“But—” I begin.
“We won’t be spending Christmas at the hotel,” Mum says gently. “We’re going to be staying at Sadie Lee’s.”
Elliot’s eyes widen. “Sadie Lee’s?”
“Yes,” Mum replies, “the woman who did the catering for the wedding. She’s invited us to spend Christmas at her house.”
“Oh. I see,” Elliot says flatly.
“And we really want Penny with us,” Dad says softly.
“Yes, it’ll be bad enough having Christmas without Tom,” Mum adds.
I feel a surge of relief. Now I don’t have to tell Elliot I don’t want to go home with him; I can blame my parents.
“That’s OK, I understand,” Elliot says quietly.
“We’ll only be staying a week,” I say.
“Eight days,” Elliot says quickly.
“OK, eight days. I can Skype with you.”
“Are you sure you won’t be too busy?” Elliot mutters.
“Hey, it’s our song!” Dad cries as “When a Man Loves a Woman” starts playing. He leaps to his feet and holds out his hand to Mum. “Madam, would you do me the honor?”
“Why, I would be delighted,” Mum cries, taking his hand.
As I watch them head back to the dance floor, I smile. It’s weird because recently their public displays of affection had been making me feel really wistful, like they were members of an exclusive Couples Club I’d never be able to join. But now watching them reminds me of Noah and it makes me feel all warm inside.
“I suppose I’d better go and start packing,” Elliot says, breaking my trance.
“I’ll help you,” I say, desperate to say something, anything, to make Elliot feel better. “We could have a midnight feast if you like? I have a parcel of picnic food.”
“I have no appetite,” Elliot says.
“Not even for chocolate-covered strawberries?”
“He brought you chocolate-covered strawberries?”
I nod nervously, unsure of what kind of response this will get given the mood Elliot’s in.
“Seriously, does this guy have any flaws?”
“I’m sure he has tons,” I say, although I’m not sure of that at all.
“Hmm. All right, come on then.”
• • •
It’s not until we’ve gotten Elliot’s case packed that his mood finally starts to lift.
“I’m sorry,” he says, flopping down on his bed. “I was just so disappointed not to be spending Christmas with you guys. But I suppose it’s for the best that I’ve got to go home; I’d only be a big fat gooseberry if I stayed.”
“No you wouldn’t.” I sit down on the bed next to him. “Look, the fact is, Noah and I live about ten thousand miles apart—”
“Four thousand, actually.”
“OK, four thousand, but that’s still more than an entire ocean, so it’s not like this is going to affect our friendship at all. It’s just—just . . .”
“A holiday romance?” Elliot offers hopefully.
“Yes, a holiday romance.”
But as Elliot grins and nods, an unsettling thought occurs to me. This is the first time I’ve ever lied to him in all our years of friendship.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I once read a magazine article that said every dream has a hidden meaning. Like if you dream that you’re running up a hill but you never get to the top, it means that you’re stuck in some area of your life, and if you dream that your teeth are falling out it means that you’re feeling really insecure—or did that one mean that you’re pregnant . . . ? I can’t remember. Anyway, there are people, kind of like dream doctors, who will analyze your dream and tell you what the secret meaning is. As I wake up on Christmas Eve, I wonder what on earth a dream doctor would make of mine last night. Basically, I was trapped on a train with Megan and Ollie and every time we went through a station the train announcer would read out an embarrassing fact about me. So instead of saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving at . . .” he said things like, “Ladies and gentlemen, did you know that Penny Porter once flashed her knickers to the entire world?” And all the time Megan and Ollie just sat across the table from me, laughing their heads off. And every time I tried to get up to leave, they made me sit down. And then the chair I was sitting on turned into a cake and I ended up getting chocolate icing all over my bum.
I sit up and turn on my bedside lamp. I hate dreams. I hate the way you can forget all about the things and people that have hurt you, but then a dream brings them flooding back. I pick up the china doll from the pillow next to me and hug her. It feels so weird to be thinking of Megan and Ollie again.
I get the sudden urge to check Facebook and YouTube to see if people are still talking about the video. Then thankfully I have a reality check. Why would I do that to myself? Especially as I’ve done so well since I got here, putting all of that to the back of my mind. I look around my room and feel a pang of sorrow. It’s my last morning in the Waldorf Astoria. It probably sounds weird to say this but I feel so attached to this room. This was where my life became like a fairy tale. This was where I finally realized that I can actually control what happens to me. I decide to take some photos of it so that I can treasure the memories forever.
First, I take a picture of my unmade bed, with my doll sitting perched on top of a pile of pillows. Then I take a picture of the whole room from various different angles. Then finally I take some shots of the view from the window and one of the chair with the blanket draped over it, to remind me of the night I spoke to Noah on the phone and the moon turned orange. By the time I’ve finished, I feel way better. It’s as if looking at the room through my camera has, literally, helped me to refocus. Megan and Ollie, the play . . . everything that happened is in the past. I need to keep focused on the present, and that means New York and Noah.