Chapter 3
? Annoying best friend
Twenty years later
‘You’re bound to find something to do. I’d invite you to spend it with us, but we’ll be in Stevenage with’ – Elle shuddered – ‘Rory’s parents. I bet they’ve already highlighted the Mrs Brown’s Boys Christmas special in their Radio Times .’
‘Crikey, good luck. Pass me a poppadom, would you?’
By the time we’d managed to coax Frannie to switch her stubborn ‘on’ switch to the ‘off’ position, ordered food and waited for it to arrive, it was approaching ten o’clock and I was beyond hungry.
Having foreseen these exact circumstances, I’d suggested to Elle earlier in the week that we pre-order our takeaway, but she wanted to see what she fancied there and then. Curry it was.
I snapped off a poppadom shard and spooned on a selection of chutneys. I could feel every hangry cell in my body relax the instant the salt-sweet food hit my tastebuds.
‘It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.’ I spoke between enthusiastic mouthfuls of mushroom rice and butter chicken.
My chaotic eating style was in complete contrast to Elle’s precise bites of sauceless tandoori king prawn, plain okra and a restrained spoonful of vegetable biryani.
‘Although it doesn’t help that I’ve got this extra week to fill. ’
The all-staff email hadn’t been sent out yet. As predicted, Lauren had raised some concerns and wanted to spend the weekend ‘tightening it up’ before it went out first thing Monday. I’d filled Elle in nonetheless.
‘All right, don’t rub it in,’ she said, between dry nibbles of naan. ‘I could’ve really done with that extra week off – I still haven’t done any Christmas shopping. I swear I’m going to end up like Arnold Schwarzenegger in that kids’ Christmas film. You know the one I mean?’
‘Ooh, Jingle All the Way , truly a piece of underrated satire thanks to its horrifying depiction of a world in which love itself has been commodified.’
‘Mally, you’re such a nerd.’
To me, this was a compliment rather than an insult, and Elle knew it.
I’d inherited my geeky tendencies from Dad – he kept detailed records of every penny he’d ever spent, even going so far as digitising his archived paper receipts as soon as he bought his first computer.
I preferred a more analogue approach, my lists meticulously organised in a growing collection of notebooks, one of which was indeed dedicated to every Christmas movie I’d ever watched.
Despite Elle’s protests about the office closure, she seemed strangely unbothered about what it might mean.
As features editor, she’d be one of the few editorial employees who’d need to work over Christmas, and I knew she’d be feeling excited about the extra visibility with senior US execs the longer-than-usual shutdown would give her.
Since having Frannie three years ago, she’d catapulted herself into her job more than ever.
She was a workaholic anyway, but motherhood seemed to have pushed her ambition levels into overdrive, which wasn’t surprising given The Helix ’s notorious family-unfriendly culture.
‘Right, then, what to watch…’ Elle picked up the remote and opened up Netflix, the familiar sonic logo greeting us like a virtual hug.
‘Can I suggest something?’ I’d been looking forward to this moment all night.
‘I’m listening.’
I made quick work of another mouthful of curry before lifting the remote control to my mouth and activating the microphone: ‘ A Christmas Reunion. ’
‘I had no idea my remote did that,’ Elle said. ‘And why are you speaking in such a deep voice?’
‘Because voice technology favours male voices. Don’t get me started…’
Elle scribbled something down on her ever-present notepad – no doubt an idea for a feature had popped into her head, as it often did mid-conversation.
I selected the first film on the menu.
‘Er, Mally, that’s A Family Reunion Christmas , not A Christmas Reunion .’
‘Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same. As long as you use the prefix “Christmas” or “holiday” you can pretty much choose any word and a film will show up. Try it!’
‘Umm, okay. Christmas Grope .’
‘Elle!’
But, despite Elle’s attempts to defeat the system, the words ‘Hope at Christmas’ appeared, accompanied by an image of a couple standing in front of a Christmas tree fashioned from a huge stack of books.
The woman was wearing a deep red winter coat, while the man sported one in a dark shade of green. They looked disconcertingly alike.
‘That’ll do nicely,’ I said. ‘Right, first, we need stronger alcohol.’
‘This is getting better and better.’ Elle placed a bottle of artisan sloe gin on the table and two glasses.
‘Ooh, classy. Right, then. This is not only a film. It’s a game. I’ve taken the liberty of creating some accompanying viewing notes.’
‘Are you going to test me afterwards or something?’
‘Not this time. Here’s your worksheet. And here’s your pen.’
‘Only you would bring a selection of stationery to a girly night in.’
‘I mean business. Because tonight, Elle, we’re playing: Christmas movie bingo!’
‘I’ve not seen you this excited about watching something since they announced the first “late night” Hollyoaks . I’m definitely going to need more information to go on.’
‘Of course. You see, every single one of these American made-for-TV festive films follows an almost identical formula. There’ll be a single woman in her thirties with a successful career who ends up in a picture-perfect small town for some convoluted reason.
She’ll fall in love with a warm-hearted chiselled chap while she’s there and jack in her job to start a new life with him. ’
‘Jesus, Mally. I knew you loved all the Christmas classics but I had no idea you’d descended into the realm of TV movies. Surely there are better ways to spend your time?’
Not everyone’s living their perfect life, Elle. But I didn’t let my face give away my feelings.
‘Life’s about balance! Are you seriously telling me you’ve never watched any of these films before?’
‘Not knowingly, no.’
Unlike me, Elle had never been the type of person to laze about watching shows like Homes Under the Hammer and Say Yes to the Dress for hours on end, so it didn’t surprise me that she hadn’t ever stumbled across these weirdly addictive movies on wintry weekend afternoons.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I continued. ‘So, whenever one of the tropes on your sheets happens you a) tick it off and b) drink a finger of your alcoholic beverage.’
‘Okay, I’ll humour you. So let me get my head around my list.’
Christmas movie bingo! Elle’s card
Fake snow
Reconnecting with the past
A man and a woman wearing red and green
Cosy fire
Christmas concert
Story opens in city
Annoying best friend
Baked goods
Unexpected reunion
Decorating a Christmas tree
Small-town guy is secretly talented
Awkward farewell
Festive-themed contest
Relatable klutz
The actress Lacey Chabert
‘Inn’ or ‘lodge’
The lure of Manhattan
A festive freebie
Seeing someone in a new light
Bad news piles up
Christmas movie bingo! Mally’s card
Solo Christmas ahead
Steaming mug of delicious cocoa
Car drama
Festive train journey
Sentimental item from childhood
Little white lie
A hasty departure
Failing family business
Character confronts loss
Old family home
A Christmas wish
Near-miss kiss
Creativity rediscovered
Small-town guy falls for big-city woman
A cold house
Outsider saves the day
Local scoundrel
Coming together to solve a problem
Mistaken identity
New year ahead, new life ahead
She glanced at the lists and looked at me as if I was someone who’d turned up at her doorstep asking if she wanted to buy any seafood from the back of a van.
‘You’re saying all these things are going to happen, regardless of what film we watch?’
‘Most of them, yeah! Wanna know my favourite tropes?’
‘Sure…?’
I looked down each list to refresh my memory.
‘Ooh, “festive train journey” is a good one. My favourite one of these films has a magical train that takes a career-focused woman back in time to her hometown so she has another chance with the one who got away. I also love seeing how the filmmakers attempt to make a warm summer’s day look like a nippy winter’s one with whatever fake snow they can muster. ’
‘Right… and what’s with everyone wearing red and green?’
‘Everyone wears red and green, constantly! Just wait! Oh, and “near-miss kiss” is practically guaranteed in every film. They’re about to snog and then a reindeer farts or something, and they jump apart.’
‘Can’t wait for the farting festive creatures.’
‘Elle, c’mon, it’ll be fun!’
‘What’s my motivation, here? What do I win with a full house?’
‘ This .’
I reached into my backpack at the side of the sofa and thrust a faded miniature trophy in her direction.
‘Oh my God, Mally, is that your… Year Nine PE effort award?’
‘It is! I was clearing out some cupboards the other day and found it languishing at the bottom of a box. It’s still the only thing I’ve ever won.’
‘Ha! I remember your maroon face when you had to get up on that stage to accept it and you made that ridiculous speech.’
Given that a microphone had been stuck into my teenage hand with zero warning, I’d thought my brief remarks at the time – ‘Here’s to trying – and failing’ – had been pretty witty. Embarrassingly, only one guffawing but unknown pupil in the otherwise silent audience had agreed with me.
‘It was honestly one of the most hilarious things I’ve ever witnessed,’ Elle said, inspecting the statuette. ‘But the trophy’s actually nicer than I remember. Let’s play.’
Eighty-four minutes later, the credits began to roll.
‘Well, that ended suddenly. Er, Mally, are you crying?’
I was. I dabbed at my eyes with one of the frustratingly unabsorbent takeaway napkins.
‘I can’t help it! I could binge-watch these films all night, even though I know exactly what’s going to happen. It’s probably what I’ll end up doing when I spend Christmas alone this year.’
Elle grinned and reached for her notepad and pen, but stopped mid-action.