Chapter 2 #2
‘Of course, Penny.’ Sam crosses over to take the empty glass pitcher from her hands, giving her a wink.
‘Anything for the beautiful hostess.’ Penny giggles, patting her coiffed bob, held in place by a pearlescent headband.
It coordinates perfectly with her sparkly black cardigan layered over a cream silk top with embroidered Christmas trees all over it.
Her slacks are neatly pressed as well – Mum finds wrinkles offensive.
Both the facial and the clothing varieties.
She claims her smooth forehead is the result of her ‘facial yoga’, but Mia knows it’s her super-secret Botox appointments.
She hasn’t dared to admit to her mother that she’s been on to her for years.
‘Oh, you’re incorrigible. Mia, how lovely is it that Sam could be here?
Charlie called me up last weekend and asked if he could come, and of course I said yes!
The more the merrier, I always say! Oh, don’t fill the jug too high, dear.
Mr Thrumble has a touch of Parkinson’s, although he swears he’s as steady as ever, but I can’t have my lovely Christmas linens paying the price, now, can I? ’
Penny darts over to where Sam is ladling mulled wine from a saucepan into the jug, giving him second by second directions.
Mia should really offer to cut up more oranges, but Penny is commandeering all of Sam’s attention, and they seem to have forgotten her presence.
Seeing her chance, Mia slips back towards the stairwell, hefting up her suitcase and lugging it upstairs.
The case bumps along behind her on the corridor runner as she passes the first few gleaming wooden doors until she reaches her bedroom.
After manoeuvring the suitcase inside, she closes the door and leans against it.
The room is comforting, hardly changed since her childhood days.
Her mum had swapped out the curtains a few years ago, but the rug and the blanket on her bed are still the same.
As are the shelves lined with tiny glass figurines that Mia collected over the years.
Setting her toiletry case on the wooden dresser, she moves to stand in front of the shelves, tracing a tiny glass dolphin she received on her tenth birthday.
Mum must do the dusting regularly – there isn’t a speck to be found.
Turning to face the room again, Mia tries to collect herself.
She needs a fresh change of clothes, a quick brush through of her hair, something warm for her damp feet.
And it wouldn’t hurt to locate her missing Christmas spirit while she’s at it.
Rummaging through her suitcase, she pulls out a shimmery red jumpsuit.
She’d been excited to see James’s reaction to this outfit – the fabric practically begs to be touched.
Mia pushes away the sharp pang of disappointment that comes with the thought of James and continues hunting through her bag until she finds the pair of Christmas socks that she purchased on impulse last week.
They are sprinkled with reindeer, all of which have tiny red pom-pom noses.
They’ll be hidden by the legs of her jumpsuit, but work perfectly as the private pick-me-up she needs.
She’ll change, freshen up and enjoy the rest of the party.
She can just pretend Sam’s not there! There are plenty of other people to talk to, neighbourhood gossip to catch up on – ignoring him won’t be that hard.
And once her stomach stops grumbling and she’s downed a cocktail or two, everything will feel better. Christmassy.
Mia shuts her bedroom door behind her and moves towards the front staircase.
Her hands are free – it was a conscious decision to leave her phone and her disappointments in her room.
The landing is still devoid of Christmas cheer as the second tree hasn’t made its way up yet.
But when Mia rounds the corner, she soaks in the familiar festive sight.
Mum has the banister decked out like always, the intricately carved wooden staircase dripping with a thick garland that’s studded with warm white lights, taffeta bows and shining Christmas ornaments.
The grandfather clock at the base of the stairs is also draped in ribbon, poinsettias and ornament baubles, and the hall tree has been outfitted with a tartan tote stuffed full of fresh evergreens.
But the tree in the front room, situated directly in front of the large bay window and flanked by dramatic silk drapes, is the real showstopper.
Mia winds her way through the press of guests, pausing to admire its lush beauty.
This is the one consistent battle her dad always wins.
Every year, Mum tries to convince him to buy a pre-lit, artificial tree.
But Martin Robinson is a Christmas purist. Come hell or high water, the tree is fresh cut, way too big for the space and absolutely dripping in lights and ornaments.
Her father spends all year deciding on a theme and this year’s is – apparently – peppermints and elves.
‘Mia bella! There you are!’ Her father ducks around a cluster of neighbourhood widows and sweeps Mia up into a smothering hug. ‘I was getting worried.’
‘Trains were all cancelled,’ Mia says into his wool cardigan. Her dad always smells exactly the same, dresses the same and loves the same. She breathes in the familiarity and safety of his embrace, and then leans back to give him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Missed you, Daddy.’
He grins down at her, peering through his dated glasses. He hasn’t updated them for decades. He’s gone on record saying they’re ‘too comfortable to replace’.
‘I love your tree this year.’
Martin brightens visibly and takes Mia by the elbow, steering her to the side of the tree.
‘I came across this mischievous-looking elf at a car boot sale last summer. And that got the old wheels turning, you know? But elves alone weren’t enough, and there is a staggering amount of them that just look far too evil.
Not Christmas appropriate. So, I added in the peppermints in all sizes.
See the big ones? Can you guess what they’re made out of? ’
Mia scrutinizes the tree, which is absolutely dripping in festivity.
She’s always loved this tradition of her dad’s.
The year he came up with the steam train theme is still one of her fondest childhood memories.
Somehow, he’d fashioned a track that wound its way around the entire tree, and the train had darted in and out of the branches all season long.
It had been absolutely magical. ‘Dad, I’m not sure.
’ She leans into one of the giant peppermints and traces her finger gently over the surface. ‘Wait, did you paint Frisbees?’
‘That’s my girl!’ Martin scoops her up in a hug, lifting until her feet leave the floor. ‘You always were my brightest child.’
‘I take exception to that.’ Charlie pulls Mia in for a side hug, having emerged from the crowd, his phone pressed to his ear. ‘Yeah, hang on one sec, babe. Mia’s finally here.’
‘Important business call?’ Mia teases her brother.
He gives her a playful shove. ‘No, dummy. It’s Molly. She couldn’t make it up for the party.’ He holds out the phone. ‘Say hi to Molly, everyone.’
Mia and Martin crowd in close, calling out a cheery hello to Charlie’s girlfriend, though it’s too loud to hear if Molly responds.
Charlie melts back into the throng of guests, the phone still glued to his ear.
‘Mrs Wilkins brought those little mince pies, and they’re some of the best I’ve ever had.
You wouldn’t believe the flavour packed into those suckers.
I asked what’s in there and she told me it’s a secret!
But I think maybe she uses cardamom …’ Charlie’s voice trails off as he turns the corner, and Mia’s attention returns to the tree, laughter still bubbling out of her.
Her dad squeezes her around the shoulders and then moves away to greet another guest.
She’s warm from her head to her toes, and so relieved to finally be here with her family. Even the excessive noise isn’t bothering her right now. This is going to be a good visit.
‘Your dad really outdid himself with this tree,’ a voice says at her shoulder.
And just like that, all the good feelings sour. Right. Sam is still here. And her strategy of ignoring him won’t exactly work if he’s following her around.
‘So glad we have the approval of the tree decorating expert,’ she shoots back.
Sam chuckles. He’s standing so close to her she can feel the heat of his body against her back, causing her to edge away.
‘I’m just saying. It’s a beautiful tree.’
Mia turns to face him. ‘Beautiful seems a little blasé for you. Don’t you mean “spectacular”? “Grandiose”? “Magnificent”?’
Chastened, Sam clams up. Mia shoots him a sarcastic smile and moves away, suddenly thankful for the press of neighbours.
She weaves her way around the clusters of people, heading for the dining table sagging beneath the enormous amount of food.
Yes, food! She is starving. Grabbing one of Mum’s juniper berry festive plates, she leans in to load it up.
Spotting one of the mince pies Charlie was raving about, she adds that, but not before sniffing it.
Hmmm, yes … cardamom … and maybe ginger?
Next, she swipes a wedge of pomegranate and some pungent cheeses – the bluer the better, as far as she’s concerned.
A variety of biscuits and a couple of tiny pigs in blankets round out her selections.
Mia finds a relatively quiet corner and digs in, hoping the party food will boost her spirits.
It’s apparently not meant to be. The food fills her up, but every time Mia scans the room, her eyes seem to land on Sam, like he’s positioning himself in her line of sight on purpose.
Burning resentment churns in her chest, ruining what little happiness could be left in this terrible day.
How dare he come here, and violate the sanctity of her family home?
How dare he even show his face here, after what he did to her?
She moves to the bar, still ruminating. Her bitterness over the trajectory of her day is growing, and she bypasses the sugary cocktail offerings in favour of a stiff drink. She pours a finger of brandy, then adds another when Sam moves into her line of vision once more.
Her eyes stay trained on him. Maybe if she stares at him hard enough, she can burn two holes straight through him.
He’s bent slightly at the waist, to better hear Mrs What’s-her-face, nodding, giving the chatty woman his full attention, which means Mia can both stew and stare to her heart’s content.
She sips the brandy, watching as Sam throws back his head and laughs at something his companion says.
He’s laughing? Of course he is. He preys on the innocent and unsuspecting, and apparently doesn’t have an ounce of remorse about it.
And that whole ruse he put on to her family about being so worried about her? Poor Sam was so worried about you … It’s so two-faced! He’s got them all fooled, though she can’t blame them, because his act really is flawless. He seems kind. And friendly. And sincere. But she knows better.
At least he’s only here tonight. Like her annoying travel, this is a temporary blip in what can still be a magical Christmas.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimes cheerily, calling out half past ten.
Mia downs the rest of her glass, places it in the bar sink and threads her way back through the crowd.
The party will start wrapping up soon. Everyone will leave, including Sam.
Mia will get a good night’s sleep and come down in the morning and help with the cleanup.
Offer to do some cooking – and perhaps some holiday baking too.
And then, finally, she’ll be able to start enjoying her Christmas holiday.