Chapter 21
Lando
Harry had shared a bedroom with his older brother, Joshua, before they’d both moved out, but it’s only been a year since Harry got his own flat, so the room still exists as a time capsule to their youth.
There are rugby posters on the walls—including one of Mathias Jones—and many, many trophies and medals line the Ikea Kallax unit that separates the twin single beds.
“They’re not all mine,” he tells me. “Some of those trophies are Josh’s.” His eyes flit over to the poster of Mathias. He huffs and simply looks away. I half expect him to get up and tear it down, but he doesn’t.
I lie back on his childhood bed, which appears to be made of lumps and springs. “How did you ever sleep on this thing?”
He tucks himself in next to me, trapping me against the wall.
His breath tickles my cheek and neck, and he wraps his leg over both of mine.
“Like this,” he says, and pretends to snore.
It’s an eerily accurate representation of his actual snores.
“I always knew one day I’d have a really hot boy in this bed with me. ”
“Oi! No shagging before dinner,” one of Harry’s brothers says, entering the room.
I lift my head enough to see who it is whilst avoiding smashing my frontal lobe on the eaves of the slanted ceiling.
It’s Casper, Harry’s youngest sibling. He’s just turned fifteen and is the spitting image of Harry, only blonde and already half a foot taller.
He’s carrying a plate of what appears to be canapés.
“Is that cheese?” Harry says, sitting upright and deftly dodging the low ceiling. “Lando can’t eat cheese. He’s lac—”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s lactose intolerant. You’ve only told us about eighty times.
This is vegan cheese. Mum bought it specially for your boyfriend’s sensitive little tum-tum.
” Casper lowers the plate and flashes us the contents.
Bruschettine topped with cream cheese and smoked salmon.
“There’s one with real Philly downstairs if you’d prefer, but I just scranned a few on the way up and actually they’re not too bad. Can’t really tell the difference.”
Harry accepts the platter and shovels two into his mouth.
“Oi, you greedy bastard, leave some for your boyfriend.” Casper slaps a third canapé from Harry’s fingers, catches it in his other hand, and eats it.
Harry shoves the dish towards me. The next second his brother is in a headlock and Harry’s trying to claw the food out of his mouth. “Spit it out. That’s. My. Boyfriend’s. Nibbles.”
Casper obeys, but only because he’s now screaming with laughter and can’t keep his mouth closed.
I stare at the half-masticated creamy salmon chunk lying only inches from Harry’s socked foot. “So this is what it’s like having siblings.”
They both look at me. Casper uses the brief lull in activity to backhand slap Harry on the bollocks. Harry crumples to the floor, hands between his legs, and I use my leg as a barrier to stop him from rolling in the grossness.
“Good luck using that later,” Casper says, in what I assume is a reference to Harry’s dick. Casper straightens out his clothes. “Also, Libby and Katey are here if you want to come down and say hello.”
Libby and Katey are Harry’s older twin sisters, and they’ve brought their partners—Dean and Darren—and all five kids they have between them, including yet more twin babies.
Boy and girl, so not identical, which is good because I’m having a hard enough time telling Libby and Katey apart.
One wears pink glasses, and one wears red glasses, and honestly, I can’t remember which one Harry said was which.
“How were your nibbles?” Harry’s mum, Donna, asks me as she meanders from the kitchen into the living room to say hello to her daughters and grandkids.
“Delicious, thank you,” I reply. I ate four, and in all fairness, they were pretty tasty. Harry disposed of the rest in record time.
“There are nibbles?” Josh says, getting to his feet. He’s twenty-four and has brought his girlfriend, Ellie.
I’ve counted, and there are seventeen people in Harry’s tiny fifties house.
So far. Apparently, even more are due to arrive before dinner.
Harry’s grandparents, and Harry’s other younger brother Jack’s girlfriend still have to make their appearances.
And yet more folk have promised to “pop their heads in” or “drop presents off.”
I’m not sure where they’re all going to sit. Harry, Casper, all the kids, me, and either Libby or Katey are currently squatting on the living room rug.
“Nibbles are in the kitchen, hun,” Donna replies. Today she’s wearing a Wallace and Gromit Christmas jumper with a half apron over her lower body.
Josh moves to the kitchen, and there’s a scramble between Casper and Harry to fill his vacated seat. Casper wins, then flips Harry off from his vantage point. The victory is short-lived, though, as moments later he’s turfed out by Harry’s sister.
“Which one is that?” I whisper to Harry.
“Libby,” he says back.
Libby has pink glasses. Libby has pink glasses.
Casper turns to me as he sits on the floor again. “How many bedrooms has your house got?”
We’ve been playing a game that I’ve been mentally referring to as “Just How Rich is Lando?”
“Eight,” I reply.
“Shiiiit,” Casper says, with no regard for the tiny ears in the room.
“How many bathrooms?” Jack adds. He’s eighteen and the only other Ellis with ginger hair.
“Um . . . eleven, I think.”
“Oh my god, why does a house need more bathrooms than bedrooms?”
“Casper, you little turd, you’d better be getting out of my chair,” Josh says from the hallway.
He pauses when he spots Libby in his seat instead of the brother he was preparing to fight, and resigns himself instantly, coming to sit next to me and Harry.
He’s still holding the tray of canapés and offers me one.
I shake my head and hold a hand up between us. Harry scoffs two, and the platter gets passed around the room.
“How many PlayStations do you have?” one of the kids asks. I think his name is Callum, but there are far too many people in the house for me to keep track of everyone’s names. I’d estimate his age at about six.
“One,” I say.
This gets me booed.
“If I was that rich, I’d have a PlayStation Five in every room,” Casper says. Others nod in agreement.
“How many horses do you have?” Jack says before I can even respond to the PlayStation comment.
“Guys, just leave the poor lad alone,” Katey says. I think it’s Katey anyway.
“He’s not fucking poor, is he?” Jack squeals. “Dude’s got eight hundred horses.”
“Actually, I don’t have any horses, but my stepmother owns three,” I say.
“Do you have a yacht?” This time it’s Josh.
“No, but my father does.”
“No, but my father does,” all three of Harry’s brothers say, mimicking my accent and drawing out the word “father.” Wow, do I really sound like that?
“Boys, come on. Is this how we treat our guests?” Libby with the pink glasses says.
“It’s fine. Honestly, I don’t mind,” I say.
Harry looks at me and raises a brow.
“No, I swear. It’s all good,” I whisper in response to his unspoken question.
“I’ve always wondered . . .” I let myself trail off.
I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have a big family.
To have brothers and sisters, and lots of commotion and noise, and unconditional love that comes with a side of ribbing each other.
“Bruh, these are lush. Try one,” Jack says, pushing the tray of canapés around to the other end of the room.
“Hey, can we all go for a ride on your yacht tomorrow?” Casper says.
“Uh—”
I’m cut off by the sound of the Ring doorbell.
“Can someone get that?” Donna yells from the kitchen.
Josh, who’s closest to the door, gets up again. “Muh, it’s Lionel!” he yells back.
Beside me, Harry goes stiff.
Donna moves to the porch. She’s hidden, but we can still hear—sort of. “Merry Christmas, hun.”
“Merry Christmas, Don,” Lionel replies. “Just dropping over your gifts, and thought I’d introduce you to someone.”
Libby—no, Katey—shushes everyone so we can all eavesdrop a little easier. Considerate. Harry’s fingers close around my left foot, squeezing my toes. He’s craning his head trying to see through the brick wall.
“Ah, you must be the famous Toby?” Donna says. “Welcome, welcome. Are you staying for a drink?”
Harry is holding his breath, and suddenly my stomach cramps. Urgh, nerves and stress are terrible for my gut health, but I hadn’t thought this Lionel situation would affect me so much.
“Just a quick one, Don. Got about four other houses to get to today,” Lionel says, laughing.
The next second, Donna pokes her head into the living room, and Lionel is there, framed by the jamb. Shortly after, he’s joined by another guy. The newcomer is Black, and a certifiable bear, with his big belly, beard, and fleecy shirt.
“Everyone, you probably already know Lionel,” Donna says. Lionel smiles and waves at no one in particular. He finds my eye, but doesn’t spare Harry a glance. “And this is Toby, Lionel’s boyfriend.”
“Hi, everyone,” Toby says.
“I won’t tell you everyone’s names or we’ll be here until New Year’s Eve,” Donna says. Then the three of them disappear towards the kitchen, while chatter breaks out again amongst the other Ellises.
I look at Harry. He just stares blankly at me. He hasn’t let go of my foot.
“Ah, fuck,” I say, as quietly as I can, while another cramp grips my lower abdomen. “Harry, is there a different bathroom in your house? Say upstairs?”
When we’d arrived, Donna gave us a quick tour of their home. It included one teeny toilet cubicle under the stairs, and that was it.
Harry shakes his head. “There’s one upstairs, but it’s getting remodelled—I know, bad timing—but you can’t shit there. Why? Do you need to go?”