Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Vanessa was already on her third glass of Bucks Fizz when the smoke alarm started to scream at her.
She waved a tea towel at the oven door as if that would somehow undo her disaster against the first tray of parsnips.
She hated timings on Christmas day, and right now, she had to wonder how Nigella managed to always make everything seem so effortless.
The kitchen looked as though it had been ransacked—foil scrunched into mountains, half-peeled sprouts rolling across the counter like they were staging a breakout—but the turkey was sitting in its roasting tin, and it was the one thing she’d managed to get right so far.
“Christ alive,” Vanessa muttered as she tugged the oven mitt off with her teeth, “I can run a parents’ evening with hundreds of parents and moody staff members, but Christmas dinner—”
“Is not meant to feel like such a tense situation.”
Vanessa spun round, her breath catching when she saw Emma leaning casually in the doorway, freshly showered. She hadn’t tackled her damp hair yet, but she was wearing one of the jumpers Vanessa secretly loved best on her.
Why is she so calm?
“Don’t just stand there,” Vanessa said, her hands flung wide. “The sprouts need steaming, the spuds need fluffing, I don’t even know where to begin with your Yorkshire puddings, and…” Vanessa frowned as she scanned the room and lifted her glass. “Where the fucking hell has the Bucks Fizz gone?”
Emma crossed the room, plucked the empty flute from Vanessa’s hand, and set it firmly on the counter. “Step away from the oven.”
“I can’t step away from the oven,” Vanessa snapped, though it came out as more like a squeak. “People will be here in two hours, Emma. Our first Christmas with Freya and I’ve already cremated the parsnips. And cremated is being generous. I think they’re even worse than that.”
“Babe, it’s fine.” Emma slid her hands onto Vanessa’s shoulders, anchoring her. “I’ll do the parsnips again. You sit down before you set fire to your hair.”
Vanessa bristled. “I am perfectly capable—”
“Of making yourself crazy,” Emma finished for her, pressing down until Vanessa’s hips nudged the stool at the counter. “Sit.”
Vanessa sat down and lowered her head to her hands. “I’m tipsy already, aren’t I?”
Emma kissed the top of her head, her lips lingering. “Maybe a tiny bit.”
“This is ridiculous!” Vanessa groaned. “I’ve survived a divorce, a double mastectomy, raising a daughter who could out-strop her own three-year-old toddler, and yet…” She gestured vaguely at the chaos. “Parsnips. Fucking parsnips are my undoing.”
Emma crouched in front of her, those grey eyes catching Vanessa’s with that steady, unshakable love. “It’s because it matters. Because she matters. You want it to be perfect.”
Vanessa’s throat constricted. “Yes.”
“Listen to me,” Emma said as she reached out a hand and cupped Vanessa’s cheek. “Freya isn’t coming for parsnips. She’s coming so she can be with us. For this…” Emma waved a hand over the table, crackers already laid across folded napkins. “For family. That’s what she wants.”
Vanessa exhaled a deep breath and nodded. “You’re annoyingly right.”
“I usually am.” Emma pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing. “Now, go and top up the Bucks Fizz. Supervise. Be glamorous like you usually are. Leave the chaos to me.”
Vanessa watched her wife roll up her sleeves and move through the kitchen with that effortless mix of determination and control that had always undone her. She was calm while Vanessa spiralled. She was solid when Vanessa wavered. God, she loved her.
“Emma Hughes,” Vanessa called out, half laughing and half tearful with the relief of not doing this alone. “If you pull this off, I’ll never doubt you again.”
Emma glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Better put that promise in writing.”
Sitting back while she watched Emma get to work, Vanessa felt the tension ease for the first time all morning.
Maybe it didn’t matter if the parsnips were a little too dark or the sprouts were a little too soft, Freya probably didn’t like either of them anyway…
what mattered was that this was their first Christmas with Freya, and it was going to be just perfect.
By the time the clock nudged past noon, the house felt like it was finally coming together.
The turkey was golden and resting, Emma had the roasties timed to perfection, and Vanessa had continued to be banished to ‘supervision only.’ She’d fussed with the tablecloth, lined up the crackers with military precision, lit candles until the whole thing glowed…
and then fussed some more until Emma threatened to confiscate her Bucks Fizz.
It hadn’t stopped the nerves, though. Vanessa was on her fourth circuit between the window and the hallway when she finally heard it. The crunch of tyres on frost, the slam of car doors, and muffled voices through the crisp December air.
“They’re here,” Vanessa said as she threw up her hands. “Does everything look okay? Do I look okay?”
“Yes, and yes. You look as good as you always do.” Emma was suddenly beside her, a tea towel still slung over her shoulder and her cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Their eyes met…and then the knock came. “You ready, babe?”
Vanessa nodded, stepped towards the front door, and opened it.
Carmen stood there in a wool coat, her scarf looped with precision at her neck, Tupperware filled with bright red cabbage in one hand.
Ben loomed comfortably at her side, with a foil-wrapped dish in his grip.
And between them, shifting from foot to foot like she couldn’t bear to wait another second, was Freya.
“Merry Christmas!” Freya blurted out, her eyes bright with excitement.
Vanessa grinned. “Merry Christmas, Freya.”
Emma stepped forward, taking the Tupperware from Carmen and regarding her with a smile bigger than Vanessa had ever seen. “Come in, all of you. Please.”
They filed inside, stamping frost from their boots, laughter already softening the air. Ben handed over the dish with a sheepish grin. “Gravy. Don’t judge me if it’s not up to your usual standard.”
Emma laughed and shook her head. “If it’s edible, you’re already ahead of me.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Vanessa added. “She’s been managing this kitchen since nine this morning. You have no idea what you’re in for.”
Ben chuckled as he unzipped his coat. “Sounds like heaven to me.”
Carmen lingered in the hallway, her shoulders relaxed as she watched it all play out in front of her. Vanessa loved the chaos of Christmas when she wasn’t so hellbent on getting timings right, and she hoped this would become a regular thing between them all.
“It smells incredible,” Carmen said with a bright smile. “Thank you for having us over, Vanessa.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Freya freed herself of her coat and boots and darted towards the living room, her eyes wide. “You’ve got loads of presents under the tree!” she gasped. “Oh my gosh! Look at the fairy lights, mum! They go all the way round the living room!”
Vanessa stood back as Carmen entered the living room. Emma had mentioned weeks ago that Freya was considering calling Carmen and Ben her parents, but today had been the first time Vanessa had heard it for herself.
“Um, excuse me!” Emma blocked Freya’s path as she tried to whizz through to the kitchen. “Don’t I even get a Christmas hug?”
Freya grinned and wrapped her arms around Emma. “Merry Christmas, sis.”
“Merry Christmas, kiddo.”
Carmen watched Freya and Emma embracing, then turned her attention back to Vanessa. “She hasn’t stopped talking about this for days,” she said quietly. “She’s really happy to be here.”
Vanessa laid a gentle hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “So are we. And that goes for you and Ben, too.”
Ben slid his hands into his pockets and smiled. “Thanks so much for this. It’s nice to be with good people at Christmas.”
It was nice. The air was no longer brittle with caution. It wasn’t the stiff formality of that first meeting in Ellie’s office. It was people arriving at someone’s home on Christmas Day, hands full of food, faces flushed from the cold, ready to share something.
Emma drew back and brushed her hands down her jumper, her eyes teary as she looked from Freya to Carmen and Ben. “Right,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “Let’s eat before I find a way to burn something at the last minute.”
Everyone laughed, but as they followed Emma into the kitchen, Vanessa hung back for a moment.
She looked at the hallway. To the coats hung side by side and the boots jumbled together.
Then came the sound of voices overlapping, and it didn’t just feel as though they were hosting a dinner. No, it felt like family.
Emma had barely finished setting down the stuffing dish before Freya patted the chair beside her with such authority that Emma couldn’t have argued even if she’d wanted to.
“You’re sitting here,” Freya declared as she folded her arms across her chest and grinned. “Right next to me.”
Emma laughed, thrilled that her sister felt confident enough to say something like that. Just weeks ago, they were worrying that Freya would feel uncomfortable here, but now…now, she was a part of the furniture, and it showed. “Am I now?”
“Yes. But—” Freya shot a quick look towards Vanessa, who was sliding a dish of roasties onto the table. “I’m not picking sides. I’ll sit with you for dessert, Mrs Hughes.”
Vanessa’s brows shot up as a smile curled on her mouth. “Mrs Hughes? That’s a bit formal for Christmas Day, don’t you think?”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting.” Freya, now flustered, shook her head. “I’ll sit by you later, Vanessa. Promise.”
Vanessa leaned over and pressed a gentle hand to Freya’s shoulder. “Deal.”