Page 28 of Sad Girl Hours
Chapter Twenty-eight
Nell
There are only two weeks left of term before we go home for the holidays, and I’m determined to get to do all the Christmas fun with everyone before we go our separate ways.
Gamely, everyone lets me do my ridiculous Christmas card idea.
We all dress up in double denim with tinsel thrown round us like feather boas while we pose in the cringiest eighties-style poses.
Vivvie did protest a lot about the double-denim sitch (‘I only clothe my body in the finest accoutrements – how DARE you make me lower myself to the likes of Justin Timberlake?’) but the results were well worth it.
I will be framing the card so I can appreciate it for many years to come.
On Saturday, we bundle up in our coats (and snazzy bobble hats) and walk down the hill to the town square ready for the Christmas lights switch-on.
I always love watching this. Not so much the weird preamble with the D-list celebrity that they’ve found to do it, but the moments immediately after, when everyone’s gazing around with wonder, fairy lights reflecting in their eyes.
I love Christmas day, obviously, but I think I might love all of this just as much. Everywhere you go, songs are playing that everyone knows the words to; everything’s brightly coloured; every coffee shops smell like hot chocolate and gingerbread. It all makes my sensory-seeking butt very happy.
I relay some of this excitement to Saffron on the way to the switch-on. “Smell that? The cold air, the sugar from the waffle man over there—”
“Waffle man?” Saffron twists round to see the stall. “Oh right. My brain went straight to picturing a sentient waffle person.”
“An excellent example as to why you’re one of my favourite people. Not a single boring thought going on up there.”
I tap her on the noggin, and she turns away from me to hide her smile.
I wish she wouldn’t. Her smile’s one of my favourite things to look at, and I’ve not seen it a lot recently.
I’ve not seen her a lot really – she’s had a mountain of work to do apparently.
Casper said she’s been studying loads up in her room by herself and he’s barely seen her either, despite living in the same house.
When Jenna and Saffron stop to admire the wares of one of the stalls, I keep walking with Vivvie and Casper and drop my voice.
“Guys,” I start, not really sure how to broach the subject. “Have you noticed that Saffron seems … I don’t know—”
“Weird?” Vivvie offers. “Yep. She’s hiding something, and it’s driving me crazy that I don’t know what.”
“Oh, thank God,” I say. “Well, not thank God that she’s hiding something or acting strangely, but thank God you’ve noticed too. Do you think she’s … OK?”
“She says so,” Casper says. “Repeatedly. But no, I don’t think she is. I think the lady doth protest too much.”
“Do you have any thoughts on what it could be?”
“Not a clue,” Vivvie says. “I know she was off last year after Christmas because her grandma died around this time, so maybe it’s just a tricky time of year for her? But I wish she’d just tell us what it is.”
“Me too. I want to help.”
When I glance back round, Saffron’s crouched on the ground, picking up a very tiny glove that she then hands back to the parent of a very bundled-up toddler.
More than ever I want to ask her to let me do something for her. She does so much for other people. I want to return a few of the favours. If she could only drop a glove of her own. Not in the Regency kind of way, although that would be fun. I bet Saffron would look amazing in one of those dresses…
Jenna catches up with me. “You OK?”
“Huh?” I drag my gaze away from Saffron and my thoughts about gloved fingers and dancing until we’re breathless, chests heaving.
“Nell?” Jenna prods as we walk together. She definitely noticed me staring at Saff.
“Yes, sorry. I’m good. Definitely good.”
Jenna’s nostrils flare in amusement. “Good. I’m glad you’re good .”
“Hi!” Saffron joins us. “You guys OK?”
“Yes, I’m good,” I say, and Jenna laughs, making Saffron tilt her head in question.
“Sorry. I’m good too.” Jenna flicks her eyes to me and we have a full silent conversation. But here’s the thing:
I don’t think I want it to be silent any more.