The Great Christmas Breakup by Geraldine Fonteroy

through the crowds after her. ‘You don’t know what rubbish that man believes about me, though.’
    Lolly went white.
    ‘What? Lolly? Are y ou okay? Do you feel ill? ’
    Lolly stared pointedly behind me. I turned to find, f or the second t ime that day, Robert Simpson standing directly behind me.
    ‘Robert. What are you doing here?’ Lolly asked brightly, hoping he hadn’t heard.
    ‘Business. Around the corner.’
    He looked at me. ‘H aving dinner with the husband?’
    It sounded like an accusation – but no, why should it be?
    The more important question was, why would he think I was meeting Carson?
    ‘If you mean Carson, we’re not. Just us,’ Lolly said.
    Robert frowned. ‘ I just passed a man in the street I cou ld have sworn was Scarlet’s husband. ’
    Lolly and I were flabbergasted. ‘But Robert, how do you know what Carson looks like? ’ she asked.
    There was the slightest reddening of his left cheek. ‘From the old days, when he and Scarlet began dating. They always sat in the same corner of Grando’s, didn’t they? In fact, I’d remember him anywhere, with that hair. ’
    Was it my imagination or was Robert slightly out of order with respect to Carson?
    Lolly tried to keep things light. ‘Gosh, yes, that revolting stained sofa with the round purple patches. Why on earth didn’t the authorities make them take it away? Definite health hazard.’
    Robert was quick was a reply, ‘Well, it didn’t worry Scarlet and er, Carson.’
    His voice was taking on a sing-songy pitch that hurt my ears. It must be a nervous thing.
    I wasn’t one to comment though, was I? I ’d managed to almost bite off my tongue by trying to cover up my nerves.
    ‘Join us?’ I asked, eager to sit down – the shoes Lolly had loaned me were gnawing at my ankles.
    ‘Sorry, love to, but I need to fly – business awaits.’
    Sh ooting me one final awkward glance , Robert pulled his collar up against the rain and dashed through the door as a drenched teenage couple entered.
    ‘What’s with him?’
    ‘Who knows?’
    We might have discussed it further but the iced drinks my friend had ordered moments ago, with the casual flick of a hand, arrived. Lolly was obviously a regular t here. 
    She handed me a spoon. ‘Enough about men, this is what life should be about.’
    And even though the cold ice made my tongue sting, I couldn’t disagree.
    Eventuall y, the food was gone and we moved on to coffee.
    ‘What was Carson doing in town?’ I wondered aloud.
    ‘I t probably wasn’t him. No offenc e, but Carson doesn’t look like the man you first met, does it? His hair is totally different, for one thing.’
    ‘True.’ Lolly was right. Carson’s hair had gone from a mad, curly affair just like mine to a whisper of what it once was – now it was short, fine and delicately arranged for maximum coverage.
    ‘I suppose I don’t look the same, either, do I?’
    She shrugged. ‘So what? You’ve got a life, and you’ve had two kids. ’
    Watching Lolly, model-like in her slick Burberry mac, shiny Versace boots, together with that sheet of unbelievable blonde hair, I wonder ed why she hadn’t dated recently.
    If she had, she never spoke of it .
    I thought back. There’d been a few boyfriends over the years, but no one who’d lasted more than a month or so.
    ‘What about you, Lol? The business is taking off. Isn’t it time to make babies? ’
    Instead of scrunching her face up like she always did at the mention of pregnancy , Lolly’s eyes fogged with sadness.
    I grabbed her hand. It was freezing, despite the hot coffee she was clutching.
    ‘Lolly, what’s up?’
    ‘It’s hopeless.’
    Now hopeless I knew about, but Lol ly didn’t display any of the usual characteristics required for hopeless ness .
    ‘Why? You’re gorgeous. Just take your pick. I can give you Carson’s old alumni yearbooks. Literally, take your pick. Most of those nerds don’t leave the lab or hospital or wherever they hang out. They’re