Love At Christmas, Actually: The Little Christmas Kitchen / Driving Home for Christmas / Winter's Fairytale. Jenny Oliver

He walked back into the room and gave her a look that said “look what a position you’ve put me in”.

       ‘Why do you always do that? You’re meant to be on my side!’

       ‘I am. I also like seeing you. And if you keep acting like a kid, they’re not going to let you spend time with me,’ he said sensibly. ‘This way, it looks like I’m very responsible, and Linda knows what’s going on.’

       ‘She doesn’t!’

       ‘No, but it’s better that your parents think she does, isn’t it?’

       ‘Urgh!’ Megan threw herself on the bed. ‘Why are you the sensible one?’

       Lucas lay down on the bed next to her, staring at the ceiling. ‘Because I don’t have parents on my case to make the most of my potential. Bless Linda, but she doesn’t think I have any potential. All I’ve got to do is get a job and stay out of prison.’

       ‘I think you’ve got potential,’ she said, lifting her head up.

       ‘I know,’ he laughed, ‘but the point is, Angel, your parents are the real deal. They have a good life, and that’s what they want for you.’

       She raised an eyebrow, leaning her head on her hand as she lay there looking at him, her bright cherry-dyed hair hanging over her shoulder, and her black eyeliner smudged.

       ‘Heather and Jonathan have everything. They don’t hate their jobs, they’re married, they have a house, a family they love spending time with. They have hobbies and they’re still in love, all these years later. Nothing can ruin that oasis, can it?’

       ‘Except if their only daughter doesn’t get into Cambridge or whatever.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Matty never gets any of this.’

       ‘Matty isn’t as smart as you are,’ Lucas said sensibly. ‘One day you’ll see, when you’re missing one of the pieces of the puzzle, that they had it all.’

       ‘You were the one who told me to rebel, remember? You said all those years ago that it wasn’t really living!’ she argued.

       ‘That’s because I was trying to get into your knickers,’ he shrugged.

       ‘You were not!’

       Lucas just raised an eyebrow and grinned at her as he started rolling a cigarette.

       ‘It wasn’t a life,’ Megan said simply, staring at the ceiling. ‘All I did was try to be what they wanted me to be. I’m still doing it now. Still studying and killing myself to go to a university I’m not even bothered about, just because it’s their dream. My rebellion is just playing in a band and seeing you.’

       ‘And apparently getting drunk by yourself on a Tuesday night.’

       ‘It’s the summer!’

       ‘I know, baby, but…’

       Megan’s eyes widened. ‘What weird alternate reality is this? You’re Lucas Bright, remember? Rebel, bad boy, bringer of rock n roll?’

       ‘I’m the guy who wants my girlfriend to spend time with me. Which can’t happen if her parents lock her up for acting like a kid.’

       ‘I hate when you’re all sensible,’ Megan pouted.

       ‘Me too. I prefer it when you’re the stick in the mud and I’m the super fun one,’ he grinned, ‘so let’s return to our regularly scheduled programming, shall we?’

      ***

      A little while later, Megan jumped up in shock, finding herself asleep in Lucas’ bed.

      ‘Shit!’ She started looked for her clothes. ‘My parents are going to kill me for being out this late!’

      Lucas burst out laughing, watching her trying to untangle her underwear.

      ‘What?’ she asked, pulling them on and doing up her bra.

      ‘Just…nostalgia. Some things don’t change however old you are.’

      ‘Hey, their house, their rules,’ she grinned, moving back to kiss him. ‘This was really…something.’

      He held her chin and kissed her again. ‘It really was. Up for a few more walks down memory lane before you go back to London?’

      ‘We never did that on memory lane!’ Megan pulled her dress over her head, turning around for Lucas to zip her up. ‘But yes, I would love to spend some more time with you.’

      ‘Good. I’d love to hang out with Skye too, sometime. If that’s okay…’

      He watched as Megan pursed her lips, thoughtful, pulling up her leggings.

      ‘Don’t have to though, we can keep this just about us. I know trusting other people with your daughter is a big deal.’

      ‘I trust you,’ she shrugged, tailing off.

      ‘Either way, it sounds good to me,’ Lucas said softly, kissing her palm. ‘You going now?’

      ‘Well, as soon as you’re ready to drive me,’ she said primly, ‘I can’t be seen leaving Lucas Bright’s house at…two am! The scandal!’

      He stood up wearily, reaching for his underwear. ‘Anything to keep your reputation intact, kid.’

      ***

      September 2002

       They were sitting in her room. She was lying on the bed, feet up against the wall, and he was across the room in her armchair, rolling a cigarette.

       ‘You can’t smoke that in here,’ she said for the hundredth time.

       ‘I know.’

       ‘So why bother?’

       ‘Something to do?’ Luke shrugged, examining his black painted fingernails.

       They sat around, unsure of what to do any more. School was about to start again, and something had shifted over the summer. Megan had started dating Greg, the boy from the baker’s, and Luke was sort-of-almost-nearly seeing this girl who worked at Blockbusters. They’d pretty much spent their summer buying cakes and watching movies, each nudging the other forward in the quest to find someone to stick their tongue down your throat. Fliss was about eighteen, had tattoos and piercings, and looked permanently unimpressed with the world. But she did lend them certificate 18 movies with no questions asked, so Lucas thought it must be love. Greg was in their year at school, one of those rugby boys with the winning smile. They’d known him before his growth spurt, back when he’d been this normal shy sort of boy. Then suddenly he was six foot, the braces came off and he had abs. He was the dream scenario for all those Year nine boys just desperately hoping that they were the lucky duckling who was destined to be a swan. Even if it meant getting bashed in the head by a bunch of posh gits every Sunday.

       ‘We need to do something!’ Megan growled, bored out of her mind. Tomorrow there would be school and GCSEs, coursework and nothing else but ‘focus, Megan, focus’.

       ‘We do stuff!’

       ‘We listen to music and watch dumb movies, and talk about the same shit over and over! I want to do something that will change something.’

       ‘Write a book,’ he shrugged.

       ‘More work, no thanks.’