Read Online Christmas Without Holly by Nicola Yeager - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicola Yeager
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takeaway. Might be
time to try something new.’
She covers the area she’s just massaged with a hot towel,
then moves on to the next area.
‘These towels keep the seaweed clay moist. They’ve got some
herbs in them, too. What does your boyfriend do?’
Oh god!
‘He’s, er, he’s a graphic designer. Freelance.’ Well, sod
it. I’m probably never going to see her again. Why did I say that?
‘Really? Mine’s a graphic designer, too! There’s a
coincidence. Mine works for this really small company. Only a dozen people.
They do mainly calendars and adverts for local newspapers. That sort of thing.
What does yours do?’
My mind is racing. What the hell do graphic designers do
nowadays? I can’t use calendars or adverts. With a start, I realise that I’m
basing this fictitious bf on Simon! I try to remember what he talked about.
‘He helps to design websites for various companies. He sort
of works for himself in a way. He works with another guy, a friend he knew from
college. They do it together.’
‘It’s always a bit precarious, that sort of thing. At least
he’s not on his own.’
‘What – because of his college mate, you mean?’
‘No – he’s got you.’
She lays another blissfully warm towel over my body and I
lie there, feeling awful about lying to her. It’s insane, but just the idea of
this nice, quiet Christmas with my graphic website designer boyfriend seems
rather appealing. We don’t have much money, but at least we’re happy. Stop it,
Holly!
After a while, I’m completely covered in seaweed and damp
towels. It’s incredibly warm but doesn’t feel too uncomfortable, though I am
sweating a little. She says she’s going to leave me to cook for half an hour
and leaves the room. The idea is that the seaweed helps to detoxify you through
the sweating and all the nutritional goodies in the seaweed help to condition
the skin. Whatever’s going on, it feels great.
I try to fight an overwhelming desire to fall asleep. While
I’m fighting it, I start to smile. How much simpler everything would be if I
really had a boyfriend like that instead of the hurtful, long-distance,
uncomfortable relationship that I have with Clive. Clive with his money, his
bit-of-a-reputation Caroline, his last minute cancellations and his awful
family.
Someone who gave a shit about me, in short.
When I was creatively lying to Katie, I think I was actually
fantasising about the sort of relationship that I’d really like to have. The
sort of relationship that I always thought I’d have. Somewhere along the way, I
must have taken a wrong turning. It’s just that there’s so much bloody
pressure! Pressure to do this, pressure to do that. Pressure to settle down,
pressure to get married, pressure to have children as soon as bloody possible.
And where does that pressure come from? Everybody else. Every other stupid
bloody person! They’ve done it so you’ve got to do it. Fear of being alone.
Fear of not conforming. Fear.
Sometimes you just feel like saying to the great, invisible
Everybody Else ‘Stuff your bloody stupid ideas about what I’ve got to do!
You’re stupid! All your ideas about everything are stupid!’
But the worst thing is, I’m stupid, too.
I can feel someone’s hand gently touching my shoulder. It’s
Katie. Shit. I must have fallen asleep after all. I just hope I wasn’t talking!
***
After my gel overlay, I have lunch then get my hair cut and
tarted up, which takes a lot longer than I thought it would. The guy that cut
my hair asked me what I was doing for Christmas and I gave him the same line
that I gave to Katie, just for consistencies’ sake, you understand, and also
because I was too tired to think of anything else. Also, they might be pals and
talk about me during their coffee break, even though that’s extremely unlikely.
I start to wonder if the staff get to have real coffee when they have their
coffee breaks. If so, where is it hidden? I could murder a proper
time to try something new.’
She covers the area she’s just massaged with a hot towel,
then moves on to the next area.
‘These towels keep the seaweed clay moist. They’ve got some
herbs in them, too. What does your boyfriend do?’
Oh god!
‘He’s, er, he’s a graphic designer. Freelance.’ Well, sod
it. I’m probably never going to see her again. Why did I say that?
‘Really? Mine’s a graphic designer, too! There’s a
coincidence. Mine works for this really small company. Only a dozen people.
They do mainly calendars and adverts for local newspapers. That sort of thing.
What does yours do?’
My mind is racing. What the hell do graphic designers do
nowadays? I can’t use calendars or adverts. With a start, I realise that I’m
basing this fictitious bf on Simon! I try to remember what he talked about.
‘He helps to design websites for various companies. He sort
of works for himself in a way. He works with another guy, a friend he knew from
college. They do it together.’
‘It’s always a bit precarious, that sort of thing. At least
he’s not on his own.’
‘What – because of his college mate, you mean?’
‘No – he’s got you.’
She lays another blissfully warm towel over my body and I
lie there, feeling awful about lying to her. It’s insane, but just the idea of
this nice, quiet Christmas with my graphic website designer boyfriend seems
rather appealing. We don’t have much money, but at least we’re happy. Stop it,
Holly!
After a while, I’m completely covered in seaweed and damp
towels. It’s incredibly warm but doesn’t feel too uncomfortable, though I am
sweating a little. She says she’s going to leave me to cook for half an hour
and leaves the room. The idea is that the seaweed helps to detoxify you through
the sweating and all the nutritional goodies in the seaweed help to condition
the skin. Whatever’s going on, it feels great.
I try to fight an overwhelming desire to fall asleep. While
I’m fighting it, I start to smile. How much simpler everything would be if I
really had a boyfriend like that instead of the hurtful, long-distance,
uncomfortable relationship that I have with Clive. Clive with his money, his
bit-of-a-reputation Caroline, his last minute cancellations and his awful
family.
Someone who gave a shit about me, in short.
When I was creatively lying to Katie, I think I was actually
fantasising about the sort of relationship that I’d really like to have. The
sort of relationship that I always thought I’d have. Somewhere along the way, I
must have taken a wrong turning. It’s just that there’s so much bloody
pressure! Pressure to do this, pressure to do that. Pressure to settle down,
pressure to get married, pressure to have children as soon as bloody possible.
And where does that pressure come from? Everybody else. Every other stupid
bloody person! They’ve done it so you’ve got to do it. Fear of being alone.
Fear of not conforming. Fear.
Sometimes you just feel like saying to the great, invisible
Everybody Else ‘Stuff your bloody stupid ideas about what I’ve got to do!
You’re stupid! All your ideas about everything are stupid!’
But the worst thing is, I’m stupid, too.
I can feel someone’s hand gently touching my shoulder. It’s
Katie. Shit. I must have fallen asleep after all. I just hope I wasn’t talking!
***
After my gel overlay, I have lunch then get my hair cut and
tarted up, which takes a lot longer than I thought it would. The guy that cut
my hair asked me what I was doing for Christmas and I gave him the same line
that I gave to Katie, just for consistencies’ sake, you understand, and also
because I was too tired to think of anything else. Also, they might be pals and
talk about me during their coffee break, even though that’s extremely unlikely.
I start to wonder if the staff get to have real coffee when they have their
coffee breaks. If so, where is it hidden? I could murder a proper
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