to find Becky devastated, and that’s all I know. What’s going on?”
There’s another silence, and Jess’s eyes flicker between us again. Then she reaches for her phone, scrolls down for a few moments, and passes it to Luke.
“You didn’t write this email?”
As Luke peers at the screen, his eyes nearly pop out.
“ ‘LukebrandonworkLBC,’ ” he says, aghast. “That’s not my email address, for a start. What the hell?”
I’m not looking at the email address; I’m feverishly scanning the text.
Dear Suze,
I don’t know how to put this, but I’m going to ask you to withdraw from Christmas, as tactfully as possible. Please find an excuse, any excuse. Becky is beyond frazzled, miserable, and dreading the day. We always planned a quiet Christmas, just the three of us, until everyone invited themselves over. Since then, Becky has been so stressed out I’m worried about her, what with all your demands and WhatsApps. She’s tearful, exhausted, and resentful of you all….
I lift my head in agitation, my cheeks burning. Is that what everyone thinks?
“Jess, I’m not resentful,” I say. “I’m not exhausted. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not me….”
“I didn’t write this.” Luke flicks it angrily. “I did not write this, this is absolute bollocks….”
I’m already scrolling down to read the ending:
Above all, do NOT contact Becky or let her know I have emailed. She is very proud and will deny everything, thus jeopardizing her health. Believe you me, what Becky needs is for Christmas to be discreetly canceled. I will leave it with you.
Best,
Luke
I stare at the words, my heart beating hard. Something’s chiming…something’s ringing a bell….
Believe you me…believe you me…
“Oh my God!” My head jerks up. “Nadine! Nadine sent this!”
“Nadine?” Luke stares at me, astounded. “Nadine?”
“Isn’t that your new friend?” Jess crinkles her brow, looking puzzled.
“She’s not our friend,” I say fervently. “She’s our enemy. She hates us. And she knew.” I turn to Luke. “She knew this was the way to get back at us. We talked about Christmas, remember? She knew I was stressed out.” I feverishly count off on my fingers. “She knew everyone had invited themselves for Christmas. She knew about the WhatsApps.” I jab at the email. “No one else says ‘Believe you me.’ And she’s into tech. It was her. Didn’t you see the way she glared at us before she left? She was out for revenge.”
“Jesus.” Luke breathes out.
I suddenly recall Nadine’s syrupy voice that evening at the cottage. “You’ll get your Christmas with your family and friends, Becky.”
She knew what was most precious to me—and she tried to take it away. We underestimated her.
“She’s worse than the Grinch,” I say darkly. “She’s Grinchier than the Grinch. The Grinch only stole stuff. She stole people.”
“But we shouldn’t have let ourselves be stolen!” exclaims Jess in distress. “Becky, I’m so sorry—”
“So, what happened?” I swing round to her, sounding hurt. “You read this email and all just said, ‘Oh OK, let’s cancel’?”
“No!” says Jess, looking shocked. “Of course not. We talked about it extensively. For days. But in the end we all agreed to pull out of Christmas, using different reasons so you wouldn’t guess the truth.”
“You might have decided not to all contact Becky at once,” says Luke dryly. “Slightly gave the game away.”
“But why did you believe it?” I demand, my voice almost a wail.
“Because it seemed…plausible,” says Jess uncomfortably. “You have seemed stressed recently, Becky. You seemed rattled at Minnie’s birthday party. And Suze said you were babbling about putting fish under a duvet—”
“I was rattled at the party because Flo was a nightmare!” I say defensively. “And my cake was a disaster and Nadine had a go at Luke on the doorstep. That’s why. And the fish under the duvet had a totally reasonable explanation. And anyway,” I add, gathering steam, “even if I have been a bit stressed out, everyone gets stressed out by Christmas! It doesn’t mean you cancel it! I mean, didn’t anyone try to call Luke?” I can’t help sounding accusing, and Jess flinches.
“Yes!” she says. “Of course! Suze did. But he was out of reach.”
“Nadine knew I’d be traveling,” Luke puts in wryly.
“Suze left a message for you, though, Luke,” adds Jess—and I stiffen.
“Message? What message?” I swivel to face Luke. “Did you get a message?”
I can see a kind of light dawning in Luke’s face.
“Ah,” he says evasively. “Right. Yes. There might have been a message from Suze. But it began, ‘Luke, about Christmas,’ and I thought I could probably leave it