Chapter 33 #3
‘You look beautiful,’ he said, with the tiniest of smiles.
Lacey had enticed me into a burgundy bandeau dress with a long, chiffony skirt and the highest heels I’d worn in months. She’d given me smoky eyes and contoured cheekbones, and under Will’s gaze it was easy to believe him.
‘I’m sorry I’ve not got in touch.’
He looked down. ‘I know your family takes priority. You need to be there for them.’
‘Actually, they’re here.’
His head shot up.
‘I mean, at my house. Lacey and the younger three, anyway.’
‘For a visit, or…?’
‘Will, Alex, are you going to stop schmoozing in the doorway and join the rest of us?’ Merry called. ‘If you wanted a date night, you should have stayed in.’
‘Shall we talk later?’ I asked, bolstered by him coming to approach me.
He nodded, his hand brushing mine as we moved over to where a table of drinks were set out.
That second of contact went a long way to undoing two days – two decades – of tension. As I helped myself to a glass of wine, I wondered how on earth I’d thought I was better off without someone like Will in my life.
The answer was probably that there wasn’t another someone like Will. He was the only person who could make me feel so safe yet bursting with thrilling anticipation at the same time.
At some point, I was asked the inevitable question about what I’d been up to in the past few days. I explained that my sister and her kids had come to stay but didn’t say why. That was Lacey’s story to tell, not mine.
‘You mentioned she had a situation going on,’ Darya said. ‘Is there anything we can do to help?’
‘Not at the moment,’ I replied, avoiding her eyes.
‘How long are they visiting?’ Donovan asked, tactfully changing the subject.
‘Actually, she’s decided to relocate here. Some stuff was going on with her ex, so she thought a new start would be the best thing all round.’
‘Wow.’ Will sat back. ‘That is big news. You must be thrilled.’
Merry snorted. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t met her sister’s kids.’
‘Mum!’ Joel scolded. ‘Don’t be rude.’
‘I’m joking!’ she huffed. ‘Obviously. Just, maybe warn me before you bring them in the café. In the spirit of everyone feeling welcome at Tucker’s, I’ll need to reserve them a table well away from other customers or breakable objects.’
‘That’s enough booze for you,’ Ray said, sliding her cider and black out of reach.
‘No, she’s right.’ I laughed, able to appreciate the humour because it felt so wonderful to have a friend who knew me well enough to tease me. ‘The thought of those three gorgeous children in this spanking new café we worked so hard on gives me palpitations.’
The conversation stayed light while we served up the random plates of food everyone had brought.
I’d tried baking a cake, only the children had wanted to help, meaning that the minute amount of batter that actually made it into the oven was unfit for human consumption, on both taste and hygiene grounds.
Instead, I’d brought a tray of nachos, popping them into the oven to heat up along with Donovan’s potato wedges.
We also had crostini, a gooey camembert with crusty bread and masses of crisps.
Lola had prepared fruit platters to offset the carb-fest, and Darya had made delicious dumplings filled with minced lamb that she said were a traditional snack in her homeland, and sausage rolls, because they were a traditional party snack in her new land.
Once we all had full plates, Darya invited us to share a story.
‘We can’t just share a random story,’ Lola said. ‘That’s too much pressure.’
‘How about a Christmas story?’ Joel suggested.
‘Still too vague. Is it a true story, a made-up one?’
‘How about a story from one of our own Christmases,’ Donovan said. ‘Two minutes each, to keep it simple. I’m happy to start.’
So, as we ate, we listened to the time a cruise ship Father Christmas had a hideous hangover and threw up on the captain’s young daughter.
We heard about the year Lola spent in hospital with appendicitis, which sparked a theme of bad Christmases, meaning I could stop fretting about a heart-warming seasonal story to share.
On Merry and Ray’s first Christmas as a married couple they got distracted ‘having a long cuddle’, meaning when Ray’s parents arrived, the turkey had burnt to a crisp, causing his already disapproving mother to declare she’d known all along Merry wasn’t ‘wifely material’, and he should have married ‘that lovely Sue from next door. Her turkey is always moist’.
Once we’d stopped shrieking with laughter, Joel announced that his worst Christmas moment was being forced to hear his mum tell the burnt turkey story, which ended up being every single year.
Will told us briefly about the last Christmas he’d spent at his parents’ house, how his mother had forced them all to play charades, but everything they had to guess felt slightly tactless, starting with Mama Mia and ending with Live and Let Die, at which point Jordan started howling and his dad made a bad joke about how kids are too sensitive these days.
Darya only had a few Christmases to choose from, but her worst was still a doozy.
Her husband had gone out on Christmas Eve, supposedly to visit his brother.
Her in-built psychiatrist alarm flashing, she’d phoned her brother-in-law, who was oblivious to the supposed visit.
Darya hung up, gave herself ten minutes to fall apart, then dried her tears, ordering herself to buck up and get on with things, because until she came up with a better plan this traitorous weasel was the best she’d got. He told her to leave a few weeks later.
I told them about the caravan. It took a lot longer than two minutes, because they kept asking me questions, and before I knew it, I’d basically confessed all about my dysfunctional family and messed-up childhood.
‘This is why you are so excellent at fixing everybody else’s life,’ Darya said, patting my hand. Having already heard this story, she hadn’t been stunned like the others. ‘You figured out how to solve your own all by yourself.’
‘I’m sorry, that was supposed to be entertaining, but it got a bit bleak.’ I cringed. ‘I should have told you about the time I wore a Christmas Tree on TV and announced to the world I was a lonely loser.’
‘That is a great story,’ Joel said, nodding vigorously.
‘How about we move on to our hope for the New Year?’ Lola said. ‘That’ll lift the mood.’
Again, our hopes were as varied as this random mix of people who had ended up finding friendship together.
Donovan hoped the group would continue to thrive, and that one of his favourite piano students, who he refused to name, would have a roaring success with his jazz quartet.
Ray hoped he’d get the redundancy package he’d requested, so he could wake up next to his wife every single morning.
Joel hoped the girl he’d spent time with at the Christmas Eve Eve Dinner would fall in love with him, because when she smiled he felt as strong and brave as Robin Hood.
Darya hoped the grinches who lived inside her head and chest would shrivel up and die. They were weakening significantly since she’d started creating a better life for herself, and she was hopeful that joining the Bigley Community Choir would kill them off for good.