Chapter 32
Issy pressed the brass doorbell at Kilmore and checked her lipstick in the opaque glass pane in the front door. Rouge Allure, by Chanel. She always wore a red lip on Christmas Day. Hugh put a hand on the small of her back and she felt herself stiffen.
‘Are you pissed off about something?’ he said, dropping his hand.
‘No, sorry.’ She gave him a tight smile and smoothed the brocade folds of her gold dress. She’d been trying to put aside her suspicions about Hugh’s phone call, but it seemed her subconscious hadn’t got the memo. Footsteps approached and the front door swung open.
‘Come in! Merry Christmas!’ They were ushered inside by a pretty, blonde teenager wearing a white shirt and a black apron longer than the skirt she wore under it. Who knew where Heather recruited staff willing to work on Christmas Day, but she always managed to find them.
They followed the waitress down the wide hallway, lined on either side by enormous artworks no one ever stopped to look at, to the kitchen, where Spencer and Helen stood with Heather and Cathy by the marble island bench.
The steel doors behind them were open, white linen curtains billowing gently in the light breeze.
On the terrace beyond, Olivia was photographing Daisy, who posed in front of the turquoise pool in a string bikini.
Heather greeted Issy with her characteristic aloofness. ‘Merry Christmas. Don’t you look lovely.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Merry Christmas, Heather.’ Hugh kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Stunning as always.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ Heather said, coyly, then dropped her voice. ‘Have you heard? Felix is bringing a girlfriend.’ She pulled a face, as though she would be less surprised if he was bringing a unicorn to Christmas lunch. ‘A handbag designer, apparently,’ she added, raising an eyebrow.
Hugh and Spencer slapped backs. Helen gave them a pained smile.
‘There she is!’ Malcolm boomed, as he entered the room. ‘Merry Christmas, princess.’
Issy flashed her best smile. ‘Hi, Daddy.’ She kissed him, leaving a bright red mark on his rough cheek. ‘Oops, I’ve marked you!’
‘Better my cheek than my collar!’ he said with a grin, rubbing at the mark. He beckoned the waitress. ‘Sweetheart, could you get this gorgeous creature a drink? Champagne, Issy?’
‘Bubbles would be lovely, thank you.’
‘Hugh, what’ll you have?’
He ordered a beer and the waitress disappeared.
The doorbell rang and moments later, Felix stepped into the kitchen with a waifish woman by his side.
‘Sorry we’re late.’
Heather glanced at her Cartier watch. ‘Only half an hour. We consider that on time for you, Felix.’
He ignored the barbed comment. ‘This is Polly. Polly, this is … everyone.’
Issy extended a hand, admiring her effortless style. Even in flats, Polly was at least half a foot taller than her. ‘I’m Isobel,’ she said. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’
‘So nice to meet you in person,’ Polly said. ‘I’m a big fan. I follow you on Instagram.’
‘Oh, lovely,’ Issy said.
‘We’ll do the presents now that everyone’s here.’ Heather’s voice bounced off the marble. ‘Everyone into the lounge!’
Issy took the bag with their gifts from Hugh and went through an archway to the formal lounge, which was dominated by an enormous tree twinkling with thousands of tiny lights.
The star on top almost touched the ornate three-metre ceiling.
She snapped a photo to post later, then surveyed the paltry collection of gifts.
It looked quite pathetic this year, due to Heather’s environmentally friendly secret Santa initiative.
Issy placed the two gifts she’d ordered online—one from her, one from Hugh—with the others and sat down beside Hugh.
‘My goodness!’ Polly exclaimed as she sat down opposite, next to Felix. ‘What a stunning tree!’
‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ Heather said. ‘Sweetheart’ was a term she reserved exclusively for Felix’s girlfriends—a deliberate strategy, Issy suspected, to avoid mixing up their names. Or learning them in the first place. ‘I had to have it shipped here from America! It takes two men to erect it!’
Felix looked at Issy, raising his eyebrows.
Last year, he’d shared his theory that their mother’s obsession with her enormous Christmas tree was some warped version of penis envy.
Issy stifled a giggle and looked away, draining the rest of her Champagne.
Beside her, Hugh looked around until he located the waitress, who stood discreetly by the door.
‘Can we get the glasses topped up?’ There was a hint of irritation in his voice, as though the waitress should have noticed the need for another round without him having to ask. He raised his empty Peroni bottle. ‘And another one of these?’
‘Please,’ Issy added, feeling like the apologetic mother of a rude child.
Once everyone was assembled, Heather reached for the first gift and read the tag. ‘Merry Christmas, Hugh!’
She passed him a gold box and he unwrapped a bottle of whisky.
He let out a low whistle. ‘Glenfiddich Grande single malt whisky.’
Heather clicked her tongue. ‘I take it someone broke the spending limit.’
‘Have you tried cheap whisky?’ Malcolm said.
‘I’m not much of a whisky drinker myself, but I take your point.’
‘Well, thank you, whoever you are,’ Hugh said. ‘You know me well!’
‘Now you deliver the next one, Hugh,’ Heather directed.
He selected the largest one, which turned out to be a cold press juicer for Spencer. Issy suspected it was from Heather, who was always criticising his diet. She’d clearly also exceeded her own hundred-dollar limit.
On and on it went. Eventually Issy’s gift was selected, a voucher for the spa at the Ashworth Park Hotel, something she could already use anytime she wanted to without charge.
She looked at Felix, who grinned back at her.
He’d made an artform out of using charm to compensate for a breathtaking lack of effort.
She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling.
When Issy got up to deliver the next gift, there was only one left.
A large, shiny, gold giftbag. She glanced around to see who was still without one.
Daisy and Olivia both had Mecca gift cards, Heather had an Oroton makeup bag, Helen a Diptyque candle, Malcolm two hardback autobiographies, Felix two polo shirts (in very unfashionable pastels) and Polly had a restaurant voucher which Heather must have purchased at the last minute.
Cathy’s massage gun sat on her lap, Hugh was still cradling his bottle of whisky and Spencer’s juicer sat on the floor by his side. No one was without a gift.
She read the tag, frowning. The names had been typed, rather than handwritten. ‘For Spencer, Felix and Isobel Ashworth,’ she said slowly. The formality struck her as strange. Inside were three identical boxes wrapped in brown paper. ‘Who’s this from?’ she asked.
Spencer leaned forward. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. There’s one for each of us.’ She passed one to Spencer, one to Felix and took the last one out for herself.
‘It must be from Santa,’ Felix said.
Issy pulled at the tape on one end, ripping the paper to reveal a white box wrapped in plastic. She turned it over to read the front.
‘Heritage DNA.’ She looked up to see her brothers each holding an identical box.
‘What is this?’ Felix asked.
‘It’s a DNA kit,’ she said, reading the back of the box, which boasted about the speed of their results and the size of their database.
‘You know, those tests people do to trace their family history.’ She’d seen them advertised on TV.
‘This Christmas, give the gift of family,’ the melodious voiceover said.
They were marketed as a simple way to learn more about your ancestry and ethnicity.
‘Who’s it from?’ Spencer asked. ‘Mum?’
‘They’re certainly not from me!’ Heather said. ‘My tennis friend Rhonda did one of those things. She was doing her family tree and she wanted to track down the Greek side of the family. It turned out the Greek side was actually Turkish, and she hates the Turks so it was a disaster!’
Felix reached for a piece of smoked salmon from the enormous platter on the coffee table. ‘Wow, Rhonda sounds racist.’
‘I don’t think she’s racist necessarily, Felix. I think she just found it … disconcerting … to suddenly realise that she isn’t who she thinks she is.’
Polly leaned forward. ‘They can reveal all sorts of things, those tests.’ Everyone turned to look at her. ‘I read an article in Vanity Fair about people who discovered some long-hidden family secret when they did a DNA test. It was fascinating, actually.’
‘Like what?’ Issy asked.
Polly shrugged. ‘One woman found out that her older sister was really her mother!’
An awkward silence.
Issy laughed. ‘Well, I don’t have an older sister, so that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.’
‘Not that we know of, at least,’ Felix said.
‘Someone must know where they came from,’ Spencer said.
Heather gestured to the gold gift bag. ‘That bag arrived yesterday by courier. I assumed it was from one of you and asked Rosa to put it under the tree.’
‘So no one knows anything about them?’ Spencer said.
They all looked at one another, blank-faced.
Malcolm shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. ‘Only an absolute fool would do one of those tests.’ There was a sharp edge in his tone.
Was Issy imagining it, or did her father seem angry? A strange feeling took hold in her stomach. Slowly, she placed the white box on the coffee table as though it was a bomb which required delicate handling.
Malcolm stood abruptly. ‘Are we going to be fed at some stage?’ he barked at the waitress, who snapped to attention.
‘Please tell the caterers we’re ready for lunch,’ Heather said. ‘Thank you, Georgie.’
‘Were you expecting a football team?’ Issy asked her mother, surveying the buffet table, which was laden with a roast turkey, a glazed ham, a side of salmon, golden potatoes and at least four festive-looking salads containing pomegranate seeds.