Always, in December(6)
She scowled at herself as she swerved to avoid a pedestrian who wasn’t looking when they stepped onto the road. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking of that, that was definitely not distracting herself. Fine, then, if not work then something else. But of course, the something else was inevitably Oliver. Oliver, telling her he had something to talk to her about while she was sat in his bed. Oliver, laughing off her comments about Cara giving him the eye during their Christmas lunch, telling her he’d be back soon, he was just staying for one more. And Cara herself, tossing back her soft curls, watching Oliver with those bright blue eyes, framed with gold eyeliner and wearing that stunner of a red dress.
A red dress, just like her mum’s red dress, the one she wore to the Christmas Eve party. The party her parents weren’t going to go to, but changed their minds about at the last minute because Josie’s grandmother persuaded them. Her mum had been wearing red lipstick to match the red dress, which she’d let Josie apply.
“Be good, won’t you, Posie?” Her dad’s voice, fuzzy in her memory because she couldn’t quite recall the way it sounded. His arms grabbing her sides and swinging her up and around, her squeals of delight, her mum wincing because she was really too heavy to still be doing that. “There’s still time for Santa to change his mind, you know.”
Josie hit the traffic lights just right this time, getting through just before they changed to amber. Her breathing was coming faster and faster, but she pushed on, needing to feel the burn in her thighs.
Her grandmother, patting her mum’s hand. “You go and have a good time, love, we’ll be fine here, won’t we, Josie?”
Josie nodded, her hair plaited, ready to sleep in it like that so it would go curly for Christmas Day, because her hair looked best curly, and everyone knew you had to look your best on Christmas Day. She didn’t really want her parents to go, she wanted them to stay and watch the film with her, but they’d promised they would be here in the morning, that she could go to their bedroom the moment she woke up to open her stocking.
Josie’s vision was blurry now, the headlights of cars looking more like flames, dancing out to other parts of the road, encasing everything in an orange glow.
The police on the doorstep, speaking to her grandfather, who was still wearing his tartan dressing gown. Josie creeping downstairs, wondering how everyone else could be up before her, wondering if she’d already missed the pancakes her mum made every year for Christmas breakfast. Her grandmother’s face, pale, eyes red, as she turned to look at her.
“Let’s go upstairs for a minute, shall we, Josie love?”
The tears were coming freely now, no chance of stopping them. They traced paths of heat down her cold cheeks and she tasted the salt of them as they pooled in the corner of her mouth.
Lights flashed again as she tried to clear her vision, unsure if the flash was in the present or in her memory. A car horn echoing round her mind. Her parents’ faces, illuminated in the headlights. She hadn’t been there, but that didn’t stop her from imagining it, over and over.
The horn again, louder now. She gasped, swerving back into the cycle lane, and looked down to change gear as her gloves slipped on the metal.
She looked up to see a black cab pulled over on the road right in front of her, across the cycle lane, hazard lights flashing. She fumbled with her brakes but the door to the taxi was already opening on the pavement side. She swore, swerved, and had only a fleeting impression of a man’s face as he got out of the taxi and slammed the door behind him, glancing toward her just in time to see her coming at him.
Her brakes screeched painfully, and she tried to swing the bike left, out of his way. But it wasn’t enough. Her heart gave a warning slam in her chest, and for a paralyzing second she met the man’s confused gaze, the light of her bike reflected in his eyes.
Then he was slammed backward, and her bike skidded away from her. She shoved her hands out and pain shot through her wrists as she landed on the tarmac with a thump.
Josie stayed sprawled on the ground, her heart pounding, ears ringing. Her knees stung and she could feel the dampness of the road seeping in through her tights. As she pushed herself into an awkward kneel, she realized her hands were shaking.
There were several people clustered around her, one of whom was shouting, she noticed now, the sound finally getting through the buzzing in her ears. She focused in on a figure marching around from the other side of the taxi—a woman. A short, slightly plump woman. Why was she shouting at her? Then she got it—this was the taxi driver.
“Didn’t you see me here?” she screamed, her voice disproportionately deep compared to her size. “What the hell were you thinking, coming at us at that speed? Do you not have eyes? Do you not think it might have been sensible to slow the bloody hell down?”
Josie scrambled all the way to her feet, wincing a little. She wasn’t seriously hurt, but her arm had twisted awkwardly from where she’d tried to cushion her fall, and she was pretty sure she’d have a bruise on her hip when she checked later. And her tights had laddered. Great. Well, that’s what you got for cycling in completely impractical clothes, she supposed.
One of the passersby who had stopped to witness the spectacle asked if she was OK, and she nodded, dumbfounded, while Taxi Woman continued to rant, her eyes skimming over Josie to a spot behind her. Josie jumped, remembering, far too late, about the man she’d hit. She spun, her heart renewing its gallop.