Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I’m grinning my head off on my Christmas video call to my parents, wishing I could be there with them in person as we open our presents in tandem onscreen. Maybe next year.
They’ve got me some of my favourite perfume, white musk and cherry, and a box of pamper goodies fit for a queen. I hold up the face cream with a laugh, because it’s the exact same one I’ve chosen for Mum in her pamper box.
Dad is happy with his Best Dad in the world t-shirt, and his novelty Santa socks. He loves chocolate orange, and I got him a mega bar. He’ll be munching happily when the call is done.
But most of all, he’s grinning more than I am after I told him to check their bank account balance and Mum nearly fainted at the $200,000 Ausie dollars I sent them.
“You said you wanted a new car,” I say with a shrug.
“Your dad would never buy new,” Mum says. “The value…”
“Depreciates quicker than a rat up a drainpipe with a dingo on its ass,” Dad finishes for her.
I laugh. Mum swats his arm.
“Honestly, darling,” Mum says. “We can both get a new second-hand car with that kind of money.”
“And pay to get the pool repainted,” Dad adds.
I shrug again. “Glad to help. Merry Christmas to you!”
“How is the social media stuff going?” he asks, once the gift giving is over.
He always asks me this, paranoid of the impact my new accounts will be having, and I always reply with a yeah, cool, no biggie, but I’m about to switch it up and change my name back to the full Ella Edwards this new year, with a clear profile picture showing who I am.
It’s a bold move, but I’m ready for it.
It’ll mark the start of a new era, and the strike of midnight on New Year’s Eve seems a very apt time to do it.
“I want to be myself online,” I tell them both. “I don’t give a toss what people think anymore. The haters can go screw themselves.”
Dad pits his eyebrows at that, and it makes me light up inside to see how protective he is. How much he loves his little girl.
“What about psychos and stalkers?”
I laugh. “I won’t be putting my full address and postcode on there. And I may be known to the public, but I’m not exactly Taylor Swift. I’m just a hooker from London.”
He pulls a face at that.
“You’re an entertainer, Ella.”
I roll my eyes, because they always do this.
“I’m a hooker, Dad, and I’m not ashamed of it.
Seriously, I’m not. Plenty of people work in the sex industry.
Just check out OnlyFans or Pornhub. Chatlines.
Strippers. Hardcore romance writers. Or an online pantie selling website.
Some people even sell feet shavings to people who worship feet.
It’s not something that needs the stigma of hush hush. ”
There is a silence as my parents take that in.
“Come on,” I say. “Be proud of me for who I am, because I am. And I’m not afraid to show it. Not anymore.”
My parents’ eyes widen.
“We’ll always be proud of you for who you are, Ella!” Mum says. “No matter what.”
“Great.” I smile. “So embrace it with me. I’m not going to be hiding myself away. I don’t want to. Neither does Josh.”
Josh waves in the background in his plush new purple dressing gown that I bought him.
“Hey, guys,” he says. “Happy Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” they chorus back.
I take back over with my thread. “Don’t worry about me, either of you. I’m happy with who I am, and that’s an amazing position to be in.”
Dad nods at that. They were suffering along with me through my terrible woes and fears. They despise the way Connor kept me down, fooling them for years as he fooled me.
I take a breath. My eyes pricking with tears at the sight of them in the summer sun. I miss them.
“Happy Christmas to both of you,” I say.
“I love you guys so much, and without you I wouldn’t be who I am.
I never would have been in the first place.
I wouldn’t be the person I’m proud of now.
You let me be myself all the way through my childhood, and encouraged me every single step of the way.
A lot of people never get that. I’m lucky. ”
“No, we’re lucky,” Dad says, and wraps an arm around my mum. “We’re lucky we got a daughter like you. And we are proud. So do whatever you want on your social media stuff, just don’t get involved with any psychos, ok?”
“I won’t. Not unless they’re paying good money for it.”
“Hey, you,” Dad points a jokey finger at the screen. “We don’t want any of the details, thanks.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I won’t be giving you the ick anytime soon. That would give me a double ick right back.”
Dad can be worried about me getting involved with psychos or stalkers all he wants, but he’s barking up the wrong tree there.
I wish I could tell them about the one person I am involved with outside of Josh – who they already love deeply as a potential son-in-law.
I would love to beam with pure glee and tell them about my love for Heath Mason.
I’m sure Mum remembers Nighttime Whispers.
I think she still even watches it herself.
But now isn’t the time. Not yet.
Soon, though.
Hopefully.
I get a fresh flutter of butterflies at the thought.
I blow my parents a kiss, and bring the Christmas call to an end. We have Josh’s family extravaganza to get ready for, and Carly’s growing baby bump to gush over, and plenty of fizz and cheers to look forward to over the dinner table.
I’m so looking forward to it. Josh’s family are amazing. But there is something else looming on the horizon.
A Christmas present I never thought we’d be getting.
I get myself dressed up festively in a twinkling red dress with red stilettos.
I laugh as Josh puts on his new Christmas jumper, so cliché with its green and white snowflake pattern that it’s cute as fuck.
He’d look good in anything, even a torn bin liner, so he can pull it off.
He smirks and pulls a star jump pose, then puts some ridiculous reindeer horns on his head.
“Are you for real?” I ask.
“Hell yeah, it’s Christmas!”
Somehow, I doubt he’ll be wearing those horns later this evening, but I might be mistaken.
There are a host of cars already parked up at Josh’s parents’ place when we arrive. I’m pleased to see everyone, grabbing them all for hugs, one after the other as Josh follows with our big bag of Christmas presents to dish out.
There is Josh’s sister, Emma and her husband Craig, along with Josh’s niece. Boy, she’s grown this past year. Josh’s sister Sasha and her wife, Georgia. Georgia’s changed the blue streaks in her hair to purple, and points at Josh’s purple streak with a laugh as she says inspired by you.
Phil, Josh’s Dad, kisses me on the cheek, and I get a wave and a hey from his introverted brother, Scott.
And then there is Carly. Her baby bump sure is showing now.
I put a hand on it with an extra hello little one, and she gives me the lowdown on morning sickness, and potential names, and what kind of colours they might be doing the nursery.
It’s a monologue of self, self, self as I take a seat next to her, but I’m used to that by now.
I’m kinda fond of it, and of her, even though we had a rocky start to begin with, right at this very table.
Josh helps his mum with the serving bowls, and whoa, she’s created a feast. I squeeze Josh’s knee under the table, feeling on top of the world as I munch on delicious turkey, honey roasted parsnips and huge Yorkshire puddings.
We chat, and laugh, and give cheers to an amazing year, despite the ups and the downs. Carly does another burst of me, me, me by giving a toast to her baby bump with her orange juice, and we all join in with a smile.
It’s a fantastic lunch, it really is. I adore all of them. But I’m also aware of the ticking clock, my butterflies fluttering faster and faster as the afternoon draws on.
Time to go soon.
Josh has been drinking buck’s fizz on purpose, to keep his alcohol levels fit for driving, but I haven’t. I’m tipsy as we stand up and give our goodbyes after a round of Christmas crackers and cringy jokes.
“You’re off?!” Heather, Josh’s mum asks in horror. “But we haven’t got the board games out yet! What about Christmas Monopoly?”
“We’ve got somewhere to be,” Josh tells her, gripping my hand in his. “People to see.”
“Urgh, you mean, Tiff?” Carly asks, still at loggerheads with our larger than life, awesome best friend. “Why are you dashing over to see her?”
“It’s not Tiff,” Josh says. “It’s another friend.”
“A friend?” Heather asks, with a smile on her face.
Damn, she knows Josh so well. They are so unconventional as a family that I’m sure she hears the slant of friend in his voice.
“Yes, a friend.”
He doesn’t elaborate, just repeats the love you all, catch you soon, and we’re off and away.
I take a deep breath when I slip in the passenger seat of our new Range Sport, weirdly nervous now the time is approaching.
“Ready?” Josh asks, and I giggle.
“Excited, but shitting it.”
“Why are you shitting it? It’s only Heath.”
He reverses from his parents’ driveway.
“I dunno, it’s just… different. Christmas is…”
“Meaningful,” he finishes for me. “Yeah I know, baby. It means a lot.”
“It says a lot.”
“And that’s exactly what we want it to say. New year, new road, remember?”
Yes, I remember.
A road we’ll hopefully be walking as a trio, no matter the circumstances surrounding it.
It’s bizarre approaching Heath’s place in our own car, since we normally cab it over.
His place is one of a huge row of houses, set back from the road.
Only his stands out from the others, dramatically.
It’s been a while since we’ve been here, and I light up inside again as though it’s the very first time.
Just like always, it’s like arriving at a Tim Burton movie set, with Heath’s huge black door, and black window frames, and his jet-black stone pathway leading up to the entrance.