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Enjoy.
*
Louise walked beneath the Christmas lights on Regent Street. She could barely move for the crowds, but with no destination in mind, she didn't care. It was a ritual she performed every festive season to help keep a memory alive. She looked in the windows of shops and boutiques, all bright and optimistic with Christmas cheer, but she was met with a reflection devoid of it, the absence of Peter beside her as gut-wrenching as ever.
She sighed into the scarf pulled tight around her neck, then left Regent Street behind. As she passed Piccadilly Circus towards and continued towards Leicester Square, songs from the Christmas market grew louder in her ears.
Mumbling the lyrics of Slade's
Merry Xmas Everybody
into her scarf, she reached the market and perused the stalls. Following another tradition, she bought a handmade wooden tree decoration, this time of a reindeer pulling a sleigh, and a cinnamon hot chocolate to warm her hands. She finished her lap of the market, barely looking where she was going as the ornaments, cards, candles, and clothes adorning the stalls occupied her attention.
As she turned the final corner, she clattered into someone, emptying her hot chocolate down both their fronts.
'Oh!'
'Whoa, watch out.'
'I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was—' She faltered as she looked up, not having expected the person in front of her to be so tall. 'Oh,' she said again, noting his salt and pepper beard and cerulean eyes.
He looked down at his splattered jacket. 'Cinnamon, by the smell of it. Let me buy you another one.'
'Honestly, there's no need.'
'I insist. You could consider it an apology.'
The mirth with which he said it brought a smile to her face. 'Alright. It's just back this way.'
'Which one was it?' he asked when they were at the stall.
'Cinnamon hot chocolate.'
'Two of those please, mate,' he said to the vendor.
'Coming up.'
'Try not to wear it this time,' he teased, handing Louise a cup. 'If I haven't disturbed your night enough, do you want to drink them together?'
She considered for a moment. 'Sure, why not.'
'I'm Simon, by the way.'
She shook his gloved hand. 'Louise. Thank you so much for this, you didn't have to.'
'What's Christmas for if not good will, even to people who throw drinks over you.'
'It's not something I normally do, I promise.'
'So what brings you to a Christmas market by yourself?' Simon asked as they sat on a wall outside the market.
'It's kind of a tradition. My husband and I used to walk around London to see the decorations. We'd always stop here to buy an ornament for our tree and—' She caught herself rambling. 'Sorry, that was a long-winded answer to your question.'
'Better than a short one. You said you "used to"...'
'He passed away.'
'Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.'
'It was a long time ago. How about you? I didn't see you here with anyone.'
'I'm a bit of a tourist at the moment. I only moved to London a couple of months ago, so I haven't seen the lights before. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.'
'Are you impressed?'
'Mostly. Except for the women who don't look where they're going.'
Louise laughed. 'How long are you going to keep busting me for that?'
'For as long as it amuses me.'
'I suppose I deserve it. What brought you to London?'
'Work. I'm a detective in the police. I transferred here from Birmingham.'
'Wow. Sounds dangerous.'
'It's not as glamorous as TV shows would have you believe. More paperwork than car chases. How about you?'
'I'm a drug dealer.'
'Interesting. You don't look like most drug dealers.'
'That's why I've never been caught.'
'Good strategy. Seeing as it's Christmas, I'll let you go this time.' He looked at his watch. 'I hate to cut this short, but I'm meeting a colleague for a drink in ten minutes. Can I see you again? I could use someone to show me the rest of the lights.'
'Uh...'
'Sorry, I didn't think. The thing you and your husband used to do together.'
'It's not that, don't worry. I just wasn't expecting you to ask. I'd be happy to show you around. Pass me your phone and I'll put in my number.'
'Great,' Simon said as she handed it back. 'I'll be in touch.' He took a final swig of hot chocolate. 'It was great to run into you—literally. Take care.'
'You too. Bye.'
Louise watched him go until she lost him in the crowd. Did I just arrange a date? she thought. Nah, like he said, he wants someone to show him around. She finished her drink and wrapped her scarf around her mouth. 'Why are you overthinking this? He probably won't even call,' she murmured as she got to her feet.
She spent the rest of her walk around London absorbed in memories. She thought of the handful of dates she'd been on since Peter's death, and how none of them had felt right. None of the guys had been bad, they just weren't him.
As always, she ended her walk in Trafalgar Square to see the Christmas tree gifted to the British people each year by Norway, a thank you for Britain's support during World War II. Louise noted that it looked lusher than the previous year, when some has derided the tree as threadbare. Given her chance encounter with Simon, she thought it could be taken as a sign, if she was the type to take signs. The more verdant branches were pure coincidence, but it made for an interesting thought nonetheless.
*
'What do the boys want for Christmas?' Louise asked. 'I'm running out of time to get them something.'
Her sister sighed. 'They both want something called a Nintendo Switch. It's a games console, apparently. I hadn't even heard of it until a couple of weeks ago. Why do kids have such expensive tastes?'
'We were no different. Remember the year when we kept bugging mum and dad for that doll house?'
'Yeah. I think they only agreed in the end to keep us quiet.'
'Kids, eh. I could get the boys a game for it if you end up buying them one.'
'We probably will, but I'll let you know. Anyway, enough about kids, you mentioned you met a guy at the Christmas market?'
'Clattered into him to be precise. Spilled hot chocolate down our fronts.'
Kirsty couldn't help an excitable grin. 'What was he like?'
'I don't know really, I only spoke to him for a few minutes. Easy-going. Sense of humour. He still been in contact, so it might not matter.'
'It's only been a day. He probably doesn't want to come across as too keen.'
'I'm thirty-six. I'm past caring about the arbitrary rules of male-female interaction.'
'Deep. At least it sounds like you want him to get in touch.'
She sighed. 'Maybe, but you know how I've been with men since Peter.'
'I know. And I know you still miss him, but not moving on won't bring him back. He'd want you to be happy.'
'That doesn't stop it feeling like a betrayal.'
'You can't think like that, Lou. Did you ever discuss it with him?'
Louise smiled at the memory. 'He always made light of it—you know how he loved gallows humour. "Obviously he won't be as good as me, but if the worst happens, I want you to find a decent bloke who'll make you happy".'
'So what's stopping you?'
'I never believed I'd have to.'
Louise teared up, and Kirsty walked around the kitchen counter to give her a hug. 'Time for another cuppa. Helps every time.'