Chapter Text
Narrated: 3rd limited, adjacent to Bells’ and Jude’s perspectives as stated]
[Bells]
Her phone rang, unexpectedly.
“I’ll just take this quickly,” Bells said, already moving toward the hallway. She caught Theo’s confused expression as she passed - eyebrows raised, mouth opening to protest.
“Who is it? And more importantly, what can they possibly want from you on Christmas Day, babe?”
“Says it’s Jude. Probably after some Excel spreadsheet.”
“Larssen?” Theo’s voice trailed off behind her, edged with something between irritation and disbelief. She didn’t stick around long enough to hear the rest.
She stepped into the spare bedroom - her childhood bedroom, really, though her mother had long since converted it into a guest room. The single bed with its floral duvet. The bookshelf still holding her old A-level textbooks. The faint smell of lavender sachets and dust.
She closed the door. Leaned against it. The phone felt hot in her palm. Her pulse kicked up. She told herself it was just the sherry. Three glasses, maybe four. The Tio Pepe her mother always served after dinner.
"Hello?"
"Evening."
That voice. Low. Rougher than usual, consonants slightly blurred at the edges. She knew immediately he’d been drinking.
A moment of silence stretched between them. In the background, through the door, she could hear her mother’s voice rising in mock exasperation about something to do with the washing up. The clink of china. Penny’s laugh, bright and familiar.
"Merry Christmas, Jude. Can I help you with something?"
[Jude]
Fuck. She actually picked up.
He sat up straighter, nearly dropped the phone, whiskey sloshed in his other hand, amber liquid threatening to spill over the rim of the crystal tumbler.
Think. Say something. Make this seem legitimate. What were they working on?
"The Land Registry contract, do you..." His mind went blank. “Hmm.”
Complete white noise. Then, finally:
“Do you remember the exit clause?"
Exit clause. What the fuck.
No one memorises exit clauses. She’s going to know. She’s going to know you just called because you’re drunk and pathetic and wanted to hear her voice like some creep who…
"The exit clause?” Her voice carried genuine confusion. “Why? Are you thinking of backing out or are they?"
His question was oddly specific. Completely random. There was something in his voice. Something fractured and exposed.
"Not really."
"Okay... Um. No, I don't happen to remember it off the top of my head. Should I?"
"No, of course not."
He wasn't actually calling about the contract. She knew it then, with sudden certainty. It settled over her like a weighted blanket - warm, heavy, slightly suffocating.
"Is everything okay?" she asked. Her free hand found the hem of her jumper -twisted it between her fingers.
[Jude]
The concern in her voice nearly undid him. Made his throat tighten.
"Yes. Thanks for asking." He swallowed. The whiskey was making him reckless, stripping away the usual filters. "So... how's your Christmas going?"
There. Good. Normal. Like a normal human asking a normal question.
[Bells]
Oh.
So that's what this was.
She should say she needed to go. Should make an excuse. This wasn't appropriate - her boss calling her on Christmas, clearly drunk, pretending it was about work when it obviously wasn't.
But she didn't. Couldn’t seem to make herself. Her back pressed against the door, holding herself up.
"Well, I'm with my family. Mum, Penny with her boyfriend Dan, and..."
She hesitated. Why did she hesitate?
"Theo."
The name sat strangely in her mouth. Like admitting something. Making something real that she'd rather keep separate from... this. Whatever this was.
"It's been lovely really. Mum always goes overboard with presents and Jude, she is just so particular about how she wants everything, it drives us completely insane. The table has to be set a specific way, the crackers have to be the expensive John Lewis ones, not the Tesco ones Penny bought as backup. She nearly had a breakdown when Dan suggested we open presents before dinner instead of after. You'd think he'd suggested arson."
She was rambling. She knew she was rambling. But he'd asked, and the sherry had loosened her tongue, and the spare bedroom felt safe somehow. Private.
"Are you there?"
[Jude]
“I’m listening. Keep going.”
He smiled despite himself. Let his head fall back against the sofa cushions, eyes closing. This was what he’d wanted. Just this. Just to hear her talk. Hear that defined rhythm to her speech - the way she talked faster when she was excited, the way her Essex accent got stronger when she was tipsy.
He took a long drink of whiskey, let her voice wash over him.
Please don't stop talking.
[Bells]
Something warm bloomed in her chest at that. At the way he said it. Like he actually wanted to hear about her mother's neurotic Christmas hosting.
"I'm not boring you with this?"
“You could read me the T&Cs of iTunes and I'd listen.”
“What?”
She stopped. Blinked at the wall - at the old poster of some boy band she’d loved at sixteen, still blu-tacked up there. That was... that was a lot, wasn’t it? Too much for what this was supposed to be. Too much for boss and employee. Inappropriate and strange and…
“I meant… ah… Your delivery is engaging. Keep going.”
He stumbled on words, backtracking clumsily, but sounded genuine. And she was tipsy. And it was Christmas.
"Okay... well. You don't have to tell me twice." She laughed, trying to lighten it. "You know how I get after a glass or two of a drink."
"I do know. You got rather animated at the Christmas party this year."
The Christmas party. When he'd stood so close. When he’d leant in and she'd thought he might…
When she'd wanted him to…
"And you were rather more charming than your usual grumpy self."
"I'm not that grumpy."
"You can get pretty damn grim."
He laughed, heartily, and she smiled despite herself.
"I prefer 'hard-working.' 'Focused.' 'Intense' maybe."
The playfulness in his voice did something to her. Made her forget, just for a moment, about Theo in the other room. About propriety. About all the reasons this phone call was a bad idea.
"Mhm... sure." She said, and it came out more flirtatious than she’d intended.
What the hell was this. There was a pause, a comfortable one. She could hear him take a drink of something. She imagined him on his sofa some place. She’d never been to his place. Didn’t even know what part of London he lived in.
"Oh, and thanks for my not-so-secret Santa gift this year," she said. "Those earrings are spectacular."
"You like them?"
"I love them. I've been wearing them constantly."
She touched one, felt the cool metal against her fingertip, the sharp faceted edges of the stones.
“They’re exactly me, you know. Delicate and tasteful, but something really regal about them. And I know they were cheap but they look really expensive.”
“You have your ears pierced but rarely wear jewellery. Seemed a waste.”
“You noticed that?”
“I notice a lot about you.”
She felt something warm spreading from her chest over her arms giving her goosebumps. Another soft pause. Say something, Bells. Your boyfriend is next door helping your mother with post dinner clean up and you’re here, talking to this man about… What about exactly?
Melting over a pair of £5 earrings from Claire’s?
She pivoted. Forced brightness into her voice.
"Right. Well, let me tell you something funny. Theo is CONVINCED these are real diamonds. I told him, please Theo, these are cubic zirconia. I know the difference between real and fake."
“Do you?” he said quietly.
The question seemed loaded, she felt it before she heard it.
“Do I what?”
“Know the difference.”
[Jude]
She knows the difference, she said. Between real and fake. Between what’s performance and what’s not.
Does she?
He heard her laugh awkwardly.
“I mean the budget was £5 per gift…” she said.
“Five to the sixth”
The words slipped out. Automatic. Like his mouth had disconnected from his brain. Shit.
"What?"
Yes, I spent three hours at a jeweller in Hatton Garden. Turned down twelve pairs before finding the right ones. Small enough to be elegant. Good enough to last. Diamond enough to convey something I won’t take the risk to verbalise.
"Nothing."
Christ, please figure it out for once. But you won't figure it out.
You never do.
[Bells]
"No, what did you say?"
"I said... nothing. The budget was five quid."
Something in his voice had changed. Gone carefully neutral.
"Right..." She touched the earrings again. They were beautiful - simple, elegant, exactly her taste. "Well, a good find for a fiver. They look classy. Posh. And that Cartier box - great decoy! Almost fooled me."
"Yeah."
She paused. Something in his tone caught her attention - something bitter and resigned. Like he was disappointed in her. But for what? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Had she?
"How about you tell me about your Christmas?" she asked.
A pause.
Awkward this time.
"It's good. Really good."
"It's awfully quiet there. You're not alone, are you?"
Say no, Jude. Say you're with friends, family, anyone.
"No. Of course not. Can you imagine."
She heard him laugh. It sounded hollow, coins rattling in an empty tin.
"Who are you with then?"
"Hm. Jack and Daniel. Good mates of mine."
She went very still.
"Jude..."
"What?"
"Jack Daniels. Really?"
[Jude]
Caught. She knew. She knew he was sitting here alone on Christmas getting drunk and…
"Single Barrel, though?"
At least maintain some fucking standards.
"You shouldn't be spending Christmas on your own."
The kindness in her voice cut worse than pity would have.
He took a breath. The whiskey was making him stupid. Making him want to say things he had no right to say. Making the loneliness feel unbearable. Making the apartment feel like a cage.
"Well not everyone is lucky enough to be spending it with you..."
Words out before he could stop them.
FUCK.
Abort. Abort abort abort.
"...re type of family."
[Bells]
Her breath caught. The world narrowed to the phone pressed against her ear, to the sudden thundering of her heart, her pulse hammering in her throat, behind her eyes, everywhere.
With you.
He'd said “with you.”
"...re type of family."
The correction came too late. The pause had been too long. She'd heard the hesitation. Parsed what he'd meant to say. What he'd caught himself saying.
She sat down on the bed in the spare bedroom, suddenly weak in her knees, one hand pressed to her chest.
Down the hall, she could hear Theo laughing at something someone said. Could hear her mother calling her name, probably wondering where she'd gone.
"Jude," she said quietly.
Just his name. Nothing else. Couldn’t manage anything else. Her voice barely carried across the line.
[Jude]
She said his name so quietly. Like she'd heard all of it-what he said and what he didn’t.
He closed his eyes. The heel of his palm pressed to his temple.
What the fuck was he doing, calling her like this?
She had that new bloke. She had her family. She had a whole life that didn't include sitting alone in the dark on Christmas talking to her boss who was half too much of a coward to…
[Bells]
She didn't know what else to say. Didn't know what she was allowed to say. All she knew was that she sat in her mother's spare bedroom on Christmas Day, talking to her boss who'd just almost-but-not-quite confessed something.
She should hang up.
Didn’t.
“So…” he said. “Your family up to much tomorrow?”
"You're just going to pivot like this?" she found herself retorting.
"What else do you want me to say?"
"Maybe say what you mean for once. Without taking it back."
The words came out sharp. Frustrated. Disappointed. The sherry. The moment. The way her heart was pounding.
[Jude]
His heart skipped a beat. She was asking him to…
Confess everything?
Fuck it. He could do it. Right now. Let’s go.
Say: I’m in love with you.
Say: I bought you those earrings because I think about you constantly. Because you deserve something as beautiful as you are.
Say: Forget that other guy. Choose me.
His mouth opened. The words right there. Right on his tongue.
But then he heard it. A door opening. A voice.
"Bells darling, everything okay? You've been here a while."
Darling. That must have been Theo. He called her darling. Of course he did. Probably got her flowers too. Kissed her under the mistletoe. Probably was everything Jude wasn't - kind, emotionally literate, legitimate, uncomplicated, there.
The moment shattered.
"Sounds like you need to go. Merry Christmas to you, Bells. Always a pleasure."
[Bells]
The formality of it stung. After everything. After "with you." After almost…
"Yeah, it's fine Theo, it's just work," she said, her voice hard.
Wanting Jude to hear it. Wanting him to feel what she was feeling - this frustration, this disappointment.
"Just work," he repeated quietly.
The line went dead.
She sat there for a moment longer, phone still in her hand. Theo was waiting in the doorway, concerned.
She slipped the phone in her pocket and followed Theo back to the living room, back to the warmth and laughter and Christmas music. Back to her family with her boyfriend and the life she'd known. But her fingers kept going to her earlobes. Touching the earrings. Wondering.
Five to the sixth.
25, 125, 625, times five, what was that, 3 thousand something. That times five…?
£15 thousand.
He wouldn’t.
Because that would be fucking insane.
She knew what was and wasn’t real in the end.