Chapter Twenty-Four
Christmas Day is pretty much the same every year: Lucy and her parents and Russell exchange presents then eat lunch.
Sometimes Connie’s sisters and their husbands and children come over after lunch, although there’s no regularity to it.
One year they turned up with no warning, right as Lucy’s father and Russell were yelling at each other.
Russell had broken the bicycle Lucy had been given that morning.
It was the first time anyone else in the family had seen Lucy’s father mad and they all looked shocked for a few minutes, then Connie poured wine for everyone and the conversation turned to the cricket season.
Lucy is aware that her family is small, but Christmas Day really makes it obvious, because there’s just the four of them sitting around, no dry-cleaning to do.
Her parents don’t have hobbies. Neither does Russell.
So it’s not as if they want to use the day to do something they like.
Which makes it a day for food they only eat once a year – like the potato salad her mum prepares using mint from the garden – and awkward conversation, because usually they never all sit down together to eat.
This year is a little different, though, because Lucy has her Christmas dress to wear. She hasn’t shown it to her mother beforehand, and it’s not as if she’d show her father or Russell either, so it’s going to be a surprise.
Normally, none of them dresses up for Christmas Day.
One year Lucy wore a red dress and Russell told her she had tickets on herself.
Her mother scolded him but he just ignored her.
It wasn’t possible for Lucy to ignore him, though, and she never wore anything bright again.
Anywhere. Now she’s interested in making clothes, though, she’s prepared to take some risks.
Plus she’s older. She’ll be leaving school next year and then she’ll be able to do what she wants.
Sad-sack Russell can stay living at home, but she’s planning to get out as soon as she can.
It doesn’t matter if she has to work every waking hour at some crappy job to get the money for it – she’s going.
No one knows her plan, not even Poppy and Angelica. That’s because Lucy’s superstitious about it – as though it may evaporate if she tells anyone.
The sewing is part of the plan, and only her mum and Daphne know about that so far. And Christina. Christina Clarke! Lucy still can’t believe it.
She didn’t tell her friends about meeting Christina the first time, otherwise they’d probably have run to the shop to see if there was really a movie star working there. But now that Christina seems to be volunteering there on a regular basis, it’s going to be harder to keep it secret.
The other day Lucy went to the charity shop to chat to Daphne, and Christina was there again. She was trying on a jacket that was a funny yellow colour.
‘What do you think, Lucy?’ she said, turning this way and that. ‘It’s mustard. Is it too weird?’
Lucy was so in awe of the fact that Christina remembered her name that it took her a minute to realise ‘mustard’ was a reference to the colour of the jacket.
‘No,’ she said, swallowing her nerves, wondering if she’d ever get used to seeing that famous face in the charity shop.
Daphne had seemed a little sad. Lucy had asked about her friend who was helping her out in the shop, and Daphne said she hadn’t been in for a while. She didn’t give a reason, at least not one she wanted to share with Lucy. There was probably a reason, Lucy thinks. Adults always have reasons.
She’s going to be an adult soon and she’ll have her own reasons. Just as she has her own plans: to make clothes, to live freely, to have her own home. To never see Russell again.
Since she had to move her sewing back to the shop she’s been able to avoid him more than usual – not coming downstairs if she can hear his voice, not talking to him if they happen to be in the same room.
It’s hard when her dad’s there, though, because he’s always telling her that she has to get on with Russell, that he just needs friends, that he’s had it hard.
Russell hasn’t had it hard – not that Lucy can see.
Like today, Christmas Day, his present was a car. A secondhand Toyota. ‘Nothing flash,’ their father said, but any car seems flash to Lucy.
When Russell was examining the car, Lucy’s mother squeezed her arm and looked at her apologetically. ‘Your dad wants to encourage him to get out more,’ she said.
Lucy couldn’t argue with that, although she wanted to. To her it looks like Russell’s being rewarded for behaving badly.
Now she’s sitting across from him at the dining table and he’s laughing under his breath.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lucy’s mother snaps after a few minutes of it.
‘What?’ Russell says.
Connie glares at him. ‘What are you laughing at? Is the food not good enough for you or something?’
‘Cara,’ Rafael says warningly. Normally it’s his term of endearment, but not today.
‘No, Rafa, he’s sitting here sniggering. I’m sick of it.’
‘The food’s fine,’ Russell says matter-of-factly. ‘It’s that stupid dress I’m laughing about.’
‘What?’ Connie’s eyes are afire.
Russell points to Lucy, whose cheeks heat.
‘That dress,’ he says, still laughing. ‘It’s got holly on it. How stupid. We don’t even live in England, you idiot. Holly.’
Lucy starts to breathe quickly, her eyes flicking from parent to parent. She knew Russell would do something like this to her. Knew it. She shouldn’t have worn the dress. Shouldn’t have given him the chance to make fun of her again. Now the whole day is ruined and it will be her fault.
Rafael looks furious but he doesn’t say or do anything.
It is Lucy’s mother whose nostrils flare. ‘Russell, I won’t have you making fun of Lucy. She’s made a lovely dress just for today. It’s perfect for Christmas.’
‘Not my Christmas,’ Russell says.
‘Then you can go.’
‘Cara –’
‘Rafa, if you won’t help, just take him somewhere.’
‘It’s Christmas Day,’ Rafael protests. ‘Everything is closed.’
‘I’ll go,’ Lucy says quietly, and she stands up quickly before anyone can say anything, throws her serviette on the table and runs.
She doesn’t go upstairs, to her room, because they could find her there, and she desperately needs to be away from them all.
‘Lucy! Darling!’ she hears her mother call as she sprints out the front door and into the street. She’s wearing sandals, which are the wrong footwear for running, but she used to be a good runner and knows she can outpace her mother.
She keeps running, down Raglan Street, left into McLeod Street and down the steps to Sirius Cove. Even though she’s sure she’s not being followed now, the run has its own momentum and as her lungs start to hurt she finds herself laughing.
Pounding along the bush track, onto Curlew Camp Road, she almost tumbles down the grass toward the water. And there she stops, panting, legs splayed and her dress spread out.
It’s a lovely day. There’s a light breeze. There are yachts moored and dogs frolicking in the shallows, their owners nearby having Christmas picnics.
Suddenly she’s not laughing any more. She is sobbing, her face in her hands, not caring what the picnickers think.
She has another year left at school, and can’t support herself financially if she leaves home now.
She has only dreams and plans and they can’t take care of her.
But she can’t live at home any more. She’s been so afraid of Russell for so long, and she doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to live like that.
There’s just no way out she can think of, and that terrifies her more than anything.