Chapter 34
Before
We stood in front of the world food section of Tesco, searching for something called za’atar.
‘This place is useless,’ Kasie griped. ‘We should have gone to the big Tesco.’
‘Ooh, now that’s my idea of a wild night out.’
She indignantly pushed around spice packets. ‘Ridiculous. Let me ask someone who works here.’
‘I guarantee you they’ll be no help.’
Yet she marched off, leaving me to dump the basket by my feet and scan through the photos online of the night before, noticing how I got progressively messier. Mascara smudging, hairline sweating, bra strap falling down a shoulder, and not even a nice bra.
‘Yikes,’ Kasie said as she returned and looked over my shoulder. ‘No wonder you didn’t get up till one. Don’t you regret drinking like that?’
‘No. Though I do regret gathering so much evidence of it.’
‘And you want to stay in tonight?’
‘I said I would, we’re hanging out – I have Christmas pretzels and everything.’ I indicated down at the things in my basket, none of which constituted a meal.
‘Yeah, but it’s Christmas. I’ll understand if you want to go out.’
‘Kasie, I don’t need Jesus’s birthday as an excuse to go out, I’m out all the time.’
The week had been busy, too busy, and I was exhausted. All I wanted from the remainder of the weekend was to lie on the sofa, eat, hydrate and watch crappy Christmas TV.
My phone chimed.
Mum: How are you getting to the cottage this year? Eric says he’s in London for business and can drive you down on the 23rd. We won’t do matching PJs. Bit naff. What do you think about getting some scarves made?
‘Oh God,’ I moaned.
Kasie peeked at my screen and laughed. ‘Love her.’
‘Then you go.’
‘I have my own family I need to spend time with. There’s fifteen of us this year.’
‘Good luck with that.’
‘I’m looking forward to it. Sitting around, playing games, eating, sleeping in late.’
‘Isn’t that what you do now?’
‘Not nearly enough.’ Kasie pulled a tattered piece of paper from her coat pocket. ‘Good you’ve got a ride sorted – a train ticket would have been expensive.’
‘I’m not sitting in a car with Eric for four hours. We’ll either bicker the whole journey or run out of chat and I’ll have to sit listening to him hum along to Heart Radio.’
‘Take the lift, Zoe, he’s offering.’ She frowned at the paper as we walked to the freezers. ‘What does this say?’
‘If you can’t read your writing, how do you expect me to?’
‘You’re good at deciphering things.’
‘How about your New Year’s resolution is that you start making lists on your phone.’ I took the paper from her hand and tried to read her scrawls. ‘Pfft. I don’t know. Rice. Kelsies. What’s kelsies?’
‘Ah, granola. Wait here.’ She toddled off and I checked the family group chat, which was now being spammed with links to Christmas-themed paraphernalia from AliExpress.
‘Excuse me,’ a male voice said, and I moved out of the way while typing, Cool. Up for it. Though there was absolutely no way I would wear a scarf which said Delgado Xmas in public.
‘Sorry, excuse me,’ the male voice said again, because of course he needed something from the exact spot in which was trying to peacefully loiter. I kicked the basket towards the end of the aisle where Kasie was pestering a staff member about spice mixtures.
‘They’re useless here,’ she said, walking back. ‘It’s like no one gets trained anymore.’
‘You’re so cute when you’re enraged.’
She exaggerated a flutter of her eyelashes. ‘Should we get ice cream?’
‘Always.’ As I opened the freezer door, she tugged at the bottom of my dress.
‘What are you doing? Get off.’
‘Protecting your modesty.’ She flicked her big eyes up at something behind me. ‘That guy was getting a proper eyeful.’
‘Lucky me.’
Kasie was wearing a knee-length parka zipped to the top and under that, a coffee bean tracksuit and under that, her pyjamas. ‘Aren’t you cold?’ she asked.
‘You know me, I run hot.’
‘Stop talking.’ She laughed. ‘And why is your skirt so short?’
‘Is it? Surely only if I bend over. Would you like me to bend over?’ I joked in a breathy voice.
‘I don’t know why I talk to you sometimes.’
We were interrupted by further buzzing from my phone.
Mum: Do you want to come over for lunch tomorrow to discuss? I’ll get some pizza and mojitos in.
‘This is ridiculous,’ I cried. ‘I’m a grown woman, I don’t need to see my family this much.’
‘Your mum is joyful.’
‘You always say that.’
‘It’s because I’m jealous. If you don’t want to go for pizza and mojitos tomorrow, I will.’
‘She would love that. She was complaining recently how she hadn’t seen you in a while. And your mum is joyful too,’ I lied.
Kasie made a face. She had on multiple occasions explained to me the worst thing about being a sickly child wasn’t the illness itself, the pain or disruption to your life, but the way it made your family coddle you.
‘Your family is lovely,’ she said. ‘You need to appreciate them, because think of your life without them.’
My phone rang. It was Mum and before I could complete a roll of my eyes, Kasie said, ‘Answer it. Answer it and be good to your family. That’s your New Year’s resolution.