Maybe the hot Aussie winemaker was the key to shaking her from the doldrums.

Chapter 17

The May Ladies

“Merry Christmas, Lucy!” Jules exclaimed.

Lucy squinted bleary-eyed at her phone, the faces of her best friends grinning up at her.

“Lucy, are you okay?” Jules’s grin fell away. “You don’t look so good.”

“What time is it?” Lucy’s tongue felt thick and furry.

“It’s Christmastime!” Jules saw on the screen that she was slanting to the left—drinking wine nonstop for twelve hours might have had something to do with it—and righted herself.

“Lucy, seriously, are you okay?” asked Chloe.

Lucy pushed herself up to a seated position and cradled her forehead. “Ow.”

“Ohhh,” said Chloe. “Had a big night, did you?”

Lucy nodded, instantly regretting it.

“Luce, you lush!” teased Jules. “Although, I can’t talk. I’ve had a buzz on since this morning, trying to keep up with the Aussies.”

Lucy ignored the commentary, noticing that someone—most likely Will—had left a large glass of water on the bedside table. She sent him a silent “thank you” and took a swig.

“If you look in the medicine cabinet, there’ll be some Tylenol,” said Jules. Lucy looked confused. “Pain killers. Headache tablets. Well, go. We’ll wait.”

Lucy scurried out of bed. “I should have warned her,” said Jules. “A hundred to one, my dad’s hot chocolate is the culprit. That stuff is lethal.”

“I haven’t even really started yet. Christmas lunch isn’t ’til four. Oh, unless you count three pieces of Susan’s Christmas cake. It’s basically sherry held together with dried fruit.” Jules wrinkled her nose; she hated Christmas cake. “You know, I think I’ve had more sherry in the past few days than I’ve had in my entire life.” Chloe realised she was probably a little tipsy too. Although, if she lingered too long on Archer’s news from that morning, it sobered her right up. Just wait ’til she told the girls. Although, they may already have seen the photos.

Lucy reappeared on their screens. She looked paler than usual, but a little better than before. “Hiya, loves, Happy Christmas.” She gave them a weak smile, then shook her head gently at herself. “I can’t believe I let myself get totally trollied on Christmas Eve. What must your family think of me, Jules?” What must Will think of me, more like.

Jules laughed, “Oh they won’t care. They were probably all well on their way too—except Bradley and Bridget, ’cause they’re underage. Although, I caught Bridget sneaking rum last year. She’s not as straight as she seems.” Jules felt an overwhelming longing for home. “So, how is everyone. How’s my family?” she asked, aiming for nonchalance.

“Brilliant. They’ve all been so lovely.”

“What about the eccentric aunty? What’s she like?” asked Chloe. She was stalling, unsure of how to broach her news without killing the Christmas vibe.

“Oh, yeah! How was meeting Aunt Jackie? What mortifying thing did she lay on you? I love her to bits, but I swear that woman’s filter gets worse every year.”