Here's some more! I've also added a prologue of us on Christmas Eve, but aged as we are now, and will add an epilogue of our nineteen-year-old selves on Boxing Day, just to frame it.

As Louise did her make-up, there was a knock on the bedroom door. She grunted, signalling for Rob to enter. He came in and stood in the doorway, wearing a white shirt and red-and-white-striped boxer shorts. His hair, too, was all over the place.

"Happy Christmas Lou," he said.

"And to you," smiled Louise, applying blusher. "I put your presents under the tree. I figured we'd just do ours when everyone does them all. If you want to do it now though, we can do?"

"No, it's cool, I'll go put yours under the tree as well," he nodded. "I've got two cards as well. From Luke. He sent them a while ago, before … well, I'll put them down there too." He left.

Louise stopped her beauty regime and slouched back in the chair. She didn't want to think about her cousin, not today. Luke had been serving in Iraq and she'd spent every moment worrying about him. A few weeks ago he was caught in an explosion. He had been rushed home and was now in a hospital in central London.

Louise had been to visit him once but couldn't go back. She'd been distraught at what she'd found. He was badly burnt and had had a foot amputated. He was being fed by a drip. He was still in a coma. The doctors kept saying that it was touch and go and they didn't know if he would make it. Louise had resigned herself to the fact that he wouldn't. But today was a day of peace, love and celebration. And excessive drinking. Louise was determined that today was going to be a good day.

Since Ellie had turned on the radio about half an hour ago, Dave had wondered if she had purposely talked over his mention of marriage. She never asked to do anything, she just did it. Now he thought about it, almost every time he'd mentioned actually doing something about their engagement, she'd changed the topic or said she was too busy to talk about it. Maybe he had to try and force the issue.

Now seemed a good enough time as any. She couldn't escape from the car.

"Ellie?" Dave said gingerly. She opened her eyes slightly and sighed. "You know we're engaged?"

"Yes, of course Dave," she said, looking anywhere but at him.

"When I proposed … I hoped that we would be engaged to be married," he said, choosing his words very carefully and wishing he'd worn another layer so that her nails wouldn't reach his skin should she suddenly lash out. "But it's been four years. Do you want to marry me?"

"Of course," came the reply. But it wasn't the sort of reply Dave wanted. The words were right, but the tone wasn't.

"Ellie?" Dave knew he was crossing several boundaries here. He was taking control, and Ellie did not like it one bit.

"Look, Dave," It was Ellie who was now choosing her words carefully. "Of course I want to marry you. Who wouldn't? But not right now. I'm not ready. Can we talk about this another time?"

"No, let's talk about it now…"

"ANOTHER TIME, DAVE!" Ellie shouted. She rarely raised her voice. She turned the radio up and turned round to look out of her window. Dave knew he'd pissed her off. He'd crossed a line that had never been crossed before.

The relationship had, at first, been fairly even. Ellie had, of course, had a certain degree of power over Dave, something that pleased Michael because it meant he was no longer the one under the thumb. The cracks had begun to show more prominently during the early years of university. While Ellie's parents were paying her accommodation for the first year, Dave was struggling with his overdraft well into his second.

He was officially skint, and yet still couldn't bring himself to say no when Ellie asked him to come and visit from Exeter, or help her take stuff to or from university when her parents were working and she was coming home for the holidays.

By the time Dave had reached his third year, he put his foot down. His course - astrophysics - was important too him. He loved Ellie, certainly, unquestionably, but he wasn't paying over three grand a year to hurry his work in between visiting her in London. Ellie had agreed. Her design course kept her busy almost all the time, hardly ever giving her a night off or any free weekends, so Dave still really didn't have an impact, as Ellie was too busy herself.

During the holidays, they spent almost all of their time together, never really discussing the future but always content with the cards fate had dealt them. They were in love, and they had a sex life, but no one else saw the spark. They behaved like an old married couple. They had settled for one another, not because they were perfect, but because it worked. As they say, if it isn't broke, don't fix it.

Once they had both finished university, they moved in together in Brighton. Dave proposed and after a night of thinking it over (which involved thirteen vodka shots, a bottle of wine, whiskey and heart-to-hearts with Louise, Michael and Harriet), Ellie accepted.

That was four years ago. Almost nothing had ever been said about a wedding. If anyone did mention it, it wouldn't be Ellie or Dave. One of their friends would ask about it and Ellie (always Ellie) would say, "Oh, not yet. It's not the right time." Dave would nod along, as if agreeing, but always wondering if she was holding out to see if she'd find someone better.

Now, as they sat in car in complete silence, both hearing but not listening to the bubblegum pop song that played on the radio, Dave wondered again - was she waiting for Mr Perfect? Was he really not good enough?

A large sign told him that they had just entered East Sussex.

Also driving in silence, and also just entering the county of their youth, was Lucy and Tasha. They'd been talking pretty solidly since Lucy had got in, and they had effectively run out of conversation for a while.

Lucy was thinking about one night back in the day where she, Louise and Michael had gone to the park at about ten o'clock one night during the summer and laid on the soft tarmac that crops up in pretty much every child's playground, watching shooting stars. She didn't know why she was thinking about it. She kept smiling to herself, as it had been one of the funniest nights of her life.

Michael had been on top form - he'd actually been funny. They had first discussed a Billy Connolly skit he'd seen about how great it would be if, when people farted, they produced the word "fart" in their own voice instead of the usual noise. They'd tried it in various accents. Michael had then proceeded to do impressions of lots of people they knew. He was also an expert at mimicking body language, particularly the way people walked.

Lucy started laughing out loud.

"What?" said Tasha, turning to look at her.

"Oh, nothing," smirked Lucy. "Just thinking about the old days. Don't you find it weird that we're all still such good friends? Even though we barely see each other anymore."

"We know each other too well," said Tasha. "It's just so easy that I don't think any of us can be bothered to start again. I think it's nice to have people around who remember you as gawky teenagers."

"Sometimes I wish we all still lived close by," said Lucy. "But I think today is going to be really good. We've spent birthdays and new years together, but never Christmas. Christmas is a big thing. It's like something only really good friends do."

"I guess," said Tasha. "I didn't really think about it like that. Mum really wanted me to go home again this year, and I really wanted to as well, but Louise was so bloody convincing. It'll be nice. I'll help cook too. I can't drink since I'm driving back tonight."

"I'm staying a few days," said Lucy. "I'll get the train up to see my family before New Years. Should be nice."

"I've got to get home and then I'm coming back down in the New Year to see mine," said Tasha. "I couldn't get time off work." Tasha was an interior designer, and a very popular one at that. Louise, Ellie, Michael and Sammy, another old friend, all had interiors designed by Tasha.

"Do you think today is going to be explosive?" she said, slowly, as if worrying for real. Lucy looked at her and the two of them burst out laughing.

"I'd be very upset if it wasn't," Lucy said through her laughs. "We can't do anything with a large dollop of drama."

Matt was loading bags of presents into the back of Harriet's orange Nissan Micra. He still could not drive and they couldn't really afford for him to have lessons with the new baby on the way. Harriet was therefore driving the fairly short journey, much to her annoyance.

"Harriet! Come on, we need to go!" Matt called back up to the house. A neighbour's curtain twitched. Harriet emerged from the house in a green skirt and a beige top and got halfway down the path before returning to the door to lock it.

"Have we got everything?" she said as she arrived at the car. "Presents? Wine? Bombay mix?" Harriet had been craving Bombay mix all the time since getting pregnant. Matt nodded and checked the things off on his fingers in as she said them.

Harriet got into the drivers seat (with some degree of difficulty), strapped on her seatbelt (with another degree of difficulty) and turned the key in the ignition. It was already in gear and so stalled before it had gone anywhere.

"Bloody hell," she muttered. Matt had got in the car now too and put the seat back as far as it would go to accommodate his legs.

"Ready?" he said. Trying best to keep calm, Harriet managed to get the car started and began to drive, heading towards a Christmas with her friends and husband.

Harriet and Matt had met at a New Years Eve party back when Harriet was in sixth form. Matt was four years older and they had never seen one another before that night. Their relationship had been rocky: very rocky. But, they had managed to convince themselves that they wouldn't ever be able to get anyone else and so, after Harriet had finished at university, Matt proposed, Harriet said yes, and they married later that same year. Sammy, Harriet's former best friend, had been the maid of honour, and Matt's old friend Craig had been best man.

It had been a simple ceremony with the reception at Harriet's old family home. Michael's plus one, his old friend Katherine, had caught the bouquet and had indeed gone onto marry a few months later. She was now on her third marriage at the relatively young age of twenty-six.

They were a good reminder to all of the others that there was someone out there for everyone, but also an annoyance because they had one another whereas almost everyone else was permanently single. Harriet and Matt had married and it was working. Not perfectly, but working nonetheless.

Harriet stopped at the red traffic light and began biting her thumbnail, waiting for the green light.

In the beautiful coastal town of Eastbourne, not far from where everyone was heading, Sammy, sat shivering in the armchair in her Tasha-designed living room wearing a pink nightie and a silk dressing gown, staring at the small pile of presents beneath the tree.

Lysander wasn't home. It was Christmas and he hadn't come home. Bastard. Sammy felt the tears begin to run down her face and didn't stop them as they came thicker and faster.

At 10.59 exactly, Christian pulled into Coronation Close and parked in front of number 17, the four-bedroom house in which he was to spend his Christmas Day. He thought it was impressive and was instantly struck by the idea of Louise being a rather glamorous and rich young woman with too much money and not enough sense that led her to buy a huge house that she lived alone in.

He didn't know that she was a tax cheat but had so far been undiscovered and so was able to live in express comfort. Only Michael and Ellie knew her tax secret and although they both felt it unfair and like they should turn her in, they knew that if they could get away with it, they would do it too.

"This is it then?" said Christian. Neither he nor Michael had moved from the car.

"Yup, Louise's house," nodded Michael. "I love this place. It'll be good to have it filled with people." He opened the door of the car and went round to the boot. Christian popped it open and got out to join him, locking the door again.

"Are you OK?" said Michael. He gently kissed Christian on the cheek. "It's going to be fine."

"I know," smiled Christian. "It's just funny. The first Christmas I spend away from the family and I spend it with total strangers."

"I'm not a total stranger," said Michael, lifting two of the bags out of the car. "And anyway, you're not getting out of it now. They'll love you, I know they will."

Christian smiled again and removed the other bag from the boot of the car. He slammed it shut and the pair of them walked up the garden path. Instead of following it round the corner, Michael hopped over the flowerbeds and rang the doorbell with his nose.

About twenty seconds passed before there was a noise in the hall. Louise then opened the door.

"Hey, lovely," said Michael as she opened the door wider. He stooped to kiss her on the cheek and she put her arms round him loosely.

"Sorry about the delay," she said. "Happy Christmas by the way. Yeah, I took my time because I could feel a fart brewing and didn't want to open the door and fart at the same time and have Christian forever associate me with farting on our first meeting."

"So you thought you'd tell us about it instead?" laughed Michael. He looked at his boyfriend behind him, who was blushing slightly. "This is Christian, by the way."

"Hello," said Louise. "So we finally meet. Michael's told us a lot about you. You're more attractive in real life. Not that you look awful in photographs or anything. I mean…"

"Have you started on the booze really early today or something?" said Michael, raising an eyebrow.

"I may have had a Baileys with breakfast," said Louise. "Anyway, come in and close the door, don't let the heat out."

"You could not have sounded more like your mother just then," said Michael. Christian was busy taking his shoes off but a yelp told him that Michael had just been hit for that comment.

Christian followed Michael and Louise into the living room. It was a large room with a fake tree decorated with blue and silver tinsel and ornaments, three large green overstuffed sofas, a chunky TV with a stack of DVDs next to it, and a computer desk with a fairly old computer on it. An electric fire hummed away in the corner.

"Just bung the presents under the tree then?" said Michael.

"Yeah, sure thing," nodded Louise. "Do you want a drink? Tea? Water? Baileys?"

"Cuppa tea would be lovely," smiled Christian. "Three sugars." Louise looked at him and smiled and spent just a split second too long staring before going off to the kitchen. Christian had the distinct feeling that she had been studying him, from his strawberry blonde hair to his thick grey socks. He felt like a piece of meat. He moved over to Michael with his bag.

"She was just totally judging me," he whispered.

"Yes, and?" said Michael, slipping the last present under a low-hanging silver bauble.

"Drink, Michael?" Louise called through from the kitchen.

"Baileys is good, thanks," Michael called back. He then lowered his voice again and said, "Of course she was examining you. It's what we do. I think she's a little disappointed you're not black."

"What? Why?" Christian was confused.

"Oh, long story, I'll tell you later," Michael smirked. "Shall I put your presents under here too?" He began ferreting around in Christian's carrier bag and pulling out gifts.

"Wait, but she knew I wasn't black - she's seen photos," Christian was lost in this new world and he'd only been here three minutes.

"Yeah," said Michael. "I was kidding. But, you know, none of us know what years of alcohol abuse have done to her brain - maybe she thought you'd be black in person. Look, I'm not going to discuss this now, let's go get our drinks."

They didn't need to because as Michael said the words in hushed tones, Louise appeared with a cup of tea and small glass of Baileys.

"I'm amazed you have a glass that small," said Michael, taking it. "I thought it was all just pint glasses for wine and vodka at the Hall residence."

"Oh shut up," Louise hit him again. "I am not as bad as you think. Everyone else drinks just as much as I am. See what it did to Lucy."

"Indeed," nodded Michael. Christian had settled into one of the sofas with his tea, watching this strange conversation continue over him. Michael carried on, "I wonder if she's got even bigger. I still feel guilty about calling her Fatty in the old days."

"Well, we always said one day she'd get really big to spite us," laughed Louise. The doorbell rang. Michael turned to face Christian.

"If that's her, we were discussing New Year," he said. Christian simply nodded, scared that one wrong move would land him in some sort of mess that he couldn't get out of. Michael seemed like a completely different person already. Louise seemed nice enough but she had definitely been scrutinising him like he was a car she was thinking about buying.

Louise opened the door to find Ellie standing on the doorstep, empty-handed and wrapped in a thick black coat.

"Happy Christmas," she said, kissing her oldest friend on the cheek. "Where's Dave?"

"He parked round the corner," Ellie pointed absent-mindedly over her shoulder. "He's just getting the presents. He'll ring the doorbell when he's here." With that, Ellie stepped over the threshold, kicked off her shoes and wandered into the kitchen. All Louise could do was think, Poor old Dave.

In the kitchen, Ellie was already helping herself to a glass of white wine, pouring from a bottle she'd found in the fridge.

"Are you and Dave OK?" said Louise, concerned for her friend. She may have control over Dave but it was slightly out of character to leave him quite like that.

"We're fine," said Ellie. She took a big gulp from the glass and began refilling it. "Who else is here?"

"Rob's still getting ready but Michael's here," Louise paused, "with his boyfriend. Fairly attractive, not bad considering the rest of our dating record looks like a Who's Who of losers and wankers. No offence to Dave."

Ellie ignored the "No offence" and Louise took this to mean that things were not OK. Thankfully Louise was spared from trying to rekindle the conversation as Michael appeared in the doorway.

"Hey there Ellie," he beamed, pulling her into a one armed hug as he approached her. "Merry Christmas and all that jazz."

"Merry Christmas indeed," said Ellie. "I hear the unfortunate soul that has been subjected to your sweaty brand of love over the past six months is here. Do I get to meet him?"

"If you mean my boyfriend, yes you do," said Michael. He offered his hand for Ellie to take, but Ellie ignored it and instead led the way into the living room. Louise followed behind them.

"So, this is the man himself?" said Ellie. Christian had jumped up at her arrival and slopped a bit of his tea over the rim of the mug. It hit the carpet, leaving a small dark mark. He tried to rub his foot over it, but Louise said, "Just leave it, I'm always staining everything." Ellie approached him and offered her hand. Christian shook it.

Ellie liked the look of Christian. He was attractive and very much "Michael's type" - innocent looking and blonde. He looked incredibly nervous, like he was shaking the hand of a hungry lioness.

"I don't bite," Ellie smiled. She approved, and she didn't approve of anything (or anyone) Michael did. "So, you must be Christian? We've heard so much about you. What's-his-name wouldn't shut up about you." Ellie could sense Michael rolling his eyes behind her. Someone knocked on the door and Louise hurried out to answer it.

"And you must be Ellie?" said Christian - the first words he'd said. He had a voice not unlike the South East lilt of everyone else, but with the tiniest trace of Scottish. "I can tell because your hands are just the right size to match up to the scar on Michael's forearm." There was a pause. Ellie wasn't sure how to take this. She looked at Michael and said, "Well, he's got your humour. Well done." She turned back to Christian. "Good to meet you at last."

"Where's Dave?" said Christian. "I wanted to meet him too. I mean, I want to meet all of you, but, I dunno, you know."

"Yes, where is Dave?" Michael interrupted.

"Probably him at the door now, go and help him," Ellie said, not looking in the direction from which resonated the sounds of a physicist struggling with three bags of presents. Without another word, Michael slipped out of the room to help his best friend's fiancé. Christian looked shocked.

"How do you do that? I can't even get him to stop clipping his toenails on the sofa!"

"It's a gift," said Ellie, choosing one of Michael's favourite catchphrases. "I'll see if I can't pass on some of it to you by the end of the day." Dave, Michael and Louise entered the room and began putting the gifts under the tree. Ellie clicked her fingers and Dave and Michael both turned round.

"Car keys," she said, holding her palm out. Michael returned to the matter of the gifts, but Dave reached into the front pocket of his jeans and extracted a single key ring with a silver key on it. He stood up, dropped it into Ellie's hand and then crouched again to continue helping Michael. Ellie put the key in her pocket and sipped her wine again.

your sweaty brand of love