express!’
