Epilogue
SOPHIE
Christmas Day
The cab pulls up outside Chris and Genevieve’s house, and Keith insists on paying, tapping his phone, then slipping the cabbie a twenty-pound note as a tip.
The four of us pile out, and I double-check we haven’t left anything behind – wine, presents, flowers – then close the cab door with my hip, making sure to keep the pavlova upright.
It took me hours and I don’t want it ending up on the footpath.
‘Okay, should w—’
‘Mum, are you all right?’ Harlow peers up at me, a concerned frown on her face.
‘Yes, why?’
‘You’ve gone a bit pale, darling,’ says Connie.
‘Oh.’
‘A little nervous?’ asks Keith.
Wonderful – now they’re all watching me.
‘Maybe a little,’ I reply.
‘She’ll adore you,’ says Connie, giving me a reassuring smile.
‘Coco’s right, Mum. There’s nothing to worry about.’ Hah! Easy for her to say. ‘Now stop being such a dag.’
‘Gee, thanks, Lo.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she replies matter-of-factly – as if she was actually being helpful.
‘Come on,’ I say, easing past the others.
Harlow and I climb the steps to the front door, which is adorned by the most gorgeous poinsettia wreath, and Connie and Keith bring up the rear.
Before we even knock, Maisie flings the door open. ‘Happy Christmas!’ she shouts, and she and Harlow exchange squealy hugs.
‘Come in, come in,’ says Genevieve, ushering us inside.
‘Oh, this is heavenly,’ Connie coos softly as she looks around.
And it is. Lush garlands decorate the banister and the hall mirror, Bing Crosby croons from the lounge, and the air is infused with cinnamon, clove, and cardamom – Hargreaves’ signature Christmas scent from the dozen candles flickering on the hall stand.
It’s more Christmassy than the Home for the Holidays house.
‘These are for you,’ I say, handing Genevieve an all-white bouquet. ‘Hostess gift,’ I add, knowing full well she’ll have worked her bum off.
‘Oh, you absolute love,’ she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
Chris comes up behind her and I make the introductions. After a round of hellos and Happy Christmases, Genevieve excuses herself to put the flowers in water, Chris leads Connie and Keith into the lounge, and Harlow and Maisie run upstairs to play with Maisie’s kitten, Treacle.
Drew’s been hanging back, his eyes trained on mine. When the entry clears and it’s just us, he comes over and slips an arm around my waist.
‘You look beautiful,’ he whispers in my ear before dropping a soft kiss on my cheek.
‘Thank you – you too.’
He eases back and looks me in the eye. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Is that the…?’ His eyes drop to the cake carrier.
‘The pav – yes. And I should probably get it in the fridge.’
‘I’ll take that,’ says Chris, suddenly by my side.
‘Oh, thanks.’ I hand it over – only now there’s nothing left to do but meet Drew’s mum.
‘Ready?’
‘Yes,’ I say, shaking my head.
‘Hey, she’s gonna love you.’
‘Everyone keeps saying that. Jane even sent me an encouraging text this morning.’
‘Everyone’s right – come on.’
He drapes his arm around my shoulder, and we go into the lounge where Connie and Keith are chatting with Genevieve’s parents, who I’ve met a few times now, all of them gushing over the tree. Not surprising – it’s got to be twelve feet high and every ornament is blown glass. It’s stunning.
Drew’s mum and aunt are sitting on one of the sofas and Drew leads me over, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. ‘Mom, Aunt Linda, this is Sophie.’
His mum looks up, her hand landing on her chest as she stands. ‘Oh, Sophie, it is such a pleasure to meet you. Come here, I’m a hugger,’ she says, stretching her arms out wide.
I fall into her embrace and as I hug her back, the anxiety that’s consumed me for the past few days starts to disappear.
‘So nice to meet you,’ I say.
When she releases me, her hands slide down my arms to clasp mine. She steps back and regards me intently. ‘And aren’t you just beautiful?’
‘Oh, thank you.’
She turns to Drew. ‘You’ve done good, kiddo.’
‘Thanks, Mom. I think so too.’
‘Punching way above your weight.’
‘Thanks for that, Aunt Linda. Sophie, this is my aunt.’
‘I’m the naughty the one,’ she tells me with a cheeky grin. ‘Drew takes after me.’
‘Hah!’ I laugh, my remaining nerves instantly vanishing.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Drew.
‘Well, nice to meet you, Aunt Linda.’
‘Oh, she’s darling,’ Linda says to her sister.
I look over at Drew. His eyes telegraph, See? I told ya, and I shrug.
It’s a big deal, meeting your boyfriend’s mum. He’ll understand when his time comes. We’re planning a trip to Australia next year – me, Harlow, and Drew.
Genevieve scoots past us to set the flowers on the mantle, and Chris brings in a tray of Champagne flutes.
‘Champagne, everyone?’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ says Connie, taking the first glass.
While Chris does the rounds, I lean close to Drew. ‘Hey, where’s Max?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘Girls,’ Genevieve calls. ‘Can you come down here, please? We’re making a toast.’
‘Coming!’
They run downstairs, their thunderous footfalls sounding like a pair of baby elephants, and appear at the doorway, Maisie holding Treacle over her shoulder. Chris reaches us with the tray and Drew and I each take a flute, then he goes over to Maisie and Harlow.
‘There’s squash in the fancy red glasses,’ he says to the girls.
The girls exchange a delighted look, each taking a glass, and I can tell how special it makes Harlow feel to be included this way.
Chris takes the last flute, setting the tray on the table, and Genevieve steps into the middle of the room.
She flicks her wrist to check the time, then raises her glass.
‘A toast… To family and friends – old and new – thank you for coming and Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas,’ we say together.
Right as I take a sip, there’s a heavy knock on the front door. Genevieve cocks her head, listening out as if she’s in a Christmas pantomime. ‘I wonder who that could be,’ she says, feigning surprise.
‘I’ll go and see,’ says Chris, also hamming it up.
I glance at Drew, who seems to be in on it, and Chris goes to the front door and swings it open.
‘Ho-ho-ho!’
‘Maisie, it’s for you!’ Chris calls.
Her eyes widen and she shoves poor Treacle at Harlow, beelining for the door. We all edge closer, congregating in entry as Max Stirling, dressed as Father Christmas, makes a grand entrance, his limp barely noticeable.
Maisie starts making a sound that’ll be setting off all the dogs in the neighbourhood, gawping at him, her mouth moving but no words coming out.
‘Ho-ho-ho,’ he says again. ‘Merry Christmas, Maisie.’
He carefully bobs down in front of her, and she does exactly what she did the night of the premiere – she bursts into tears. Only this time, she throws her arms around his neck. He returns the hug, patting her back. A few moments later, she eases away from him and wipes her tears.
‘I know you’re not the real Father Christmas, Max Stirling, but this is still amazing.’
He starts laughing – a full-on belly laugh – then pulls down the fake beard and gives her a wink. ‘I told your Uncle Drew you were too smart for this.’ He looks over and waves. ‘Hey, everyone, Merry Christmas.’
We all chorus ‘Merry Christmas’ back – except for Aunt Linda who mutters, ‘I call shotgun on Santa’s lap,’ under her breath.
Pressing my lips together, I glance at Max. He didn’t seem to notice but even so, we might need to run interference for the rest of the day – keep Aunt Linda away from him.
He gets up gingerly – the poor guy must still be in pain – then excuses himself to change out of his Father Christmas costume while Genevieve hurries Maisie away to wash her face.
‘Did you hear that?’ Drew whispers in my ear.
‘Uh-huh. She really is the naughty one,’ I murmur as we head back into the lounge with the others.
‘And how do you call shotgun on someone’s lap?’ I ask. ‘It doesn’t even make sense.’
‘Something tells me she’d find a way.’
We’re sharing a quiet laugh when Chris enters with a tray of blinis and pigs in blankets. ‘Ooh, yes, please,’ I call out and he heads over. I take a blini and pop it into my mouth whole. ‘Mmm,’ I moan as I chew. ‘That’s delish.’
‘It’s all Gen, I’m just the help,’ he quips with a cheeky smile.
‘Hah,’ I laugh, helping myself to a pig in a blanket. ‘Thanks.’
Chris takes the tray over to Connie, Keith, and his in-laws.
‘So, I’m guessing this is pretty different to Christmases back home?’ asks Drew.
‘Yeah, mate,’ I say, bunging on a broad Aussie accent. ‘Back in Straya we do prawns and champers for brekkie, pressies round the tree, beach cricket in the arvo, and when the sun goes down, we have a sausage sizzle.’
‘I only understood every third word of that.’
‘Oh – and wait till you meet Mum and Dad’s pet kangaroo.’ I give him a wide grin, then take a sip of Champagne.
‘They do not have a pet kang—’ He gives me a dubious side-eye. ‘Wait, are you being serious?’
‘Maybe,’ I say with a half-shrug. ‘You’ll see.’
‘Yes, I will,’ he says, his eyes lingering on mine.
‘Okay, everyone,’ says Genevieve, clapping three times as she enters, ‘it’s almost time.’
Chris turns down the music while Genevieve switches on the TV, then mutes it. Maisie, fresh-faced and smiling, rushes over to Harlow and takes Treacle, cradling the kitten in her arms like a baby.
‘Now,’ says Genevieve, ‘thank you for indulging us and I promise that we’ll turn off the telly straight afterwards.’ She checks her watch.
‘Wait!’ cries Maisie. ‘Where’s Max Stirling?’ she asks, using his full name. ‘He’s going to miss it.’
‘I’m here, I’m here!’ Max enters – every bit the handsome Hollywood star he is in a deep-red cashmere jumper and dark-wash jeans. I flick my eyes towards Aunt Linda, who might faint any second now.
‘It’s on!’ Maisie exclaims, bouncing on her toes.
Genevieve unmutes the TV and the screen fills with a Swiss hospital room – Stevie stretched out on the bed, leg suspended, and looking miserable.
As his wife and kids make fun of Stevie’s freak accident – being run over by a ski school of toddlers and tumbling down the mountain – I look over at Max. It must be strange watching yourself on screen, but he’s not giving anything away.
Everyone laughs and I look back at the TV. Spending as much time on this ad campaign as I have, I’d forgotten how funny it is. The first ad finishes and the other three play one after the other, the final ad wrapping up with Drew’s tagline, ‘If you’re together, then you’re home.’
There’s a beat of silence after Genevieve switches off the TV, then everyone bursts into applause – even Max.
‘Bravo, bravo,’ Aunt Linda cries out. She sticks two fingers in her mouth and rips a very loud whistle.
‘Take a bow, you three,’ says Genevieve.
Max seems embarrassed now, giving a sharp nod of his head, but Drew grabs my hand, holding it up as if we’re in a curtain call on the West End. Grinning, we bow together, and I hear a loud yay from Harlow over the clapping.
When we finish bowing, Chris calls out, ‘More Champagne!’ then races around to top everyone up as the room fills with excited chatter.
Drew tugs on my hand and I face him.
‘We killed it,’ he says.
‘We absolutely did.’
‘Merry Christmas, Reid.’
‘Merry Christmas, Parker.’
I smile, rising onto my toes to land a kiss on his lips.