Chapter Twenty-Seven
Finn is getting dressed when, an hour or so later, Mel lets herself back into the bedroom. She has been trying to figure out what to do, how to act, because Finn will notice something is wrong the moment he sees her face, won’t he?
He smiles at her the moment she steps in. “Morning, sunshine.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Is that one of the nicknames we’re trying out?”
He grins, then cocks his head. “You okay? You look a little tired.”
So much for her poker face. “I’m fine!” Okay, that was too squeaky. Get a grip, Melanie. “Just, you know, up early, sneaking a peak at the stockings.”
“Please tell me you saw my mum sneaking around in a Santa costume.”
She laughs, but it sounds slightly hysterical. His mum. His mum has cancer—and he doesn’t know.
“Mel, are you sure you’re okay?” His mouth twists. “Or…is this about last night? Do you want to—?”
“No,” she says firmly. She pulls a hand through her hair. “I mean, yes, we can talk about it if you like—but, no, I’m not upset about it. I wanted it. I don’t regret it.”
He searches her face, as if he’s checking for the truth. Then he nods. “Okay. Good.”
Somewhere on the floor there is the sound of her phone ringing. Enormously grateful for the distraction, she immediately drops, looking for it.
“Shit,” she mutters. “That’ll be my parents.” And thank God for that.
Finn finds her phone, hands it to her. “I’m guessing they don’t know you’re with me?”
“Ah, no.” And she certainly doesn’t want to explain the extent to which they are together to her parents right now.
He kisses the top of her head. “I’ll shower.”
He grabs some things from around the room, then a towel off the back of the door, then glances back at her. “Oh, and, Mel? Happy Christmas.”
She smiles, and it’s a little more real this time. “Happy Christmas, Finn.”
She quickly straightens the bedclothes, trying to make sure the bed doesn’t look too rumpled, before getting under the covers and propping her head against a pillow, trying to look comfortable and like she’s just woken up in a B and B.
Her parents’ faces fill her phone screen as she answers.
“Happy Christmas, Melly!” Her dad grins cheerily into the camera—his ears a little more sunburned again than earlier in the week.
“Darling!” Her mum beams. “Happy Christmas!”
“And to you both! What time is it there? What have you been doing?”
“Oh, it’s around midday I think,” her mum says, waving a hand in the air.
“You think ?”
“Well, it’s a little tricky to keep track of time when you’re having fun, isn’t it! We’ve been for cocktails on the beach this morning, darling—can you imagine? Cocktails! On the beach! In the morning! On Christmas Day!”
Given the slightly tipsy air to both of her parents, Mel very much can imagine, but she doesn’t say that.
“Anyway, how are you ?” her mum asks. “You look well. Doesn’t she look well, Gavin?”
“Very well,” her dad agrees.
“Spending time with Priya is clearly good for you,” her mum says. And it is easier, all things considered, to “mmmm” in agreement. “What are you doing today, then? Any plans?”
“Oh, just the usual. Dinner and a walk, you know,” Mel says, feeling a knot of guilt in her stomach for the lie.
But her parents seem flushed and happy and tipsy—and she does not want to ruin that by telling them who she has been sleeping next to this week.
“And you? What’s on the agenda for this afternoon? ”
“Our hotel is having a special Christmas dinner, then we might go and see if our local beach bar is open for an evening tipple,” her mum says, eyes bright. Mel can see she’s loving saying “our local beach bar” and feels a rush of affection. “Oh, and, darling, you’ll never guess what!”
“What?” Mel says obediently.
“I’ve had a business idea!”
“Oh! Really?”
“Yes, you know, I thought about doing recipes for people, and they can subscribe and I’ll send them new ones every week.”
“Ah…Like Mindful Chef?”
Her mum frowns. “Hmmm. Never heard of that one, love. Can’t be doing very well if we’ve not heard of them, can they? Poor loves. But, you know, we get those vegetable boxes every week, but we don’t always know what to do with them, do we, Gavin?”
“Not a clue,” her dad pipes up.
“This would be recipes to help people.”
“So you’ll send the food and the recipes together?” Mel is trying hard not to point out how many companies already do this.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just the recipes—bit easier, isn’t it? Anyway. We’ll have a little chat about it when I’m back. You can give me all the tips.”
“Sure, Mum.” She thinks again of what Finn said last night by the car. That her parents would be proud of her, even if the business failed. Now, she decides, is not the time to test that theory.
She says goodbye to her parents, tells them to send lots of photos of their day, and immediately gets one of them beaming into the camera, side by side, in exactly the same place as she left them. She laughs quietly to herself, then switches to WhatsApp, starting a voice note.
“Priya! Happy Christmas! I realize it’s the end of the day for you there now—but how was the barbecue?
How was your first Australian Christmas?
” She stops recording. She wants to tell Priya about Finn, but she’s not sure how she’d react.
And she really, really wants to tell her about Susan, to have someone to talk to about it—but that all feels too much for a voice note on Christmas morning.
“I’ve been having a nice time, actually, and I’m looking forward to eating way too much today. Hope you’re good!”
She presses send, though the voice note feels incredibly inadequate. God, she misses her. It would be so much easier if Priya was nearby—if she was able to go and spend New Year with her, or even just call her in the same time zone.
She gets dressed, choosing her sparkly Let Christmas Be-Gin jumper that she bought especially, plus snowflake earrings—not one of her own designs this time. She’s putting red lipstick on in the mirror—because why not?—when her phone lights up.
A voice note from Priya. That was quick.
Mel! Christmas has been great. Good. Fine.
No, good. We’ve been on the beach alll day.
Anyway, I’m fine! Australia is GREAT. So sunny, and people went swimming today, Mel!
In the sea! I mean, I didn’t. But I could have, if I wanted to.
I just got off the phone with my parents.
They are good. They say they miss you. I mean, I think they miss me more, but still.
The bedroom door opens as Priya’s message finishes.
Please update me on how your day is! I miss you!
Mel glances over at Finn. “Took your time.” She sees, though, that he is fully dressed, his hair damp—and that he’s holding two mugs of coffee.
He holds one out for her. “Thought you might want some time.” She takes the mug, breathing in the smell of it. He jerks his head at her phone. “Priya?”
She takes a sip of coffee. “Yeah.”
“She having a good Christmas?”
“Yeah,” Mel says slowly. “I think so.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t sound too sure.”
“She just sounds a bit, I don’t know—homesick, maybe?” Although, to be fair, she’d also sounded a bit tipsy—so maybe it was just that?
Finn nods. “Understandable.”
“Yeah.” Mel frowns down at her coffee. “I guess.”
Then comes Susan’s voice, bellowing up the stairs, making Mel jump. “Mel! Finn! Blinis are ready!”
Finn stands and holds out a hand to Mel. She takes it, even as something lodges in her throat at the sound of Susan’s voice—something that makes it difficult to look at Finn as they head downstairs together.
Everyone is already in the kitchen, all dressed in Christmas jumpers with the exception of Hattie, who is in a sparkly top, and Freya, who is wearing a Santa dress.
Everyone can help themselves to homemade blinis in the center of the table, with cream cheese and smoked salmon.
Dylan is making Buck’s Fizz and handing around glasses.
Mel wonders if she’s the only one who notices when Kristen says she’ll have a straight orange juice instead.
Freya has the entire contents of her stocking in front of her on the dining table, having been unable to wait for everyone before she opened it, and Susan is leaning against the French doors to the garden, seeming to watch them all, a small smile playing around her lips.
She looks happy. She doesn’t look sick—but then, if she’s only just been diagnosed, maybe she wouldn’t?
Or maybe it’s a sign that it’s not as bad as Susan thinks.
Mel struggles to keep the smile on her face, and finds it hard to look at Kristen, Susan, or Finn as they all clink glasses with a loud “Merry Christmas.” The result is that she ends up spilling some of her Buck’s Fizz over the rim of the glass, though thankfully no one seems to notice.
Oh God, how is she supposed to get through today?
She’s not really concentrating, so when Hattie sidles up to Mel she jumps. She hadn’t even noticed Finn slipping away to inspect the contents of Freya’s stocking. Hattie is wearing glittery eyeshadow and a headband with reindeer ears that must be Freya’s, along with a very determined expression.
“I have something I want to ask you,” Hattie says without preamble.
“Ominous,” says Mel.
Hattie grins. “Will you be a bridesmaid?”
Mel nearly drops her glass as her stomach performs a pleasant little flip. “Oh my God! Hattie!”
“I know, it’s all really real.”
“So, did you and Dylan…” Mel glances at Dylan who is chatting away to Susan by the blinis. “Did you manage to talk?”
“Yeah.” Hattie blows out a long breath. “He says we’re a team.”
Mel raises her eyebrows. “You mean at ice-skating? Because I heard that too…”
Hattie nudges Mel in the ribs. “After that too. He said we’re a team no matter what—and that won’t change whether we do or don’t have kids.” She wrinkles her nose. “I guess we still have a lot to figure out. And we should probably talk a bit more about it.”