Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply.
This is just a little romantic romp between our friends for New Year. It's the story I promised for the 30th, but as it is running into a couple more chapters than I anticipated, it might be more fun to share it across the week in more or less real-time. But the NYE climax will be on the 30th so that you can enjoy your 31st.
I hope you enjoy it, have a safe NYE and a wonderful 2024!
December 23
The two detectives stood by the entrance to the police station as light sleet fell on their coats.
"We might have a white Christmas," Tommy said.
"Yeah, snow beats rain, but it'd be nice to be warm for a change."
"We have big fires at Howenstowe. It's not too late to come down with us. Everyone would love to see you."
Barbara shook her head. "Nah. Thanks anyway."
"Is it because Thabisa will be there?"
"What sort of name is that anyway? She sounds like she should be an African country, not your girlfriend."
Tommy sighed. "Don't be like that, Havers. Thabisa is lovely. You'd find that out if you just got to know her. She likes you, it won't be an issue."
"Seriously? Think about that. How would you feel if she invited her male work colleague to spend Christmas with you?"
"She knows we're partners. Good friends. And you'll be here alone if you don't come."
"I'm not a puppy looking for adoptive parents. I'm quite capable of looking after myself and having a wonderful Christmas with my own traditions." She looked at her watch. "You'd better go. Your African country will be waiting."
"Barbara."
She turned to walk away. "Merry Christmas, Sir, and Happy New Year. I'll see you back here on the eighth."
"Merry Christmas," he called after her. "If you change your mind, call me. I can pick you up off the train at Truro."
"I won't change my mind. See you next year."
Christmas Eve: Chalk Farm
Barbara stood in the freezer aisle of her local supermarket, looking at the selection of frozen Christmas meals. The boxes made them look stodgy and unappetising. She had a choice of pink ham and grey vegetables, a brown mush labelled "Hurry, Hurry, Christmas Curry", or a turkey dinner where the meat was so white it looked like bleached teeth and the cranberry sauce that was so red that the combination reminded Barbara of several crime scenes.
"Ugh."
She decided that cheese sandwiches would do, but as she began to walk home, her anger began to rise. Why should I miss out? It's not like I can't afford something more. She turned around and walked back towards Camden.
Christmas Eve: Howenstowe
"Tommy!" His mother said as they pulled up in the driveway. "Hello, Thabisa. It's wonderful that you can join us. So, Barbara didn't change her mind?"
"No, Mother, she's staying in London."
"Such a pity, but I've kept a place at the table for her in case." Dorothy turned to Thabisa. "They're both so grumpy when they're too far apart." She turned back to Tommy. "So, you behave and don't sulk about."
Thabisa frowned at him, and Tommy smiled and shrugged. His mother liked his new flame but had told him outright that she was not the woman for him. Does she expect me to be alone forever? Thabisa was intelligent and witty, had a great figure and gorgeous long legs, shared his taste in music and theatre and would be a perfect wife. If only I could fall in love with her.
Christmas Day Luncheon: Chalk Farm
Barbara turned on the television to the channel playing non-stop carols and Christmas songs. She had paid £12.99 for her high-end microwave dinner. Now that it was on the plate, it looked only marginally better than the £3.99 offering. She unscrewed the bottle of red wine and poured herself a full glass, ignoring Tommy's instruction that you only fill it to the widest part of the glass. "I don't care," she told the wine, "he's off with his new girlfriend in Cornwall."
She grabbed the single red and gold party cracker she had smuggled from the Met Christmas party. With a thumb in each end, she pulled and enjoyed the satisfying pop and faint smell of cordite as it parted. A small plastic trinket fell out, and Barbara laughed. It was a Bobbie's hat. The green and red paper party hat partially tore as she pulled it from the cardboard roll, but not enough to stop her from putting it on her head and tucking it behind her ears to stop it falling over her face. "Who's head do they use as a model? A bison?"
She unrolled the joke. 'What do you call a boomerang that does not come back?' She flipped over the paper and groaned. 'A stick.' "That's not even funny."
She picked up her phone. There was no message, and for a moment, she considered sending one, but to what avail? Tommy would be sitting and enjoying dinner with his family, not thinking of her.
Sighing, she picked up her knife and fork and began her turkey feast.
Christmas Day Luncheon: Howenstowe
Tommy hated having the 'honour' of carving the Christmas roast. He invariably did it poorly, and his mother was forever instructing him and reminding him of how perfect his father had been at carving.
"Tommy," his mother said, "it's time to carve."
Beside him, Thabisa clapped her hands. Tommy frowned. No, I'm not playing the game this year. He stood. His younger brother was re-adjusting the bib on his young son. he looked at Thabisa. He couldn't imagine her being the mother of his children. No, Peter and his son will be future earls. "Peter, in recognition of everything you've achieved since you... settled down, I'm passing you the knife and fork."
"Are you sure?" his brother asked.
"Yes."
"I wish Barbara could be here to see this, Tommy," Peter said. "She'd be impressed with you."
"Well, she's not here and not exactly enamoured with me at the moment." He waved the cutlery at Peter. "Are you going to take these or not?"
Peter stood and accepted them, grinning. "Thanks, Tommy." As Peter hugged his brother, Tommy put his arms tentatively around him and patted him on the back, hoping against hope that Barbara would ring to say there had been a mass murder in London requiring his immediate return.
As they ate, Tommy stared at the empty chair left for his segreant and wondered what Barbara was having. What are her traditions? He had been so annoyed that she had refused to come here that he hadn't asked.
Christmas Afternoon: Chalk Farm
After finishing her 'Christmas Pudding For One', Barbara washed up and then settled in front of the television to watch the King's Message. Peace on Earth, forgive man's inhumanity to man, love your family, blah blah blah. Annoyed that the world was becoming increasingly ugly, she flicked off the television and grabbed her phone.
She opened her social media, where she had three friends and 33,000 people wanting to scam her, make her laugh, or sell her junk. She scrolled through, always amused by the promises of happiness and cures for every human ailment. Then a brightly coloured ad caught her eye — Bondi Beach with a backdrop of NYE fireworks. 'Come have fun in the sun', it read. 'Only £500 return airfare. Leave TONIGHT and return on January 7. Limited time offer.'
Not trusting the link, Barbara opened up Trippy WooHoo's website. She knew the brand and checked it was their actual site. It seemed legitimate. There was the ad. She read the conditions. Before arriving in Sydney, it was a 3-day, four-legged flight via Helsinki, Azerbaijan, Kolkata, and Singapore. The return leg went via China and Turkey. She had been to none of those countries, and when she checked the details, she would have a four-hour layover in Helsinki, where she could do a closed bus tour, and an eight-hour stopover in Singapore, where they offered a full city tour.
She walked around the flat three times and stopped to look out the window. She then checked the weather forecast for Sydney — blue skies, 27 degrees Celsius and a clear night for the fireworks. Trippy Woohoo had a link to accommodation options. Most would be more than the cost of the airfare, but a hostel at Bondi looked clean, had good reviews and seemed very reasonably priced. Can I afford a thousand pounds for a holiday? And what about food? At least she would get almost two Australian dollars for every pound.
"Why the hell not."
Barbara clicked on the link, entered her credit card and passport details and laughed when the website confirmed her booking with a loud "woo hoo."
Now, what to pack? She opened her wardrobe and looked at the drab grey and navy work clothes hanging limply there. It's not like Aussies run around naked or wear kangaroo skins. She'd take a spare set of undies, her jeans, a T-shirt and a change of shirt and wear her big coat for the Helsinki leg.
"Woo hoo, Sydney, here I come!"
Christmas Afternoon: Howenstowe
"Your family are delightful," Thabisa said as she and Tommy strolled in the garden.
"Mmm."
"But you'd rather be anywhere but here."
Tommy stopped walking. "No. I'm sorry, I've been distracted, haven't I? Not the host I should be. What would you like to do this afternoon? We could go into Nanrunnel, listen to opera, go for a ride, or…"
Thabisa put her hand on his cheek. "That's sweet of you, but… I'd prefer it if you drove me back to London."
"Don't say that. Why?"
"All you ever talk about is Barbara. Barbara said this, Barbara did that, Barbara thinks such and such. Barbara, Barbara, Barbara."
"I can try not to do that."
"No, you can't, not even if you did try." Thabisa shook her head. "We both know this relationship isn't working, Tommy. Just because I'm single and Jane Austen said that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife, it doesn't mean I'm the right person for you. Or you for me. We're not in love. We've never even tried to bed each other, have we?"
Tommy swallowed, then put his hand on her shoulder. "Is that how you'd prefer to spend the afternoon?"
"No!" Thabisa hit his arm away. "We can be friends, Tommy, but isn't it about time you accepted that you're in love with Barbara?"
"No, I'm not."
"Sorry to break it to you, but Yes. You. Are."
"She's my colleague. That's all."
"No, it's not."
"I can't be in love with her."
"Why not?"
"I… she… we're… chums. Friends, colleagues, not lovers."
"For a supposedly intelligent man, you can sometimes be exceptionally dense."
"But she's not…"
"Of our class? Does that matter in this day and age? Surely, if she loves you, that's enough."
"I wasn't thinking about class. I was going to say she's not in love with me."
"Oh? Has she told you that?"
"No, but… she's never… she rejected me once when I tried to kiss her."
"I suspect that might have been a while ago and that a lot may have changed."
Tommy raked his fingers through his hair. "Do you really think… she…?"
"The only way you'll know is to ask her. So, when do you want to leave?"
Tommy looked at his watch. It was almost for o'clock. After a six-hour drive, he'd still see Barbara for Christmas. "How soon can you pack?"
Heathrow Airport 10 pm
Barbara gave her passport to the Immigration Official. "This was only booked a few hours ago. do you have any other luggage?"
"No. I'm only this, she said holding up her soft travel bag. "I'm going to buy shorts and a bikini in Bondi."
The official smiled. "So, why the late-minute decision to go?"
"I had a lousy microwave Christmas dinner alone at home and saw the ad. I suddenly wanted to do something crazy and spend New Year's Eve as far away from London as I can get, well, apart from Antarctica, so this seemed like a good idea."
The man laughed. "Yeah, I did something similar when my wife left me. Good luck. Have a great trip."
"Oh, I intend to. Sun, fun, bronzed Aussies… what more could a girl wish for?"
She gave the man a quick wave as she stepped into the shopping arcade maze that modern airports force passengers to walk through before they get to their gate.
M4 Near Heathrow 10 pm
"Thank you for this," Tommy said to Thabisa. "I'm sorry if I have hurt you in any way."
"You haven't. You're a decent human being, but I'm not in love with you, M'lord."
Tommy smiled and then turned up the speed of his windscreen wipers. He looked over towards the bright dome of light from Heathrow. "Some lucky people are getting out of this weather."
"Well, I'm sure if you play your cards right tonight, you'll be snuggled up in bed, and the weather will be the last thing on your mind.
Tommy felt his face and neck blush. He rather liked that idea.