“How many did you invite?” asks Nadine sympathetically, refreshing my wineglass.
“Well, actually, they all kind of invited themselves,” I reply, after a moment’s thought.
“Invited themselves?” Nadine opens her eyes wide.
“I mean, I wanted them to come,” I explain hurriedly. “I love them all to bits. It’ll be great! It’s just…you know. Quite a lot to do.”
“I hear you,” says Nadine, nodding. “Believe you me, Becky, you have to put your foot down.”
“It’s just so full-on.” I take a gulp of wine. “And now my mum’s fallen out with Janice, and they’re both supposed to be coming….”
“Oh no!” exclaims Nadine, wrinkling her nose. “That’s not ideal.”
“No. It’s not.” I emit a gusty sigh. I hadn’t realized how much all this Christmas business has been stressing me out. It’s quite a relief, sharing it with someone on the outside. “All I want is a lovely day, you know? Everyone enjoying being with one another and not caring about how we cook the brussels sprouts.”
“Don’t have brussels sprouts, that’s what I say,” says Nadine briskly. “Brussels sprouts can fuck off.”
“Christmas isn’t about sprouts,” says Craig seriously. His voice sounds so raspy and rock-star-ish, it’s like he’s quoting a lyric from a bad Christmas song, and I can’t help laughing.
“I keep telling myself that,” I agree. “None of the details really matter, do they? All that matters is that we have everyone gathered round the table. Friends. Family. That’s what Christmas is all about.”
“Here’s to that,” says Craig, raising his glass.
“Hear, hear,” agrees Luke.
“I couldn’t agree more,” says Nadine. And she sounds so warm and friendly, I find myself unbending toward her even more.
“We’ve adopted this motto,” I confide. “ ‘Whatever the Grinch can steal, that’s not Christmas.’ ”
“I like that,” says Craig, nodding sagely. “Yeah, I like that. Plus, you know, sprouts are rank.”
I can’t help giggling again, and Nadine pats my knee.
“You’ll get your Christmas with your family and friends, Becky,” she says soothingly. “Just make sure you enjoy the day too.”
Enjoy the day? I hadn’t even thought about enjoying it, just making sure it wasn’t a total catastrophe. But I smile at her and say, “Yes, I will, thanks.”
There’s a pause while we all munch some olives and Craig turns down the lights a little. I’m enjoying this, I realize. I’m starting to relax.
“And now…” He sits down on the sofa, stretching out his legs. He shoots a raised-eyebrows look at Nadine, then turns to Luke. “Well. You guys have probably guessed. There’s a bit of an…agenda tonight.”
At once I stiffen all over. Agenda?
Slowly, Craig leans forward, gazing seriously at Luke, and so does Nadine. The atmosphere is suddenly charged and my head starts prickling. It’s real. They’re coming on to us. I should never have relaxed; I should never have let down my guard….
“Agenda?” says Luke casually. “I thought this was a social engagement.”
“Yeah, well.” Craig laughs again. “You get into bed with someone, you want to know them socially first, don’t you?”
Get into bed. Oh God…
“I don’t know how open you are to this kind of thing…?” puts in Nadine huskily, swishing her hair back and looking at Luke directly. The light is shining on her lip gloss and her cleavage and her sheeny shirt, and she looks pretty spectacular.
My heart’s thudding frantically, but I don’t seem able to speak. I feel surreal. Also: What’s Luke going to say?
“I’m not, I’m afraid,” says Luke flatly, and I feel a whoosh of relief.
(I mean, obviously I knew he would say that.)
“Right,” says Nadine, without missing a beat. “That’s disappointing. But maybe we can persuade you to another view.”
“I learned a new word today,” I say, finding my voice. “Sprygge. It’s Norwegian. Sprygge.” I gaze desperately at Luke. “Sprygge!”
But no one even turns their head.
“I thought you were open-minded, Luke,” Nadine says huskily, leaning even farther toward him, her breasts gleaming. “And I’m going to be honest with you, OK? I really want this. I really want to pitch you.”
I stare at her, aghast. Pitch? What does that mean? Is “pitch” some weird sexual fetish slang I’ve never even—
Then my thoughts break off abruptly as I see the word “pitch” on a printed-out document at Nadine’s feet, half under the sofa.
Hang on. Pitch as in…pitch?
OK, wait, what is going on here?
“I can give you advice,” Luke is saying smoothly to Nadine. “But I’m not an investor.”
“You’ve got funds, though,” says Nadine, batting her eyelids at him. “You’ve got a company that could expand.