It Won’t be Christmas Without You. Beth Reekles

It Won’t be Christmas Without You - Beth  Reekles


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the wine?”

      “Naaah.”

      The bar was packed. The whole office had turned out – all forty-three of them – and were keeping the three people behind the bar on their toes, to say the least.

      “Ah, there she is!” Cara turned, and Dave was grinning at her, beer in hand. “I almost didn’t expect you to show up. We thought you’d still be working.”

      She laughed but didn’t know how to respond. Was it really such a bad thing, working hard?

      “I should probably buy you a drink,” he said.

      “Why?”

      “Hail you as my successor properly. I don’t know that I’ll get chance after I leave.”

      Cara blinked at him for a long minute. The prosecco had really gone to her head on an empty stomach. They’d only made it through a bottle and a half.

      Successor.

      The word took a while to register.

      “Wait. Are you saying I’m – I’ve got it? I’m getting your job?”

      Dave laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s not official yet, but I’ve been having a word with Marcus and – let’s just say it’s looking good.”

      Cara smiled stiffly, and then Dave moved on to talk to someone else after handing her the bar’s signature Christmas cocktail, a spiced red drink with a slice of artistically burnt orange peel. She manoeuvred through a few people to catch up with Jen, who was all of two feet closer to the bar, chatting to Alfie.

      It’s looking good wasn’t exactly a guarantee. He’d really got her hopes up for a minute there.

      Alfie smiled at her as she wiggled into a space near them. “Alright, C?”

      “Hiya.”

      “Love the dress.”

      This time her smile was more genuine. “Thanks. Love the tie.”

      Alfie looked down, fingers lifting his tie a little. It was a bright red monstrosity with lurid green Christmas trees filled with tiny LEDs that flashed out of sync. “Subtlety is my strong point.”

      Cara had to laugh at that. Alfie was thirty-four, married with three kids, and was basically a big kid himself. He’d shown up last week in a Christmas pudding outfit. He’d grown a ridiculous walrus moustache for Movember and dyed his hair pink when they did a Race for Life in the summer.

      He and Jen had cocktails to match hers, and Alfie lifted his between them. “Cheers!”

      The three of them toasted. Cara wasn’t sure what was in the drink; it tasted strong, and she took another sip. It was good.

      “So, have they told you yet? Are you going to be the new boss?”

      Jen slung an arm around her. “Of course she is! This is Cara we’re talking about. She’s a machine.”

      “I’ve not heard anything for definite,” she said. Sure, Dave had sounded confident, and he wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t think she’d get it, but she was scared of jinxing it. She poked her orange peel around with the straw. “And I wouldn’t be the boss.”

      “Might as well be. You’ll be running this place in two years. Mark my words.”

      “Don’t let Marcus hear you saying that,” Jen mock-scolded, then giggled. “We need him in a good mood if he’s going to buy everyone a round later.”

      Conversation turned to plans for Christmas. Alfie and his husband were taking the kids to visit their grandparents in Devon. Jen was going home to her family in Brighton. Bryan, from the digital team, had joined them, and mentioned he was heading up to Scotland for Hogmanay with his family.

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