I Heart Christmas

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Harper 2013

Copyright © Lindsey Kelk 2013

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013

Cover illustration © Bree Leman

Lindsey Kelk asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007501502

Ebook Edition © July 2013 ISBN: 9780007501526

Version: 2017-08-22

Partly for Bernard’s dancing, partly for Matt’s beard and entirely for Terri White.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Author

Angela’s Guide to Christmas

Keep Reading

About the Publisher

‘Can you explain to me exactly why I’m dragging this thing through the streets of Brooklyn,’ Jenny asked, huffing and puffing behind seven feet of majestic Christmas tree, ‘when you have a perfectly acceptable husband to do these things? What’s the point in being married if he’s not going to carry heavy shit for you?’

‘Because we’re strong, independent women who don’t need men to carry things for us,’ I offered, shivering as I fumbled for my front door key. ‘We are woman, hear us roar.’

‘I am woman, hear me call a delivery service to do this so I don’t have to,’ she grumbled through a mouthful of the finest Douglas fir. ‘Where is Alex anyway? Isn’t this the kind of cutesy shit you two should be doing together?’

‘He’s out, somewhere.’ I shuffled backwards, pulling Jenny and the tree towards the lift and pretending not to see the trail of pine needles. ‘God knows.’

‘You really make marriage sound like a dream,’ she replied.

Getting the tree up to our floor would not be the perfect crime. Our building super already disliked me with a fiery passion. I couldn’t quite work out if it was because he had trouble with my accent and never quite understood what I was saying or because I still couldn’t remember which bin was for recycling and which was for rubbish. Or there was a small chance that it was due to all those times I’d locked myself out at three a.m. when Alex was away on tour and I’d had to call him to let me in. Regardless, the fact of the matter was, he just wasn’t that keen on me and this unquestionably seasonal, yet unrequested new carpet of Christmas tree needles in the lobby was not going to go down well.

‘I don’t know where he goes.’ I tiptoed backwards into the lift, trying not to fall over my own feet. Again. ‘That boy is a wanderer and it’s too bloody cold for me to wander with him. Besides, I wanted to get the tree. I wanted to do it with you, oh bestest friend in the entire universe.’

Jenny poked her head around the tree to fix me with a narrow-eyed stare.

‘He said you couldn’t have a tree yet, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ I nodded.

‘And why not?’

‘Because I still haven’t cleared away all the Thanksgiving dishes,’ I admitted. It wasn’t like I hadn’t put them in the dishwasher, I just hadn’t taken them back out again. For over a week. ‘But I needed it. It’s been a weird day.’

‘You’re disgusting.’ She yelped as she pricked herself for the eighteenth time in two minutes. ‘And it’s been a weird day so you picked up a Christmas tree? You couldn’t just buy shoes like normal people? You’re what’s weird in this scenario.’

‘Something’s going on at work,’ I said, jabbing at the buttons and willing the doors to close faster. ‘I’m sure of it. Delia and Mary are being all whispery behind closed doors.’

‘Don’t you and Mary share an office?’ Jenny asked. ‘What are you doing, following them to the ladies’ room?’

‘Um, yeah, we have separate offices now.’

Mary, the editor of Gloss, and I had started off sharing a big, beautiful office but since I apparently couldn’t stop singing show tunes when I was trying to concentrate and occasionally enjoyed the odd YouTube video of kittens with narcolepsy, she’d had a wall put up in the middle of the room. I tried not to take it personally. If she couldn’t appreciate my celebrated (by me) rendition of ‘I Know Him So Well’, that was her loss.